A Wedding For Baby (Baby Boom)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “Not even when my loser brother left you on your own and pregnant?” The second the words left Dane’s mouth, he regretted them. Regretted the way she’d stopped shredding her napkin to instead grip the pieces so tightly her knuckles whitened. “Sorry, again. That came out wrong.”

  She shook her head. “You called it the way you see it. If the truth hurts…” She shrugged.

  “Still…” He should’ve reached across the table, eased his fingers between hers and squeezed. Her complexion was pale and her eyes were wet; her lower lip almost imperceptibly trembled. A part of him was afraid she’d cry. Which would’ve been bad.

  “Really,” she said with a sniffle, “I’m over Ben’s leaving.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  Her gaping mouth told him yet again he should’ve kept his big mouth shut.

  Luckily, the waitress arrived, placing their drinks on the table with little fanfare. “How far along are you?” she asked Gabrielle.

  “A little over six months.”

  “Whew.” With a faint smile, the waitress, whose name tag read Candace, added, “I don’t envy you the coming months. Although at least it should start getting cooler.”

  “Thank goodness.” Gabby managed a smile. “Do you think I could get an order of fries?”

  “Sure thing, hon. I’ll have those right out.”

  “Hungry?” Dane asked.

  “No. Just needing to eat.”

  “Oh.” What did that mean? Deciphering women had never been his strong point. He never lacked for dates, but also never seemed to get much past the initial stages. He’d been accused of spending too much time growing his law office. Now, spending too much time at the courthouse. He’d been told he was no fun. Apparently he lacked the romance gene.

  “Have you—or your parents—heard from Ben lately?”

  Stirring sugar into his coffee, Dane said, “He called Nana a couple weeks ago on her birthday.”

  “I was sorry to be out of town. She throws a good party.”

  He laughed.

  Gabrielle was a certified massage therapist in a swanky local spa. But she also had a business degree, and put it to good use when she’d launched her own line of herbal massage oils. According to his mother, Gabrielle’s schedule was filled weeks in advance. Proving that while her job might be touchy-feely, she had a good head on her shoulders. As such, Dane had always wondered what she’d seen in Ben—the perennial party boy. Aside from his humor and looks, he was a royal screwup. It took him six years to finish a four-year business degree. Got kicked out of his latest apartment for having forgotten to pay his rent. Oh—he’d had the money, he’d just been too busy to pay his bill.

  Shaking his head, Dane sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” Gabby asked.

  “Your boyfriend. My brother. What’d you ever see in him?”

  “Well…” Had he imagined it? Or did her green eyes brighten just at the thought of Ben? “I suppose his sense of humor is what first attracted me to him. He’s a great dancer. Mixes a mean margarita. Has a grin that never fails to flutter my insides. When he makes guacamole on Friday nights, he sings. He even—”

  “You aware you’re speaking of him in present tense?”

  “Am I?” She sipped her juice, and it didn’t escape his attention that her hands trembled. “That bother you?”

  “No. I just…” What? What was his problem? Ben had already irrevocably hurt this woman. Why couldn’t Dane at least allow her the comfort of reminiscing over happier times? “I guess I’m still so ticked off at him. You know, for what he’s done, that—”

  “It took two to tango, Dane. I could’ve said no to doing the deed without protection.”

  He blanched at her unexpected crudeness.

  “Sometimes I get the feeling you hate your brother.”

  “I don’t hate him, I just—”

  “What? Intensely dislike him?” A sarcastic laugh escaped her. “No matter what you think of Ben, a part of me will always love him. He’s the father of my child, and—”

  “You don’t think he’s coming back to marry you, do you?” Fairy tales had never been Dane’s preferred genre.

  “No. Even if he did, I wouldn’t take him back. He hurt me. Bad. So why are you hell-bent on hurting me again?”

  Good question.

  Lucky for Dane, Candace arrived with Gabrielle’s fries.

  “Thank you,” Gabrielle said, reaching for the ketchup, then unscrewing the bottle’s top and glopping the red stuff on her plate.

  “You’re welcome, hon. Anything else?”

  “Do you have chocolate milk?”

  “Sure do. Be right back with that, and a refill on your coffee.” She nodded to Dane’s empty cup.

  “Chocolate milk probably isn’t the best choice for you,” Dane said.

  “Acting as if you have the right to tell me anything about what’s good or bad for me probably isn’t the best choice for you.” As she notched her chin higher, the light behind her eyes now seemed like a challenge.

  “Point taken.” When the waitress approached, he shoved his mug toward the edge of the table.

  “I just took a cherry pie from the oven,” she said to Gabrielle. “Want some with a scoop of vanilla?”

  “Yes, please. Sounds delicious.”

  Once the chitchat-prone woman left, Dane reached for the sugar packets. “Pie? I told Mama we’d be home for cake.”

  “Sugar?” she sassed, eyebrows raised over his using three packets. “Plus, you told your mother we’d be back for cake. Not me. I need to go home. I’ve had enough family time. The only reason I was even at their house was because your mom sounded so sad on the phone.”

  “How so?” he asked, sipping the steaming, fragrant brew.

  “The way she went on about how worried she was.”

  “About what? Ben? The kid always manages to land on his feet.”

  “Not everything revolves around Ben’s mistakes, Dane. Your mom confessed that she worries if Ben doesn’t return home, I won’t bring the baby to visit. She’s really looking forward to becoming a grandmother, and Lord knows, she doesn’t have much hope in you.”

  Ouch. He supposed he’d had it coming, but Gabrielle’s verbal barb hit uncomfortably close. “How about we declare a truce and talk about what we came here specifically to discuss?”

  “Fine with me,” she said, dredging a fry through ketchup before shoving it in her mouth.

  The waitress came and went with the pie, and damned if it didn’t look good. Judging by the melting ice cream oozing over the generous slice, it was still warm from the oven. Dane had always had a sweet tooth. Usually, for his mother’s and grandmother’s baked goods, but in a pinch, anyone’s baked goods would do. “Mind if I have a bite?”

  She frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Proving he wasn’t, he snatched her fork and helped himself.

  “Hey!” She grabbed her fork from his hand. “Get your own.”

  Dane grinned, then asked, “Getting down to business, when and where is this Lamaze thing?”

  “I told you back at your parents’I’d rather use a friend.”

  “And I told you, I won’t hear of it. This baby is my brother’s responsibility. Since he’s not here to handle the issue, I’ll be his proxy.”

  Jerking a fresh napkin from the dispenser, Gabby used it to wipe her fork clean. “While you may view my baby as a responsibility, Dane, to me, he or she is my future child. So to hear you bloviating about responsibility and my pregnancy being an issue kinda makes me want to either puke or punch you. The verdict’s still out on which way I’ll eventually go.” She forced a huge bite into her finally quiet mouth.

  “Again, Gabrielle, I’m sorry. I’ve never really been the flowery type. I genuinely want to help you.” Not to mention keep his nagging mother off his back. For most men, being told they were on the verge of becoming a father would be a time to rejoice. But for Ben, it’d just been one more chance to shirk adulthood. A
s for Gabrielle, though she was a fairly free-spirited sort, he’d thought she was too smart to have hooked up with Ben. “Think of it, you and me in one of those Lamaze classes filled with pregnant women. Has there ever been a clearer case of the proverbial odd couple?” Chuckling, he added, “Seriously, we’ll probably share a lot of laughs.”

  “Or be laughed at,” she said around her latest bite of pie. “Why won’t you just let me ask around the spa for a partner?”

  “Maybe because a part of me wants to do this for you. Sure, ninety-nine percent of this mission is family duty, but you seem to be a good girl. You got a raw deal having Ben leave you.”

  “Really? You were sorry about Ben leaving? I never thought you even noticed I was alive.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. Our whole family gets a kick out of you.” Would now be the time to confess the hip-hugging red dress she’d worn to his aunt Katie and uncle Paul’s fiftieth-wedding-anniversary party still popped up in his dreams? Probably not, which was why he leaned in, saying, “Please, Gabrielle, do me the honor of allowing me to be your Lamaze coach. Not because my mom wants me to or because of any other family obligation I might feel, but because I’m guessing now—more than ever—you need a friend. Maybe Ben will be back in time for your big event—if so, great. If not, I don’t want you to be alone. I want your baby to know Uncle Dane’s got his or her back.”

  Tears swelled in her eyes.

  His guess was that she was too stubborn to let them fall, but nonetheless, they were there. Evidence that finally, on a night where his foot had more often than not been in his mouth, he’d said the right thing.

  “Thank you,” she said, carefully pressing the tines of her fork to the pie crumbs. Though she didn’t meet his gaze, he sensed relief emanating from her. Saw it in the relaxed set of her shoulders. The loosened hold on her fork. The way her lips had plumped back into their usual soft bow.

  Swallowing hard, he looked to his coffee.

  Yes, he would help Gabrielle through Lamaze and whatever other “husbandly” assistance she may need. But that’s where it ended. She loved Ben, and for all his trash talk about his kid brother, Dane loved him very much, as well. The time for name-calling and pointing the finger of blame was long past. Now was the time for coming together as a family and making lemonade from lemons.

  Dane had contacts whom he would pay generously for their help in tracking down Ben. After which, Dane would make him see what a precious gift he’d been given in having Gabrielle’s love.

  Chapter Two

  “Breathe,” Dane commanded.

  “What do you think I’m doing?” Gabby fired back, in no mood for his commandeering ways. Though this was the first night of Lamaze, already their drill sergeant of an instructor was acting as if all twelve teams present would be giving labor any second. “Hoo, hoo, hee, hee…Hoo, hoo, hee, hee…”

  “Are you supposed to look grumpy?” he asked, peering at her from where she awkwardly sat between his legs, her back snug against his chest. The pose felt distractingly intimate. She was having a hard time remembering a single thing that Regina, their instructor, had taught.

  “Are you supposed to be getting into my business?”

  “Just asking. I figure our instructor wouldn’t want you scaring your baby with those furrowed brows.”

  “Bite me!” she muttered under her breath.

  “Gabrielle and Dane?” Regina asked. “Is everything all right?”

  “A-okay,” Dane said.

  Gabby jabbed him between his ribs.

  “All right then, teams, for our next exercise…”

  “Relax,” Dane whispered in Gabby’s right ear.

  His warm breath raised goose bumps on her arms. Not exactly conducive to serenity. “Stop it.”

  “What?” he asked, all innocent.

  “Trying to be nice after you’ve already been so mean.”

  “How have I been mean?” His latest whisper caused her to shiver.

  “That crack about me scaring the baby wasn’t very nice. And when your mother called my house to see if you’d found it all right, did you have to tell her I wasn’t hungry for pot roast because I’d just finished a pizza?”

  “No, but did you eat the whole pizza?”

  Teeth clenched, she growled.

  “I rest my case. Now, seriously, chill…” While she made a halfhearted attempt at following the breathing exercises, Dane kneaded her shoulders. Far from relaxing her, the all-too-pleasurable treat rocketed through her, consuming her with impossible-to-deal-with emotions. As a professional masseuse, it was a rare gift for her to be on the receiving end of a massage. Dane was Ben’s brother. Obviously, any attraction for him wasn’t real. What she was feeling was merely appreciation for his having soothed her aches.

  Focusing on the here and now, on the very real issue of her impending labor, she tried blocking out her partner. True, easier said than done, but with any luck, he’d get squeamish during the birth videos and bail on his family honor. Then she’d return to plan B, which was using a friend from work as her coach.

  Even worse than her choice of partners was a matter she dared not discuss with anyone. Not her friends. Never Dane. She just couldn’t voice her concerns about the baby—it was like a nightmare you didn’t want to talk about for fear of it coming true. Her ob-gyn told her everything was fine—both with her and the baby. But for the past few weeks, her inner voice said the doctor was wrong.

  Despite the room’s incandescent light, ultraplush white carpet and the soothing scent of lavender, she still struggled with a serious case of jitters. Not even the calming classical music wafting from discreet speakers helped. The mystery pain in her back was at least lessened by Dane’s capable hands, but not completely gone.

  “You’ve gone quiet,” Dane whispered. “Everything all right?”

  She nodded, then tossed in a rhythmic, “Hoo, hoo, hee, hee,” for good measure. But how could everything be all right? In thirteen painfully short weeks she would not only be going into labor without her baby’s father, but she would be raising their child all on her own. Her conscience told her that with the help of good friends and Ben’s family, she’d no doubt be fine, but the bigger her belly grew, so did her misgivings.

  And what was up with the air-conditioning in this place? Didn’t anyone know August in Arkansas was hot? Fanning herself, she asked, “How was I?”

  “According to the chart,” he said, nodding toward the breathing-technique chart their Lamaze instructor had placed on the overhead projector, “you need more emphasis on the hees.”

  “Way to inspire confidence, there, coach.”

  “Well, you asked.”

  “Well,” she said in the most forceful whisper she could muster while lying in the infuriating man’s arms, “you could’ve lied!”

  “DON’T YOU EVER STOP EATING?” It wasn’t so much Gabrielle’s slit-eyed stare telling Dane he’d said the wrong thing, but the gaping mouth of the old busybody at the table across from them at Farelli’s Pizza who’d been so engrossed in their conversation that she hadn’t heard what her husband had said.

  “Don’t you ever stop nagging?” Biting into her fourth slice of sausage, mushroom and extra cheese, she closed her eyes and smiled.

  At which point, Dane discreetly adjusted his fly and scowled. Damn, if her satisfied expression didn’t resemble that of a woman enjoying a whole ’nother variety of fun.

  “See that blonde over there?” she asked, shaking Parmesan cheese on her slice.

  “Yeah. What about her?”

  “Isn’t she in our class?”

  The pregnant, crazy-curly blonde in question waved, as did her equally blond and smiling coach. Dear Lord, twins? Identical save for the size of their bellies, they leaned in for a speedy discussion, then one grabbed their drinks, and the other snatched the remaining half of a pepperoni pizza.

  “Hi,” said the one sporting a belly bulge and dimples. “Hope you don’t mind us barging in like this, but I not
iced you’re from our Lamaze class, and if we don’t talk to someone else about it, we’re going to burst!”

  “Oh my gosh,” Gabrielle said in an uncharacteristic teen-style gush, “I feel the same. Please, sit down. I’m Gabby Craig. He’s my coach, Dane.”

  “You two married?” the nonpregnant twin inquired.

  “No,” Dane said, shifting to make room for the pair to sit.

  “Then how’d you get to be a coach?” the pregnant twin asked.

  “Long story,” he said with a grunt, wishing his Coke were a beer.

  “Oh.” Having the good graces not to further press, the pregnant one extended her hand to Gabrielle. “I’m Stephanie Olmstead, and this is my sister, Lisa.”

  “Where’s your husband?” Gabrielle asked.

  Both blondes paled.

  Lisa started to say something, but Stephanie cut her off. “M-Michael died. He is—was—a navy pilot stationed in the Middle East.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Gabrielle said.

  “It’s okay,” Stephanie said, reaching for a slice of their pizza. “I mean, obviously, it’s not, okay I mean. But what’re you going to do? Thank goodness for my sister, or I’d be a complete basket case instead of only half of one.”

  A round of laughter eased the tension Stephanie’s confession had created.

  “Excuse me…” The busybody from the next table glared. “Would you all mind holding it down. I can hardly hear my husband speak.”

  “Sorry.” Gabrielle flashed the crone her first genuine smile of the night. “We’ll keep it down.”

  Was it wrong for Dane to want that smile all for himself? After all, he was the one doing the work here. Chaperoning one pregnant woman was tough enough, but to now have two? What had he gotten himself into?

  As if fate had been listening in on his internal lament, yet another pregnant woman strolled up with her coach in tow. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” said a redhead who somehow managed to pull off a black maternity power suit. She looked familiar. A fellow attorney he’d seen around the courthouse? He guessed so. “But we’re also in the Lamaze class, and wouldn’t mind hashing over a few points—that is, if you all don’t mind?”