The Baby Arrangement

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Which meant that he had to call her and make the offer. If she asked for his opinion, as a friend, he’d talk over her choices with her.

  Decision made, he watched the clock until the half hour she usually took her lunch break, then called her. He’d had her on speed dial since he’d got a smartphone. He’d seen no reason not to continue keeping her there when he switched to newer versions.

  She didn’t pick up. Not even when, fifteen minutes later, he tried a second time.

  She’d have taken the test that morning. Not the previous evening. Not the next day. On this, Mallory would be following every dictate to the nth degree. She was determined and she’d do all she could to get her part exactly right.

  She’d also be tending to the emotional struggles that having this baby would be sure to bring her. It wasn’t going to be easy. Fighting off fears. But she’d do what it took to be happy. She was that strong.

  Which was why he loved the heck out of her.

  Since waking that morning he had, on and off in the back of his mind, wondered about the results. He knew she’d call when she was ready to share them with him.

  She hadn’t done that yet.

  And she wasn’t answering his call. Or calling him back.

  His realtor did, though, with the news that his bid had been accepted.

  Sliding his phone in his jacket pocket, Braden went out to start his new life.

  Chapter Eight

  Though it was a difficult choice, Mallory didn’t take a pregnancy test Thursday morning. The morning was hard, and yet she’d been energized, filled with a renewed sense of purpose.

  She’d been going at Mach speed so that she didn’t have time to think about the fact that her ex-husband—one of her best friends—was making an offer that, if accepted, would take him away from her.

  She didn’t want to know if the test was negative. Not yet.

  It wasn’t critical, either way. They’d told her that, commonly, it took more than one try. She had enough money already put aside to pay for six attempts.

  She just didn’t want to be disappointed. Not on that particular day. Her mental and emotional health was something she managed carefully. It had been a tough battle for her—learning to be kind to herself. To expect enough of herself, but not too much. To accept that she didn’t have super powers that made her more accountable than anyone else.

  For moral support, she called Tamara, her other best friend, and asked for a lunch date.

  They met at a diner on the harbor, Mallory in her jeans and polo shirt, Tamara in a slim skirt and fitted jacket that made her look more like a glamor model than an efficiency expert.

  “So?” the auburn-haired beauty said, looking Mallory straight in the eye after their hug. “What’s up?”

  They hadn’t even been seated yet.

  “Bray’s making an offer on a property in L.A.,” she said. This was their way, their pact. Born from a desperation to own their own lives after grief. To have a full and happy life after the loss of a child. Or as much of one as was possible.

  Having met in grief counseling, the two had been deeply drawn to each other—and away from the group. They were alike in so many ways—and different in a lot of ways, too. But their spirits...it was like they’d been sisters in another life.

  Or, as Tamara had once claimed, their babies in heaven had become best friends and were angels tending to the mothers they’d left behind.

  There was no subterfuge. And no holding back.

  They were each other’s nonmedicinal medication.

  “He’s moving,” Mallory continued.

  “He’s moving? To L.A.?” Tamara’s eyes were wide.

  The hostess stepped up to seat them, so all Mallory got in was a nod, but she felt better already. Tamara would see through any self-lying she might be doing. By asking the right questions, she’d lead Mallory to the truth.

  Just as Mallory had done for Tamara last fall when she’d held a stranger’s baby and fallen apart. And had done several times since as Tamara adjusted to loving with a whole heart again.

  “You still love him.” They’d ordered salads and tea, which sat untouched in front of them. Tamara wasn’t letting Mallory pay attention to such mundane things.

  She did love him, of course. It wasn’t news. She nodded.

  “No.” Tamara shook her head. “You’re still in love with him.”

  She wasn’t. How could she be? “He’s so wrong for me. On elemental levels.”

  Tamara’s nod wasn’t encouraging at all.

  And she’d yet to tell her friend about the baby she might have conceived with Braden’s sperm. Or about her plan to conceive at all. She hadn’t needed Tamara’s help on that decision.

  Which had been one of the things that had told her so clearly that she was ready. It wouldn’t be easy. She wasn’t kidding herself. She knew her road ahead as a working single mother, one who’d lost a child and would forever carry the fear of losing another, would be tough. She also knew it was right for her.

  And that she was ready.

  The fact that she’d let Bray talk her into using his sperm, she was a little less comfortable telling Tamara about that...felt a bit more defensive about doing so...

  “I think maybe I’ve been using him as a crutch all these years,” she said. “I never really gave him up, in terms of my personal security. I didn’t have to worry about being alone in times of trouble because he’d always have my back.”

  “And that’s going to change when he moves to L.A.? You think he’s suddenly going to desert you?”

  “No. It’s just... I don’t know what it is. This sad, sick feeling inside, that’s what it is. And I can’t figure out why it’s there. What it means.”

  She picked up her fork and Tamara followed suit. They ate a few bites and drank tea like they were just two friends out for lunch. Except that there was silence between them.

  “He’s been dating other women for years, so I know it’s not that I’m worried that he’s starting a new life,” she finally said. “He did that long ago.”

  “You said once that you don’t know why he bothers telling you that he’s going out with someone because it’s not going to last.”

  That was true.

  “So his dating isn’t really moving on and starting a life without you, is it? It’s just living his own life with you in it.”

  “But this move to L.A. is moving on to a life without me. I won’t have any part in it.” She’d known that already but she hated saying the words.

  “Sounds that way.” Tamara was watching her, her food apparently forgotten.

  “And that makes me incredibly sad.”

  “Maybe because you’re still in love with him.”

  She didn’t want that to be true. Didn’t think it was. She needed a man who could support her when she showed some emotion other than passion.

  One who didn’t make her feel ashamed when she burst into tears or got all excited about something.

  Like she knew she would when she finally heard that she was pregnant again. Once she got over the initial spate of anxiety.

  The thought struck her in the heart. She didn’t want to know for sure if she was pregnant because then there’d be something to lose.

  Fear was an insidious beast. It had snuck up without her knowing. And being with Tamara, her free zone where whatever thoughts she had were safe, had let her see something she’d been trying so desperately to avoid...as much as she wanted the baby, was willing to go it alone, she was scared to death, too.

  “It’s not a crime, you know,” her friend said, bringing her back to their current conversation about Braden and still being in love with him.

  Which she was not.

  But she was afraid to take that pregnancy test. Maybe as much as she was excited to do so. And not just because she
might be disappointed with a negative response—though there was definitely that, too.

  She was a cesspool of emotion. It was a good thing Braden was out of town.

  Her expression must have been giving away some of her thoughts because Tamara spoke up.

  “If you’re in love with him, you are. It’s nothing to feel badly about,” she said.

  “I’m not still in love with him. We’ve hurt each other too much. It’s there between us—this mistrust of each other in an emotional sense. I trust him to die for me, but not to hold me if I cry.”

  “Has he ever?”

  She thought back through her memories.

  “When we were first married, he used to hold me when we watched sad movies and I started to cry. It wasn’t a big deal. He never said a word. He’d just move closer and hold me.”

  Where had that man gone? And when?

  Before Tucker died, she knew that for sure. It wasn’t just their son’s death that had come between them. Losing Tucker had been the trigger, but things had already been coming apart.

  Why hadn’t she known that?

  “I let him down, too,” she said now. “He doesn’t trust me to meet his needs in the moment, or in a relationship sense.”

  Not just sexually, but in other things. He wanted to come first.

  It wasn’t an unnatural desire.

  She just hadn’t been good at putting two people first. In fact, she’d sucked at it. Strange, because she tended to thirty kids in any given hour and made them all feel special.

  “Besides, he’s too unemotional, you know that,” she said now. And she knew why. Understood why. Growing up as he did, the only male in the house with two drama queens—his mother and sister—had forced him to be the practical one at all times.

  She didn’t blame him.

  She just wasn’t good for him. Or he for her. She was truly more at peace, less stressed, when she didn’t have to worry about his reactions. And she knew it was the same for him.

  Which was why their friendship had such clear boundaries.

  “And yet,” Tamara said, “his moving leaves you with incredible sadness.”

  She couldn’t explain it. Or lie about it, either. Which meant she had to deal with it. Tamara wouldn’t let her hide or kid herself or pretend.

  Stabbing lettuce with her fork, she bowed her head.

  Braden called twice while she was out to lunch. Having already taken a longer break than normal, Mallory didn’t take the time to call him right back. She threw herself into caring for the children, playing with them, watching over them, evaluating and helping her teachers wherever she could. She did what she did and she did it well.

  Braden hadn’t left a message. There was no emergency. He was probably calling to tell her his offer had been accepted. She wasn’t ready to hear the news. Didn’t trust herself to sound happy about it. She truly wanted him to get on with his life, because she wanted him to be happy. He was a good man, always giving of himself where he could, reliable to the core, conscientious and tending to those in his world—tenants included. He deserved to be happy.

  By his definition, being happy meant being busy doing what he was driven to do.

  So, yes, he needed to get on with his life.

  And she needed to take her pregnancy test. If she wasn’t pregnant, she wanted to get another appointment scheduled as soon as possible. So, thinking, she didn’t even stop at the end of her drive to check her mail when she got home. After heading straight into the garage, she let herself in through the kitchen, dropped her bag on the counter and without bothering to turn on lights made her way to the bathroom in her master suite. The test was on the counter where she’d left it after the morning’s mental debate, waiting for her.

  She read the box first, then opened it and read the pamphlet inside. It had been five years since she’d done a home pregnancy test. Not much had changed.

  The one difference was this test would show her how many weeks it had been since conception with 90 percent accuracy. She didn’t need that information as she knew conception and time, down to the minute. If she’d conceived.

  But she could at least vouch for the test’s accuracy.

  Maybe.

  Or be more certain that it wasn’t a false positive if it also got the conception right. Right?

  She had to quit vacillating on when to take the damned test. She had to get on with her life.

  Make it what she wanted and needed.

  Stalling was done. And in less than thirty seconds so was the test. She’d waited all day to do it, and now the wait for results seemed to take a year. Weak in the knees she sat on the closed commode, picked up her phone and returned Braden’s call.

  His news would distract her. Put things in perspective.

  It wasn’t like this was her only shot to have a baby. A no answer just meant she’d have to wait another month.

  He didn’t pick up.

  And she wasn’t pregnant.

  * * *

  As soon as Braden could excuse himself from his business dinner at his hotel with a couple of key investors, he took the elevator straight up to his suite and called Mallory.

  Was she pregnant? He was expecting a yes. They’d had no trouble getting pregnant the first time. To him the conception part was a given. How she felt about it was the question. Now that it was happening, was she sure she could handle it?

  Or was she worrying already about the future fate of her unborn child?

  And if she was, what could he do about it?

  She picked up on the fourth ring. “The test was negative, which was to be expected,” she said in lieu of hello. “I’ll call the clinic in the morning and schedule the next procedure.”

  She said it like she was discussing having the carpets cleaned.

  “I’m sorry.” He was, for her. And sorry for the relief he felt, too.

  “They said to expect up to six months for it to take,” she reminded him.

  “You’re taking it well.” Why that surprised him, he wasn’t sure. Other than Tucker’s death, Mallory had always taken life in stride. It came from growing up in foster care, he’d figured.

  “It’s a process,” she told him. “I knew that going in. I’ve had all the tests. There’s no reason to believe I won’t conceive.”

  “Still... I’m sure you were hoping the baby was already on its way.” Why was he doing this? Trying to get emotion out of her when she knew it was exactly what he didn’t want and, therefore, would withhold it from him?

  “Of course I’d hoped, but I didn’t get all worked up about it. I knew the chances were good it would take more than one try.”

  Walking over to his bar, he pulled out a shot bottle of expensive scotch, emptied some into a glass and took a small sip.

  “My offer was accepted.”

  “Oh, Bray! I’m glad.” The sincerity in her tone warmed him. The scotch probably helped, too. “So did you get your permits going?”

  “Yes.” He took a couple of minutes to tell her about the meetings he’d had. Which was more than they usually did—other than by general mention. But then, this wasn’t normal—him in L.A. starting a new venture and her in San Diego trying to have a baby without him.

  He took another sip and then he launched into another topic.

  “I have something to discuss with you. An opportunity,” he said, wandering over to the window with his glass in hand, staring out at the lights of L.A. in the distance.

  “What kind of opportunity?”

  “I told you I’m intending to make this L.A. project as much a replica of Braden Property Management as possible.”

  “Yeah.” He couldn’t tell by her tone if she was focused or distracted. He reminded himself she’d just suffered what had to be a crushing disappointment. No matter what she said. He knew how badly she thought she wanted
another baby.

  And he hoped she was distracted enough to politely decline the offer he was about to make.

  “One of the things that helped make us such an instant success was our ability to offer tenants in-house daycare at a reduced rate.”

  He couldn’t judge her reaction from her silence, but that was all she gave him.

  “Since the idea was yours, and because The Bouncing Ball plays a part in the success of Braden Property Management, I’d like to know if you’d be interested in expanding, if you’d like to open a second daycare, here in L.A.”

  “I...”

  She stopped, as if she was thinking it through. He tried to wait her out but couldn’t.

  “You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Just think about it, would you?”

  He wanted an immediate no, not more time to fret about the ramifications of the plan.

  “I don’t need to think about it,” she said. “Of course, I’ll need time to get plans in place, but I can tell you right now that I’d be honored to be a part of the L.A. venture, Braden. Thank you.”

  His heart sank.

  Chapter Nine

  Was she nuts? She couldn’t be a single mother and run two businesses.

  What in the heck had she been thinking? I’d be honored to be a part of the L.A. venture, Braden. Thank you.

  Had those words really come from her mouth?

  Without a moment’s hesitation?

  Mallory passed through the next couple of days in a blur. She made her next appointment at the Elliott Clinic in Marie Cove, assuming she ovulated as expected, and then didn’t let herself think about not having another baby. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was merely a matter of when.

  Instead, she lay in bed Sunday night and scared herself into wondering if she was really capable of letting Braden move on without her, being his friend and supporting him while he did it. Why else would she have told him she’d be a part of his new venture?

  She had absolutely no desire to own an empire. Or to live in L.A. Those were Bray’s dreams, though the whole L.A. thing was new even for him.