Mike leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “What about a paternity test?”
A knot of embarrassment burned in her chest. If it wouldn’t totally expose her naked bottom half, she’d raise the lap sheet to cover her face. God, she was a freaking stereotype. Unwed pregnant woman tricking wealthy man by claiming he’s the father. She knew that wasn’t the situation, but she wasn’t blinded to the optics, either.
The doctor stilled. “If you need a paternity test, one can be performed after the baby is born.”
“What if we need to know before the birth?”
Dr. Kimball took a deep breath. “Then you have two options, both invasive. The first is an amniocentesis. I would use an ultrasound as a guide to insert a thin needle into your uterus, through your abdomen. The needle draws out a small amount of amniotic fluid, which is tested. Risks include a small chance of harming the baby and miscarriage.”
Indi gasped and placed her hands on her belly. There was no way in hell she was doing that if it wasn’t medically necessary.
Mike’s jaw tightened. “What’s the second option?”
“The second is CVS or chorionic villus sampling. Again, guided by an ultrasound, I’d insert a thin tube into the vagina, through the cervix, to collect chorionic villi, which has the same genetic makeup as the fetus. This testing also creates a risk of miscarriage.”
She wouldn’t do it and there was no way he could force it upon her. She wasn’t angry with Mike for wanting to know if the baby was his, but in the end it didn’t matter. She didn’t need anything from him, not his money, his support, or his permission. She’d told him because it was the right thing to do, but this wasn’t a discussion or a debate. It was her body and she’d made her decision.
She was putting Nugget up for adoption.
And maybe, without concrete proof of Nugget’s paternity, Mike’s tenuous connection to the baby would fade and he’d leave them both alone.
“If you want the amniocentesis, we’d need to wait at least a couple of weeks. I prefer to perform that procedure after the sixteen-week mark. We could do the CVS as soon as you can schedule the appointment. Again, based on the sparse medical history you provided, these tests aren’t necessary, and they can cause a quantifiable risk to you and the baby, including the loss of pregnancy. Unless learning the paternity will benefit the essential health of the baby, I strongly suggest you wait until the baby is born.” Dr. Kimball braced her hands on her thighs. “Do you have any other questions for me?”
“I’m still trying to process everything you’ve told us,” Indi said.
“When you check out, the receptionist will give you my card. If you have any questions between now and your next appointment, don’t hesitate to call.” She smiled, her blue eyes revived from their earlier somberness. “Would you like to hear the baby’s heartbeat?”
Nugget fluttered in her belly.
Is that what you want? You want us to hear you?
Indi clasped a hand to her chest. “We can do that?”
“Absolutely. Lean back. No stirrups this time.”
The paper sheet crinkling beneath her, Indi reclined on the exam table and placed her head on her bent arm. Mike came to stand next to her. She looked up at him and some emotion she couldn’t define swirled in the arctic depths of his eyes.
Dr. Kimball parted the gown and squirted jelly from a tube onto her stomach just beneath her belly button.
The coldness startled Indi. “Ooh!”
“Sorry about that.” Dr. Kimball grabbed a device that resembled a microphone for a toddler. “This is a fetal Doppler. It can detect a baby’s heartbeat as early as eight weeks.”
She placed the microphone in the dab of goo and swirled it around on her belly. The jarring noise of wind roaring through a tunnel erupted from the Doppler and was the occasion’s only accompaniment for at least a minute. Worry vacuumed the moisture from her mouth. Was everything okay? Should it take this long? Then—
Whub whub whub whub whub whub whub whub whub whub whub whub whub whub.
The fast, hectic sound echoed throughout the small room. Tears stung her eyes and fell out the sides to wet the paper beneath her head. When Mike’s hand swallowed hers in a solid, comforting grip, she realized she’d reached out to him. She looked up and the same awe, wonder, and amazement that filled her soul, colored his features.
“That’s our baby,” he told her, squeezing her hand.
Indi whispered, “Hey, Nugget.”
“Everything sounds good. Your baby’s heart rate is one hundred fifty-five beats per minute, which is right on target for fourteen weeks.”
Dr. Kimball quieted the machine and the sudden silence was deafening. She got a tissue and wiped the goo off Indi’s stomach. “Most couples hesitate to ask during their first visit, but, in case you were wondering, it’s completely safe for you to have sex during your pregnancy. Your baby is not watching you and will not know what’s going on, so don’t let that worry you. In fact, during your second trimester, increased blood flow to your pelvis may make it easier for you to achieve an orgasm.”
Oh. My. God.
Indi squeezed her eyes shut and prayed this had all been a super realistic dream. She wasn’t pregnant, she hadn’t been arrested, and she hadn’t called Mike to bail her out of jail. There was no possibility of pending criminal charges, she wasn’t in debt to the tune of one hundred and ten thousand dollars, and she wasn’t in a doctor’s office crying over the beauty of her unwanted baby’s heartbeat and listening to her doctor calmly advise her about easily obtained orgasms.
Shit, that didn’t sound like a dream. It was a meat lover’s deluxe pizza at 2:00 a.m.–induced nightmare.
No matter. She’d wake up and find herself back in her loft in Seattle after a long night sampling the brewery’s latest blend.
She’d be the same Indi as before: carefree, independent, and in control of her life. Able to keep everyone at a distance and protect herself from the hurt that came when people got close enough to realize the charm, humor, and amiability she exuded camouflaged a person who was, at her core, unlovable.
She pinched her arms, counted to three and opened her eyes to the “Ob-gyn Kenobi: May the Forceps Be with You” poster on the ceiling.
Nope. This was happening. All of it.
Mike cleared his throat. “Umm, good to know.”
“Your next appointment will be in four weeks and we’ll schedule you for an ultrasound. It’ll be your first picture of the baby and we may be able to determine the sex. Again, congratulations, to both of you.”
“Can you turn around?” Indi asked when they were left alone in the room, aching for the tiniest bit of space she could manufacture.
Could anything be closer than a baby growing inside of her and its father determined to keep her glued to his side?
His gaze flicked upward. “I’ve already seen it.”
“That was then, this is now. Turn around, please.”
He narrowed his eyes, but gave her his back, offering her a modicum of privacy to clothe her bottom half. The long, floral skirt—once a favorite—would now be relegated to the burn-this-I-never-want-to-see-it-again pile, after being called into service three days in a row.
She needed to go shopping.
She’d planned to go yesterday, having finally broken the ceramic penis and freed her savings. But exhaustion stole her opportunity to get out and see the city.
Sitting down, she slid her feet into her boots. “I’m done.”
“I’ll give you a ride back to the condo.”
“No.” The adamant shake of her head disturbed her braids. “I can find my way back.”
He frowned. “You don’t know this city. You need to be careful.”
“I’ve been responsible for myself since I was sixteen years old. I’ll be fine.
”
“Apparently not,” he said, his meaning evident in his smug, self-righteous tone.
“I didn’t get pregnant by myself. This wasn’t the immaculate conception.”
“You’re right. But can’t I be concerned about where you’re going—”
She exploded. “Where do you imagine I’ll go, Mike? You’ve got me fucking low jacked! I just need some space.”
She turned to leave and he was behind her between one breath and the next. He braced a hand against the door, preventing her departure.
“This is the opposite of space,” she gritted out.
“I’m sorry,” he said, brushing her braids over her shoulder.
The unexpected tenderness was her undoing. She caved like a roof with insufficient support.
“I’m not making this easy on you, am I?” He stroked her back.
She didn’t respond, couldn’t as the power of his presence slowly encircled her, pushing out any alternative other than the one to melt into him, let him take care of everything.
“I want to, Indi. I really do,” he said, his voice low and hypnotic. “But I can’t. You’ve had time to come to terms with this. I’ve only had a day.”
Yeah, well, she’d only had three.
She focused on the door in front of her, scrutinizing the minutia of the wooden grain, trying to focus on anything but the feel of his chest against her back and the crisp, fresh smell of his cologne.
“Don’t you love him?”
His painful question was the barrier she needed against the encroaching lethargy. She placed a hand against her belly. “Nugget?”
“Why do you call him Nugget?”
She recalled the grainy black-and-white images she’d seen when she’d Googled three-month fetus. Her throat tightened, making it difficult to speak. She struggled to form the words.
“When I searched online, that’s what he looked like.”
“You looked it up online? You named him? That doesn’t sound like someone unattached to the baby growing inside her.”
She trembled. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me. Don’t you love Nugget?”
Anguished, she faced him, certain her heart would burst from her chest, the pain was so intolerable.
“I love him more than I ever thought possible. That’s why I have to give him away.”
Chapter Eight
HE’D LET HER go.
Or had she taken her leave?
Either way, Indi walked down the shaded street, grateful for the freedom to determine her own movements for the next few hours.
How had she gotten entangled in a situation where she’d abdicated her autonomy to others? Her plan had been simple. Come to San Francisco, hang out until the baby was born, give him up for adoption, and get on with her life. Instead, she had found her sister gone, gotten herself arrested, and been charged with a felony, and now she was tied, legally and biologically, to a man who overrode her hard-won common sense and had her fantasizing about an existence she could never lead.
He wasn’t even her type. She liked party boys. Guys who took her to exclusive clubs where she danced all night and drank for free because they knew everyone who mattered. Guys who invited her to the Hamptons for all-night raves, who were spontaneous and liked to have fun. Guys who didn’t take themselves too seriously.
Mike was as formal as a Southern cotillion. He was proper, confident, disciplined. The only time she’d seen him dressed casually was when he was half-naked, having thrown on slacks to answer the door for the pizza delivery guy. He was more likely to take a date to the opera than to jet off on a moment’s notice to some exotic locale.
But their differences didn’t seem to matter when it came to the potent attraction between them. From the moment they’d met at Chelsea and Adam’s engagement party, sparks had flared to life, simmering unattended until he’d approached her at their wedding. And then . . . fireworks.
And that baby she’d planned to give away? The moment she’d heard his heartbeat, emotions she hadn’t known she’d possessed roared to life within her, creating rifts in her certainty that a better life awaited him elsewhere.
What in the hell was she going to do?
She knew what she wouldn’t do. She wouldn’t make the mistake of growing used to their presence or—heaven forbid—depending on them. They would leave: Nugget to his new family, Mike to his old girlfriend.
Chelsea to her new life.
And she’d be alone again. With the only person she could ever really trust to have her back.
“Indi?” A friendly, feminine voice. “What are you doing here?”
She froze. She could count the number of people she knew in San Francisco on one hand, and only one of them was a woman. Who was currently out of the country. She turned around to stare at the blonde standing a few feet away.
“Jill.” Pleasure blossomed at the improbable sight of Chelsea’s assistant. They’d gotten to know one another during Indi’s many stopovers in LA before Chelsea had met Adam. “How are you? Congratulations on the promotion.”
“Thank you. Chelsea’s rise to partner at Beecher & Stowe meant I was upgraded from a cubicle to my own office. Name etched in glass and everything.”
“Are you splitting time between the San Francisco and LA offices?”
“No. I relocated with Chelsea after the holidays.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I asked you first.”
“I’m taking in the scenery.”
Jill’s brown eyes widened at Indi’s sparse reply but she answered in kind. “Our office is a block away.”
Ahhh . . . Chelsea said she’d wanted to find a doctor near her job. Indi had believed that meant San Francisco versus San Mateo. She hadn’t considered that Chelsea meant the proximity to her actual office.
Jill placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m heading over to Union Square for coffee. Want to join?”
The chance to spend time with someone who didn’t know her situation seemed like the greatest indulgence. From the moment she’d taken the pregnancy test, she’d been defined by the life growing inside her. Every decision she made, every action she took, every opportunity she turned down, all because of Nugget’s presence. Coming to San Francisco, getting arrested, calling Mike . . .
Hell, being around Mike was akin to existing next to a walking billboard of her mistake.
“Sure. Thanks.”
Even the weather cooperated, bestowing upon them cool temperatures and a pleasant breeze that stirred the fronds on the lush fan-shaped palm trees. The sun blazed brightly, as if gracing them with its presence, bringing to life the beautiful architecture of the city and glinting off the enormous, colorful metal heart that sat atop a stone pillar, surrounded by a throng of people.
“What’s with the heart?” Indi asked.
“That’s the Tony Bennett heart. It’s a thing here, part of a fundraiser. I haven’t been in the city long, but most days when I walk over to grab lunch, I see a queue of people lined up for selfies. Someone told me you can do a walking tour and see several others in buildings, gardens, or parks around the city.”
When they reached the charming patisserie, Jill held open the door for her and the mouthwatering smell of baked items and coffee overwhelmed Indi. She paused just inside, waiting to see if Nugget would accept this assortment of aromas. When no physical indication of his displeasure was forthcoming, she sighed in relief.
“Does Chelsea know you’re here?” Jill asked after they’d received their drinks and had chosen to sit at one of the wrought iron cafe tables on the patio.
“Not yet. It was a spur of the moment decision.”
People strolled past in various states of dress, from those shivering in shorts, sweatshirts, and flip-flops to others clad in jeans, boots,
and thick jackets. With only her cable-knit sweater for coverage, Indi was glad they’d chosen to forego a table beneath the large green canvas umbrellas. They needed the sun’s warmth.
Jill gestured toward Indi’s mug of steamed milk. “Not a coffee person?”
When she realized she’d have to give up caffeine—another decision dictated by Nugget!—she’d ordered the beverage she used to make for children when she worked at an Arlington, Texas, coffeehouse. “I am. I just—not right now.”
Jill’s brown eyes scanned her, from the top of her braids to her dangling foot. “Are you pregnant?”
Indi sputtered and her vanilla-flavored drink dotted the tabletop. “What?”
“Are you pregnant? That’s the only reason anyone gives up caffeine. Or alcohol. And don’t try to tell me you don’t drink. I was at the wedding reception and I have two words for you.” She held up her index and middle fingers. “Tequila. Shots. It was amazing.”
Indi rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on her skirt. Christ, if she’d known everyone would be watching her and Mike instead of the bride and the groom, she would’ve sold tickets and used the proceeds to fund her next getaway. Since when had she shed the invisibility cloak that allowed her to operate beneath the radar?
That had always been a useful part of her survival kit, knowing when to kick up her persona and when to fade into the background. Bartending, waitressing, trying to stand out during Children Services’ annual adoption fair: sparkle, sparkle, sparkle.
Receptionist, data entry clerk, not making trouble when the social worker checked on you at your latest foster home: keep your head down and your mouth closed. Somehow, instead of her and Mike going unnoticed, their coupling had sparked the hell out of the party.
She opened her mouth, intending to wrap herself in indignation and—if luck decided to throw her a frickin’ bone—divert attention away from her lack of verbal response. Instead, the telltale prickling of heat behind her eyes and—
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
—she was crying.
Along Came Love Page 9
