She interrupts me. “Look, Nic . . .Nicolas.” I instantly cringe inwardly, hating her saying my full name, like there’s more distance than just time between us. Rose notices but continues. “We had fun, obviously. But when I reached out to you and left a message three months ago and didn’t hear anything back, I got your response loud and clear. I get it. It’s fine. I’m a big girl and I think we both were surprised at that night. Or at least I was. But I can’t do this. I have other responsibilities now, and you don’t have to worry about that. I’m fine.”
She starts walking away, the dismal bleakness of utter rejection settling over me like a shroud. I see her shoulders lift as she takes a big breath and exhales.
What the fuck was that? That’s definitely not how I expected things to go down. I get that it’s been months, but that stings. I should’ve fucking called, but shit, we didn’t exchange numbers. How was I supposed to call her? And what’s this about reaching out three months ago? That would’ve been about the time I was in Oregon with Sam, and when I came back, things were crazy around the office.
Still, I mean, I guess I deserve it. She did tell me she ran a boutique, and there can’t be too many of those in this town. But I’ve just been so busy and time flies. It didn’t seem like calling her after she snuck out that morning was the right thing to do. I thought that’s what she wanted, but judging by her reaction, maybe I was wrong? Especially after she said she left a message.
I burst into action, chasing after her down the sidewalk, but I lose her somehow in a meandering group of tourists. By the time I get myself untangled from a man totally overdressed and wearing a University of Miami ball cap, I don’t see her at all.
I look up and down the street, wondering where she went because I need to talk to her, straighten this out somehow. I can’t go on and never see her again on that note. The least I can do is apologize and wish her well, even if I hate the thought of some other lucky fucker being the one who snagged her.
He’d better treat her right, that’s all I can say. Not knowing where she is but knowing where she will be, I walk back up the street the direction Rose was coming from. It takes me about two minutes to see it, the sign hitting me between the eyes as I make the connection again. Quickly, I cross the parking lot to the Mountain Rose and step inside.
A younger woman with brown curls cascading down her back and a bright smile cheerily greets me. “Hello. Welcome to the Mountain Rose. Can I help you find something today?”
“Yes, I’ve been in town before and met the owner. Will she be in today?”
The girl nods, eager to please. “Absolutely. Rose just stepped out for a moment to get our lunch.”
I nod, directing my gaze to a rack of clothes, although I don’t think I’ll find anything for me here. Other than a few items in the corner that are more . . . effeminate men’s fashion than my style, everything here is obviously meant for women. “Great, I think I’ll just browse a bit till she gets back. Thanks so much.”
The girl hangs nearby, giving me a curious look as I flip through a few hangers. “So, how do you know Rose? I just met her a few weeks ago. Today’s my first day, actually.”
I grin, realizing that’s why she’s so enthusiastic to be of service. Newbies . . . and probably looking to make a good impression. “Just old friends. We met a few months ago and I’m in town for work, so I thought I’d look her up.”
“A few months?” the girl remarks. “That’s not exactly ‘old friends’, now is it?”
She laughs at her own joke and I smile. “Well, it’s not exactly like we went to kindergarten together, but you know how it is. What’s your name? I’m Nic.”
The quickly introduced Devon and I make some small talk about the town, just buying time. The store’s quiet, not much of a lunch rush for places like this, and about twenty minutes later, the boutique door opens. Rose walks in, almost pushed by the light wind that’s kicked up to make her hair blow back like gossamer strands of gold around her face, her arms laden with two bags of what smell like the diner’s famous, or infamous, depending on whom you ask, gut bomb cheeseburgers.
Her smile is bright and her voice is light as she moves toward the desk and calls out, “Lunch is here, Devon. If you don’t mind, can I eat first? Gotta feed this hungry monster and then you can take your lunch.”
Devon grins as she finishes, pointing toward me. “Sure, you’ve got a visitor anyway.”
“Huh?” Rose asks, turning. She sees me and I watch as she ignites, angry all over. “What are you doing here? Get out.”
Devon flinches, worried that she fucked up on her first day at work. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry, Rose. He said he was an old friend.”
Rose’s flashing eyes don’t leave mine, but she answers Devon, giving her a little wave of assurance. “It’s fine, Devon. You couldn’t have known.”
“Rose, I just want to talk,” I say placatingly, softly. I don’t want to beg, but right now, I’m just being moved by the same feeling I felt five months ago. I have to know what’s going on. “Can we sit down while you eat lunch? Or I can come back tonight when you close, if that’s better?”
Rose firmly shakes her head while out of the corner of my eye, I see Devon grab her bag and disappear to the back, probably wishing she were anywhere else right about now. “No, I don’t want to talk. Just go. I’m fine.”
Being a salesman, my bullshit detector is sharper than most people’s, and while Rose is putting up a decent front, my alarm bells are ringing loud and proud. “You’re obviously not fine. You’re mad at me and I don’t know why. What’s gotten you so upset?”
Something flashes across her face—hurt, maybe, or regret—and she sighs, shaking her head as she admits defeat. “I can’t do this. Not now and not here.”
“Where?” I ask, stepping closer.
“I don’t—” Rose says, freezing when I reach out and take her hand gently. Another tingle jumps between our fingers, and I feel like something inside me moves. To hell with the meeting at the resort. This woman’s my future.
She glances at Devon, who’s about half a step from the back room door, and steps back, breaking our contact almost reluctantly. “Fine, come at six tonight and we can talk, but not now.”
I see the stubbornness on her face, and even though I want to hash this all out right here and now, I sense that will be counter-productive, so I give in. For now. But this deal’s far from done. “Thank you. I’ll be here at six.”
I turn to walk out, but I can’t resist and turn back at the door to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed and her chest lifts with every breath, reminding me of . . . before. “Rose, I missed you.”
Before she can reply with more than her eyes, I walk out into the chilly air, knowing I’ve got to get up to the Mountain Spirit Resort anyway. Hopefully, she’s ready to talk tonight.
Rose
As soon as Nic walks out the door, I collapse against the counter, my head and my heart pounding like I just got done slamming down a few bourbons. “Oh. My. God.”
Devon gives me a worried look and comes back over from the door. “Is there anything I can do?”
I shake my head, standing up. “I’m okay. I just need . . . to call someone. Eat your burger up here.”
I set my lunch on the counter, forgetting entirely about my earlier hunger pangs, and grab the phone. I punch a couple of buttons and begin to dance around impatiently as it rings.
Brad answers quickly. I guess there’s a lull at the salon too. “Hey, bitch-a-roo, what’s new?”
All of my breath leaves in an audible huff, and I collapse into a chair near the door. “Brad, I need you. Something happened. He’s here.”
Brad is instantly all business, dropping his lisp, all of his humor evaporating, and I hear the man who, despite all of his protestations to the contrary, could be a great father someday if he wants. “What happened? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”
I’m stumbling over my words, trying to make the swirls in my head into sentences.
“I’m okay,” I reply, and I hear him let out a breath in a long whoosh that makes me tear up. He cares about me so much and I’m lucky to have him as a friend. “Jelly Bean’s ok. But Nic . . . he’s here. I don’t know what to do.”
I trail off, and Brad jumps in. “I’m already on my way down the street, honey. Be there in a couple. Sit down, put your feet up, and breathe. We’ll figure this out.”
I hear the click as he ends the call and sink into the chair behind the front desk. It’s only a second later that Brad swoops through the front door, looking like I’ve never seen him before. Instead of his usual fabulousness, he’s wearing a . . . I swear it looks like a camo military jacket, lending an even more surreal air to the day.
Brad surveys me quickly, taking in my pale face and Devon’s questioning look. I’m sure she’s wondering what the else could happen on her first day at work here.
Brad approaches her, his hand outstretched. “I’m Brad. You the new girl?”
Devon looks to be in shock, but she nods. “I’m Devon.”
“Nice to meet you, although I wish it was under better circumstances.” He turns to face me, even as he talks to Devon in a brusque tone. “Look, Rose and I need to talk. Can . . .”
She straightens her back, stepping behind the desk and giving us both a reassuring look. “I’ve got this. Don’t worry.”
I smile at her, giving her a pat on the arm. “Helluva first day, huh? I swear it’s not usually like this.”
Devon shrugs and smiles. “If this is unusual, I’m just glad I’m here to help.”
She really is the best helper I think I could find. Keep this up, and she’s going to find herself with a pay raise before the week’s out.
Brad shuffles me into my office and plops me into my chair, dragging another chair to sit in front of me. “Okay, start at the beginning. What happened?”
I give him the rundown, seeing the look of pride he has when I say that I told Nic I wasn’t a booty call and could take care of myself. “You can, you know? You’re doing great with it all.”
“Thanks. You know it’s because of you guys though. Takes a village and all that shit.”
“For sure, but why did Nic find you now? Is he just in town and wanting a repeat of some grade-A nookie?”
“I think so. He seemed happy to see me until . . .” I gesture at my belly. “He definitely wasn’t expecting this.”
Brad sits back at the news and pops a hand under his chin. “All right. So now what? What do you want to do? He needs to know this is his baby, Rose. He may run right back out of town and basically be the sperm donor you thought you were getting in the first place, but at least you’ll have given him that respect.”
“I know,” I admit. “He knocked me for a loop, but he said some things . . . anyway, he’s coming back tonight at six so we can talk. I’ll tell him, but then what? What if he wants to be involved? What if he doesn’t? And custody, child support, and I don’t even know what else because I didn’t think he was ever gonna show back up!”
I’m getting hysterical, my hands covering my belly protectively. Brad leans forward and puts his hands over mine, soothing my nerves and making me look up at him with trust and hope. “Chill. He’s not taking Jelly Bean here. Just hear the man out and go from there.”
I take a big breath, letting it out slowly. “You’re right. I can’t do anything about it until tonight. No use getting myself worked up. Then I’ll tell him everything, see what he says, and go from there, I guess. Thanks, Brad.”
There’s a still a touch of worry in his eyes, but his demeanor lightens back up, his voice pitching a bit higher. “There’s my girl. Cool, calm, and collected. You’ve got this, Rose.”
* * *
Right at six, I flip the sign on the front door to Closed. Devon has already gone home with an epic first day at work story that I just hope she doesn’t spread all over town. Still, I wanted to make sure, so I let her go at five, along with my thanks and a smile.
I’ve still got my hand on the sign when the door opens. It’s Nic. He’s so intense and so handsome, my heart starts speeding up despite myself. “Hi, Rose. Can we talk now?”
An ugly fear in my gut makes me want him to go away, get out of my shop. Run away, you perfect memory who hurt me. I can’t and won’t be hurt by you again. I feel like pouting, sticking my fingers in my ears, and immaturely chanting out, “Go away . . . I don’t wanna talk to you . . . la la la la . . .”
Instead, I rally, digging deep for some maturity to act like an adult. “Sure. Come to the office. We can sit and talk there.”
I lock the door and he follows me back to my office, settling into one chair while I sit down in the chair across from him. I have a flicker of humor at how my position with Brad earlier has been reversed and now I have to be the adult one who handles shit.
“Okay, so . . .” I begin, my voice trailing off as my ability to put together a coherent sentence thoroughly fails me. So much for handling things. Part of it is the subject at hand, but another part is how my brain’s whispering to me just how handsome Nic looks. He’s dressed nicely, in an open-throated dress shirt underneath his jacket and dress slacks that tell me he came directly from a business meeting. That same little voice in me wonders if he cut his meeting short in order to come see me, and if so, it’s impressed.
Nic smiles, and I shiver inside, desperately trying to hang onto my anger. I’m not going to let him off that easily. “Yeah, so . . .” he says, trying to sound relaxed but still with a slight undercurrent of nervousness that helps me all the more. “Maybe we start at the beginning? You left the morning after.” He clears his throat awkwardly, not sure how to discuss that night. “And then what? How did you end up . . .?” He seems to stumble over his words a bit.
I hear the pause in his voice, the unwillingness to come out with the elephant in the room, my obviously fuller belly. I look down at my hands, nervously playing with my fingers. “I guess I should tell you that before our night, I’d been looking at starting a donor cycle. I’ve been wanting a baby for a while. After we had our night, I went to the doctor for a checkup, just to make sure everything was healthy downstairs and my body was ready. Everything was fine, but the blood test showed I was already pregnant.”
Nic flinches, and I realize I’m walking a minefield here. “Donor cycle? You were trying to get pregnant?”
I realize how that sounds and quickly try to reassure him. “Yes, but not with you. That night, I’d made the decision to do a donor cycle, ready to be a mother even if I wasn’t a wife. That’s what I was celebrating the night we met.”
Nic looks at me sternly, his eyes flaring. “Just to be clear, you were trying to get pregnant and then somehow did get pregnant the one time we had sex. Is that what you’re saying?”
I nod, quietly agreeing. “Nic, I wasn’t trying to use you or trick you. I mean, we did use a condom. But they’re not 100%, and while it might not have been intentional, I’m happy this happened.”
“Did you . . .” He seems hesitant, but he continues with a deep breath of courage. “Did you tamper with the condom?”
The accusation stings. How dare he make it sound like I did this on purpose! I vault to my feet, my voice rising. “No, I did nothing of the sort. The condom might’ve been a little old, but not like it was expired or something. I just don’t fuck random guys that often . . . or ever, as a matter of fact.”
I see the betrayal in his eyes, feel the anger radiating off him in waves, but I’m still unprepared when he pops the question that’s been hanging between us like an elephant in the room. “Are you sure it’s mine?”
Like a knife right to my heart, he goes for the kill. Like it fucking matters if it’s his or not after basically accusing me of seducing him for his sperm? I grit my teeth together, my eyes narrowing as I get to my feet, pointing toward the door. “Get the fuck out! Get out!”
I dissolve into hysterics, yelling and pushing at him, my arms flailing wildly as I maneuver him toward th
e front door. “Go! Just get out!”
Nic lifts his hands defensively before turning to walk out the door. There’s a pause as he has to twist the lock, not quite the dramatic ‘rip open the door and walk into the evening darkness’ maneuver you see on TV. He turns back just before opening it, his anger still flaring in his eyes but his voice calm and determined. “This isn’t over. We’re not done talking about this.”
He gets the door open and disappears into the night. I hold it together for one more breath, just long enough for him to get out of sight, and then collapse to the floor, my body wracked with sobs as I wail.
God, I fucked this up so badly.
Nicolas
I can’t help leaving Rose’s boutique in a near-rage, stomping across the parking lot before hopping in my car and driving back to the Mountain Spirit Resort. Before I know it, I find myself in the hotel bar, ironically the same hotel bar I first met Rose in.
“What’s your whimsy?” the bartender asks. “You look familiar.”
“Been here once before . . . and a double scotch, Glenlivet if you’ve got it. Neat,” I reply in a tone that says very clearly, ‘don’t ask.’ Besides, I seriously doubt he remembers me, probably something to spark up conversation.
The bartender gets my drink and I take a sip, the aged oak burn sliding down my throat and evaporating in my stomach while my brain swirls, lost in thoughts of what just happened.
Rose is pregnant.
Yep. That’s pretty much a given.
Pregnant with my baby.
Well, we could still call Maury Povich, but yeah, there’s a good chance that you ARE the father.
How did this happen?
You know, when a man and woman love each other very much, they wiggle their bodies together and that sends a signal to the land of the storks . . .
I never expected anything like this. I was coming back to town for a work trip, again, as always, and thought maybe I could see Rose one more time. Not for a booty call, though I admit I wouldn’t have complained about a happy ending.
Baby Fever Page 7
