The Baby Arrangement

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  All but one of the tables was full, so she knew where she was going. She’d barely settled in her seat before Braden was there, asking for two glasses of ice tea and then privacy until they motioned for service.

  She’d never heard him be quite so forceful. He wasn’t impolite, but his usual easygoing, friendly demeanor was definitely not present.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls,” she said immediately, trying to ward off any undue tension between them before it got out of hand.

  He leaned in toward her, his tie caught between the wrought-iron table and his chest. “I did not have sex with Anna.”

  Waving a hand as though she wasn’t suddenly lightheaded with relief, she said, “It’s none of my business, Bray. You can sleep with whomever you like. You know that.”

  “The point is, I didn’t.”

  He was serious, looking her right in the eye. For some reason this was important to him. “Okay.”

  As he sat back, their tea was delivered, as though their waiter had been watching and waiting for his cue.

  When the man left, Braden leaned in again. “And I’m sorry for pressuring you on the other stuff. These are your children. We were very clear from the first about that. My participation was my own idea and—”

  She almost held her tongue. Because she thought ultimately it might be the best way to preserve their friendship. But it wouldn’t be best for their children. Or for either of them.

  “I’m going to put your name on their birth certificates, Bray,” she said. “That’s why I was calling the other night. I’d just woken up with this horrible dream and—”

  She stopped. She couldn’t tell him her nightmare. They seemed to be reaching some new understanding, a more honest understanding perhaps, but there were some things that didn’t change.

  Braden’s abhorrence of drama and emotion of any kind being one of them.

  Her obsession with having a biological relationship above all else being another.

  “Anyway, you’re right,” she said. “It will be far better for the kids. And as long as you’re willing to have them know about you, then they should know.”

  Everything about him seemed to change. He sat back. His expression settled. It was as though she could see the tension physically slide from his body.

  And she knew, in spite of her apprehensions to the contrary, she’d made the right choice.

  * * *

  Life was good. His building was going up. All initial inspections had passed. Potential tenants were putting in applications and things with Mallory were finally resolved. She was going to bring The Bouncing Ball to L.A. Braden was satisfied that all was as it should be.

  Driving back to L.A. that evening, he was looking forward to the future. Mallory was happier than he’d seen her in a long time. As the legal father of her children he’d have a solid place in her life and the right to take care of her or her children if the need arose.

  He was free to pursue a more committed relationship with Anna. If she was still interested.

  Yes. Things were working out according to plan.

  Except...

  They’d talked over lunch about having a legal custody agreement drawn up. He was taking charge of it, paying for the attorney, everything. She’d have full custody and he would be signing away any rights during her lifetime. The children were going to be added to his will. She was going to set up a trust for the children, leaving them all of her worldly goods, and stipulating him as legal guardian of them in the event that anything happened to her.

  He would not contact the children outside of his friendship with Mallory. If they wanted to see him, separate and alone, he would make himself available to them pursuant to arrangements made through Mallory.

  The one thing they hadn’t thought of was his mother and sister. The children were going to have a grandmother and an aunt who would adore them.

  Dote on them.

  Biological family to love them.

  He dialed Mallory through his steering wheel, activating Voice Command.

  “I just thought of something,” he said when she picked up. It wasn’t six yet. She’d still be at the daycare, but would most likely be alone.

  “What?”

  “My mom and sister. As much as Mom drives me nuts, she also loves like the gush of the ocean.”

  The pause on the end of the line didn’t seem good.

  “Just think about it,” he said. “A biological grandmother could be something you want for them. If you do, let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Bray?”

  “Yeah?”

  “When do we realize that this is getting too complicated?”

  “It won’t be complicated,” he told her, refusing to get sucked into the mire. “We make the choices here. Or rather, you do. You’re in complete control.”

  He’d do what she wanted, even if he disagreed.

  “I’m signing away all rights, Mal. But you asked for my support, which means you get my opinion.” They’d established that from the beginning.

  “I know.”

  “The second you no longer want that, all you have to do is say so.” It wouldn’t be all bad if she did, he told himself as he made the offer. He’d be completely free of entanglement from the past.

  “I want it.”

  “So, think about it?”

  “Of course.”

  Good. Yeah, so, life was all good.

  * * *

  Morning sickness didn’t happen. Not even as she moved toward her fifth month. But she was tired. Sometimes it was all she could do to get through the workday, make herself a sandwich when she got home and then plop down on the couch.

  She’d ordered a second crib, exactly like the one she’d bought.

  The girls at work were throwing a shower for her.

  Tamara and Flint and Tamara’s parents had already given her a year’s worth of disposable diapers through an open credit account at a local box store.

  Tamara had news of her own to share, as well. She and Flint were going to try to have a baby. Her doctor had said there was no reason that she couldn’t try to carry to full term, as long as she was emotionally strong enough to handle it if she miscarried again. With Flint and Diamond Rose there, loving her, Tamara was ready to try.

  It was enough to make one believe in happy endings.

  Yet as each day passed, Mallory was less and less happy. She wasn’t unhappy. She was deeply, deeply thrilled to be having her babies. Thankful beyond any measure.

  She’d made the right choice to have them.

  And yet, she lived on the verge of tears. Pregnancy hormones, she was sure. But that wasn’t all of it. Maybe she was more apt to cry because of them, but the source of the tears was real.

  She wept for Tucker. For the shortness of his sweet life.

  Sometimes she cried out of stark fear. What would she do if she lost either of the two precious beings growing inside of her?

  And she cried for Braden and her. She remembered his reaction that day at lunch, when she’d told him he could be on the birth certificates. She’d felt him so acutely. And she’d known. Just clearly, calmly known. Tamara had been right. She was still in love with him.

  It didn’t change anything. He wasn’t good for her and she made him a tense mess, too. The sadness of that weighed heavily on her. She carried it with her every second of every day. And she worried that she was going to pass it on to her babies. “A mother’s emotional state as she carries her children has an effect on the unborn children.” She’d read that.

  Promising herself she’d work at being calmer, for her babies’ sakes, she focused on the paperwork on her desk. Till the phone rang.

  It was her OB. The week after her four-month visit, the week after lunch with Braden, she’d been in the doctor’s office for a standard blood test,
one that could indicate that one or both of her babies had one of several possible genetic disorders, Down syndrome being one of them. And with a few words—“We got a positive”—her life imploded again.

  Her first thought was that she’d done it. Something was wrong with her.

  She listened while the doctor assured her that they weren’t worried. They’d done another ultrasound during that visit as well and all measurements had been normal. The blood test in question came up with false positives more than any others, the OB assured her. But she’d need to have more in-depth blood work done as soon as possible.

  Mallory had to leave work, she was sobbing so hard.

  She couldn’t believe it. Just couldn’t believe it.

  In her car, she drove around the corner from the business complex and then stopped. She shouldn’t drive in her condition but she had to get to the doctor’s office. They had an opening at their on-site lab that afternoon and she’d taken it. She had to know.

  Had to be able to do whatever was possible to help her babies if they were in trouble.

  The thought drew her up. With a hand on her already swelling belly, she made them a promise that she would do whatever it took to give them the best life they could possibly have. This wasn’t about her. It was about them.

  The doctor had said she wasn’t worried. And now it was Mallory’s job to stay positive. To do all she could.

  And she would.

  But as she drove to the office she wished she wasn’t doing it alone.

  She needed Braden. Wanted so badly to call him.

  But she didn’t.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sometime after midnight that night, Mallory sat in the old-fashioned wooden rocker with the brightly colored cushions, a teddy bear clutched to her, and looked at the identically adorned, empty cribs on either side of her.

  She’d fallen asleep on the couch earlier and had finally made it to bed around ten. But by eleven, she’d been wide awake again, her mind spinning with facts. She knew a lot more than she’d known that afternoon, thanks to her internet research. While there were many genetic disorders that could have shown up on her test, the majority of the most severe had been ruled out. She could have heard that one or both of her babies wouldn’t make it through the first year of life. She hadn’t heard that.

  There was still a slight chance she could. And a greater chance that either or both of the babies could have a chromosome disorder that would retard their development in any number of ways. She’d have the test results on Monday.

  Along with sexes for both children. It had been an option on the blood test, finding that out. She’d checked that box, figuring she’d have something to look forward to hearing when the doctor’s office called her back.

  Until then, she’d worry. As she clutched the teddy bear, she reminded herself that there was every chance the first test had been a false positive. She reminded herself of the normal ultrasound. And she told herself she’d love her babies, whatever the test showed.

  The physician’s assistant had told her that afternoon that one of the reasons they wanted to check further immediately was because one of her choices, depending on the results, would be to terminate the pregnancy.

  She’d shaken her head even while the woman had still been speaking. And she shook it again as she sat alone in the nursery. She couldn’t even consider termination.

  Just completely wrong for her.

  Laying her head back against the chair, she rocked gently, hugging the bear, looking at the glow of the night-light on the ceiling. Tears came, dripped slowly down her cheeks. And they dried there.

  Her mind slipped back in time to a similar night a month after Tucker had died. She’d been in his nursery, sitting in the glider rocker she’d used every single night of his life except the last one. Holding a stuffed penguin Julia, her coworker, had given him. Braden, who’d woken up and found her missing from their bed, had come looking for her. He’d tried to coax her back to bed.

  When she wouldn’t leave the nursery he’d started in again about calling someone to take everything away. He’d said she was making a shrine out of the nursery and that it was unhealthy. That she had to get a grip on herself.

  She’d sat right there in that chair, clutching Tucker’s penguin, and screamed at the top of her lungs, telling him he better not dare take away one thing of Tucker’s. “Haven’t you already taken enough?” she’d screamed, referring to the fact that Braden had taken away her chance to spend Tucker’s last moments with him.

  She’d never been so angry.

  Now, sitting there in the new nursery, thinking back, she could feel the anger all over again.

  She felt it anew as she considered his probable reaction to her current situation.

  He hadn’t been responsible for Tucker’s death. Hadn’t been in any way responsible for what had happened. Yet, she’d blamed him.

  She hadn’t been able to blame her son. And his death certainly hadn’t been the nanny’s fault. Mallory had blamed herself, of course. Not only for leaving, but for her body maybe not quite developing the portion of Tucker’s brain that was in charge of breathing regulation.

  But mostly, she’d blamed Braden. Because he’d taken her away. Because he hadn’t allowed her to experience the pain that was eating her up inside.

  He’d wanted her to be like him. To be able to move on. But she’d hardly been able to move at all.

  Braden hadn’t understood that, which had made her angrier.

  She’d blamed him for an act of God.

  The truth was clear now and, wide awake, she sat up straight, glancing around the room like there were people there, aware of what she’d done.

  She saw her relationship with Braden as if in movie form. A movie of emotions. The way she’d slowly pulled away from him, starting when she’d found out she was pregnant. The relief and the exhilaration of knowing that she’d finally have a biological connection on earth. That she belonged to someone.

  She saw, too, that maybe, just maybe, she’d never thought she and Braden would be married forever. People changed. Lives changed. And those you loved moved on.

  Her mother had tried to keep her, till her life required differently. Her foster mother had been there, until she’d moved to Florida and found a new family. She was fine with both of those circumstances, didn’t blame either woman.

  Nor did she feel sorry for herself.

  Now she realized that all along she’d expected Braden to do the same. To move on at some point, when their worlds no longer coincided.

  So when Tucker came along, maybe she’d pushed Braden on his way.

  Oh, not completely, and certainly not consciously. She’d never in a million years have done that. But the self-honesty which she’d had to learn to access to recover from Tucker’s death told her that she couldn’t keep ignoring the fact. She’d cut Braden out of her and Tucker’s lives far more than she’d realized. She’d been living a future without him, while he’d been right there with them.

  And when Tucker died, and Braden hadn’t been able to handle her grief, she’d just kept right on pushing him away with her anger.

  He’d been wrong. And so had she.

  She’d spewed ugly words at him for things that weren’t his fault. And yet, she’d been unable to let him go.

  Because she’d still been in love with him.

  Some things hadn’t changed. Maybe some never would.

  But some had to.

  She had to quit needing Braden for things he couldn’t possibly give her.

  That’s why she’d opted to have a child alone.

  It was the only way that was going to work for them.

  And so she sat alone in the night. She fought debilitating fear. She prayed. And, eventually, she went back to bed.

  * * *

  Braden had a great weeken
d. With everything falling into place he was able to play a round of golf, at which he had the chance to speak with the owner of several apartment complexes who was interested in having Braden Property Management take them on. Mallory would be glad to know that his L.A. presence was already being noticed.

  She worried about such things.

  He knew better.

  But he was glad to know that she cared. The same way he was glad to know that he was going to be formally acknowledged as the biological father of her twins.

  Throughout the weekend he thought of it often, at random times, and each time the thought gave him a lift.

  He and Anna had a nice dinner-and-concert date on Saturday night, but things took a turn on Sunday. He got a call telling him a condominium complex that was a client of his in San Diego had sprung an underground leak, and more than a thousand people were without water.

  The city was claiming the issue was the responsibility of the complex. Insurance said it was the city’s issue. First thing Monday morning it became Braden Property Management’s issue. He had an agent in charge of the account working on it and reporting to him.

  But the owner of the complex, Alex Mason, also owned five other properties in the San Diego area, all of which Braden’s company managed. He thought it best to be on hand. Just in case.

  He called Mallory to let her know he’d be in town, and when she didn’t pick up, he tried the daycare number.

  Julia answered.

  “She’s not here this morning,” Mallory’s second-in-command said. “She figured it was best if she waits at home, just in case. She doesn’t want to alarm the children.”

  “Wait at home?” He was confused. Wait for what? And he’d tried her at home. She hadn’t answered.

  “For the call.”

  “What call?”

  A quick intake of breath came over the line. “I assumed she’d told you. She usually tells you everything.”