The Baby Plan: A Second Chance Romance

by Tia Siren

  I turned on my heel and stalked back inside, missing Michael's helpless expression. I didn't know if he tried to follow me, but with the bouncer still out there watching him, he couldn't get back inside. I hated feeling triumphant about that, but I felt as though I had bought myself a little time to think.

  Erica pulled me into the back room, looking concernedly at my face. She seemed sorry for her anger from before. “Are you all right?” she asked quietly, and I nodded, forcing a smile on my face.

  “I'm really sorry about that,” I told her. “It won't happen again.”

  “I know it won't,” Erica said. She continued to stare at me for a moment and then shook her head. “Well, we'd better get back out there before Jessica has a mental breakdown over the strain,” she said.

  I nodded mutely and followed her back out. I spent the rest of the night pretending that everything was okay, even though honestly, I felt as though I was drowning beneath the force of my feelings.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Michael

  By Sunday afternoon, I still hadn't heard from Paige, even though it had been a couple days. I had tried calling her and messaging her, but she hadn't responded. I didn't dare go back to The Shift; I already felt horrible for causing a scene on Friday night, and I doubted Paige would want to talk to me there.

  She was so maddening, though. I didn't get why it was so hard for her just to talk to me and tell me how she was feeling. I had protected her and gotten that guy, whoever he was, banned from The Shift. She ought to be thanking me, but instead, she had said she didn't want to talk to me. She was angry with me, and she was avoiding me. I didn't know what to do.

  I still didn't know who the dude was, either. I hadn't heard what they were talking about, I had just seen Paige getting even more upset with him. He'd obviously wanted to sleep with her, and she'd wanted nothing to do with him.

  At least, I hoped that was what had been going on. I couldn't stop thinking about the other alternatives. Maybe he was an old flame, like I'd originally thought. Maybe that was why she hadn't been happy with the way I had fought with him.

  I grimaced. I wouldn't know what the truth was until I sat down and talked with her. But she was intent on avoiding me, it seemed.

  Anyway, I was starting to realize that I needed to examine my own feelings for her before I could sit down and talk to her. It was one thing to not want to quit hooking up with her. It was one thing to think she was an amazing, sexy individual. It was one thing to want her and to consider a relationship with her.

  But the more I thought about it, and the more I thought about why I'd felt the need to step in and fight that dude in the middle of a bar, the more I realized that it was more than strictly attraction that I felt towards her.

  I tried to tell myself it was just because she was carrying my child. I was just looking out for both of their interests, that was all. But deep down, I knew it wasn't just that. I was starting to develop real feelings for her.

  By Sunday, I couldn't take the avoidance anymore, and I decided to go over to her parents' house for dinner, even though she hadn't invited me. She wouldn't be able to avoid me there. Even though I didn't want to have a private conversation in front of her parents, I figured that maybe, if I played my cards right, I could get her to see how sorry I was and convince her to talk to me for a minute afterward.

  It wasn't like I had any other possible plan of action.

  I knocked on her parents' front door and waited impatiently on the porch. When Maggie answered the door, she looked confused. “When Paige said she was canceling on family dinner for this week, I didn't realize she meant that she wasn't going to make it but that you still were,” she said.

  I blinked at her. I knew how much Paige loved these family dinners, so it took a moment for it to sink in: Paige had decided not to come to family dinner. She must be more upset than I had realized. Or maybe she was just exhausted again? I wondered if maybe the pregnancy was wearing her out or her job at The Shift. Maybe she was sick, and I should make an appointment for her to see the doctor, sooner rather than later. I wanted to think that she would have gone to the doctor's office on her own if she knew she was sick, but maybe she forgot that was an option, now that she wasn't trying so hard to make enough money just to survive.

  “Sorry, I didn't realize Paige wouldn't be here,” I told Maggie. As much as I liked Paige's parents, it wasn't like I could stay for dinner when she wasn't even there. Especially not since I would spend the entire time worrying about her. “Did she say why she canceled?” I asked.

  Maggie frowned. “No, I'm afraid she didn't,” Maggie said. “But I know she mentioned a few weeks ago that her schedule was going to be busy this month since her rent was increasing, so I assumed that she might have picked up some extra work.” She paused. “Are you and Paige doing okay?” she asked.

  I couldn't help feeling embarrassed. Of course, Maggie must think that my lack of knowledge of Paige's whereabouts indicated that we were fighting. Something must be wrong in our relationship for me not to know that dinner was canceled.

  I was frustrated with Paige for having put me in this situation. But then again, she hadn't put me in this predicament. She hadn't invited me over in the first place, so it was my own fault I was there when dinner had been cancelled.

  “We're doing okay,” I lied, even though I was more confident than ever that something must be wrong with Paige, something she didn't want to tell me. We were going to need to talk.

  But I already knew we needed to talk; I kept putting it off.

  “Paige must not be feeling well,” I told Maggie. “I'd better go check on her and see if she needs anything.”

  Maggie didn't look entirely convinced, but she merely told me goodbye and she was sure she'd see me soon. I got back in my car and pulled out my phone, calling Paige. When she didn't answer, I felt frustration course through me. I tried calling two more times as we drove back toward my apartment.

  “You know what?” I finally muttered. I leaned forward. “Instead of bringing me back to my place, can you bring me over to Paige's building?” I knew I probably shouldn't just show up, and for all I knew, it was just what Maggie had suspected, and Paige had taken on more work. She could even have gotten a different job, one that would be easier to maintain while she was pregnant.

  It occurred to me I knew very little about what was happening in Paige's life. She seemed determined to keep it that way, too, with the way she was avoiding talking to me. It bothered me in ways I didn't care to examine.

  I spent the entire drive trying to think of what I wanted to say to Paige, but by the time I arrived, I was still no closer to finding the words. I shrugged to myself and headed up the stairs, pressing the buzzer outside her door.

  No one answered, and I pressed the buzzer again and again. If I listened hard, I realized I could hear noises from inside the apartment, signs that someone was home. It wasn't hard to hear: the place was so tiny, you could probably hear a pin drop, even if you were outside the door.

  I frowned, thinking again how much I wanted to move Paige into another place, where she would be a little more comfortable. But I couldn't just whisk her away from everything she'd ever known, as much as I might like to do so.

  When still no one answered, I resumed calling her repeatedly, determined to make her listen to me. I felt almost like a madman, consumed by my frustration at the fact that she simply refused to talk to me. If nothing else, there was the contract between us.

  Again, I wished that I had been able to foresee a situation like this, that I had ordered her to continue to be in contact with me. But then, that seemed like a very strange thing to do.

  I sighed and slumped against the door just as it opened. I stumbled a step closer towards Paige, who hurriedly stepped back. “What?” she snapped.

  I could tell she had been crying, and it nearly broke my heart to think she was this upset and still wouldn't talk to me.

  “Is Erica here?” I asked softly, hopi
ng Paige at least had her best friend to talk to if she wouldn't talk to me.

  Paige gave me an unreadable look. “No, she isn't,” she said finally. “Why, do you need me to pee on another stick?”

  I blinked and then shook my head. “Of course not,” I told her, surprised at how bitter she sounded. She must be having regrets about this, then, and I had the sudden desire to tear up our contract. But I still needed an heir, and I didn't know if she would go through with the pregnancy if there was no more contract between us.

  I just wanted her to be okay.

  “Paige, you have to talk to me,” I pleaded. “Tell me what's wrong. I want to help you.”

  “Nothing's wrong,” Paige said, even though her voice wavered and she couldn't quite meet my eyes. She sighed. “Just go away, Michael. I don't want to talk to you.” My hand reached out to her, an automatic thing. She took a step back, frowning at me. “Michael, I'm serious. I don't want to talk to you.”

  “Can't you at least tell me what's wrong?” I asked her. “Are you sick? I went over to your parents' place, and they told me that you had bailed on family dinner.”

  “I'm not sick, don't worry,” Paige said, sounding bitter. I wondered if she thought the health of the baby was all I cared about, but I didn't know how to make her believe otherwise. Didn't she realize I was here because I wanted to make sure she was okay?

  “It's just hormones,” Paige said when I continued to stand there. “I'm pregnant, remember?”

  “I remember,” I said softly. But I still couldn't leave her alone. “Why don't I come in?” I suggested. “We'll order some food and watch a movie or something. Maybe it would make you feel better.”

  “I'm fine,” Paige said shortly. “Go away. Please.”

  “No,” I told her, shaking my head. I didn't know why I was so loath to leave her on her own, but I hated the very idea of it. It had something to do with those tear-tracks that were still faintly visible on her cheeks, something to do with the redness in her eyes. Something to do with how brave she was being, going through with this pregnancy. Something to do with the way she had charmed everyone at the benefit dinner the other night. Something to do with her sexiness.

  Something to do with those feelings I had for her, which I still couldn't put a name to.

  “Paige, if something's wrong, I wish you would talk to me about it,” I told her. “Maybe I could help you.”

  “Please,” Paige said softly, looking at the floor, a couple crystalline tears slipping down her cheeks. “Please, Michael. I wish you would just leave.”

  I stared at her for a long moment, considering my options. I could stay, against her wishes, and try to force it out of her. Or I could stay against her wishes and ignore how upset she was. Order some food, pretend nothing was wrong. But in either of those cases, I knew she would be frustrated, and it would make her even more likely to avoid me in the future.

  My only other option was to leave. To let her deal with this on her own, which seemed to be what she wanted in the first place. As much as I hated it, I knew that I had to respect her wishes.

  I took a step back. “At least talk to Erica about it, if you can't talk to me,” I advised. I stopped short of making her promise to do so, knowing that it wasn't my place. If that wasn't what she wanted, I couldn't force her.

  Paige looked up at me, some expression flickering across her face. But it was there too briefly for me to fully catch it. She didn't say anything, just took a step forward for each step I took back. Then, she closed the door in my face, quiet but firm.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Paige

  I knew that morning sickness was going to be awful, but I didn't expect it to keep me in bed for days. I had to cancel everything, from working at The Shift to dinner with my parents on Sunday night.

  But that's not what's really happening, I thought bitterly. The morning sickness had been awful, and I felt like shit. But even more than that, it was my feelings about the whole situation that was overwhelming and making me reluctant to get out of bed.

  Erica, bless her, was as helpful as she had ever been, listening to my cravings and doing her best to help me out. She hadn't been upset when I'd told her for the third day in a row that I couldn't come in to work. I could tell she wanted to say something, probably to suggest I talk to Michael, but she'd held her tongue. It made me want to cry, just thinking about how great she had been and how little I deserved that kindness from her, not when I'd brought this all upon myself, and not when I was close to quitting my job and moving out on her.

  I was still surprised Michael had shown up at the apartment. What's more, I was surprised he had gone to my parents' place for Sunday night dinner. He seemed as though he really wanted things to be okay between us.

  I just didn't have the energy to deal with him, on top of everything else. Not when I was feeling like this. Not when I was starting to feel certain I couldn't go through with having a baby and not being in its life.

  With the morning sickness, it had become real in my mind, even more so than when Michael and I had stared down at that pregnancy test with its two pink lines. I had realized that everything I had been reading online was about to happen. To me.

  I was going to have a baby.

  And there was no way I could give that baby away to someone else, even though I knew Michael would take care of it. Even though I had never planned on becoming a mother, let alone a single mother.

  I had even gone so far as to read back through the contract, wondering if there was some sort of loophole, some way I could get out of this. Because I realized if I couldn't give up my first-born child, it would be even more difficult to give up the second or third child I had. Erica had mentioned that, and now, I realized she was right. With this first child, everything would be a surprise. With the second child, I would know what I was missing out on.

  But if there was some sort of loophole, I couldn't find it. Which made sense: I wasn't trained in legal speak, and Michael had the help of an undoubtedly renowned attorney to draw it up. He wanted to make sure that he wouldn't be cheated out of his millions, after all.

  And he had already paid me half the money, just as agreed, so there was no way I could ask for an annulment.

  I wondered if I could claim the baby was someone else's. Michael knew about the guy from the bar. What if I told him we had slept together and that the baby was really his? I could tell him I had told whatever-his-name-was that the baby was his, and the guy was going to be there for me.

  But then, Michael could order a paternity test taken once the baby was born, and we would quickly know the truth of things. I didn't know how my lying could affect the situation, but I was worried that could make a judge rule I wasn't allowed to ever see the kid again, regardless of what I wanted.

  That thought made me cry. I hated thinking I might never get to see the little boy or little girl grow up.

  I wondered if I could have an abortion and tell Michael it wasn't my fault, that I had miscarried. Maybe then I could tell him I no longer wanted to go through with this, that the trauma from the first miscarriage made me never want to try again.

  The thing is, I knew if I did that, Michael would stand by me every step of the way. He was a good guy. I didn't think I could handle his kindness, his protectiveness, not when I was lying to him. I would have to tell him the truth, that I had purposefully had the abortion, and then who knew what legal consequences there would be. There were so many situations that hadn't been covered in the contract, now that I really thought about it.

  Like, what if I fall in love with Michael over the course of nine months?

  I hated to even think about it, hated to allow myself to realize those feelings, but I couldn't deny them. The more time I spent with Michael, the more I liked him. The more I thought I could maybe love him, some day.

  I swallowed hard, pulling my blanket more tightly around my shoulders and staring at the wall.

  The other problem was, I didn't think I could reall
y have an abortion. As confusing as my feelings were, the one thing I really knew for sure was that I wanted this baby. I was excited to be pregnant. I was already thinking up baby names and imagining what the child would look like. Would it have my eyes? Michael's charming smile and tanned skin? Would it be a boy or a girl?

  I couldn't walk past a baby on the street without thinking maybe that kid would one day know my kid. I couldn't get over those itty-bitty shoes and those pacifiers and those cute bonnets and bibs and all the other baby things. I was ready to be a mom, more than I had ever thought I might be.

  My last resort was to lie to Michael. To tell him I had miscarried. But I didn't think he would buy that. Or I could flee the country, but I couldn't ask my whole family to move with me, and I couldn't imagine going through this without them. Especially not as a single mother. And even if I could, I knew it would eventually catch up with me. That there would be those same nagging legal repercussions.

  I needed to talk to Michael, but I wasn't sure what to say.

  Michael came by again on Monday evening. I knew it was him from the way he held the buzzer for a second too long, impatiently waiting for me to answer the door.

  I hauled myself up out of bed, wishing that Erica were there to diffuse the situation. But she was already at work. Like I should have been.

  I sighed, glad at least that the nausea seemed to have abated for the time being. I pulled open the door and took a step back, letting Michael enter.

  “Hey,” Michael said, looking guarded. He clearly hadn't expected me to let him in so easily, and whatever it was he had planned to say, I could practically see it dying on his lips.

  “Hey,” I sighed, running a hand back through my hair. I shut the door behind him. “Do you want a glass of water or anything? Erica probably has some wine.”

  “I'm fine,” Michael said. “Are you?”

  “I'm fine,” I said, but I could tell from the way his expression changed to one of concern that I was very obviously not fine. I shook my head and led him over to the couch, sitting on one end of it while he sat on the other, leaving a careful space between us.