They’d always made him grin inside. Lifted the weight of the loads he carried. He’d never had another man to step in and be the man of the house if the need ever temporarily arose.
“What?” Mallory’s voice broke into his thoughts, bringing him back to the moment. She was looking at him, concern on her brow.
“What, ‘what?’”
“You’re staring at me. And you had a funny look on your face.”
He could tell her the truth. But then things could get messy.
“I’m just wondering how it went,” he improvised. It was the truth. He had been wondering about that, in the midst of the rest of it.
“Good,” was all she said.
He wanted more.
But didn’t ask.
* * *
Braden didn’t say a whole lot as he pulled onto the vacant property he hoped would be the newest Braden Property Management acquisition, and put his SUV in Park. Motor still running, he kept the headlights on, shining toward the center of the property. It wasn’t quite dark, but almost.
Mallory looked around, noticing the lake across the street. They’d just passed a gated community, and across the other way was a fine dining restaurant with green grass and landscaping that could have been on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens.
Just outside of L.A., it was the most spacious area she’d ever seen so directly attached to the crazily busy metropolis.
“It’s perfect, Braden.” The words didn’t quite catch in her throat. Only because she got them out before the deluge of emotion hit.
His new place would be better even than the San Diego version. Of course. Braden was a lot wealthier now than he’d been then. The first building had gone up with loans, not investors.
“You really think so?” He was watching her and she looked back at him.
“I do.”
Her eyes glistened, but she smiled.
Looking satisfied, he nodded. “I was thinking the front of the building would face south,” he said, going on to describe his vision for the complex.
She added a few suggestions, which drew other ideas from him. All in all, they sat there for almost half an hour.
Mallory was proud of how well she managed.
His new life was going to be great.
And she resented the hell out of it for taking him away.
Because somehow over the past three years she’d become completely selfish where Braden was concerned. Counseling, both grief and marriage, had taught her to focus on herself—the only thing she could control or fix. Maybe she’d gone a bit too far with that.
“Do you think it’s wrong, me having a child?” If they’d been sitting in a restaurant with people buzzing around them, or in the broad light of day, she might not have asked.
In the dark in the enclosed and private comfort of his vehicle, with jazz music playing softly in the background, the question slipped past the barriers that guarded their friendship.
“I wouldn’t have participated if I did.”
She’d probably known that. And wished she’d asked a different question. Maybe more to the point would have been, Do you like the idea of me having a child? Or, Do you want me to have a child?
No. Neither one of those worked.
Do you feel good about me having a child?
Maybe that one was more what she wanted to know.
Was he hoping, secretly maybe, that she wouldn’t conceive?
Now she was treading on minefield territory.
“Are you planning to sell the complex in San Diego?” Sitting back, she stared at other headlights on the road in the distance and watched the rhythm of their passing, one after another.
“Of course not. Why would I do that?”
She shrugged. Trying to keep her tone even, noncommittal, she said, “You don’t need two headquarters.”
“Braden Property Management can have more than one office. It needs more than one, actually.”
Thinking about what he did, all of the people who worked for him, she could see that.
“Is William going with you to L.A.?”
“No. I need him right where he is, doing what he does.”
She could see that, too.
“Don’t worry, Mal. Everything is going to remain exactly the same as far as The Bouncing Ball, and the entire complex for that matter, is concerned.”
It wouldn’t be the same without him there.
“I’ll still be around, at least once a week, if not more,” he continued.
So what, he was reading her mind now, like he used to do when they were one? Two parts of a same whole so closely entwined that they knew what the other was thinking.
When had that stopped? Traveling back in her mind, she tried to pinpoint exactly when she’d stopped knowing what Bray was thinking. Or when she’d felt as though he didn’t get her anymore.
She landed...nowhere.
She was probably just too tired.
The day had taken more out of her than she’d thought. Not physically. The procedure had been mildly uncomfortable and over more quickly than she’d expected.
But emotionally.
If all went as expected, she was going to be a mother again. Maybe not this time. Or next. But soon.
And Bray...he was going to be a business owner again. Same plans, same look, same top floor. If not on the current property he was considering, then on one like it.
It was kind of ironic. It seemed like in moving on, neither one of them was actually doing that. They were doing just as they’d done in the past—only this time they were doing it separately.
Mallory had no idea what to make of that.
Chapter Seven
One step, one minute at a time. Mallory spent the next two weeks living her life only in the moment. She might be pregnant; she might not. Didn’t do any good to dwell on it, either way. If she was, great.
And if she wasn’t, she’d try again.
Braden might be leaving soon; he might not—depending on how quickly things came together for him. He was going. She just didn’t know when. Watching for his parking spot to be empty didn’t serve any purpose, either. It would be at some point.
They met for lunch once. He told her that he’d made an offer for the property he’d shown her. He still hadn’t chosen a contractor, but he’d narrowed it down to two.
And he wasn’t buying a place to live right away. He’d be renting a suite at the hotel half a block away at first, and then looking for something nearby to rent until he had the building up and running. He’d be keeping his condo in San Diego, regardless, and planned to be in town, at the Braden Property Management office, at least one day a week.
So, for all intents and purposes, not that much would change as far as the two of them were concerned. They rarely saw each other more than once a week anyway. And sometimes less than that.
Overall, she was doing just fine. If you didn’t count those moments when she imagined the spare bedroom in her little house as a nursery or touched her stomach and thought about bonding with a new baby.
Oh, and the time she’d lain in the dark and thought about being uncomfortably huge with baby and not having Braden’s back to prop up against. It had taken her half an hour to figure out that she’d use pillows instead. A body pillow. She’d picked one up the next day and she had started using it, too.
On the thirteenth day after her procedure she still didn’t get her period. While that didn’t mean she was pregnant, her nerves tingled with energy all day long and into the evening. So much so that when she was mixing a bowl of tuna salad for a late supper and a knock sounded on her front door, she jerked so hard tuna flew off her spoon onto the counter and wall.
She wasn’t expecting anyone and didn’t usually have people just stop by. In the jeans and purple Bouncing Ball polo shirt she�
�d worn to work that day, she left the mess and went to look out from the corner of the front window. Her house wasn’t big, but it was in a nice, predominantly crime-free neighborhood. Still, she was a woman living alone.
And she might have a baby to protect.
The thought was right there.
She recognized the SUV immediately and pulled open the door.
“Bray? What’s up?”
He’d been to her home. Had taken a look at it with her before she’d purchased it. But he didn’t visit.
“I called first but you didn’t pick up.”
Her phone was still in her bag, where she’d dropped it before a late meeting with a prospective client couple expecting their first child. “It’s still on silent,” she said aloud, taking it out and holding the screen up for him. He didn’t step in, just stood there in his suit and tie and held out a key.
“I’m heading to L.A. and just thought, with me moving down there, you should have a key to my condo. Just in case.”
He was moving? At eight o’clock on a Wednesday night?
She reached for the key. “Your offer was accepted on the property?”
“Not yet, but I have every reason to expect it will be, I want my guys there Friday morning. We’ll need to apply for permits and want to get that process going immediately.”
Oh. The whole contractor thing, getting going on an actual formation of a building—making it real—had come fast.
He’d be out of town when she took the pregnancy test the next day. They hadn’t talked about her plans, or his part in them, since the day they’d visited the clinic together, but he knew the process, the timing.
He knew that tomorrow was her big day.
And yet he chose that day to go to L.A. and buy his property. His statement couldn’t be clearer: he was moving on.
Which was good, because so was she.
“When will you be back?”
“Friday night or Saturday.”
Mallory blinked. “That’s only two days.”
Chin jutting, he nodded. The porch light was bright, putting his dark hair in a spotlight but leaving his face in shadow.
“So, you aren’t moving yet.”
His shrug was so...him. It left her needing more. “I’m not going to be moving much of my stuff, just some clothes and personal items, but since I’m keeping my place here, I figured I’d buy new there. When the time comes.”
Made sense, she guessed, though she didn’t think she’d like having two sets of belongings. She’d want the red sweater with the crop sleeves that didn’t itch, and it would be in her other place. The truth settled on her, though. She was a homebody. Braden was not.
Maybe that had been part of their problem without either of them knowing it. Or acknowledging it if they had.
“Okay, well, I’m heading out,” he said, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. She almost turned her head and opened her mouth.
And she was shocked by the sudden instinct to do so.
Must be hormones.
If she was pregnant.
“Be safe,” she said to his back.
“Always,” he called with a raise of his hand and was gone.
Leaving her standing there holding his key, wishing she’d had that kiss.
* * *
He was going to be back Friday night or Saturday, but he’d brought her a key to his place. Presumably to be able to let someone in if he had a problem, needed service or something sprang a leak.
He hadn’t said. She could only guess.
So, did that mean that he’d be back over the weekend but leaving again almost immediately?
She should have asked. The real Mallory would have asked. Friend-instead-of-lover Mallory couldn’t.
Cleaning up tuna from the wall, she told herself that she didn’t care where Braden lived as long as he was healthy and happy. Needing to keep herself that way, she ate. Then she worked on spring-into-summer decorations for the daycare reception. She liked to change them every month, to keep things feeling fresh and happy. Crafting of all sorts made her happy.
Twice she went in to the bathroom, thinking she might take the pregnancy test a day early. It wouldn’t hurt anything. Worst case, she’d be out the money it would cost to buy more. Considering that she’d purchased a case of them off the internet because she could get them so much cheaper, she wasn’t all that worried about buying more.
Twice she went back to the third-bedroom-turned-craft-room in her house without taking the test. Chances were it would come up negative, which would only upset her. Still, it could just mean that it was too early to take the test, not that she wasn’t pregnant.
If it came up positive she’d get all excited and might then find out she wasn’t pregnant because it had been too early to take the test.
Logic told her twelve hours shouldn’t make that much difference.
Braden had left town without even wishing her luck for the outcome of a test he knew she’d be counting the hours to take.
That hurt.
There. She’d admitted it.
He didn’t have to be personally invested or anything. He didn’t need to care for himself whether or not the insemination of his sperm into her body had created a new life. But she’d hoped he’d care for her sake, no matter whose sperm she’d used.
He wouldn’t be back until after she’d had a day to deal with the results. Either way, she was bound to be a bit emotional over them. Elation, disappointment...either reaction would most likely be intense at first.
And Braden had purposely taken himself away.
So typical. And why had she expected any different? Of course he’d be there in a heartbeat if she called. But his choice was to be absent.
Her intensity made him uncomfortable.
She cut and glued—burning herself on the glue gun—embellished, trimmed, embossed, traced, drew faces, even did a bit of calligraphy with big thick strokes. Pulling supplies from various white plastic drawers stacked all along one wall of the room, she had her eight-foot worktable filled with papers, cardboards and pencils in various colors, an electronic cutter, paints, hole punches in several shapes, plastic pieces for 3-D effects, and yet she still saw Braden everywhere she looked.
How could he be so present in her mind, even after three years of divorce?
It wasn’t until she was lying awake in the middle of the night that it hit her. He’d left her his key. Something he’d never done before—and he’d certainly been out of town for longer than two days on numerous occasions.
He’d left her his key.
Giving her access to him when he couldn’t be there.
It hit her like a warm breeze on a cool day.
He was staying connected to her in his own way. And that was good enough.
Or at least good enough for her to settle into sleep. If, deep down, she needed more, wanted more, she’d let that go.
It was a learning process.
One minute, one step, one day at a time.
* * *
Braden checked on his offer first thing Thursday morning. The owner had phoned in a positive response, but it wasn’t yet officially accepted. He made arrangements with the hotel to secure a suite for a monthly rate, good for however long he needed it, and got himself settled in. It would be fine for now. He was going to be ungodly busy, not only with contractors and building details but with filling twelve floors’ worth of office suites.
That’s when it hit him that he should have a daycare on the first floor. Being able to offer on-site childcare at a reduced rate was a great selling point. One that Mallory had come to him with. He’d trusted her judgment and she’d been right.
So, morally, he owed her the opportunity to open a second business if she wanted it. Practically, he didn’t see it. The Bouncing Ball in San Diego took up all of her t
ime as it was. And with a new baby, she’d have even less time. He couldn’t support her taking on any more. She’d be stretched too thin, get stressed and lose sleep and not be happy.
Mallory was Supermom. She’d only be happy if she had ample time to spend with her new baby.
If she got pregnant. When she got pregnant.
She could already be pregnant.
And if she was, she wouldn’t be in any position to join him in opening a new business.
He knew how she was. He remembered the way she’d buzzed through every hour of every day spouting off crib prices, watching sales, conversing on anything baby. He knew more about differences in breast pumps than he’d ever need to know. He could do a pretty good commentary on the benefits of disposable diapers, the differences between brands, even the comparable pricing on them from local stores. He remembered the calm glow about her, the light in her eyes and the joy in her smile when she’d told him the first time around that they were going to have a baby.
He’d whooped right along with her, grabbing her up and swinging her around until they were both dizzy. He’d made sweet love to her, taking it easy, and yet finding no less fulfillment for having done so. She’d been so beautiful that night, more than she’d ever been. Being pregnant had completed her.
He’d been certain back then that having Tucker had completed them.
He’d been all caught up in her excitement. Letting himself get carried away with the emotion of it all. Had allowed himself to wallow in the emotional high.
But emotion was fickle. It misrepresented facts. Made things seem different than they really were.
A second daycare would provide more financial security for Mallory. She could hire someone to run it for her if she didn’t want to split her time between L.A. and San Diego. She’d have him in L.A., able to pop downstairs and check on things for her.
He wasn’t her husband anymore.
He had no right to make her decisions for her.
The Baby Arrangement Page 6
