by Lizzie Shane
Though Chris didn’t seem frazzled.
And neither did he seem happy.
She’d had so many stupid fantasies as she was driving out here—stupid now that she was looking back on them. She didn’t know why she’d thought he would be happy about the pregnancy, happy to see her again, happy to have his life suddenly complicated by her presence—but she’d pictured that over and over again as the miles flew by under her tires.
His smile lighting up at the idea of their child, the feel of his arms as he swept her into them, the low words of reassurance.
The reality was much harder to swallow.
His confusion. His hesitation. The way he calmly managed the situation with no emotion.
The tent flap moved and Trina jumped, moving guiltily away from her eavesdropping post. She wrapped her arms tight around her middle and turned to face Chris as he paused just inside the flap, studying her face.
“You heard,” he said.
“Some,” she admitted—and she hadn’t heard every single word, but she’d certainly heard enough. “Canvas walls.”
He eyed the tent. “Right.”
“I’m happy to get a paternity test,” she volunteered. “It’s probably a good idea. I haven’t been with anyone else, but you don’t know that—”
“I trust you.”
“Then we’ll get it for Marty. I don’t think he trusts me.”
Chris snorted. “Marty doesn’t trust anyone.”
“Occupational hazard, I guess,” Trina murmured. “What did he mean? That the network won’t want you if you have a kid?”
“It’s an image thing,” he said dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Marty seems awfully worried about it.”
“That’s what I pay him for.” When she frowned at him, he relented, explaining, “My show’s popularity depends on me being perceived as being available, if unattainable. Marty worries that if I’m in a relationship with a kid on the way, I’m doubling down on being off the market and my viewers will flock to whichever sexy single contractor they find to fill my time slot.”
Unease fluttered in her chest. She’d anticipated one of two outcomes—either he would want her and everything would magically fall into place or he would want nothing to do with her and she would at least get closure. This in-between uncertainty made her stomach roil. Or maybe that was morning sickness deciding to hit in the afternoon.
“I didn’t realize it might affect your career.”
“Welcome to show business.”
The flap rustled again and Marty entered. “I have a security team ready to escort you to her car whenever you’re ready. I’ll be in touch as soon as we have your flight change finalized. Your bags will be waiting for you at your hotel in New York,” he rattled off efficiently before turning his attention to Trina. “Your friend Ellie already sprinted off the premises, and no one is talking about pressing charges.I’ll arrange to have a fruit basket and autographed photo sent to her as an apology for her inconvenience. Was there anything else?”
“Thorough as always,” Chris said, clapping his manager on the shoulder before turning to Trina. “Ready to go?”
She nodded, feeling that strange disorientation again. This was the stranger. Chris the Celebrity. She’d fallen halfway in love with Chris the Man, but she hadn’t seen him yet today. Chris the Celebrity was the only one present. But maybe if she could just get him away from Marty, all that would change. Maybe when he wasn’t at a mall, where he’d just greeted several hundred adoring fans, he’d be himself again—and she wouldn’t have to be so scared that she was going to go through this alone.
Because even as they walked together, flanked by a security team and shouted at by fans, even next to him and surrounded by people, she’d never felt so isolated.
Chapter Seven
Trina’s car was approaching retirement age, but it was spotlessly clean and the maintenance reminder stickers on the windshield indicated she kept it well-maintained. The hallmarks of someone who cared about her possessions, but couldn’t afford anything resembling the tricked out Land Rover he was almost never home to drive.
She’d handed him the keys in the parking lot, explaining she was tired of driving—and he noticed the shadows under her eyes.
“Did you drive all night?” he asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat and slid it back as far as it would go.
“I caught a few hours’ sleep at a rest stop.” She sank into the passenger seat with an exhausted sigh. “My last class doesn’t get out until six on Wednesdays and I couldn’t afford to take two days off. I’m already missing a lab today.”
He’d thought of how this could derail his career, but he hadn’t really considered how much their little addition was already derailing hers. “I’m sorry you had to make the trip. I would have come to you, if I’d known.”
“I know.” She grimaced. “I just couldn’t seem to get past the wall of people protecting you.”
He put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking space, waving to the security guards who were keeping his fans from getting close enough to throw themselves in front of a moving vehicle.
Trina eyed them dubiously. “I know you said you were on television, but I never realized celebrity contractors were such rock stars.”
“I think it’s more the Romancing Miss Right effect than the contractor thing.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. A man who can fix stuff is hot. I saw one of your shows,” she said, with the air of a sinful confession. “I can see why all the girls go wild. You’re capable—which is sexy as hell. Then you add in how patient you are with the homeowners and how goofy you are with their kids…”
And there it was. The elephant in the car. How was he going to be with his own kid? “I’ve always liked kids. I relate to their immaturity,” he joked, but she didn’t reward his efforts with a laugh. He got on the main road, pointed south. “The fame stuff does take some getting used to.”
“Marty said you had some television appearances tomorrow?”
“The usual morning shows.” He’d done them too many times to get excited about them—first as part of the Romancing Miss Right family and later as the Addition Magician. “We’re putting out a line of power tools as part of my brand and I need to pimp them to the masses—and get my face out there as we’re trying to get primetime placement so the network knows I’m working for it.”
“Your life is so different from mine. I’m worried about passing my exams and you’re worried about impressing network executives.” She released a breathy, uncomfortable laugh. “I’m surprised you still fly commercial.”
“Private planes are a waste of money. Sometimes we’ll charter a flight, but most times I just leave my travel arrangements up to Melissa—she handles all that. I’m not big enough that I get mobbed in airports, though I do get recognized now and then.”
“Just now and then?” she asked dryly, glancing behind them where the mall had disappeared in the rearview.
“Today was different. When I have a public appearance the fans come out in force—and because they specifically came to see me, they feel like they have the right to my time. Which they do. But when I’m going through airport security or chatting with the guy sitting next to me on a flight, usually it’s just Hey, you’re the Addition Magician – love your show and then we’re done. It’s not always this crazy.”
“It’s still a surreal world,” she commented, the last word lost on a yawn.
“You can take a nap if you want,” he offered. “We have a few hours.”
“No,” she insisted, straightening. “We should talk.”
And there it was again. The elephant in the car again.
“I guess we should.” He concentrated on the road—because it was good driving, damn it. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was suddenly afraid to look at her. “Are you planning to…” Keep it suddenly felt like the wrong thing to say but he couldn’t think of any other words. He cleared his
throat. “What do you want to do?”
“It doesn’t have to be your problem,” she said, suddenly brittle. “We agreed on no strings. Whether I keep it or not, you don’t have to be involved. I thought you deserved to know and now you know. If that’s as far as this goes, that’s fine.”
Fine sounded like a four letter word. “Hey,” he said, defensive against the anger in her voice. “Give me a break, okay? You’ve had a few weeks to think about this. I’ve had a few minutes. I’m going to say the wrong thing—that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. Either of you.”
He heard her take a slow breath. “Sorry. The pregnancy hormones have been doing a number on my moods.”
“Understandable.” He’d had more than one client with a baby on the way and he knew that overreactions tended to go with the territory—but it was different when it was his territory. “Would you like to keep it?” He tried to keep his own emotions out of his voice—not even sure what he was feeling.
“I want to,” Trina said hesitantly.
And suddenly he knew exactly what he was feeling. Relief. He wanted her to want the baby. He wanted the baby. He almost said Thank God aloud, but she was already going on.
“But I’m in the middle of my first semester of medical school and I’m barely keeping my head above water as it is. I never regretted dropping out to take care of my mother, but I always knew I would get back on track. This time I feel like if I drop out again, I’ll never go back. It’s like I’m weighing being someone’s mother against saving hundreds of lives over the course of my career.”
“I could help you—with finances or child-care. Even if you take some time off school, I’d do whatever I could to make sure you were able to go back. If that’s what you want.”
“What do you want?” she asked softly.
He cleared his throat, excruciatingly uncomfortable. Moment of truth. So much of his life was about what he should do or what he needed to do to maintain the goals he’d already set in place that he rarely thought about what he wanted in any given moment.
Trina had been the exception to that. He’d wanted her. But there was none of the easy chemistry he remembered from that first night in the car with them today. They were both so awkward. So uncomfortable. So nervous. Two people who barely knew each other trying to decide something so big it would change the course of both their lives.
“I want to be part of my child’s life. And I know it’s your body, but I’d like there to be a child.”
“Me too,” she murmured, so soft he barely heard her.
“Good. So we’ll co-parent, if that works for you,” he offered, calmly solving the problem—one thing he’d always been good at. “I have a house in San Diego, but I can get a place in Chicago if you want to stay in school.”
“I think I’ll want to be home with the baby when it comes, but maybe I won’t leave school until the semester break—that will put me into my second trimester when there’s less risk of miscarriage. I can come to San Diego then.”
He nodded, more than a little proud of how logical they were being. “That will give us time to get to know one another before the baby arrives. Give us a chance to work out a plan. You can stay with me—the house is plenty big enough for all of us. I’ll talk to Marty about scheduling, make sure we won’t have any issues with builds scheduled in other cities close to your due date.”
“Great.”
He smiled to himself. “Great.”
Trina glared at the man in the driver’s seat, so smugly proud of himself she wanted to deck him as he neatly arranged their futures to his liking.
Here she was thinking about how the universe seemed to smite her every time she got cocky about having her life in order and he was busy planning his filming schedule around her gestation. Or rather, having Marty plan it.
She had a feeling she was going to get very sick of the words I’ll talk to Marty about… It seemed like the manager handled everything—his schedule, dealing with security and the mall people. It was a minor miracle Chris hadn’t just asked his manager to handle her.
More than anything else Marty seemed to be the biggest difference between Chicago Chris and Hollywood Chris. She wasn’t sure she knew the latter. Wasn’t sure she wanted him.
Which was convenient, because he certainly didn’t seem to want her.
In their entire conversation, he hadn’t really mentioned anything about the two of them. In Chicago, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her—hence their current situation—but now he hadn’t so much as touched her since she appeared at his tent with her announcement.
She wasn’t sure she wanted someone who wasn’t sure he wanted her—but he was still as devastatingly handsome as ever and he was going to be in her life forever now. She’d better get to know him—even if he was more Hollywood Chris than Chicago Chris.
“How long have you worked with Marty?”
“Four years? That sounds about right. He was introduced to me at a Romancing Miss Right PR event as my season was airing. Talked to me about my platform, my plans—got me my first meeting with the producers of The Addition Magician. He’s been my manager ever since.”
She could hear the loyalty in his voice. She was never going to pry Chris away from Marty, even if she wanted to. “Do you like having him manage every aspect of your life?”
“He doesn’t manage every aspect.”
She arched her brow at his denial. “I couldn’t tell you that I was pregnant with your child because I couldn’t convince Marty I wasn’t a kook. How is that not managing your entire life?”
“Okay, yes, sometimes he can take his responsibilities a little far—”
“I just want to know if I’m going to have to go through him to arrange play dates for our child.”
“You’ll deal directly with me. I explained that the stuff about my number changing was a mistake. You won’t ever have trouble reaching me again.” He cleared his throat again—something she was coming to recognize as a nervous habit whenever he was about to say something he didn’t think she would like. “You should be prepared for a little attention when we confirm that we’re having a baby.”
“A little attention?”
“Marty might want us—” He broke off, seeming to realize that sentence wasn’t taking him in a good direction. “We might want to do some carefully selected interviews to get our story out there, so it doesn’t get mangled too badly in the tabloids and on social media. It’s already pretty public thanks to your friend’s stunt back at the mall.”
“Ellie. I wish I’d gotten her number. I need to thank her. And apologize for letting her get dragged away by security.”
“You don’t have her number?”
“We just met today,” she explained. “In line to meet you.”
“She did combat karaoke for someone she didn’t even know?”
“I think she’s a romantic. She was looking for her own Chris Evans.”
He glanced away from the road. “Okay, you’re going to have to explain that.”
“She went to a fortune teller who told her that her soulmate’s name is Chris Evans—so she’s looking for him.”
Chris snorted. “That’s insane.”
Trina had thought the same thing at first, but now she couldn’t agree with him. “I think it’s beautiful. She’s putting herself out there for a shot at true love. And I never would have gotten to you today if it hadn’t been for Ellie.”
She might never have been able to get past Marty. Would she have still wanted to keep the baby if she had to go it alone? Or would she have decided to end the pregnancy, stay in school, become a doctor and have babies after she’d dated and gotten married like a normal person? Everything could have been different if not for the romantic tendencies of the woman standing with her in line. Though at the moment, this outcome didn’t look particularly romantic.
Chris would barely look at her.
Though admittedly, he was driving, so that was probably not a bad thing.
/> “You can’t predict who you’re going to fall for,” he argued. “You can’t really think that a fortune teller can call the name of the man you’re going to marry. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. And then if you’re miserable, is it the fortune teller’s fault? Or is that just your fate?”
“You don’t believe in fate?”
“Do you?” he countered.
“I didn’t,” she admitted. “When my mom got sick, I refused to believe that was her fate. Or that it was fate that my dad died when I was little. I believed in love and bad luck.” And that trend seemed to be holding. She was going to be forever tied to a man she thought she could love—who now seemed to see her only as an egg donor. “But now I don’t know. Maybe it was fate that we met in Chicago. If I’d walked down that alleyway five minutes earlier, you wouldn’t have been able to get into the Hot Box and we never would have met. If the condom hadn’t failed… But then there’s the other side. Would things be different if I hadn’t dropped my phone in the sink and you hadn’t had your number changed?”
“We’d be together,” he announced, without a shadow of doubt in his tone.
“Would we?”
“I wanted to come see you in Chicago. I didn’t want things to be over between us.”
She noticed he was using the past tense. What did he want now? “Neither did I.”
He glanced over at her then, holding her gaze with heat in his, and all at once she felt that same snap of connection that she’d felt in Chicago. This. This was how it was supposed to feel—until the car began to drift toward the side and the growl of the rumble strips snapped them both out of it.
“Sorry,” Chris murmured, and she wanted to ask him whether he was apologizing for nearly running them off the road, or for giving her that shiver of hope that the thing between them was still there.
Bad idea. Very bad idea.
This was the mother of his child. The stakes were too high to screw things up by rushing into romance again. She was going back to school and he was going to work—for at least the next couple months. When her semester was over and she joined him in San Diego was plenty early enough to see if this thing between them still burned as bright as he remembered.
