Waking Up Pregnant

by Mira Lyn Kelly

  TWENTY-THREE

  I’m sorry. The words hit him like a battering ram to the gut.

  The way she’d been looking at him. The way it had been with them the past week. The past months. He’d been sure.

  Even now, as he looked into the eyes that had been staring up at him the night before like he was...everything, he couldn’t believe it.

  He wouldn’t.

  “Darcy, let’s talk about this.”

  “No, Jeff,” she said, pulling her hand from his to hold it trembling against the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest. “Not this time. We agreed.”

  She was panicking, her eyes darting around like she was searching for escape.

  “Okay, slow down, sweetheart. Relax. Yeah, this isn’t what we’d agreed on, but I think if we sit a minute and talk it through, you’ll see—”

  “What will I see? How quickly you can work your magic again?” she asked with a short laugh as the tears he didn’t understand began to leak from the corners of her eyes. “How quickly you can figure out some way to tell me just exactly what I need to hear to justify another exception, to get me to bend my rules one more time, to convince me I won’t regret it? Here’s the problem, Jeff.” She jerked back from him, nearly losing her balance and, when he reached to steady her, pushing at his hand. “I keep believing you. Through one mistake after another. And now my regrets? I’m trapped behind a wall of them piled so high, I can’t even see the life I could have had anymore. The life I wanted. And the worst of it is I only have myself to blame...because I knew better!”

  * * *

  They’d driven back to Jeff’s apartment in silence. Both absorbing what the other had said. Both wishing, Darcy was certain, they could have taken back their words before they’d been spoken. Taken back the other’s, as well.

  But if there was one lesson she’d learned, it was there were no take backs.

  Once something was done, it couldn’t be undone.

  All she could do was move forward from there. And her first step, a sorely needed apology.

  Jeff was in the living room, his laptop open though he didn’t seem to be working on it when she sat opposite him on the couch.

  “I shouldn’t have said those things to you, Jeff. All you’ve done from the minute you found out about this baby was try to make things better for me. For us. You’ve been generous beyond belief. You’ve been supportive. You’ve been more than anyone could hope for.”

  “Don’t apologize. You were right. Every time you gave me an inch, I’ve taken a mile. It wasn’t what we agreed to and—hell, I don’t know, as the delivery gets closer, I just thought maybe there was a way to make this work.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not you, Jeff.”

  “No?” He let out a short laugh. “I got the feeling it was.”

  How could he not. She’d been angry. But more at herself than him. She’d finally seen through all the lies she’d been telling herself about what was happening between them. About how she felt about it and what she could handle. She’d fallen in love. And worse, she’d started to believe Jeff could give her the fairy tale she’d never expected to want.

  But the depth of her feelings for him wasn’t something she could share. It was information with the power to disrupt their future relationship—one of critical importance. So she would try to tell him the truth, make him understand, without revealing exactly how much he’d taken over her heart.

  “You mentioned fairy tales earlier. How I wasn’t interested in one anyway. And, for the most part that’s been true. As far as destinies went, I wasn’t interested in having mine tied to anyone else’s. I’d gotten into the habit of looking out for myself. Being on my own. And it worked for me, mostly. But I started seeing things differently after being a part of your family, hearing about what it was like growing up in a home filled with love and respect and caring—the kind of home I’d never known. Not being alone to face every challenge. Having someone there—”

  She stopped herself before giving too much away. Shook her head and started again. “I feel like I’ve been selling myself short my whole life, Jeff. When we met, I’d been on my own for so long, taking care of myself the only way I knew how. Avoiding risks. I’d already started to realize what all my avoidance and caution was costing me. That I was missing out on life, which is why I couldn’t resist your offer that first night. I just wanted to live a little. But in the months since I’ve been in L.A.—living with your mom and then with you—I’ve had a taste of being a part of something bigger. Of something that isn’t destructive or about giving things up. Something that makes me feel like more instead of less. And it’s made me see the possibility of what’s out there. What love might be like. You’re an incredible man, Jeff. And any woman would be beyond lucky to have you in her life. But we both agree, you and I aren’t the fairy tale, and I’m just not ready to resign myself to giving up on finding it yet. I feel like I owe it to myself and to our baby and to you, too, not to let any of us settle for less than we deserve.”

  And they all deserved so much more than a family founded on sacrifice.

  Their child deserved a mother who made a better role model than she’d had herself. Who taught lessons with smiles instead of tears, strength instead of weakness. Bravery instead of fear.

  Jeff deserved the kind of marriage his parents had. A wife he saw as a partner, an equal, the other half to make them whole. He deserved to marry someone he loved.

  And she deserved more than a lifetime of imbalance in every regard. Loving a man who saw his marriage to her as the sacrifice he’d been willing to make for a “whole” family. She deserved to be able to hope that someday she’d meet someone who made her feel all the things Jeff made her feel, and who would want her for her. Not because a relationship with her would facilitate the full-time parenting package he was really after.

  At some point during her explanation, Jeff had moved closer, taking her hand in his own. Now he met her eyes with the kind of understanding that made her wish for all the things she couldn’t have with him.

  “You’re right, Darcy. I promise, no more proposals. Our original agreement stands.” Offering a quick grin, he qualified, “Our amended agreement.”

  She swallowed past this new layer of regret. “I appreciate that. I really do.” She tried to shift into a more comfortable position, only this time it wasn’t her belly getting in her way. It was her conscience. “But, Jeff, maybe it would be better for both of us, if rather than waiting until the baby comes, I moved out now.”

  Something dark flashed through his eyes, and she thought he might argue. But instead he simply nodded and with a last gentle squeeze, released her hand. “I’ll make some calls and we’ll get it done tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Darcy stared at the bedroom wall of her new home, telling herself she’d done the right thing.

  Jeff had asked her to marry him. Offered to make her his family. To take care of her.

  He’d proven time and again, though he didn’t love her, he would treat her like a queen—even going so far as to surprise her with a castle and the crown jewels.

  He was beyond generous. Attentive. Caring.

  Beautiful in the most rugged way.

  Fun and intelligent.

  Honest.

  Strip away his wealth, and he was still everything she could want in a man. Except for the part about him not feeling quite the same way.

  There was no doubt he found her attractive or that he cared for her in a very deep, very real way. But when Jeff had gone looking for a relationship...he’d looked for someone far different from her.

  A part of her knew she was crazy to turn him down. But a greater part of her knew she couldn’t stand to live like that.

  She thought back to all the promises she’d made to herself and knew she’d broken eve
ry one...starting the night she’d gone back to Jeff’s room. She’d justified and rationalized, for the feel-good of being with a man she’d known from the start wasn’t for her. A man who’d warned her he wasn’t interested in a relationship, just a few hours of fun. And yeah, later he’d said he’d thought about wanting more. An affair maybe. But for marriage, he’d been looking to Olivia with her social connections, business acumen and impeccable pedigree.

  How could she marry a man she knew was settling for her? Making a concession.

  She couldn’t. She’d done the right thing.

  But as the next tear rolled down her cheek, she wondered how she was going to live without him...especially when circumstance assured she’d never be able to get far enough away to forget him.

  * * *

  Jeff stood at his open refrigerator, staring at the second shelf where half a yellow-box-mix cake with fudge frosting sat, abandoned.

  He’d bet money Darcy had probably come within a hair’s breadth of tears when she realized she’d left it behind. And he’d bet, that had been at about eight-fifteen the evening before.

  If he’d been home rather than working through the night at the office, he’d have noticed it there and probably done the same thing he was doing right now. Stood in front of the fridge debating whether he ought to drop it by her place for her.

  But somehow the excuse seemed thin, even to him.

  Besides if he knew Darcy at all—and despite the failure of his proposal and her subsequent exodus from his apartment as a result, he did—she’d already have taken care of whatever box mix needs she’d had on her own.

  Just the way she liked it.

  Pulling the phone from his pocket, he checked to see if she’d texted. Even set to near Richter-five vibration with a ringtone to match, it was possible he’d missed her call or text.

  Only he hadn’t.

  He opened the fridge again. Laughed a little when he noticed the suspicious marks from fork tines in the frosting—but then the sound of his laughing alone in a space that had been filled with Darcy just two days before made his chest ache and all the humor evaporated into the still silent air around him.

  He could just call and see if she wanted him to bring the cake. Maybe she hadn’t thought to put a box mix on the list for the housekeeper he’d hired to shop and do all the things eight-months-pregnant women weren’t comfortable doing. Sure there was a driver on call for her 24/7. And if she’d been up for going to his mother’s today, she might have found a box there...but what if she hadn’t.

  What if she was hungry?

  What if the only reason she wasn’t calling to ask about the cake was because she felt like she shouldn’t after moving out? What if she thought he didn’t want to hear from her?

  Okay, and what if he never got a grip again.

  If Darcy wanted to talk to him, she’d call. If she wanted cake, she’d make one.

  If she wanted him...hell. She’d still be here. In his arms. In his bed. In his life in a way that wasn’t simply about waiting for their child to be born so they could share it like civilized adults.

  And she wasn’t.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “Darcy, don’t you make me take that file from you. It’s nearly seven.”

  Hand flat on the top of the file in question, Darcy shook her head. “You even think about taking this from me, and you can kiss your ‘Nana Gail’ fantasies goodbye. I’ll have this baby calling you Gammy Gigi for years.”

  Jeff’s mother flinched, but apparently tonight she wasn’t backing down. Slipping her phone from her pocket, she made a show of starting to text. “Hold on, dear. Let’s talk about this in a moment. After I tell Jeff about how you aren’t eating and you look so very pale.”

  “What?” she gasped, grabbing the plate with the remains of her organic burrito...the second burrito, because there wasn’t even a single crumb left to show for the first. “This is my third, no, fourth meal today. Since I’ve been here!”

  Gail didn’t look up as she sighed. “We old people get so easily confused. The file, Darcy.”

  Old. At fifty-five, Gail was hardly material for the old folks’ home, especially since she had the physique and attitude of a woman closer to forty. Add another item to her ever-growing “Why I want to be like Gail when I grow up” list.

  Darcy looked down. She knew it had been a long day, but the truth was, being at home was difficult. It was beautiful and comfortable and all, but a week into living there, she still found herself watching the clock for the part of her day that had become her favorite, waiting for an event that wasn’t going to come.

  Reminding herself that Jeff wouldn’t be swinging through the door at any moment.

  It was just her. Alone. With nothing to wait for or anticipate at the day’s end because she’d had to go and make the smart decision for herself. And it stunk.

  She used to thrive on living by herself. But that was before she’d had a taste of what it felt like to share a home. Before Jeff.

  “I wonder what he’ll do when he hears how sad and thin and worn-out you look?”

  Darcy narrowed her eyes. She did not look thin. The rest, possibly. But certainly not enough to report to Jeff. Gail was bluffing.

  And if she wasn’t...

  No, she tamped down that insidious little hopeful part of her looking for any excuse or justification to see him. Anything to ease this hollow aching part of her that had opened up the day she moved out and secured his promise to give her some space as they adjusted to the new phase of their relationship. They’d be seeing each other soon enough once the baby arrived.

  But Gail was bluffing because no matter what Darcy and Jeff had respectively told her about Darcy’s move to her new place, Gail wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t blind. And she wasn’t one to manipulate her son for sport. So no worries. That text wasn’t going anywhere.

  Still this was the most entertainment she’d had since ripping her heart in half when she moved out of Jeff’s place. Maybe she wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

  “You do that, and I’ll tell him...I’ll tell him...” What lie she’d never actually tell could she threaten Gail with—ha! She had it. “I’ll tell him Grant put a move on you! You’ll have that promising young doctor’s blood all over your hands. So how about them apples, Gail?”

  Darcy waited for the gasp, the cough, the laugh or the escalated threat, anticipating whatever the response with glee. Ready for whatever her friend had to lob back at her. But all she got was Gail staring at her, wide-eyed and stock-still.

  The seconds stretched, and Darcy’s brows began to creep skyward. “No. Way.”

  Gail blinked, looked down at the floor where she made a small circle with the toe of her shoe. Finally she shrugged. “Give me the file and I’ll tell you about it.”

  Three things ran through her mind at once.

  First, Grant didn’t value his life the way she would have expected him to.

  Second, Wow. No wonder Jeff didn’t know how to lose.

  And third, rename her list as “Why Gail is my hero” and add this as the top line item.

  Handing over the file, she tried not to think about what ran through her mind next. How relieved she was not to have to be heading back to her lonely house. How grateful she was for what would probably be the only distraction powerful enough to keep her mind off the man she couldn’t stop missing.

  * * *

  The door swung open and Connor squinted out at him. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. But it’s four in the morning, Jeff. What are you doing here?”

  Yeah, what indeed. Trying to keep himself from making a seriously monumental mistake. And calling in a favor to do it.

  “Needed to get out of the apartment for a while. So I went for a drive. Ended up in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop in
.”

  “Two hundred miles is a bit of a drive.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You look like hell.”

  Jeff gave Connor a once-over, taking in the bedhead that put the other man’s hair on par with his own, the wrinkle running across his cheek and the unfocused look in general. “Coming from you, that’s saying something.”

  “Ha. So you want to come in, or was this just a drive-by?”

  “I need you to take my phone. Darcy asked me to give her some space. And I’m trying. Really, really hard. But I haven’t seen her in two weeks. And even though I’ve talked to my mom and Grant and they both say she’s doing great, I haven’t seen her. Not being able to—hell, the only reason I’m not knocking on her door right now is because I forced myself to turn left instead of right...and keep going. And the only way I’m not going to call her and tell her that I can’t stand another damn day like this...when I need to be able to stand a whole damn lifetime like it, is if you take the damn phone out of my damned hand. Please.”

  Connor looked down at the offending piece of technology and held out his hand for it.

  “Thank you,” he said as Connor waved him inside.

  “I owed you one, right?”

  Jeff was about to make the usual polite protest—even though it was the absolute truth—when he stopped at the sound of crunching plastic and metal.

  Eyes bugging, he cranked his head around to where Connor was pulling the crushed phone from between the door and the frame, a sleepy half-cocked grin on his face as he handed back what had seconds before been a working phone, painstakingly programmed to accommodate every aspect of his life. At his stunned stare, Connor slapped the bits of phone into his palm and said, “Now we’re even. And you’re welcome.”

  Five minutes later, Connor set five bottles between them, then dropped into the kitchen chair, eyeing Jeff over the table. “Let’s get this out of the way first. What kind of night are we having? Coffee?” he asked, holding a hand over the two bottles of caramel-and-cream flavored iced coffee, before moving to hover over the green glass of his favorite imports. “Beer?”