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Beautifully Baked: A Sweet Romantic Comedy

Page 17

by Holly Kerr


  “Pitch?”

  Dean shakes his head. “I think my pitching days are past, but he thinks there might be a place for me at first base. And if my hitting is the same—”

  “Which it is. Deano, that’s great! When’s this happening?” I surface out of my misery, reaching for his happiness like a lifesaver.

  “This weekend. I’m dropping Flora off with her family because she’s got stuff going on, too.”

  But I don’t get to ask about Flora’s stuff before I hear the sound of a knock at the door. “Do you hear—?”

  Dean is up and out of the chair before I can finish, returning after a minute with M.K. “Look who’s here!” he says in a loud voice.

  “I knocked,” she says softly.

  “You came back,” I say dumbly, rising to my feet.

  “Where do you want me to put this little guy,” Dean says, shuffling Theo in his arms.

  “I better get back to Flora’s. Just wanted to pick up something.”

  “Hey,” I say to M.K., ignoring everything Dean said.

  “Hi.”

  Dean thrusts the baby back into my arms. “You need to tell her everything you told me,” he says. “Especially about the peanut butter.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  M.K.

  It took me seven minutes after Flora’s words sunk in to decide to go back to Clay’s.

  I don’t know what I want to do about his baby, but I do know I want Clay. I want him in my life, beside me, more than I’ve wanted anything.

  The door shut behind Dean, leaving me alone with Clay.

  And a baby.

  Clay stands before me, a smiling, blond-haired little person in his arms. I study the baby first. Even I, who knows nothing about babies, can see the similarities. His blond hair is lighter but falls over his forehead the same way. The jawline is identical.

  And the smile. Even with chubby cheeks and lack of visible teeth, the baby has Clay’s smile.

  “You came back,” Clay repeats, finally breaking the silence.

  “I had to.” For once I haven’t prepared what I wanted to say. I have no plan about this; I’ll say this and Clay will say that and we’ll get our happily ever after.

  I have to admit, in that version, the baby magically disappears. I don’t think I’ll admit that to anyone else.

  “Why did you have to?” Clay asks.

  Flora told me to be honest and speak from the heart. That’s easy enough for Flora who speaks anything that comes into her head. But I’ve always been careful what I say, measure the words I use as methodically as if I’m baking.

  “I didn’t want that to be the last time I saw you,” I say.

  Clay’s face falls. “Is this goodbye?”

  “No. I don’t know. Only if you want it.”

  “I don’t. I really don’t.” He takes a step forward then another so the baby is close enough for me to touch.

  I don’t touch him even though he smiles and reaches his arms out to me.

  “M.K., I’m sorry. I did this all wrong. I’ve been a mess since Abby told me, in a complete whirlwind since she dropped him off.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. It must have been a terrible shock.”

  “It’s been a shock, but I don’t think it’s been terrible.”

  Wrong word. And that’s why I don’t speak from the heart. As I consider my next words, Clay keeps talking.

  “I have a son now. I didn’t know he existed, but I’m glad I do now. And as difficult as this is going to be, I’m glad Abby had him. He’s like you—I had no idea I wanted him, but now I wouldn’t give him up for the world. Like you.” He smiles and I relax a bit. “I know this wasn’t in your plan, but now that things have changed, I hope you might want to try flying by the seat of your pants for a bit.”

  “I’ve never done that before,” I confess. Everything in my life has been laid out and organized. Carefully plotted and executed. I am not a laid-back person. I don’t fly by the seat of my pants.

  “Do you think you could try?” Clay pleads. “For us.”

  “For you and the baby?”

  “For you and me. Theo isn’t going away. He’s here to stay, and I have to figure out what to do about that. But it’s you I’m concerned with. You, I need by my side.”

  “You want a family?” I hold my breath, not sure how he’ll respond. Not sure how I want him to respond.

  “I want my girlfriend to accept Theo in my life. And I want you to help me figure out a future for us. For you.” He gestures to me. “And me. That’s all I’m asking right now. That’s all I can ask.”

  Flora told me to speak from the heart, but she didn’t say I had to be quick about it. So I take my time to consider what Clay said, what he’s asking. He wants me to take on the role of mother figure to his son. He wants me to uproot my life because he got a woman pregnant, and she didn’t want him—didn’t want them.

  The thought of Clay with another woman sends a spear of angst through my heart. I’ve never been a jealous person. Even knowing Ben cheated on me, there wasn’t jealousy, only confusion about why. Why did he pick another woman? What was he missing from me?

  There’s no confusion about knowing Clay was with another woman. I know it was about sex, because that’s all they had together.

  Does it make me lose a little respect for him? I don’t know.

  I’m going to have to get past all that if this is going to work.

  And that leads me to the question of the day, the one I was quick to answer with Flora, but when the catalyst is right in front of me…

  Do I want this to work with Clay?

  “Okay,” I say softly. “I’ll try.”

  Clay’s smile is like a beam of sunshine. I’ve never seen him look so happy. “Do you want to hold him?”

  A glance at the baby in his arms shows a happy, contented, little guy. I don’t want that to change. “Maybe later.”

  Clay

  My heart is full. I’ve got Theo in my arms and M.K. by my side.

  The rest of the night passes in a blur. We talk, I feed Theo and settle him for the night. M.K. and I watch an episode of The Big Bang Theory and all I can think about is going to bed.

  And not just because having a baby is exhausting.

  Finally, M.K.’s head starts bobbing as she fights to stay awake on the couch, and I suggest we retire to the bedroom.

  Theo is sleeping in the playpen in the corner of the room, lying on his back with his arms thrown over his head. “He doesn’t have a crib?” M.K. asks after a quick glance.

  “Abby only brought over the playpen. I guess I should get a crib for him. Might be more comfortable. He slept in the bed with me last night.”

  Her eyes widen with alarm. “Is he going to sleep there tonight?”

  I wind an arm around her waist and pull her close. “No, you’re going to sleep there tonight. He’s good over there.”

  She nods and after a quick hug, escapes to the washroom.

  “I’m really glad you came back,” I call to her as I pull off my clothes. The sound of running water answers me.

  I’m leaning over the playpen when she finishes. “I like watching him sleep,” I admit, straightening with a guilty smile.

  “He’s very cute,” she agrees as she climbs into bed. “Is Dean coming back tonight?”

  I chuckle as I climb in beside her. “I don’t think Dean is coming back anytime soon. Sounds like things are working out for those two.”

  M.K. gives an unladylike snort. “It’s about time.”

  “I’ll say. They’ve wasted a lot of time.”

  M.K. rests her hand against my chest, her head on my shoulder. “That’s what I thought, too, but listening to her tonight, I really think it was for the best. They both needed that time.”

  “Deano was pretty messed up about Evelyn.” I tighten my arms around her and give a sigh of contentment.

  “Flora…wasn’t.” M.K. laughs. “I’m glad. I think she was over Thomas a long time ago
but didn’t do anything about it.”

  “That’s what I’ve always worried about in a relationship,” I confess, the words coming easier in the dark. “Becoming complacent. Content, but not happy.”

  “Bored?” M.K. offers.

  “I don’t want to get bored.”

  “I’ll try not to bore you.”

  I smooth her hair, tucking my hand under her chin to lift her head. I drop a kiss on her lips, and another. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

  “I missed you last night,” she whispers. “And the night before.”

  I smile and settle her back against my shoulder. “I never slept with women before. Not sleep, sleep,” I add as M.K. barks a laugh. “But I always left. Sometimes right after, sometimes when they were asleep. But I never stayed the night with a woman.”

  “Me neither. With a man, I mean. Not that there’s been many since Ben. But I didn’t want that intimacy with another man. It felt like a betrayal.” I feel the vibration of her rueful chuckle. “Which is so ironic since he cheated on me.”

  “You’ve never told me what happened. He cheated; he died. You always leave it like that.”

  I sense her hesitation. “I’ve never told anyone.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. Maybe someday, but I won’t pry.”

  M.K. is quiet, and I think the conversation is over. I’m about to run my hand along her back for the beginning of foreplay, when she speaks.

  “Flora knows that another woman was found in Ben’s car. She didn’t die in the accident—Ben did, but she hung on. But she had no ID with her—no purse, no wallet. Not even a phone. The police thought it was me, because it was my car. We both used it, but it was registered in my name. So the police thought it was me and called my mother. She and my sisters raced all the way from Niagara-on-the-Lake thinking I was dying. But it wasn’t me.”

  “Oh no.” I’ve not yet met M.K.’s family but I can picture the fear and horror as they made the drive to the city, hoping against hope that their daughter would still be alive when they got there. My chest tightens thinking of M.K. hurt, lying in a hospital, and even though I know it wasn’t her, it chills me.

  She swallows audibly. “It was bad. I don’t exactly know what happened at the hospital, but once my mother saw that it wasn’t me, she came straight to the apartment. She woke me up screaming about how Ben was cheating on me and how could I have let that happen. It took her twenty minutes to tell me he was dead. She kept going on and on about all my bad choices—moving to the city, being friends with Flora, the patisserie. She thought Ben was the worst of it because he had ruined any chance of me getting married. She told me I’d failed our family, that she wouldn’t stand for having a fallen woman in the family. That it was my fault that I couldn’t be happy. After all that, she told me he was dead. And a good riddance to him.”

  I glance down. M.K. has pulled away as she was speaking, her fingers carefully folding the sheet. “Oh, M.K.”

  “My mother is a difficult woman,” she says stiffly. “Since my father left, she’s put all of her hopes and dreams and disappointments on me and my sisters. Marrying us off has been her life’s work. Because I’m the only one without a husband, most of the disappointment falls on me.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “No, it’s not. But that’s the way it is in my family.”

  “But can’t you talk to your mother? Tell her what she’s doing to you.”

  “My mother is a bit like a steamroller. You don’t tell her anything. You go along with it or you get out of the way. I got out of the way. I know I made things worse moving here and starting my own life, but I had to.”

  “I’m glad. I can’t imagine…” My family was far from perfect but it was nothing like M.K.’s. I hug her tightly.

  “Flora knows some of it. She knows my mother, but I never told her about that night. I couldn’t. It was…” She shivers. “Some of the things she said. I can’t repeat them.”

  “I don’t want you to think about it,” I tell her. “It wasn’t your fault. He was an idiot for cheating on you.”

  “Was he, though?” she whispers. “I wonder sometimes if it was my fault. If I could have done something.”

  “M.K., no. Stop.” I hold her arms and make her meet my gaze. “I don’t know what your relationship with this Ben was like, but if he made the decision to be with another woman, that’s on him, not you. You can’t make someone betray you like that, not unless you told him to go out and find someone else. And I don’t think you did that.”

  “No, but…maybe things weren’t as good as they seemed. It’s so hard to remember sometimes. It’s like my mother ruined every good memory I had of him.”

  I hug her tightly. I want to vent on her mother but I can’t do that. I’ve never met the woman and already I dislike her. It’s not a good start for our relationship. “I’m not defending your mother, but it must have been so upsetting to think you were hurt and then to find out it wasn’t you. It would have been a relief, and some people deal with that in strange ways.”

  She makes a sound against my chest that might have been a laugh. “It was definitely a strange way of dealing with it.”

  “What happened to the other woman?” I ask gently.

  “She died. It took them three days to find out who she was.”

  I want to ask, but M.K. doesn’t offer any details. “Did you ever find out why?” I smooth her hair, running my hand down her back. She shakes her head.

  That surprises me. M.K. is so curious, always needing to know the reason why. For her to have gone two years without knowing why this Ben was with another woman… “Maybe you should.” I suggest.

  “There’s no point.”

  You could prove your mother wrong. But I don’t say it. I also don’t mention that maybe it was innocent, that there had been a reason she had been in the car, but I don’t. She’s shared enough tonight. M.K. hasn’t had a problem talking to me and being open with her feelings, but I’ve sensed there’s always been things she’s holding back.

  This is a big one.

  I hold her against me for a long time, stroking her hair, her back, until slowly I feel her begin to relax again. I close my eyes, willing her to fall asleep, but her soft voice rouses me. “Clay?”

  “M.K.”

  “Is the baby always going to sleep in here?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it. I want him close, in case he needs me.”

  “What if I need you?”

  “You’ve got me.” I pause for a moment, listening to M.K.’s breathing. “Do you need me now? Because…great!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  M.K.

  Of course the baby started crying just when things were getting good. Clay tried to soothe him with words thrown over his shoulder, but the wailing kept increasing.

  Let’s say it was awkward and leave it at that.

  Eventually he settles, Clay gets back into bed and falls asleep right away.

  It takes me a while since I’m so conscious of the baby breathing—deep even breathing with the odd little snore that might have been adorable if it didn’t keep me awake.

  Clay has a baby, therefore I’m sleeping in a room with a baby. I haven’t planned for this.

  In fact, this is exactly what I planned against. I didn’t want a baby; I don’t want one.

  What do I do now?

  I fall asleep, deep and dreamless, unconsciously moving away from Clay while I sleep.

  Usually my internal clock works well in the morning, and I use the alarm to make sure it does. But this morning, the internal clock doesn’t have a chance to do it’s thing.

  At first I think the cry is from one of the cats, and I bolt upright with dread. Scarlett once got locked in the linen cupboard, and her crying woke me up in the middle of the night. But when I realize it’s Theo, I pause.

  What am I supposed to do?

  Clay is still fast asleep, his soft snores not even pausing at the sound. Shou
ldn’t he be waking up? Should I wake him up? But just as I’m about to shake him awake, Theo’s cries stop.

  He stopped crying and I didn’t even have to do anything. This is a good baby.

  But then there’s a sound like he’s grunting, which pulls me out of bed. I hover beside the playpen and Theo looks up at me, green eyes alert.

  “Hi,” I whisper cautiously.

  His face scrunches and I brace for wailing that will bring Clay running, wondering what I’ve done to his child. Instead, he grunts again. Added to that, there’s the unmistakable sound of something hitting the diaper and a few toots.

  “You’re pooing, aren’t you?” Theo’s face relaxes, and he gives me a toothless grin despite the sudden odour. “What am I supposed to do about that?”

  “M.K?” Clay sits up in bed, his hair mussed from where I ran my fingers through it earlier. “You okay?”

  “He cried,” I report. “And then he pooped.”

  Clay leaps out of bed, clad only in a pair of boxer-briefs. I don’t have a chance to admire the view before he’s beside me and lifting Theo from the playpen.

  In all the weeks I’ve been sharing his bed, I’ve never seen him wake up so quickly.

  “Good,” he says, grabbing a baby blanket from the pile on the dresser and laying it on the bed with one hand. “Can you get me a diaper from the bag? He didn’t poop at all yesterday and I was beginning to worry that he’s constipated.”

  I grab a Pampers and hand it to him, in awe of the ease in which Clay interacts with the baby. Theo squirms on the blanket, thinking it’s time to play, no doubt, while Clay keeps a hand firmly on his stomach as he reaches for the container of baby wipes. Then he unbuttons the yellow sleeper.

  “I talked to Liv, and she told me only to use sleepers with a zipper,” Clay says as he undoes the diaper and grimaces. “I guess this means he’s not constipated. She says the ones with buttons are more trouble than they’re worth.”

  “You talked to Liv about him?” I’ve heard all about Clay’s sister-in-law Liv, how she’s one of his best friends even after the monstrous crush he used to have on her.

 

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