by Shirley Jump
“Emily, this is our child—”
“A child you never wanted. We had this conversation just the other day, and you said you didn’t want to have kids, not now. Maybe not ever. I do want kids. I’ve wanted kids for a long time, and I’m okay with doing this on my own.”
“We’re separated. We still might end up divorced. And you think it’s wise to bring a child into that?” What was she thinking? How could she do this?
Then his gaze dropped to her belly, and he realized he’d been just as much of a part of the decision. He should have stopped, should have thought. But when it came to Emily, sometimes his reason deserted him.
Now Emily was pregnant. The entire thing still seemed surreal, impossible.
“I didn’t plan it that way, Cole. It just happened. Babies grow up in single-parent homes all the time and do just fine.” She crossed to the door and pulled it open. “Look, I don’t want to argue. Why don’t we just get some sleep and talk about this tomorrow.”
“Is this why you left? So I wouldn’t find out?”
She exhaled. “I don’t know. I just wanted to go somewhere else. Somewhere to think. The inn seemed like the best place to do that.”
“And when were you planning on coming back?”
She knew the answer, because it had always been there, in the back of her head. She’d never admitted it out loud or to herself. Yes, she had run away, to keep from having this very conversation with Cole. To avoid the hurt. “Not until after the baby was born.”
“And after you divorced me?”
She nodded. She’d thought it would be so much easier, cleaner, to end her marriage and begin this new life hundreds of mile from Cole. A cowardly move. “I was afraid, Cole, that you would try to talk me out of the divorce.”
“Like I have been for the past few days.”
“I just didn’t want to be standing here, like we are right now, saying the things we’re saying.” She shook her head. Her eyes burned. Her heart ached.
“Am I that horrible of a man that you would feel like you have to leave the state to divorce me and have my child?” His voice broke, sharpened by hurt.
“No, Cole, you’re not horrible at all.” She clutched the door. “And that’s the problem. I knew if I stayed around you, I’d fall for you all over again. And I can’t do that. Not again.”
“Then I’ll make this easy for you, Emily.” He held her gaze for a long, bittersweet moment, then Cole turned on his heel and left the room. A few minutes later, she heard the door of his room shut, followed by the sound of the front door closing, and then his rental car starting, leaving.
Cole was gone.
And even though it was what Emily had wanted and knew would happen, the sound of him leaving sent a sharp blade through her heart, severing the last strand of hope.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE MORNING DAWNED, bright and cheery. Emily rolled over and stretched in bed, lazy, warm. Then her head cleared, the sleepiness disappeared, and she realized two things.
It was the day before Thanksgiving. And Cole had left.
What had she expected? Some big teary, emotional moment when she told him about the baby? A Hollywood moment of clarity, where he realized he wanted the baby and her, and they all went off into the sunset, happily ever after?
Nothing had changed. Cole didn’t want children, and just because she was having a baby didn’t mean he’d changed his mind.
She wanted to pull the covers up, stay in bed and wallow in the hurt and regret, but that would only make it worse. After a while, she rolled out of bed, pulled on a robe, bypassing her laptop and heading downstairs. On the landing, Emily paused and peered out the window at the inn’s driveway, half hoping to see Cole’s rental car.
But it was gone, just like it had been last night. So was Joe’s car. Martin’s van was in the drive, and she could hear the sound of pipes clanging in one of the bathrooms. Emily swallowed her disappointment. She’d known this was coming, asked for it to be over and told herself she was ready for the finality of her marriage, but that didn’t make it any easier to take or accept.
“Good morning,” Carol said when Emily entered the kitchen. Harper got to her feet and wagged her tail. “How are you feeling?”
“Terrible. But not nauseous.” Emily let out a little laugh. “I finally have a morning without morning sickness, and it’s a day when all I want to do is go back to bed and cry.”
“Oh, Emily, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Yes. No.” She spied the overnighted envelope on the table, delivered that morning. “Yes.”
Then she dropped into a chair at the kitchen table and poured out her heart to Carol, just like she used to when she was a teenager, and her parents were fighting and all Emily wanted was someone to listen to her and tell her it would all be okay.
She started at the beginning, telling Carol about how her marriage to Cole had started well, then slowly eroded. How she’d still had hope. How the past few days had only increased that hope and made her think maybe Cole would change his mind and want a family like she did.
“Now I’m alone, and he’s gone and...” Emily sighed. “I know I’m going to be okay, but right now, it doesn’t feel that way at all.”
Carol’s hand covered Emily’s. “It’ll be fine, honey. I promise.”
Down the road, yes, Emily knew she had become stronger over the past few months and would, indeed, be fine, but the getting from here to there seemed an impossibly long, painful road. “He’s gone, Carol. It’s what I expected, and what I told him I wanted, but...”
“You also expected him to stay.”
Tears rushed to Emily’s eyes, spilled onto her cheeks. “Yes.”
“You know, it’s okay to believe in fairy tales, Emily. You always did, and I hope you always do.”
Emily scoffed. “Why? They never come true.”
“Maybe not. But believing that the impossible can happen is what gives our days that little bit of magic. And magic is what makes for the best stories. Don’t you remember telling me that once?”
Emily smiled. She’d been a little girl when she’d said that to Carol, explaining why she loved to read fairy tales, and how when she grew up, she was going to write her own. “Are you telling me to add a happy ending to my book?”
“And to your life.” Carol’s fingers squeezed Emily’s. “There’s still magic left to be found.”
The thought warmed Emily. Could there still be magic, for her? For Cole? She wasn’t sure if there was any left between them, but for the first time since she’d heard his car leave the drive, she believed there’d be a happy ending for all of them. Somehow.
Her stomach rumbled, prompting Emily to head for the fridge. She reached for the orange juice, then noticed the empty middle shelf. “Carol, you don’t have a turkey.” She turned back. “Aren’t we having Thanksgiving here?”
“To be honest, I’ve gotten into the habit of not making future plans.” Carol sighed. “I just don’t know what to do with this place. All these repairs are great, and I truly appreciate them, but...”
“You don’t know whether to hold on or let go.” Emily’s features softened. “I can relate to that.”
Carol rose and drew Emily into a hug. The embrace wrapped Emily with the same warmth and acceptance she always found at this inn, and with this woman, who was so much like a mother figure to her. “Then let’s hold on together,” Carol said. “At least for Thanksgiving. Because we have an awful lot to be grateful for.”
Emily thought of the miracle growing inside her. “We do indeed.”
Carol ran a hand through her hair, then looked around the kitchen. “Well, if we’re going to have a proper Thanksgiving around here, I need to get cracking. There’s a million things to do. I need to bring down the holiday dishes
and—”
Emily put a hand on Carol’s. “Why don’t you give me a list and let me go to the store for you?”
“Are you sure?”
Emily nodded. “It’ll be nice to get out for a while.” And away from the reminders of Cole.
“I sure appreciate it.” Carol drew a piece of paper out of the desk drawer, then started making a list. “You buy it...I’ll cook it.”
Emily laughed. “Deal.”
The sound of clanking pipes came from up above them, followed by a muffled thud and a curse. “Uh-oh. I don’t think the plumbing is cooperating with Martin. I bet he could use a little help. Maybe you should offer to go up there and help him.” Emily winked.
A shy smile spread across Carol’s face. “That’s a darn good idea.”
Emily grabbed a quick breakfast, then got ready and headed to the store. She parked outside the small grocery that passed for a supermarket in town, then grabbed a cart and started making her way through the aisles, checking off the items on Carol’s list. It kept her from thinking about Cole and her future—a future that wouldn’t include him.
She paused in the books and magazine aisle and allowed herself a moment to dream, to picture her novel on that shelf. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday, she vowed, she’d see that happen.
Her stomach cramped. The first time, she brushed the feeling off. She’d done a lot today, what with the driving and shopping and yanking that heavy turkey out of the refrigerator case. After several days of doing nothing more strenuous than working at a computer, maybe her body was complaining.
Then a second cramp, followed fast on its heels by a third. Emily fumbled in her purse for her cell phone, and dialed Carol’s number. No answer. She’d probably left her phone downstairs while she helped Martin. Emily dialed the number for the inn. No answer again.
Panic rushed through Emily. What if something was wrong with the baby? Suddenly, she wanted someone here, someone to hold her hand, keep her calm. Reassure her that it would all be okay. Someone strong and sensible and composed.
She skimmed her thumb over the contacts list and then took a deep breath and called the last person in the world who wanted to deal with her or this baby.
Cole.
* * *
Cole sat at his desk and tried like hell to listen to Doug as he talked about the upcoming product launch. Any other day, he would have been asking questions, analyzing charts of age data, engaged and invested in the process.
Not today. Not one ounce of the usual excitement rose in his chest. In fact, he only heard about every other word Doug said because Cole’s mind was on Emily.
His wife. The mother of his unborn child.
A child.
The word sent a combination of anticipation and fear rocketing through him. Even now, hours after Emily had told him, he wanted to both shout the news from the rooftops and run for the hills. He was a walking, talking clichéd contradiction. Him, the man who had always been decisive and driven, derailed by a human the size of a pencil eraser.
“Cole? Did you hear me?”
Cole jerked his attention back to the reports in front of him. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“The mid-Atlantic division is predicting a forty percent increase in sales over last year. Customer preorders are through the roof, and media buzz is strong and positive. Your idea for the screen substitution was brilliant and bought us just enough time. The Japanese supplier should be sending their first shipment next week. I think it’s going to be a smooth product rollout, all in all.”
“Good. Good.” Cole’s mind went back to Emily. What was she doing right now? Probably cursing his name three ways to the moon. Not that he could blame her. He’d ducked out of there, using the same old excuse about work. He cleared his throat and refocused on Doug’s face. “How about the mid-Atlantic? What’s the report from there?”
Doug chuckled. “You must be dreaming about turkey and pie or something. Did you hear a word I just said?”
“I heard turkey and pie.” Pie made him think of Emily again. Of that first awful pie she’d made him when they were newlyweds, of the late-night apple pie they’d shared and the potpie they’d made. “Uh, why would I be thinking of turkey?”
“Because Thanksgiving is tomorrow.” Doug shook his head, then got to his feet. “Why don’t I just email you the report? We can talk after the holiday.”
“Sorry. Just having trouble getting my mind back on work after being on vacation.”
“Totally understandable.” Doug grinned. “Must have been a hell of a vacation to get you distracted. Wherever that place is, I want to go.”
“The Gingerbread Inn,” Cole said softly. “It’s like one of those places you read about in a book.”
Doug lingered by the door. “You going back?”
The question hit Cole hard. Was he going back? Or staying here? Returning to that empty condo with its single plate and single fork and single glass? Or going back to the big house on the hill, which brimmed with priceless artwork and antiques, yet still felt as empty as a tomb? Or going back to the run-down inn by the lake, where the sunshine warmed his back and good home cooking filled his belly? Where he’d had his best sleep in years. And where the woman he had always loved slept with their baby growing inside her.
“I don’t know,” Cole said. “I’m not sure there’s still a vacancy for me.”
Doug laughed. “You’re Cole Watson. You built this company from your kitchen table to this.” He gave an expansive wave. “When has something that simple stood in your way?”
After Doug was gone, Cole sat in his office and looked around the room. He’d done what Doug had said, built his company from an idea he’d had in that cramped New York apartment, to this. A global leader, an innovator, all those buzzwords people threw out.
He’d worked so hard, spent so many hours here, because he thought those words mattered. Thought all of this—the walls, the employees, the profits—mattered. He’d kept reaching for a goal he couldn’t see, a goal that moved every time he approached it, because he thought it would fill that driving need deep inside him to succeed. To have it all.
He had the luxury cars. The custom-made mansion on a hill. The fat bank account. What he didn’t have was a wife and a marriage.
Everything here was stuff. Inanimate objects. He’d dedicated his life to—
Nothing that mattered, not in the long run.
Damn. How could such a smart man get it so abysmally wrong?
There was a double tap on his door, and Irene poked her head in his office. “Cole? Emily called. She’s been trying to reach you.”
He yanked his cell out of the holster. “Damn. I had the sound off while I was in the meeting. Let me call her back.”
“No, you need to leave.” She bustled into the room, grabbed his overcoat off the coat tree and pressed it into his hands. “I already called a car service to take you to the airport. Emily is in the hospital.”
“In the hospital?” Cole’s heart stopped. He stared at Irene, absorbing the words. His heart didn’t beat. His lungs didn’t breathe. His brain didn’t function. He heard the words again and—
Then he ran.
* * *
Emily shivered in the room, even though the stark white hospital room was kept at a warmer than normal temp. She drew the covers up to her chest and flicked off the television. Only a few channels, and not much to watch on any of them. Her hand went to her abdomen, and she sent up a silent prayer, then closed her eyes and lay back against the firm pillow.
The door opened, but she kept her eyes shut, sure it was the nurse back again to check on her roommate, an older woman given to pushing the nurse button every five minutes. But when she didn’t hear any sound from the space next to her, Emily opened her eyes and found Cole standing there, his face ashe
n, sweat beading on his brow. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Are you okay?” he said at the same time.
Her heart leaped at the sight of him and the concern on his face. “I’m fine, or I will be. I’m sorry for calling you. I couldn’t get ahold of Carol and I didn’t have Joe’s number and I was scared and...” She shook her head. Calling him had been a mistake. She never should have told Irene she was in the hospital. “It was ridiculous to think you could do anything from all the way in New York. I ended up having the store manager drive me—”
“Is everything okay?”
She nodded. “Just a little preterm labor. The baby’s jumping the gun. It’s nothing to worry about. Happens all the time. I just have to take it easy for a little while.”
Cole exhaled. “Good. I’m glad you’re okay.”
She noticed he didn’t mention the baby. God, why was she such a fool? Calling him, thinking an emergency would change anything? “You can go back to New York. I’m sorry.”
He was by her bedside in three fast strides. “Number one, never apologize for calling me when you need me. Regardless of how things go between us, I want you to know that you can always rely on me.”
The words regardless of how things go between us filled Emily with a bone-deep sadness. For all her talk about divorce, she’d realized in the past few days that a part of her didn’t want a divorce at all. She wanted to work things out with Cole, for the two of them to celebrate their baby’s arrival and find a new marriage, one where they were there for each other, rather than running along parallel but diverging tracks.
She wanted her husband, damn it.
“Number two,” he went on, “if you are sick or in the hospital or anything like that, I want to know about it. I will always watch out for you and care for you, Emily. No matter what.”
