by Linda Seed
“No, man. Don’t. I think … whatever’s going on, they need a little time.”
Will sat back down heavily. He felt worried, and a little bit guilty, even though he couldn’t think of anything he might have done wrong.
“She’s not pissed at you. At least, I don’t think so,” Jackson offered, seeming to read his mind. “I said that I’d kick your ass if they wanted, and they said no.”
“Well, that’s comforting.”
“I guess.”
The bar was half full, about typical for a weekday night. The Rolling Stones were playing over the sound system, a smattering of customers were sitting at the bar, and a couple of guys were arguing over their pool game. It was early, so the place didn’t yet smell like sweat and spilled beer.
“Do you think it has something to do with her mom?”
“No,” Jackson said.
The quick, confident response confirmed to Will that Jackson knew something he wasn’t telling. The guy looked worried, and that wasn’t typical of Jackson, who usually had only two modes: happy and angry.
“What’s going on, Jackson?” Will asked, sitting up straighter in his chair. “If you know what this is about …”
“I don’t know. I’ve got an idea. But if she hasn’t told you yet …”
“Told me what? Jackson? Come out with it.” Will was getting scared now. Scared that Rose really was angry with him, for reasons unknown. Scared that she might break it off with him. Scared that something was wrong with Rose, with her life, something that was causing her pain that he wanted to fix. What if he couldn’t fix it, whatever it was? What if she was in trouble, and he couldn’t help her?
“You called me because you want to tell me. Didn’t you?” Even as he said it, he knew it was true. “Well, I’m here. Tell me.”
Jackson squirmed in his seat, looking like a kid who’d been caught cutting class. He ran a hand through his auburn hair and grimaced.
“Aw, man. I shouldn’t be doing this. If she wanted you to know …”
“Just tell me. If she needs my help, I want to help her. And I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Dude. I think she’s pregnant.”
Will had heard it said before, metaphorically, that someone felt the world dropping out from under them. That phrase had held no meaning for him until this moment. Because right now, it really did feel as though the floor had disappeared, as though he were floating in a vertiginous, spinning freefall that would end—if indeed it did end—in a crushing impact when he finally hit the ground.
“You … I …”
“Yeah. That’s about how I thought you’d react,” Jackson observed.
“Did they tell you that? What … How do you know that?” Will was sputtering, dizzy, unable to focus.
“Instinct, man. Rose was crying, and they were all gathered around, and they freaked out when I suggested maybe she could use a drink. Plus, Kate might have mentioned something about a bad condom a few weeks ago.”
Will was stunned not only by the idea of impending fatherhood, but also by the knowledge that the news of his faulty condom had spread so far and wide.
“But … she said she was on the pill.” But even as he said that, he knew that wasn’t right. That wasn’t what she’d said. He’d asked if she was on the pill or something, and she’d replied, Or something. Which had been classic avoidance of the question. He’d have realized that at the time if he hadn’t been so addled by the stupendous sex.
“Yeah, well, don’t go buying onesies just yet. I don’t know for sure that’s what’s going on, I just have a hunch.”
The mention of onesies made Will clutch at his beer and chug half of it in a single draft. It helped, somewhat. But he was still conscious, so it didn’t help enough.
“What should I … I don’t …” He scrubbed at his face with his hands.
Jackson sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Is this gonna be a deal breaker for you? Are you about to crush her heart? Because if you are …”
“What? No. Of course not. No.” The very thought was appalling. In fact, the first thought that had jumped into his mind, after the blind panic, was marriage. He’d thought about Rose and marriage before, but she wasn’t ready to hear it—nor would he expect her to be after just weeks of dating. But now, if a baby were to force the issue, maybe he could … No. It had been a challenge just getting her to acknowledge that they actually were dating. This would be a jump she wasn’t likely to make.
“Are you sure?” Jackson said, picking up the thread of the conversation. “Better guys than you have been known to run like hell when the little line turns pink.”
“I’m sure.” Will took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m sure. Jackson … I love her.”
Jackson gave Will a half grin. “I was hoping you’d say that, since she’s practically my sister-in-law. If you were going to run, I might have had to kick your ass whether the girls wanted me to or not.”
“Look who’s talking,” Will said. “You used to have at least three clearly marked exit routes ready before the first date.”
“I’ve changed,” he said mildly. “And anyway, this isn’t about me. It’s about you and Rose, and your kid. If there is a kid. I’m pretty sure there is one.”
The phrase your kid made him dizzy again, but he rallied and managed to focus.
“Okay. So, let’s say it’s true. What should I do? I know I want to be with her. But Rose … she’s been on this ‘I’m through with men’ kick, and I was just barely getting her to admit that maybe she’s not. And now …”
Jackson rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “Ah. So, you’re not the one who’s going to freak out and hit the door. She is.”
“Right.”
“Let me think about that a little.”
They both thought about it while they drank their beer and watched the crowd at Ted’s. Will reflected that there had to be a way for him to adapt to this new information, a way to work the situation so that Rose would know she was safe with him and wouldn’t feel the need to shut him out. He just didn’t know what it was.
“Should I go to her?” he said at last. “Tell her I’m in? Let her know I’m not going anywhere? Because I’m not.” Just saying the words gave him a new sense of determination to stick, no matter what.
“I don’t know.” Jackson shook his head, thinking. “Maybe. Maybe not. You know what we need? We need a girl to help us think this through.”
The idea was appealing. If they could get Kate to come down here to Ted’s, she’d probably have a greater sense of what Rose needed—and how Will could best give it to her—than he and Jackson did. But the women were so tight, like sisters, that it seemed likely Kate would then tell everything to Rose. And that could scare her away or make her angry, neither of which Will wanted to do.
Jackson seemed to read his mind. “We could ask Kate what she thinks, but then she’d tell Rose.”
“Yeah,” Will agreed. “And then Rose would feel manipulated.”
“And then God help you,” Jackson added.
But if that wasn’t going to work, then what?
“All right,” Will said after a while. “Let’s break it down to the basics. Do I tell her I know? Or do I wait for her to tell me? If it’s even true.”
“It is,” Jackson said.
Deep in his gut, the place where the truth lived, he knew Jackson was right.
“Okay, so …”
“Okay.” Jackson sat forward, ready to work the problem. “You tell her you know, what’s she most likely to do?”
“Well, she’s not going to start calling me darling and knitting baby booties. I think that’s pretty safe to say.” Will pictured the image of Rose as a motherly June Cleaver, and smiled. “She’s more likely to tell me that she doesn’t need me. Because it’s really important to her to believe that she doesn’t need anyone.”
“But she does need you,” Jackson said.
“I know that. But it’s not about what sh
e really does need. It’s about what she wants to need. And she doesn’t want to need anybody. Because people have always let her down in the past.” He thought about that for a moment, then amended it. “Well, not her friends. But men. And her mother.”
“Okay. So, if you tell her you know, then she can either become a partner with you, or she can become this tough-as-nails, single pregnant woman, toughing it out on her own and taking on the world solo.”
Will gave Jackson a pointed look. “Which one of those sounds like Rose?”
Jackson shook his head. “Dude, you’re screwed.”
“Right. Plan A isn’t going to work. But Plan B … I could just keep quiet. Wait for her to tell me. Wait for her to do what she’s going to do. Meanwhile, I’ll just … I’ll be there for her. I’ll be rock solid. I can do that. And when she sees that …”
Jackson raised his eyebrows. “Could work. Or she could break up with you without saying why, and then you’d still be screwed.”
It was a possibility. Then he thought of another possibility.
“She’s … oh, God. She’s not going to … Is she going to have the baby? Do you … What did Kate say?” The idea that Rose might get an abortion was a sudden, horrifying possibility. If Rose wanted an abortion because she truly didn’t want to have a baby, then that was one thing. But if she was considering abortion because she thought she’d be in this alone … Well. If that was an issue, he’d have to tell her he was in this to stay. And he’d have to tell her today.
“We didn’t get that far,” Jackson told him. “Remember, I’m not even supposed to know. But if I had to guess, I’d say she’s keeping it. They yelled at me when I offered her a drink. All of them, even Rose. Would they have done that if she wasn’t keeping it?”
Probably not. That thought was comforting.
Will decided that there was only one thing to do: He would keep his mouth shut and simply be there. He’d be there when Rose was scared, he’d be there when she was happy. He’d be there if she tried to push him away. He’d just be there. In the wild, when a predator approached a skittish prey animal, it had to move slowly, carefully, to avoid spooking the prey and causing it to run. This was like that, sort of. Except that Will’s goal with Rose wasn’t to attack her; it was simply to love her, and to make her feel safe to accept that love.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rose threw herself into helping with Gen’s wedding. That was something she could do to get her mind off of her own problems and onto something constructive. There was so much to do, it was easy to lose herself in the tasks, the details, the putting out of small fires.
She knew that she’d be keeping the baby, but she didn’t know what she was going to do beyond that. She didn’t know what she would do about Will, or about her mother, or how she would raise a baby on her own. But she wasn’t ready to think about those things, and thinking about tulle and taffeta, flowers and place markers, seemed so much easier.
“What’s the next job? I need a job,” Rose told Gen at the gallery when she stopped in during her lunch break a couple of weeks before the wedding.
“Are you sure?” Gen looked skeptical. “You’ve got a lot on your plate right now, and I—”
“I’m sure! All of that stuff ‘on my plate’ ”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“is the reason I need something to do! I can’t think about it right now. So I need something else to think about.”
“Well, okay.” Gen went to the laptop on her desk, called up a file, printed it, then handed the sheet of paper to Rose. “Here’s the list of the inconsiderate idiots who haven’t RSVP’d yet. Could you call them and find out who’s coming?”
Rose lifted an eyebrow. “Inconsiderate idiots?”
“It seems that wedding prep is making me cranky,” Gen observed.
“All right. I’m on it. If you want, I can tell them that they’re being idiots.”
Gen smiled, a dreamy look on her face that suggested she was happily imagining just that. “Better not,” she said finally. “Some of them are Ryan’s relatives, and I’m still trying to make a good impression.”
“Okay. Only two weeks left. How are you holding up?”
“I’m good,” Gen said. “It’s good. I’m excited, and stressed out, and I can’t wait, but I also can’t wait for it to be over.”
“That sounds about right.”
“How about you? Have you told Will—”
Rose plugged her ears with her fingers and started singing. “La la la la la! I can’t hear a thing! My ears are plugged, and I’m singing! La la la!”
Gen crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes as Rose walked out the door.
Rose knew she couldn’t avoid the issue forever, but she figured she could avoid it for now. So she went back to De-Vine after her lunch break and started on the phone calls. The shop was empty. She’d already done the ordering, restocked the shelves, cleaned the place, and brought the bookkeeping up to date. It seemed that hiding an unplanned pregnancy gave her stores of energy she wouldn’t have thought possible.
She was three names down the list when a text message came in from Will.
Dinner tonight?
Rose stared at the message. Though it was a simple question, not fraught with drama or emotional baggage, she felt an ache in her chest just seeing his name. She hesitated, then answered.
I can’t. Busy helping Gen with the wedding.
It was a lie. She’d be done with the phone calls this afternoon, and then she wouldn’t have anything else to do until she got another assignment from Gen. And of course, she’d have to eat dinner. It wasn’t like she was going to hunger strike until the wedding was over. Still. She wasn’t ready to see him.
I can help. I can make little bags of Jordan almonds. : )
The emoticon, coming from a grown man, was unbearably cute.
A sweet, sexy man cared about her. Why did it hurt like this? Why did it make this ache, this lump of sorrow in the middle of her belly? Part of her knew that pushing him away was childish, but another part—a bigger part—felt like her very survival depended on it.
That’s sweet. Thanks. But we’re good on the Jordan almonds.
A moment later he responded.
Tomorrow, then? I miss you.
Oh, God. She missed him too. So much. But the knowledge of the baby growing inside her was all she could possibly handle. She couldn’t handle him, too. Now—especially now—was a time when she had to protect herself. Pregnancy made her vulnerable and raw, and this was not the time to open herself up to anything as messy and unpredictable as love.
Customers in the store, she wrote back. Then she put her phone down and looked out into the empty expanse of the shop.
She sighed.
This—all of this—was why she should have been finished with men.
When Rose got off work that evening, she went to her car and found Will leaning against the hood holding a bag from Neptune.
Her heart did an annoying little flip-flop when she saw him.
“What are you doing here?”
He pushed off the car and stood up straight as she approached. “You’re busy right now, but you’ve got to eat. So, I figured I’d bring you something.” He gestured toward the bag. “There’s enough here for two. We can go down to the beach and sit at a picnic table and eat it together, or if you really can’t spare the time, I’ll just leave it with you and go get a burger.”
He grinned his disarming, sweet, good-guy grin. It almost made Rose’s knees weak.
“I guess … I suppose I can spare a few minutes to eat. But then I have to get home and work on some stuff for Gen.” She wondered what was in the bag, and hoped it involved Jackson’s seafood bisque.
“Okay, fair enough. Your car or mine?”
The evening was mild as they set up the food on a picnic table at Leffingwell Landing, just north of Moonstone Beach. Will had planned ahead, and he’d brought a tablecloth to spread over the worn wooden table.
Gulls wheeled overhead, and a light breeze blew off the ocean. A handful of people were at the park, including a woman who’d set up an easel for watercolor painting, and a guy playing Frisbee with his kids.
Will spread the food out on the table, and it did, in fact, include Jackson’s seafood bisque.
“God, I’m starving,” Rose said. Though she was very early in her pregnancy, one thing about her body that had changed already was that it had an insatiable desire for food. And this hunger wasn’t like any previous hunger she’d felt. This was a soul-consuming, knee-shaking, animal desire to devour anything edible that came into her path.
Will had brought the bisque, some pieces of fresh-baked baguette, a green salad, and pasta with a spicy chicken and sausage ragù. As he opened the containers, the mouthwatering smells almost made Rose swoon.
They didn’t bother with plates or bowls, and instead just dug into the takeout containers with their plastic forks and spoons.
Rose wanted to be tough and protect herself and her baby from any possible dangers, and those dangers included Will, since she couldn’t be sure about him and what he would do once he learned about his impending fatherhood. Her heart was at risk, and she needed to surround it with an impenetrable fortress of strength.
But it was pretty goddamned hard to be a fortress when he brought her seafood bisque.
She was too hungry, and too tired from a day spent on her feet, to worry about that now. Right now, there was the velvety texture of warm bread and the bite of the spicy sausage, and the aroma of seafood and tangy tomato sauce. Right now, there were the seagulls and the crash of the waves, and the scent of the ocean.
“I haven’t seen you much lately,” Will said mildly.
Rose shrugged in a way that was supposed to be casual. “Ah. Well, you know, I’ve been pretty busy. Work, and my mother wanting to take up all of my time, and … and Gen’s wedding.” It sounded false and stilted, and she knew it. It sounded like an excuse.
“Sure.” He nodded. “I’ve been busy too. I’m finally making progress on my dissertation.”
“Really? That’s great, Will. I know you were worried about it.”
