XANDER HAD BARELY walked into the house after work when his doorbell rang. He paused midway through yanking his tie loose and glanced toward the door. Not that he could see through it, but hey. A guy never knew when he might develop X-ray vision.
He wasn’t expecting anyone. He wouldn’t have Cady until morning. Odds were that whoever was out there wanted to either sell him something or convert him, and he wasn’t in the mood for either of those encounters.
Maybe he could pretend he wasn’t home.
But just as he had the thought, the bell rang again, followed immediately by a rapid knocking at the door.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the display as he walked to the door. Sure enough, he’d missed a text. When he saw the name on the display he double-timed it to the door.
“Hey,” he said as he pulled it open. “What’s—”
The question died in his throat as he took in the sight of Heather, white-faced and red-eyed on his step.
“Heather?” Was she shaking? “Babe? Are you okay?”
She didn’t move. Simply stood in front of him, biting her lip and staring at him with eyes that darted back and forth, as if she were unsure where to look. No—as if she were hunting for an escape.
Jesus. Had she driven here in this state?
He took her arm and guided her to the sofa.
“Hey.” He crouched beside her, longing to take her hand but unsure if his touch would be welcome or not. “What’s up?”
She bit down harder, her teeth sinking into that soft lip as if to penetrate it. Wetness shimmered in her eyes.
Whatever this was, it had him scared.
“Heather? Come on, babe. Talk to me. Is it...is Millie okay? Your brother?”
She shook her head.
“No.” Her whisper was broken and wavering. “No. It’s nothing like that.”
“Thank God.” It was more prayer than platitude.
She lifted her face to his. Some of the confusion in her eyes disappeared, which was good until he saw it had been replaced by panic.
“What am I doing?” Her words were directed at herself, he was sure, not at him. “I shouldn’t have... This is stupid. I should have gone straight home. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t be telling you—”
He grabbed her. “Shouldn’t tell me what?”
She was still shaking. He let his palm slide down her arm, seeking her hand, curling around hers and welcoming the way she grabbed on to him, fierce and trembling but still connected. The panic in her eyes faded, replaced by shock and fear and, oddly, a hint of something steely. Like she was bracing herself.
She swallowed and wrapped her other hand around his, as well.
“I’m pregnant.”
“What?”
“I just came from the doctor. I didn’t think... I had no idea. I was there for a checkup, because I wanted to get it out of the way before I start... But then she said...and they did the tests, blood and urine, and I’m a few weeks late, which didn’t even register, but she—”
“Wait a minute. Wait.” Thank God they were sitting, because if ever he’d had his knees knocked out from beneath him, this was it. “You can’t be.”
“That’s what I said. The doctor kind of laughed and said, well, obviously the ba—my body didn’t get the memo.”
Baby. She almost said baby.
* * *
“BUT HOW?”
Heather pulled her hands free to cradle her cheeks. “I don’t know. She—the doctor—said, well, I was still pretty young when I had my tubes tied. And apparently, the rate of...this goes up after about seven or eight years, especially because I was young when I had it done. It still hardly ever happens, but lucky me, I guess I’m that one woman everybody’s heard about who...”
Her voice trailed away. Her head bent and her shoulders hunched, curling in on herself, and the hell with holding back, he pulled her against his chest, rocking her, whispering whatever words came to his shell-shocked mind. It’s okay. We’ll get through this. I’m here. Words that, he realized as soon as he said them, were all true.
She pulled back from him, cupping her cheeks again. She wasn’t crying. It was more like she was moving very carefully so she wouldn’t shatter.
“How far along are you?” he asked.
“Not far. It must have been that night at the Cline place.”
The night that made her end things.
“But nothing...” She trapped her hands between her knees. “We don’t need to panic yet. It might not...the odds are that it’s not going to last anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
She breathed in deep, closed her eyes and spoke as if reciting from a medical brochure. “Pregnancy after tubal ligation carries a high risk of being ectopic. Tubal,” she added, after opening her eyes and probably reading his lack of comprehension. “It gets stuck in the fallopian tube instead of moving to the uterus.”
“So what happens then?”
“Then it’s a medical issue. It has to be removed before it gets too big and the tube ruptures.”
“Wait. Removed? How? Surgery?” Panic rose in his throat. Was she in danger?
“Maybe. Or drugs. It all depends... I have to go back on Monday. For blood work and a sonogram. That will give us an idea if this is even...even an issue.”
“Monday? But what if something happens before then?” Jesus, how could the doctor just let her walk away? “You should be in the hospital, damn it!”
Something that resembled a laugh filled the air. “It’s okay. I know what to watch for, but things are still early enough that I should be fine until then.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Where?”
“Monday. When you go back to the doctor. I’m coming with you.”
“No, Xander. I’m fine. Really. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything yet. There’s no need to—”
He cradled her face with his hands. “There’s every need.”
Her mouth tipped in the closest thing he’d seen to a smile. “Xander. Look. I know you missed out on everything with Cady, but I...this is all so fresh. It hasn’t sunk in yet, not really, and I... I mean, by this time next week, this could all be just like—like an appendix. A medical problem that needed intervention, but you get things done and then it’s all better.”
* * *
“IS THAT WHAT you want?”
The fleeting smile faltered. “I don’t know.”
That had to be better than an immediate yes. Right?
“And what if it’s not a problem?” he asked. “What if we go in there Monday and they say everything is good to go?”
Her shuddering breath shook right through him. “I don’t know.”
He scooted forward, tipping to rest his forehead against hers. “Sorry. That wasn’t a fair question.”
“Oh, believe me, compared to some of the things I already asked myself, and the doctor, and God, that was nothing.”
Silence seemed like a pretty decent idea right then, so he let it flow over them while her breath slowly settled to a more natural rhythm.
“I still think I should have waited to tell you,” she said, her hands clutching his. “But I’m kind of glad I didn’t.”
“Me, too.” He kissed her forehead. Soft. Quick. Just to let her know he was there.
“I should go home.”
“You can stay as long as you want, babe.”
She shook her head. “I have Millie this weekend.”
Ah. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Right as rain, sunshine.” Her smile was still tiny, but much more hers. “Thanks.”
“Okay. Then go home, breathe and enjoy Millie.”
“Right. Good plan.” She pulled back, offering up a weak smile. It hit him that he had totally forgotten something.
“Listen, this was all so—you know, unexpected. I never even thought to ask how you’re feeling.”
“You mean other than stunned?”
“I was thinking more like, don’t women usually get sleepy or start throwing up? Stuff like that?”
“Oh. Right.” She wrinkled her nose, the way she had when she was concentrating on the job proposal. “Yes to both of those. Well, no throwing up, but queasy. And tired. And...” She laughed lightly. “I guess that explains why I can’t stand the smell of chicken anymore.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“It’s not. Yet.”
Yet. Had that little word ever meant so much?
“Listen,” he said, watching to see if it was too soon to say this. “I know you’re still reeling, and you have a ton of stuff to sort through. But I want you to know two things.”
She looked up at him, her eyes still wide but her expression more peaceful. He hoped he’d contributed to that.
“First, you’re not alone. That’s the most important part, okay? I know it might not feel that way right now, but I am not going to make you go through any of this by yourself.”
She bumped her head against his shoulder. He had a feeling that was code for Thank you.
“Number two—I’m in this with you, but we both know you’re the one who’s gonna bear the brunt of everything. If this turns out to be, you know, more than just a medical issue, I swear to respect any decision you make about what comes next.”
Still no words, but her squeeze of his hand told him she understood.
“And I lied. There’s a third thing.”
She glanced up at him.
“I know this is insane and scary and a million other things I can’t sort through yet. But honestly, Heather? The part of me that isn’t freaking is kind of excited. Maybe even a little happy.”
She pulled her hand free.
“I really should go now.”
She grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the door. He barely caught up with her before she made it outside.
“Heather.”
She didn’t look up. It killed him, but he was pretty sure she was trying to keep from falling apart. Much as he wanted to pull her close and tell her to go ahead, cry on his chest, break into pieces on him, he knew she wanted to get home for Millie. And he was pretty sure she didn’t want to greet her with tear-stained cheeks.
“I have Cady tomorrow and Sunday, but if you need me at any point, promise you’ll call, okay? If there’s any problem, or you need an ear. Or if that whole pickles and ice cream thing turns out to be true.”
Her shoulders hunched. Too soon.
“Sorry.” He winced.
She nodded and left without a word.
After she pulled away from the curb and drove out of sight, he looked up to the ceiling.
“From now on,” he said, “whenever anyone says that you work in mysterious ways, I’m gonna say, buddy, you have no idea.”
* * *
PREGNANT.
The word rattled around her brain, covering all other thoughts like morning fog, obscuring and clouding and making everything feel slightly out of reach and off balance. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.
And yet she had a blood test and a doctor’s assurance that it was indeed the truth.
She tried to push it aside once Millie arrived. Her girl deserved her full attention. Hanging with Millie could reassure her, too, remind her that she had been in this position once before and things had turned out okay.
Well, except for the emotional breakdown. And the abandonment. And the divorce.
Yeah, maybe that wasn’t the way to go.
Millie, however, had so many stories about the first week of school that Heather got to spend most of the weekend smiling and nodding and asking questions that Mills was only too happy to answer. Heather was always glad when it was a Millie weekend, but she was particularly grateful this time around, when she couldn’t decide if she wanted Monday to come quickly or never arrive.
Neither could she decide if telling Xander had been a good move or not.
Of course she would have had to tell him at some point. That wasn’t even a question. But as much as sharing the truth had helped her in the moment, it seemed to have backfired. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Wondering what he was doing—when he wasn’t texting her, of course, which happened about six times Friday night alone. Wondering if he’d meant it when he said he was happy. Wondering how the weekend might have been different if she hadn’t had Millie and he hadn’t had Cady...if she would have ended up staying longer at his place...if they might have tumbled into other ways to survive the hours...
Yeah. It was definitely better this way.
Her need for distraction faded a bit, however, when Millie pulled a work sheet from her school backpack and handed it over with inordinate glee.
“We have our first project, Mom, and it’s awesome. We get to build volcanoes!”
“Guess she wanted to start the year with a bang, huh, Mills?”
Millie rolled her eyes, even though that wasn’t supposed to start until the teen years.
Heather sighed and squinted at the assignment sheet.
“So let me get this straight. You’re going to build a volcano, and it has to have a well in it so you can do a chemical reaction at school.”
“Right. Mrs. Wilcoxin said that it’ll foam up and be really impressive. We can put food coloring in it if we want, too, to make it look like real lava.”
“I still have no idea where you got your science gene. I’m lost at this, and Daddy isn’t much better.”
“He has to know some of it. To fix things in the cottages.”
“True.” But the knowledge that Hank required for his cottage rental business was far more hands-on than Millie’s fascination with astronomy and chemistry.
Heather grabbed an apple slice from the plate in the middle of the table and frowned at the instructions again. They could do this. She could do this.
“Okay. It looks like the first thing we need to do is decide what materials you want to use.” She scanned the list of suggestions. Papier-mâché, chicken wire... Those were all closer to Hank’s area of expertise than hers.
“Tell you what, Mills. I’ve never made anything like this, so let’s do some research over the next couple of days. When you come back on Wednesday, we’ll decide what sounds best.”
“Okay.” Millie made a careful note in her school planner. “Hey, Mom. You know what Wednesday is?”
Heather couldn’t see anything past the giant cliff that was Monday, at least not at the moment. “Tell me.”
“It’s the fourteenth. The day before the fifteenth, which is exactly forty-five days to my birthday.” Millie grinned and held up her planner.
Oh Lord.
She had to talk to Hank. Time had slipped away, carried along in the rush of the past month, but here they were. Just a little over one month until Millie’s birthday.
How many months until the next possible birth?
“Daddy and I are supposed to get together this week, sweetie. I’ll talk to him then.” Because that was exactly the carrot she would need to get through whatever else Monday delivered. Oh yeah. Absolutely.
Parenting Truth Number 3: Things can always get worse.
* * *
XANDER WOKE UP Saturday morning with one thought in his head: bulbs.
It was an incredibly stupid thing to focus on, but there it was. Somewhere in the night, the swirl of baby and Heather and tubes and future coalesced into that one coherent thought. He was going to plant flower bulbs.
“Cady girl, how would you like to have flowers in the spring?” he asked as they pulled up in front of the bulb display at the gardening store.
“Fowers?”
“That’s right. Pretty flowers for you to pick.” He squinted at the names above the baskets of things that he thought looked more like onions than potential blooms.
Amazing how that worked. How little seeds and bulbs grew and changed and became bushes or carrots or... “Tulips,” he announced. “What do you think? Red ones? And some daffodils? And maybe some...what are these? Purple crocuses? These will be pretty.”
“Pitty.”
He dropped a couple of the net bags into the cart. “We’ll plant them now, then in the spring, they’ll pop up and be flowers. And you can smell them. Just make sure there’s no bumble bees around to go bzz bzz bzz.” He dive-bombed her in the cart, pretending to be a bee on the attack, sending her into a fit of laughter. Every giggle was like a whisper inside him, telling him it was going to be okay.
Maybe even miraculous.
Totally ridiculous, he knew. And whenever he thought of Heather, and what she must be going through this weekend, he felt like a selfish jerk. Because his possible miracle was coming at the cost of her plans and dreams and her whole freaking life.
He frowned. It wasn’t too high a cost, was it? Surely not enough to make her run again.
Right?
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he shoved it aside. She wasn’t the same scared kid she had been back then. She was one determined mother. All it took was a look at what she was doing to try to get joint custody to know how committed she was.
This time would be different.
When he blew raspberries on Cady’s cheek as he buckled her into her car seat, he imagined delivering another set of them.
When he doled out animal crackers to keep Cady happy while he grabbed a few minutes to read about planting bulbs, he imagined telling her to keep an eye on her sister—brother?—for a minute.
When he opened the door and yelled to Lulu that they were going out in the yard, he imagined himself turning and telling Heather that they—
He stopped on the back step.
How had Heather landed in this fantasy?
Well, obviously she had a part in it. A major one. But he hadn’t expected her to play such a close role.
Or one that felt so damned right after the shock wore off.
Or one that made his next move so amazingly clear.
* * *
NO MATTER HOW often Heather told herself that it would be much easier to go through the sonogram without Xander, she couldn’t deny the rush of relief when she pulled into the parking lot and spotted him leaning against his car.
“Hey.” He greeted her with a smile and a squeeze on the shoulder as soon as she approached. “How was the blood test?”
“They came, they saw, they poked me with a needle and sent me on my way.”
“Okay. How are you doing?”
“Right as—” She bit back the auto reply. This was Xander. She didn’t have to pretend. “Um, about the same as I was when you texted me an hour ago. Or last night, or yesterday afternoon, or—”
“What can I say? You were on my mind.”
And he had been on hers as well, but she didn’t want him to think that she was only thinking of him now, when there was a complication involved. Or think that this meant that they were back together. Because she was pretty sure they weren’t.
Not that she was certain of anything these days.
Still she couldn’t help but welcome his steadying hand on her elbow as she filled out paperwork. Just as she was grateful for his bad jokes about hospital gowns as she disappeared into the changing area. And when the technician breezed into the exam room with a cheerful, “Good morning,” it was kind of nice to have him at her side, his hand resting over hers as she lay on the table, hoping she could stop shaking long enough to get this done.
“All right now, Heather.” The tech bustled to the foot of the table, pulled out the stirrups and gave Heather a sympathetic, woman-to-woman smile. “Your doctor told you that this would be an internal sonogram, right?”
Oh God.
“I...yes. Yes, she did.” Not that Heather had remembered it in the flurry of everything else that the doctor had said all those aeons ago, but yes. This had been explained.
Xander positioned himself at her side, one eyebrow raised as he looked down at her.
“Internal?”
Blushing would be totally ridiculous at this point.
“Now, Heather, would you like to put it in by yourself, or would you prefer that I do it?”
She met Xander’s horrified gaze and burst into giggles.
The mood shifted abruptly when the wand was in place and grainy, indecipherable pictures began to appear on the screen. Heather craned her neck even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to make sense of the blobs and blurs.
“What’s that?” Xander asked, as the tech clicked on the image.
“That’s an ovary.”
“I think we were pretty sure I had at least one of those.” Heather wasn’t sure where that came from, but it felt good to say something. Anything. To maintain what control she could over the situation.
“Can you see the baby? Is it in the tube?” Xander gripped her hand tight as he leaned forward, squinting at the screen.
Heather shook her head. “We won’t know that yet,” she said softly.
“What? But it’s all up there. I mean, what if it’s in the tube and ready to rupture? We should know now!”
The tech stayed serene as she continued clicking the mouse with one hand while shifting the position of the—ouch—wand with the other.
“It has to be read by the radiologist, and the results sent to your doctor.” She spared Xander a smile. “Sorry, Dad.”
Heather’s gaze met his. She gulped. He squeezed her hand even harder.
Maybe he really had been right to insist on coming along.
So when the exam was finally done, and she was back in her clothes, ready to return to the doctor, she wasn’t at all surprised that he insisted on joining her. Nor did she try to discourage him.
“I’ll drive.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll need my car to run some errands and—”
“Heather.” He gripped her shoulder. “I know you can do this. But I would like to take care of you. Just a little.”
She still would have said no. But she understood, too well, that need to feel he was doing something.
And the truth was, she was the tiniest bit distracted.
“Okay.” She started toward the passenger side, stopped and turned around. “Xander?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
There was nothing forced about his smile. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, babe.”
The drive was quiet, save for the light jazz on the radio and his occasional comments on the other drivers, none of them flattering but all of them funny. She wouldn’t have expected to spend this trip in laughter. She had to admit, it felt good.
As he killed the engine, she reached for his hand and gave it a fast squeeze. “Thanks for the distractions.”
“Just doing my job,” he said with a wink.
Twenty minutes later she was in another gown, on another table, waiting for the doctor while listening to Xander share stories from his weekend with Cady. He really was a great dad.
“...so she shoved the toast in the dog’s mouth and said—”
“You want this baby, don’t you?”
He glanced at the door before focusing on her. “You want to have this talk now?”
“I don’t want to have it at all.”
“Understandable.”
“But if...if this is really... I mean, if it isn’t...”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “This isn’t the way I’d want it to happen, or the circumstances, or anything like that. But if you want the truth—”
She nodded.
“Yeah. It doesn’t make sense and I know it’s complicated beyond belief, but when you strip away the rest of it and get down to the heart of the matter, then yeah.” He placed one warm hand on her abdomen. “I want this baby.”
She had no idea what to say and wasn’t sure if she could get through any words without falling apart. She settled for curling her hand over the one resting on her stomach and tilting forward, letting her head sink into his shoulder. Maybe some of his certainty could flow into her.
She was still leaning into him when the door opened and the doctor walked in.
“Hello, Heather.”
Heather jerked back, searching Dr. Jackson’s eyes for any clue, but the medical poker face was firmly in place. The doctor introduced herself to Xander and shook his hand while Heather shredded the exam table paper with her fingernails.
“Good to meet you, too.” Xander dropped the doctor’s hand. “Is Heather okay?”
Being remembered felt good.
“Well,” the doctor said, turning back toward Heather, “your hormone levels have risen exactly the way we would expect at this point in the pregnancy. More importantly, the sonogram didn’t show anything in the fallopian tubes. We still need to monitor you extra carefully, especially for the next few weeks, but right now, I would say that this pregnancy is viable.”
Viable.
Pregnancy.
A baby.
Some strange sound pierced the pounding in her head. Some strange pressure on her hand made her wince and brought her back from the edge of panic.
Xander. Xander’s hand was wrapped around hers in a steadying—if slightly jittery—grip. Xander’s ragged sigh of relief still echoed in the small room.
He really wanted this baby.
Or he had been really worried about her.
Maybe both?
She tried to shake the away the barrage of thoughts so she could focus on what she was feeling. Or should it be the other way around?
“Heather.” Dr. Jackson’s voice was low but firm. “I know this isn’t something you were planning, but is this good news?”
She stared blankly at the doctor’s kind face, focusing on light winking off dangling earrings. It took forever for the words to penetrate the fog wrapped around her, another century or two for her to comprehend what the doctor was asking.
Is this good news?
“I don’t know.”
Xander ran a steadying hand over her forearm.
“I understand,” the doctor said. “You’ve had a lot to process. You still have some time to decide how you want to proceed.”
“I don’t...”
Her uncertain words were waylaid by a sudden memory of infant Millie in her arms. The warmth in her embrace. The unmistakable scent of baby shampoo. The scrunched up eyes that gazed up at her and made her understand that she was this child’s whole world.
“Thank you.” She risked a glance at Xander, who was holding himself rigid as he watched her. “I don’t think that...stopping this...would be an option.”
Xander’s hand tightened on her arm before slipping around her shoulders. She let herself lean against him. Just for a minute.
“All right,” the doctor said. “Then we’ll get you back here in a couple of days and make sure everything still looks okay. If anything changes on your end, just say the word. But for right now, everything looks good for you to plan on delivering in about seven and a half months.”
Heather nodded. She may have even said something to acknowledge the doctor’s words. None of it registered. She had disappeared into a cottony haze, floating on a cloud of disbelief. It wasn’t a bad place to linger. Not at all. She nodded and smiled and drifted along, watching from a distance as the doctor said something to Xander...who nodded and spoke very quietly...then the door opened and closed, and the doctor wasn’t there anymore, and it was just her.
And Xander.
And a baby.
She gasped for air as reality broke over her like an icy, stinging wave. A baby. A real, crying, hungry, needy, life-changing baby.
“No,” she whispered, but the words were swallowed up by Xander’s chest as he pulled her close, wrapping his arms tightly around her, rocking her slowly from side to side.
A baby.
Xander’s baby.
She sagged against him, throat burning, chest tight. What was she going to do? She couldn’t have a baby.
She couldn’t not have it.
“Hey.” Xander’s voice was low and warm against her ear. “Why don’t we blow this Popsicle stand and get some lunch?”
Lunch?
Some of the fog had blown from her brain. She plucked at the gown.
“Why did they make me get changed?” Stupid question, but all she could manage.
“I’ll tell you after I go to medical school.” He winked. “Take your time getting dressed. I’m going to see if there’s such a thing as a men’s room in a gynecologist’s office.”
She put her clothes on mechanically, her brain vaguely aware that Xander had probably left to give her a minute alone. Because of course she needed her privacy. It wasn’t like he had ever seen her naked. Or had hot monkey sex with her in the grass. Or got her pregnant.
Her mind skittered away from the thought, but this time, she forced it back. She had spent the last nine years teaching herself how to face the truth. She’d be damned if she would let her work be undone by something that was currently smaller than her Millie-painted pinkie.
Not that it would stay that way for long.
“No.” She tossed the gown on the exam table and stepped into her pumps. No freak-outs allowed. She was strong and tough and a lot more together than the last time she found herself in this position. She would find a way through.
She could do this.
Xander was nowhere to be seen when she left the exam room. Neither was he in the waiting room. She figured he was either waiting by the car or puking his guts out in the bathroom.
Opting for Door A, she headed for the car, blinking against the bright sunshine. God, it had turned into a gorgeous day. Almost as if Mother Nature had decided that Heather was in need of blue skies and birdsong.
She rounded the row of vehicles to see Xander leaning against the car, long legged and smiling, holding a bouquet of cheery yellow and red flowers.
What the...
Her steps faltered slightly as she moved forward, not really sure she was seeing what her eyes told her was true.
“What is this?” she asked when she reached him.
“Uh, I think they’re sunflowers.”
“I know that.” She touched a finger to one petal. “Sunflowers and Gerbera daisies, I would say. When did you get these?”
“Picked them up this morning. Had them waiting in the trunk, just in case.”
“Well, that explains why you insisted on driving.”
“No. I drove because I wanted to help you.”
She gathered the bouquet into her arms and buried her nose in them. “Oh, Xander. Are you trying to make me cry?”
“No.” He placed one finger under her chin and tipped her face to his. “I’m trying to ask you to marry me.”