“Really?” I asked, my heart starting to beat faster. “And… what have you thought?”
“Honestly?” I nodded against his chest. “Honestly, it scares the crap out of me.” I felt my stomach plummet. Damn it. “The thought of being responsible for another person’s life… it’s a huge, huge deal, Kiki.”
“I know,” I whispered, feeling like I might cry. I had so hoped we were moving in the right direction.
“But I also think… I also think it would be really awesome. You know? You and me, our own little family.”
I gasped, sitting up so I could see his face. “Really?”
“Sure.” He smiled up at me in the dark. “I keep picturing a little you running around, some tiny little thing with blonde pigtails. And I picture all the stuff we could do together, family stuff. I know that’s corny—”
“No, it’s not,” I said firmly. “Please don’t get all macho on me.”
“You’re right,” he said, pulling me back down so he was holding me again. We were both quiet for a moment. My heart was pounding so hard. I felt like we were on the precipice of something, that there was somehow no going back from this moment. Eric sighed.
“Kiks, I really don’t know if we’re ready. But I was talking to Josh in the Bahamas—”
“You talked to Josh?”
“Shh, let me finish,” he said, kissing the top of my head. I nestled down into his chest, my favorite place in the world. “So I was talking to Josh and he said he didn’t think anyone ever felt totally ready. He said he didn’t have a choice with Danny, what with the surprise of it all. But he said even with Maggie, even after he knew they could handle a kid, it was still scary.”
“I guess that’s just natural,” I said.
“Exactly. He said it was normal to be afraid. He said he figured he knew he was ready for Maggie when his excitement was bigger than the fear.”
I held my breath. “How’s your excitement?” I finally asked.
“It’s getting there, Kiki.”
I wanted to ask what that meant. Was he ready? Could we start trying? If he wasn’t ready, how long was it going to take? Could I get some kind of a timeline here?
“Why don’t we just see what happens?” he asked, as if he had read my mind. “I don’t want to make a huge deal out of it, but you could stop taking your pill. And we could just… see.”
“Really?” I struggled to control my rising excitement. I didn’t want to freak him out.
“Sure. If it’s meant to be right now, you’ll get pregnant. We’ll let the universe decide.”
Suddenly I was kissing him and laughing at the same time. I felt like he had just given me the best present ever. A baby! We might have a baby!
“Are you positive?” I asked, pulling back. “You’re not just trying to make me happy?”
“No, Kiks,” he said. “I wouldn’t do something like this just to make you happy. It’s too big of a deal.”
I snuggled closer to him. “You’re right,” I said, kissing his chest lightly.
“However,” he said, holding me even tighter. “Making you happy is a fringe benefit.”
I giggled softly, loving this man so much, before I leaned forward to kiss him once more.
Chapter Nine
With my mind so occupied with fantasies about having a baby, I barely had time to get excited for Christmas, which was normally my favorite holiday.
This year I would get to spend the holiday with my entire family. In addition to the normal crowd of grandparents and extended family, my parents had invited my in-laws to their annual Christmas Day dinner. Then Jen and Matt decided to join us as well, since her mom and step-dad were out of town for the holidays. She was bringing her father along too, and I was so looking forward to a full house for Christmas. I heard my cousin Bella might even join us, and she was never around for family gatherings these days.
Eric and I arrived at the house early so we could help my mom. Though her housekeeper doubled as a cook for the family most days, my mom insisted on making Christmas dinner herself. It was a tradition.
“Merry Christmas!” I called as Eric and I walked into the foyer. I took a deep breath, a mixture of pine, cinnamon, and something delicious from the kitchen assaulting my senses.
“Sweetheart!” my dad said, coming to the foyer to welcome us. “Merry Christmas!” He wrapped me up in a big hug and I snuggled into his chest, catching a whiff of his Old Spice. My mother was forever trying to get him to try something new, something more trendy, but he’d been wearing Old Spice since he was eighteen, “And a man doesn’t change these things, damn it.” Secretly, I loved it.
After he had released me, he pulled Eric in for a hug too. My dad was big on public displays of affection. No manly handshake for him, not with his family.
“Mom in the kitchen?” I asked, setting my carrier bags of gifts down.
My dad rolled his eyes. “Yup. Cursing her way through each dish. I don’t know why she doesn’t just hire someone to do it for her.”
“Daddy, it’s a tradition,” I argued.
“Kiki, she can’t cook,” he responded, mimicking my tone. I laughed and turned to Eric. “Put these under the tree for me?”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks.” I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him. As I walked into the kitchen, I couldn’t help but grin, thinking of one of my presents from Eric that morning.
“A baby book?” I had asked, surprised. “But I’m not pregnant yet.”
“Yeah, but I thought now you could get some real information, and maybe you’d stay off the Internet for a few hours every day.”
I had laughed and kissed him in thanks. I had been spending an awful lot of time online lately, but what did he expect? If we were going to be parents I needed to be as educated as possible.
My mother, normally as well-dressed and stylish as anyone I knew, was wearing an apron and covered in flour. “Merry Christmas, Mom!”
“Oh, sweetie,” she said, looking up from the counter to grin at me. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m desperate for help.”
“Nice to see you too,” I said, reaching for an apron.
She laughed and came around to hug me, careful not to get flour on my new dress. “Merry Christmas, sweet daughter. How was your morning?”
“Very nice.” I kissed her cheek. “What did you and Daddy do?”
“Not much. Slept in. Daddy made pancakes.” She returned to her workspace, looking down at a pile of dough with a distressed expression on her face. “I swear to God, next year we are hiring a caterer.”
“How about I do the pies,” I said, nudging her out of the way. I did not want a repeat of the sprinkler system fiasco of 2005, when my mother had forgotten the pies in the oven and started a minor fire.
“Thank you, dear,” she said. “I’ll chop veggies.”
We fell into easy chatter. My mom was such great company. She had learned long ago the art of making people comfortable and at ease; it was second nature to her now. Her public persona was that of a very together, business-minded woman, but those who got to spend time with her personally knew that she was warm and considerate. She was going to make a wonderful grandmother.
As if she had read my mind, my mom suddenly stopped what she was doing to turn to me. “Dear, did you hear that Beth Carter was pregnant? I ran into her mother at the DIA benefit last week. Apparently she’s due next in just a few months.”
“Hmm,” I said quietly. “That’s nice.”
Beth Carter was a girl I had gone to school with. I suppose you could have called us friends at one point, but I was quite happy to have drifted out of touch with her over the years. She was what you might call a Mean Girl—someone who could be nice as all get-out to your face, but turn on you in an instant.
“Yes, and I hear Sarah Vandermark is expecting an engagement any day now.”
“Good for Sarah Vandermark,” I muttered, unable to keep the displeasure out of my voice. Sarah had been the ringleader of B
eth’s little group, another pseudo-friend who had done me much more harm than good over the years.
My mom must have caught my tone, because she quickly changed the subject. “We’re so happy Jen is coming tonight. I haven’t seen her since the wedding. How are they doing?”
“They seem really good,” I said. “Happy. I guess they want to try to have kids right away.”
“Hmm,” my mother said. “Well, I hope things turn out like they want, I suppose. Personally, I think you and Eric had the right idea. Enjoy each other for a while. There’s plenty of time for all that.”
“Mmmhmm,” I said, wishing I hadn’t brought it up.
“On the other hand,” my mother said casually, “I guess a couple knows when it’s time for them. You know your father and I are happy to support whatever the two of you want.”
I looked up at her. She was watching me carefully, her expression giving nothing away. I stifled a laugh. My mother was the master of getting information out of people. I looked over my shoulder, making sure we were alone, before hissing, “We decided we’re going to start trying!”
My mother dropped her knife with a clatter to the floor. “Oh, sweetie,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion.
Before she could say any more, Eric appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Merry Christmas, Mom,” he said cheerfully. “Put me to work. What needs doing?”
To my great surprise, my normally reserved mother rushed around the kitchen island to throw her arms around him, smearing him with flour. “Oh, Eric,” she said, her voice shaking. “Merry Christmas, dear.”
“Kiki told you about the baby plan, didn’t she?” he asked drily as he patted the top of her head. I burst out laughing.
“Sorry, hon,” I told him. “Girl talk.”
Eric rolled his eyes as she released him, wiping her face with the corner of her apron. “A mother is allowed to be happy about these things,” she said with dignity.
“Yeah, yeah,” Eric said, giving her my favorite charming smile. “What do you want me to do in here, you big sap?”
She put him to work on the veggies so she could move on to some terrifying-looking casserole. When my father joined us a few minutes later, we were all laughing easily as we worked together.
“I guess I’ve avoided this long enough,” my dad said. “I’m at your mercy, woman.”
I smiled as he pulled on an apron and set to work peeling apples for my pie. What the papers would say about this scene; the great David Barker, American entrepreneurial legend, cutting apples in the kitchen for Christmas dinner.
I caught Eric’s eye across the counter. He winked at me and I felt a rush of joy. I was so lucky to have this family. And maybe, if we were lucky, by next Christmas we might have grown a bit.
Chapter Ten
“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” Eric asked, peering out his window at the brick facade of the house before us. “Seriously, Kiks,” he said, turning to look at me. “What’s the hurry?”
“Eric,” I said, trying not to sound exasperated. “We discussed this. We cannot have a child in our little condo in Birmingham. We need a real house, with a yard and room for the baby to play.”
Eric sighed as he took the keys out of the ignition. “I understand that,” he said. “But I don’t understand what the big hurry is. You’re not even pregnant yet!”
“Yeah, but don’t you want to be prepared when the baby gets here? Picking out a house can take a lot of time. And then there’s escrow and closing. It could be ages! What if we had to bring the baby home from the hospital and we didn’t have a place yet?”
“We would bring the baby home to our condo, which, by the way, has plenty of room. It has more square footage than the house Matt and I grew up in, for God’s sake.”
I made a face at him. “Eric. We need to start thinking like parents now. There’s no reason to put this off. Besides, if we know what kind of house we have, it will be easier for me to plan the nursery.”
Eric just stared at me. He looked like he was trying to decide whether to laugh or start yelling. After a moment he apparently decided to do neither. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
He opened his door and I followed suit, skipping around the car to grab his hand. I could understand that Eric might have thought I was rushing things, but really, what was the point in waiting? Now that we knew we were preparing for a baby, why not do it right?
As I pulled Eric toward the front door, I took a minute to examine the house. It was a pretty traditional-looking brick colonial. I tried to remember what the agent had told me on the phone. Three thousand square feet? Maybe it was thirty-five hundred. Either way, plenty of room for our new family.
“Kiki!” the front door was thrown open to reveal Jen’s mother, Sue Carney. When I knew I was going to be in the market for a house, I had called her immediately. There were other people in Daddy’s firm that could have handled the search for us, but I knew how Eric got weird sometimes when he thought I was relying too much on my dad’s company.
“It’s so wonderful to see you,” Mrs. Carney said warmly as we stepped through the entryway.
“You too,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. “You remember my husband, Eric?”
“Of course,” she said. “You’re both looking well!”
I smiled at her, feeling a little awkward. Jen’s mom had a tendency to come across as a little insincere when I talked to her. Jen had told me once that she was very ambitious, and considered contacts to be the lifeblood of her work. Which made sense and everything, but I wasn’t too crazy about being thought of as a contact. I looked up at Eric, wondering if he had gotten the same vibe as I had, and wondering if maybe it had been a mistake to use Mrs. Carney after all.
“This house is just lovely,” she was saying as she gestured us into the foyer. “Very high-end finishes. Plenty of space.”
As she led us deeper into the house, I tried to block out any misgivings and concentrate. The space really was beautiful. The front of the house was clearly more formal, with a living room and a formal dining room. Beyond that, a hallway led to the back of the house and I started to get excited. The layout was very open, from the plush carpeted great room to the informal dining room all the way into the kitchen.
“Ooh,” I sighed happily. “I love this kitchen.”
The room was decorated in a country style, with white cabinets and a scrubbed pine table. The granite countertops were gleaming in the afternoon sunlight through a wall of French doors. “There’s even a fireplace,” I murmured. I could just picture myself in that kitchen, making breakfast while the kids played around underfoot. Maybe we’d even get a dog.
I looked over at Eric expectantly, but he had moved to the French doors to look out over the back yard. He looked completely unimpressed. “Shall we go see the bedrooms?” Mrs. Carney asked. “All four are on the upper level.”
“Four?” Eric asked, finally turning away from the windows. “Four bedrooms?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Carney said, looking a little taken aback. “Though there is an upstairs den as well, which could probably be converted to a guest room if you wanted…”
“Great,” Eric muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just what we need. Five bedrooms for a family of two.”
Mrs. Carney looked downright uncomfortable, and I felt a flash of embarrassment for Eric’s behavior. “Will you give us a minute?” I asked her, smiling.
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll just go make some calls…” She hurried out of the room and I tuned to Eric.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “You were totally rude to her just now.”
“Kiki,” he said, not the slightest bit abashed. “What the hell are you thinking? A five-bedroom house? Are you kidding me?”
“It’s only four,” I said, but he was shaking his head.
“Why would we need five bedrooms?”
“Someday we might need that many. I thought you always said you wanted at least three
kids.”
“Yeah, maybe someday. But not right now! Not for years, in fact. They can share when they’re little. Hell, they can share until they go to college. There is just no way we need all this space right now. It’s absurd.”
“We can look at something smaller,” I told him, figuring he did have a point. It wasn’t like this had to be the last house we ever bought. We were only twenty-eight.
“I think that’s a good idea,” he said. He ran his hand along the granite counters and frowned. “What’s the asking price, anyhow? I mean, this is a pretty swanky neighborhood.”
“Um, let me look,” I said, stalling. I knew exactly what the asking price was, but I was in no hurry to tell him when he had already reacted so badly to the bedroom thing. Clearly he was not in a good mental place about this house and knowing how much it cost would probably only—
I was too late. Eric grabbed the fact sheet off the dining room table a second before I could pick it up.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared down at the paper. Finally he looked up at me, and I knew my fun day of house-hunting was over before it began. “Nine hundred thousand?” he asked, his voice icy.
“Is it?” I asked, trying to laugh. “Well, in this market I’m sure we could get it a lot cheaper than—”
“Kiki,” Eric said. “What did you tell her our budget was?”
“Um, I don’t remember,” I said. “I don’t know if I actually gave her a set budget.”
“All right, that’s it,” he said, laying the sheet back on the table carefully. I had a feeling he was doing his best to keep his temper in check. “We’re going home. We obviously need to have a long talk before we see any more houses.”
“But Eric, she has five more lined up for us!”
“And I’m going to assume that all five of them are along these same lines,” he said, gesturing around the room as if to encompass the whole house, five bedrooms and all. “Which means it’s a waste of time. We are not spending nearly a million dollars on a house. God, even saying that number sounds ridiculous!”
The Truth About Ever After (Three Girls) Page 7
