The Secret Baby

by Harper, Leddy

I’d known Noel for a while, and one of the things I hated most for her was her battle to get pregnant. It’d taken a while before she’d opened up to me about her and Pete’s struggles to have a baby and how long they’d been trying. And ever since she’d told me about it, I ached for them. If anyone on this planet deserved a baby, it was them.

  “No worries. If I fuck something up, I know you’ll fix it when you get in.”

  She smiled and rolled her eyes, a soft giggle escaping her as she shook her head. “And knowing you, there’ll be a lot for me to fix. Just please, stay away from the fax machine. And the copier. Last time you tried to help out, we had to go without both for days before I could get someone in to repair them. And no . . . before you say anything, photocopies of your hand weren’t important.”

  She’d never let me live that down, nor would she ever believe that it wasn’t my hand. Granted, it was, but that wasn’t the point. In all fairness, she’d just gotten news that their first attempt at insemination hadn’t worked, and it was all I could do to cheer her up. It had worked. Even though she liked to complain about how long we’d gone without a copy machine, she’d laughed so hard that day that tears lined her face—and not the kind she had worn earlier, either.

  “If you ever go missing, don’t get pissed when we can’t find you because we don’t have your fingerprints.” I grabbed my keys from the top drawer on my desk, slipped my phone into my pocket, and walked toward the door. “I, on the other hand, am prepared.”

  “You have nothing to worry about, Aaron. Nobody is going to take you. And if they do, they’ll give you back before anyone can pull the first print off anything.” She headed toward the reception desk to grab her purse before meeting me at the door.

  “If I ever do get abducted, you’ll regret saying that.”

  To my surprise, Noel fell against my chest and wrapped her arms around my waist. It took all of two seconds before I heard the first sniffle, and another second and a half before her shoulders hiccupped. I didn’t hesitate to hold her against me, knowing where this had come from. Every time she had another appointment, her anxiety went through the roof, starting at the end of her shift the day before.

  She had to have seen through my act of trying to make her laugh.

  It usually worked, though not this time.

  “It’ll be okay, Noel.”

  She nodded, sniffled again, and then let go. “Thanks, Aaron.” And without glancing at me, she opened the door and walked out, leaving me behind to lock up. Which was fine by me, but I hated seeing her so broken.

  I’d never had a little sister.

  Until I’d met Noel.

  I opened the bathroom door to let the steam out from my shower and found Kelsey sitting on the couch. Oddly enough, the TV wasn’t on, and she didn’t seem to be on the phone. I hesitated at first, but then I thought, Screw it.

  “What’s up, buttercup?” I asked, taking the cushion next to her.

  She glared at me, though I could tell it wasn’t sincere. “Nothing.” She huffed and glanced to the ceiling, eventually giving up on being vague since she’d learned by now that it didn’t work on me. “I’m just not ready for bed, but I don’t have anything to do, and there’s nothing good on TV.”

  I grabbed her ankles and pulled on her legs until her feet rested in my lap. At first, it surprised her—hell, it surprised me, too. I wasn’t a fan of touching anyone’s feet, yet I did so with hers without an ounce of thought. And before I could talk myself out of it, I began rubbing the arch on one, stretching out the muscle, which made her groan.

  And then I never wanted to stop touching them, hoping to pull every erotic sound from her that I could with nothing more than my hands and her feet. If I couldn’t have her any other way, I’d take what I could get. And if this was all I could get, I’d take it without a single complaint.

  “Okay, so let’s talk.” I pushed away any thoughts I had about the noises she made and tried to concentrate on a topic that could keep her talking. “When are you going to find me a house that we both agree on?”

  The one we’d gone to look at today was supposed to be a good one—one she had picked out. Yet still, once we were inside, it wasn’t good enough. This time, the moldings were the issue, which, in all honesty, was a ridiculous reason to turn it away. Cosmetic things could always be changed. But she’d convinced me that I didn’t want a house that I’d end up having to dump time and money into to update.

  I’d begun to believe I’d never find anything good enough for Kelsey Peterson.

  “I’m starting to question if you’re trying to make me stay.” It was a joke, but it was clear it freaked her out. Rather than give in, though, I gripped her foot tighter and said, “But we both know that’s crazy. I wouldn’t be surprised if you kept a calendar tracking just how much longer I’ll be here.”

  At least that earned me a smile. “No, nothing like that. You’re not bad to live with. You clean up after yourself, and you cook me dinner. Granted, it’s nothing like what Tatum used to make, but I can’t fault you for that. She’s a trained chef, and I personally like your fish sticks.”

  There was a chance that hadn’t been meant as a compliment, and even if it was, it wasn’t a very big one. But that didn’t stop me from taking an incredible amount of pride from it. “Maybe you should tell some of your friends how good I am to have around.”

  I really wished she’d see that and want me to stay, but I wasn’t about to go there. No need to scare her off and ruin whatever this was we had going on.

  “My friends will break your heart, Aaron. Trust me . . . you don’t want them.”

  “At this point, I’ll take anything.” That likely made me look desperate.

  Oh, what the hell did I care. I was desperate. I knew it. She knew it.

  The fucking postman probably knew it, too.

  No point in hiding or pretending I was anyone but me.

  “Nah, you don’t want a bitch. You’re too good for that.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment before returning her gaze to my face. “What are you looking for, Aaron? Like, if you could write down exactly what you’re looking for, your perfect girl, and have her walk through that door right now, what would she be like?”

  You. I didn’t dare say that out loud, no matter how badly I wanted to.

  “Someone smart and funny—I’d like to talk about anything and everything with her while still being able to laugh. I want a woman who doesn’t mind being at home with me, plopped in front of the TV for a movie, but who also doesn’t mind going out and having a good time.”

  “Okay . . . all good points. But what about long term? You want to settle down? Have a family? How big of a family, and how important are these things to you? Is there a time frame in mind?” Good Lord, she certainly got to it, asking all the important questions. It made me wonder what she had up her sleeve.

  And I prayed she had a more selfish reason for asking.

  There was only one thing to do—give her the truth and see what happened. “You already know I want to get married. I think we established that on the night we’ve forgotten about.” I added a wink for good measure, appreciating the smile she offered in return. “As for kids . . . yes. I want a family, as big a one as I’m allowed. I’m not picky. I just want a good woman I can love every day of my life and kids who’ll wipe my ass when I’m too old to do it myself.”

  She laughed, and it had to be the best sound I’d ever heard. The way she dropped her head back, smile stretching her face and the song of angels filling the room, was the closest thing to heaven I’d ever get here on Earth.

  “This is something you want right now?”

  I’d skipped this part of the question on purpose, but it seemed she’d picked up on that and refused to let me get away without answering. “Well, yeah. I’m not getting any younger, and the last thing I want to do is be in the position my assistant’s in right now.”

  “What position is that exactly?”

  My heart ached
just thinking about it. “Spending years trying to have a baby and still not have one. It pisses me off, you know? That there are people in this world who would give anything to be parents, yet they can’t for one reason or another. And then there are idiots who get knocked up on one-night stands or druggies who fall pregnant from a random person they fucked to get high. Why is it that the ones who don’t want kids—or were never supposed to have any—are the ones who get pregnant easily, while the ones who deserve it more than anyone else are the ones who struggle?”

  Kelsey was quiet for so long I worried she’d fallen asleep with her eyes open.

  I switched to the other foot and began to stretch that arch, hoping it’d open her up or break her free from whatever spell she’d become victim of. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so deep with that. I’m just saying . . . the last thing I want to happen is to wait too long to get married, only to find out biological children aren’t in our cards. You know?”

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat and then pulled her feet from my lap. “Actually, I think I’m more tired than I thought I was. But thanks for the company.”

  “No problem.” I searched my brain for what I’d said to scare her off, yet I couldn’t come up with anything. “Is everything okay? You’re not upset about anything, are you?”

  “Oh, no. I’m fine. Just really tired all of a sudden. But hey”—she placed her hand on my thigh—“you’ll find her. I know it. And I have a feeling you won’t have to worry about the whole kid thing. You’re stressing for no reason.”

  The only thing I could do was smile and say, “Night, Kelsey.”

  “Good night, Aaron.”

  Something I’d done or said had made her run. If only I knew what.

  Chapter 11

  Kelsey

  I’d filled more pages in my journal since Aaron had expressed his concern over women who didn’t want kids getting pregnant from one-night stands than I had in all the time before that combined.

  My head was all over the place. And it seemed Aaron only made it worse.

  Over the last two days, he’d done nothing but give me attention, likely realizing that something had gotten me down. He was a smart guy, so he must’ve assumed it was something he had done or said, which made him do nothing but overcompensate.

  Like now . . . with his frequent text messages. Though I had to admit, most of the time, he made me laugh. His humor was probably the one thing capable of pulling me out of my fear-induced coma.

  Dr. Phil-Me-Up: I hope you didn’t eat too much at lunch today

  The paper sheet crinkled as I lifted my phone and read his message. The doctor would be in any minute; the nurse had told me so about half an hour ago. After a few moments of deliberating—unsure if I should engage in a conversation with him now versus waiting until after the appointment—I tapped on the screen and typed up a message.

  Me: Why?

  Yes, that had taken me a while to come up with.

  Dr. Phil-Me-Up: Because I have a fancy dinner planned for you tonight. Gormet

  Me: Is that the same as GOURMET?

  Dr. Phil-Me-Up: Nope. One step below

  I covered my mouth with one hand to hold in the laughter. Which proved to be utterly pointless since I was the only one in the exam room.

  After pulling up the emoji list, I found the laughing-face one. But just as I tapped on it, a quick knock resounded, and the door swung open. I jumped in my seat and turned wide eyes to the woman in the doorway, who was smiling like this was some joyous occasion.

  Mindlessly, I tapped the blue arrow to send the text. Then I set my phone on the small table next to me and readied myself for the one thing I’d both feared and anticipated ever since finding out I was pregnant.

  She went through my chart, discussing dates and terms I’d previously heard at the clinic I’d gone to four weeks ago, all while I just sat there and listened as if it were the first time I’d heard any of it. Then she brought in the ultrasound cart and began going through more things that became white noise in my head. I went through the motions—nodding and the occasional yeah—lost under the weight of my reality . . . until a foreign sound filled the room.

  At first, it sounded like the garbled sounds of a helicopter. Then the woman who sat at the machine next to me said, “The heartbeat looks good.” And suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the due date, not the situation with Aaron, and not the fact that this lady had a giant wand with a condom over it shoved up my hoo-ha.

  Only the sound of my baby’s heartbeat.

  It was amazing how one sound could completely consume you.

  On the way out of the office, my phone vibrated in my back pocket, and even though I was lost in the bliss of my first official appointment, I grabbed my cell. As soon as I saw Aaron’s name on the screen, the sun came out, brightening my face and leaving me with the most unexpected smile.

  Dr. Phil-Me-Up: I’m starting to wonder if this is a subliminal message about laundry

  I glanced higher on the screen, noticing that was his second message, and read the first.

  Dr. Phil-Me-Up: Trust me, what I have planned to cook for you does NOT sock.

  And then I moved my eyes up one more line to see what he’d meant by that. There, just above that text, was a blue sock emoji. It took me a moment to figure out why it was there, and when I remembered sending him the one of a laughing face, my smile grew wider. Somehow, I’d accidentally tapped the sock . . . again.

  Me: I’d love to know why this sock keeps showing up.

  Dr. Phil-Me-Up: Me too . . . but now I kinda don’t wanna see it go away

  Me: Why?

  Dr. Phil-Me-Up: Because it makes me laugh

  And just for that, I sent it to him again.

  I dropped my purse onto the couch, stepped out of my shoes—which killed my feet—and made my way into the kitchen, where Aaron stood in front of the stove, a mouthwatering aroma filling the room.

  Sidling up next to him, I couldn’t help but laugh. At him. And at the contents of the pot on the burner. “Macaroni and cheese? I thought you said it was gourmet.”

  “It is.” When he turned to look at me over his shoulder, it brought our faces closer together, which stole the breath from my lungs and the beats from my heart. He had me frozen under his stare—willingly. “It’s shells and cheese. Not the powder shit. This is as gourmet as you’ll get.”

  It took every ounce of willpower not to touch him, though I didn’t bother holding back the smile he painted on my face by just being him. “You’re in luck . . . I happen to love shells and cheese.”

  Aaron stilled for a moment. He set the spoon down, turned his body toward mine, and traced the swell of my cheek with his fingertip. “Were you crying?”

  I shoved his hand away and wiped my face. I’d dabbed a cool cloth on my eyes before leaving the office and blasted cold air on my cheeks all the way home. There was no way he could’ve possibly been able to tell I’d been crying. “No.”

  “Well, if you start to, you can always talk to me about it over a carton of ice cream.”

  I smiled—it was weak, but a smile nonetheless. “Thanks, Aaron.”

  “Go get changed and meet me on the couch for some of the best gourmet shells and cheese you’ve ever had.” He winked, and I had to literally force myself to leave his side.

  I had no idea what this man was doing to me.

  I reclined on one side of the couch, my empty bowl on the floor next to me and my feet in Aaron’s lap. I had no idea how we’d started this—his rubbing my feet while we talked or watched TV—but I had no complaints. It seemed my body ached worse as each day passed.

  “I heard back about that house today,” he said without making eye contact.

  Every time we spoke about his moving out, my stomach twisted and my heart raged against my ribs, desperately trying to escape my tightened chest. And the longer this went on, the worse it became. My biggest fear was that he’d buy a house and move out of my apartment, and my world would
just quit spinning.

  And that thought made me freak the hell out.

  “The one you saw yesterday?” I held my breath and waited for the punch in the gut I knew was coming with his response.

  “Yeah. I put in an offer once we got back. I guess someone else did the same thing but offered more than I did, so they went with the other guy.” The hopelessness in his tone gutted me, as if all his hopes and dreams lived in that one house and someone had stolen them out from under him.

  Meanwhile, I couldn’t have been happier, though I chose not to dissect my elation. “It’ll be okay, Aaron. There are other houses; we just have to keep looking. You’ll find something you love even more, and it’ll make this one look like a piece of crap.”

  “Thanks, Kelsey,” he said with a smile. Then he stilled, his hands stopping midrub. “Wait a minute . . . I know why you’ve been sending me sock emojis.”

  “Because I don’t pay attention to what I hit before I send a text?”

  “No. I was convinced you were trying to drop hints that I’ve left my socks lying around. Now I realize it’s your subtle way of hinting at a foot massage.”

  “Yup. That’s it. You caught me, Aaron.”

  With a sinful smile, he dug his thumbs into the soft spot right above my heel, pulling a long groan from my chest. Had it not felt so good, I might’ve been embarrassed. “Next time . . . just ask. It’s amazing the things you can get by simply asking for what you want.”

  “So you don’t want me to send you any more sock emojis?”

  “I didn’t say that. It’ll be a sad day when I stop getting those from you.”

  And it would be a sad day when I stopped getting foot massages from him.

  I didn’t want to think about that happening. I wanted to continue to live in the moment.

  And in this moment . . . it was easy to pretend that he was mine, we were happy, and we both wanted this baby.

  Chapter 12

  Aaron

  “Just remember . . . act surprised,” Kelsey told me for the hundredth time tonight.