From Dare to Due Date

by Christy Jeffries

  She probably shouldn’t have been drinking champagne two months ago, either. But Mia kept that thought to herself. “Please, don’t worry about it. Speaking of beverages, can I get you something?”

  “What do you have?”

  That was a good question. In her angst over having him over to her house, she hadn’t thought about what she would do with him once he got there. She didn’t entertain people other than her friends and she hadn’t been to the market all week so her inventory wasn’t exactly up to par.

  “I have water. And ginger ale.”

  “I’ll take the ginger ale.”

  She grabbed the liter bottle and two glasses and carried it over to the small round coffee table she’d painstakingly sanded and painted the color of a pale robin’s egg. She should’ve planned for a better seating option because she couldn’t very well sit down on the sofa next to him. That’d be way too intimate. She didn’t have any chairs besides the ones pushed into the dining room table and it would look suspicious if she hauled one of those over here. She spied the white tufted ottoman and decided that was better than nothing.

  Mia tried to casually move the overstuffed footstool out of the way by using her left calf, but her attempt at nonchalance was rewarded by a sharp pain in her Achilles tendon when its clawed wooden foot tripped her up.

  She sucked in a whispered curse as she plopped ungracefully onto her impromptu seat. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Garrett asked.

  “Yep,” she said, although it came out more like, “Whepppp.”

  He rubbed his forehead as though he was pondering whether or not to believe her. He must’ve opted for the politest choice because he didn’t say anything else.

  Instead, he shrugged out of what looked to be a cashmere coat and laid it over the back of her couch before pouring them both a drink. He was dressed in a soft gray sweater, definitely just as pricey as the starched custom-looking button-up shirt she’d seen him in before. But this time, there wasn’t a cuff link in sight.

  Relieved to have something to do with herself, she reached for her ginger ale and gulped it so quickly, she inhaled tiny carbonated bubbles into her nose. She let out a small sneeze before he had even raised his own glass.

  “Are you coming down with a cold?” Garrett leaned toward her and put his cool and smooth hand to her forehead.

  Mia jerked away as if he’d burned her and almost toppled off her backless seat.

  “Whoa.” He relocated his hand to her shoulders as if he could help steady her. Why was he always touching her? “Are you okay?”

  She scooted toward the center of the ottoman, causing his fingers to fall away. “I’m fine.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Sorry, I’m usually much more graceful than this.” Which was true. She was a dancer, after all. But after tripping in his office and now tonight, she had to conclude that there must be some sort of hormonal imbalance wreaking havoc with her body because she was all kinds of thrown off by his nearness.

  “I think it’s safe to say we’re both a little out of sorts.” He smiled at her, probably in an attempt to be reassuring, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was probably the same smile he gave to wounded soldiers when he had to tell them they needed major orthopedic surgery—which was pretty apropos considering she felt as if her future was being amputated.

  “Speaking of hands, uh, I mean...” She trailed off since they hadn’t been speaking of anything to do with his hands. Instead, she reached into the little wooden treasure chest on the coffee table and pulled out a small gold circle. “One of these fell out in the elevator, uh, that night.”

  His brows lifted and his eyes grew darker when he ran his finger over the onyx stone. “Thank you for returning this to me. I’d wondered where I lost it.”

  Her face had to be the most unflattering shade of red. “I found it when I was leaving the morning after and was kind of in a rush to get out of there.” Her stomach, which had been acting queasy all week, was threatening to take center stage if she didn’t calm down and relax. “Anyway, I thought you might want it back.”

  He angled his torso and slipped it into his hip pocket, thankfully not mentioning the last time he’d shoved it away. “I never should have left them on the bar in the first place. I was being stubborn and perhaps a little bitter toward my father when I pulled them out. I was glad when you reminded me to take them and then, well, one thing led to another and I got a little careless afterward. I kicked myself for it after the fact, but it was one of many recriminations I carried from that night.”

  Recriminations indeed. At least she now knew he’d regretted their lovemaking.

  It should make what she was about to say a lot easier. She’d rehearsed exactly what she was going to tell Garrett several times these past three days, but now, with him sitting in what used to be her cozy and safe living room, her mind had just exited stage right.

  She could hear the retro clock on the kitchen wall ticking in a steady cadence and felt each awkward notch of the second hand push them further into an uncomfortable-silence territory.

  “Have you had dinner yet?” he asked.

  “Uh, no. Why? Are you hungry?”

  “Actually, I am. I skipped lunch today because the MRI techs, who were supposed to set up my equipment yesterday, didn’t show up until this afternoon. So I’ve been at the office all day.”

  “I would offer to fix something to eat, but I haven’t been to Duncan’s Market since, well, since I saw you last and I’ve been trying to avoid too many public places until...” She trailed off, her excuses sounding lame to her own ears.

  “Oh, I didn’t expect you to cook for me. I just thought maybe we could go grab a bite to eat. Maybe it would help lighten the mood if we had something else to do besides talk about...you know. But, if you’re worried about being seen in public with me, I could pick up something to go and bring it back here.”

  “I’m not afraid to be seen in public with you.” Okay, that was only partially true. She might not be afraid, but she definitely didn’t want her personal business broadcast all over town just yet. And having a meal in public with him was tantamount to a front-page article in the Sugar Falls Advocate. “But getting takeout sounds good.”

  Great. If she couldn’t even have dinner with the man, then how was she going to raise a baby with him?

  “There’s that Italian restaurant about a block from here. What’s it called? Patrelli’s? I hear they have excellent lasagna and these amazing garlic knots. Why don’t I call in an order?”

  The thought of garlic made Mia’s stomach do another cartwheel and she quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. But it was just a false alarm. She took a small sip of her drink, hoping it would be enough to quell her nausea and her sketchy nerves.

  Unfortunately, Garrett was instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”

  Of all the random men she could’ve accidentally gotten pregnant by during a one-night stand, why did she have to choose a doctor who was trained to be attuned to even the slightest physical discomfort? She almost giggled at the absurd thought, but didn’t want to risk choking on her beverage. It wasn’t as if she’d known he was a doctor at the time.

  “Sorry.” She waved him off with her hand. “I’m just getting a little firsthand experience with the wonderful world of morning sickness. Unfortunately, it’s been taking place in the evenings and usually centers on all things smelling of garlic.”

  “I could pick up something else?”

  “No,” Mia said, a bit too loudly perhaps. “I can just order a salad or something. And maybe some plain bread.”

  Ever since seeing Garrett again, all she’d been able to stomach were peanut butter sandwiches. Of course, that wasn’t much different from what Mia usually wanted to eat. Her friends constantly ribbed her about her peanut butter obsession, but when one gre
w up with a mother who thought anything with more calories than a celery stick would cause her young daughter to balloon into a whale overnight, one tended to indulge in the foods she missed out on during childhood.

  In fact, her mom used to keep a postcard of a large cartoon hippo ballet dancing in a tutu taped to their refrigerator door. At first, eight-year-old Mia had thought the image was humorous, but Rhonda Palinski had intended it to be a deterrent for anything her daughter might be tempted to put in her mouth that could jeopardize her dancing career. That picture moved each time with them and had graced several kitchens before Mia went to college and found it on top of her leotards in her suitcase with a note attached suggesting she affix the dancing hippo to her dorm room fridge. She’d torn it up and thrown it away before her ballet shoes had even been unpacked.

  As if the unpleasant memory conjured up the woman herself, the apartment telephone rang and Mia’s posture became even more erect. Only one person ever called her landline.

  “Do you need to answer that?” Garrett asked.

  “Nope. It’s probably just a wrong number or a telemarketer. Most people who need to get ahold of me call my cell phone.” That was true. She’d had the home line installed only when she’d first moved to Sugar Falls. She’d still been traumatized after the Nick incident and her peace of mind dictated she have several means of access to call 9-1-1.

  When the answering machine clicked on, she prayed that this time, it truly was just a telemarketer. But the second she heard the raspy smoker’s voice, she should’ve known she wouldn’t be so lucky.

  “Mia, baby, it’s Mom. I’ve been trying to call your cell phone all week but you haven’t been answering. I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for our Thanksgiving plans... Hello? Hello? What in the...”

  The message continued to record as Rhonda Palinski pushed a series of buttons on her end of the line then abruptly disconnected. Several seconds later, the phone rang again.

  “You know what?” Mia jumped up suddenly, knowing that her persistent mother would just keep calling and leaving messages until Mia answered. “Why don’t we just walk over to Patrelli’s and place our order?”

  Maybe if she put on a thick scarf and hat, she wouldn’t be as recognizable walking with a good-looking man down Snowflake Boulevard. The phone began ringing again. Even if she was recognized, it was less risky than staying in her apartment with him like a sitting duck, waiting to see what her mother said next on her machine. She was relieved to see that Garrett was now rising and following her lead, even if the amused expression on his face suggested he was enjoying her awkward discomfort. She’d made it to the wrought iron coat rack by the door and was just finished bundling up before the outgoing greeting started all over.

  “Baby, it’s Mom again. Your machine cut me off. Anyway...” Mia rushed Garrett outside and slammed her door behind them, effectively cutting off Rhonda’s voice.

  “So does your mom know about the baby and everything?” he asked as they made their way down the wooden staircase attached to the back of her building.

  “Not yet. I need to tell her, but I’ve been putting it off. I guess I’ve been putting a lot of things off.”

  “Speaking of that...” He turned toward her and, sensing the direction of his thoughts, she wondered if maybe they should go back upstairs and have this conversation. “I still can’t believe you were just going to have my baby and not even tell me.”

  Nope. It looked as if they were going to do this right here, in the dimly lit alley behind the Snowflake Dance Academy. “Garrett, I thought we went over this in your office. How could I tell you when I didn’t even know you or where to find you?”

  He buttoned up his coat, but his hazel eyes didn’t look away from her. “You’re right. There’s no sense in looking back at the past. What’s important is that we figure out what we’re going to do from here on out.”

  “What we’re going to do?”

  “You can’t seriously expect me to not want to be a part of my child’s life.”

  “Actually, I didn’t really know what to expect. It was never my intention to get pregnant that night in Boise, and I’m guessing raising a child with a complete stranger wasn’t what you had in mind, either. So I completely understand if you want to pretend none of this ever happened and walk away. I’m more than capable of handling this on my own. No strings attached. You’re off the hook.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, but not because it was cold. She just didn’t want him to see her crossing her fingers.

  “Walk away? From my own child? Nope. That’s most assuredly not going to happen. So back to what we—meaning you and I together—are going to do. I’ve been doing a little bit of online research about co-parenting and shared custody. If we do things right and put the baby first, there’s no reason why we can’t work together to raise a well-adjusted and happy kid.”

  “You want to co-parent?” She had never even heard of the term before. Mia’s own father had bailed the minute he’d found out his mistress was pregnant. Actually, he didn’t bail so much as he’d simply gone home to his wife and his real children. Maybe Dan Perez had co-parented with the mother of his legal offspring, but he certainly hadn’t done so with Rhonda Palinski. “What does that entail?”

  “Well, we would share custody. You get the baby half of the time and I get him or her the other half, and we make decisions together about what school they’ll go to and who has to pick them up from sports class and that kind of thing. I mean, we live in the same city now, so it shouldn’t be that difficult to coordinate our work schedules and pass off back and forth to each other.”

  Share her child? Was he delusional? Did he actually think she’d leave her precious son or daughter with some guy she barely knew? He made it sound so simple. Yet they were talking about an innocent human being. Not a basketball.

  “But we don’t know each other. What if you’re a completely unsuitable father?”

  “Me? I’d make a terrific father. I’m well educated, I have a stable job and income, and I’ve been around kids before.”

  “What kids?” She remembered him mentioning that he had a strained relationship with his own dad and wondered if that extended to the rest of his family.

  “I did a couple of rounds in the pediatric unit when I was doing my residency. And I found one of my old textbooks on childhood development when I was unpacking some boxes in my office.” Even in this alley with the orangish glow of the light poles, her face must’ve reflected all the skepticism she felt because he squared his shoulders defensively and asked, “What about you? What if you’re a completely unsuitable mother?”

  “Garrett, I’m a dance teacher.” Mia started walking, but not to get away. She needed to move around in order to redirect her normally nonexistent temper. “I work with children all day, every day of the week.”

  “Fair enough.” He kept pace beside her as they turned the corner of the building and made their way along the main sidewalk. “But what if you end up being like one of those spiteful women who becomes bitter and vindictive and uses our child to punish me?”

  Mia had never been prone to violence, but she had also never had her morals or her potential parenting skills called into question by a virtual stranger. She stopped and pulled her hand out of her coat pocket to point her finger at him. “I would never use another person, let alone my own child, to punish anyone. But even if I were the type who was like that, we don’t have an invested emotional history so it’s not like I’m some bitter ex. We didn’t exactly have the kind of relationship where one would establish those kinds of feelings toward each other.”

  He rubbed his forehead, then reached out and took her hand in his own. What was up with him and this whole touching thing? It must be something they taught in medical school because Mia surely wasn’t used to so much constant physical contact.

  She also wasn’t used
to the heat that shot from her fingers, up her arm and deep into her chest. So then why was she so mesmerized by it?

  Uh-oh. She was feeling that weird bubbly champagne thing again. If she’d had any control over her brain, she would’ve yanked her hand back. But he was using his thumb to stroke her palm, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a scene now that they were on the main street through town—or to lose his comforting warmth. So she kept walking, letting him hold her hand as if they were a couple of lovers on a leisurely evening stroll.

  “Listen, Mia. We barely know each other at all. We certainly don’t know what kind of parents we’ll be, let alone how we’ll get along in a couple of years. But I hope that we can both agree that deep down, we want what’s best for our child.”

  She glanced at him as she nodded in agreement, and his lips split into a full grin. This time, his expression matched his eyes. Now, this was a reassuring smile.

  “So we’ve got a couple of months before Pipsqueak gets here to learn everything we possibly can about each other and how to successfully co-parent.”

  There he went with that co-parenting mumbo jumbo again. But he was right in the fact that they would have to learn about each other and how to manage being in each other’s lives for the next eighteen-plus years at least.

  “Okay, co-parenting rule number one.” She felt her frown lift and her guard ease just a smidge. “We are not naming this child Pipsqueak.”

  They reached Patrelli’s, and Garrett smiled as he pulled open the heavy oak door leading to the crowded Italian restaurant. Looking into his eyes again, Mia remembered why she’d let this man lead her back to a hotel room. Or maybe she’d been the one doing the leading. Either way, if she wasn’t careful, the whole world would see just how eager she was to have him smile like that at her again.

  At least on a Saturday night, Patrelli’s was mostly filled with tourists since most of the locals knew to avoid the busier places on the weekends.

  “Mia, what a surprise!” Mrs. Patrelli, the matronly woman who owned the restaurant with her husband, greeted them as they walked inside. “We’re packed tonight, but we might have a booth opening up in a few minutes. I’ll move you to the top of the list.”