That’s my girl,he mused. The spunky independent woman was back in control. He pointed to the sofa. “Please sit down.”
Cameron waited for Jasmine to sit when he picked up a chair to face her. “Do you plan to keep the baby?” She blinked slowly, and then the floodgates opened again and she began to cry. Reaching into his pocket, he handed her his handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose.
“I always wanted a baby but not like this. Not with a stranger.”
Cameron caught his breath, wanting to go to Jasmine and comfort her, but willed himself not to move. Not yet. “We stopped being strangers the moment we made love, Jasmine.”
She closed her eyes. “It’s just so crazy.”
“What is?”
Jasmine opened her eyes, moisture spiking the lashes. “We used protection yet I still end up pregnant.”
“Maybe it was meant to be.”
“You want this baby?”
Cameron got up and sat beside Jasmine. “I wantyouand I wantourbaby.” He kissed her hair. “What if we talk aboutusafter your friend’s wedding? That will give us time to get to know each other better before we plan for the future. Eventually I’d like you to move in here with me, but only when you feel comfortable.”
Jasmine relaxed against his side, sinking into his embrace. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention the baby until after I go through a battery of tests to determine if there are any fetal abnormalities. At my age I’m considered high-risk.”
“I won’t say a word.” As a realist, Cameron knew he and Jasmine weren’t in love with each other, but he hoped with time they would fall in love.
* * *
Jasmine lay in bed in Hannah’s guest bedroom, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling. She’d spent all afternoon in Cameron’s hotel apartment, eating and napping in his bed once fatigue overtook her. It wasn’t only the heat which had sapped her energy, but the tiny life growing in her womb.
She placed her hand over her flat belly and closed her eyes. A part of her wanted the doctor’s diagnosis to be a false positive, while the other still couldn’t grasp the reality that, if she carried to term, that she would welcome a son or daughter early the following year.
She’d slept with three men over the past twenty years and during that time she never had to resort to purchasing a drugstore pregnancy test for fear she may be carrying a child. Early in their relationship, Jasmine had slept with Gregory on average of three to four times a week. But as he aged their encounters became less frequent and occasionally they would end up cuddling.
Cameron had mentioned waiting until after Tonya’s wedding to talk about the baby, themselves and for that she was grateful. Two weeks would allow her time to assess what she expected from Cameron and he from her. They weren’t teenagers or even twenty- or thirty-somethings who felt compelled to marry because of pressure from outside sources. Jasmine didn’t need a husband; she needed a father for her child.
Her cellphone rang, and she rolled over to pick it up off the bedside table. The caller was Hannah. “Hello,” she said in greeting. “How’s it going?”
“She’s gone, Jasmine. Mamie died in her sleep last night.”
“Did you get a chance to talk to her?”
“Yes. She said her great-grandmother told her that she’d been aplacéeat fifteen to a DuPont before the Civil War. They had three sons, all who carried the DuPont surname. They married mulatto women and a few of their children were able to pass for white. Mamie had become the family historian. She married when she was a young woman, but lost her husband in the Second World War. Unfortunately, she never had any children. When her health began failing she went into a nursing home. Although her body was frail, her mind was still sharp. She’d listed me as her medical proxy, and her last wish is to be cremated. I’d arranged for a local funeral home to handle the cremation.”
“When are you coming home?” Jasmine asked Hannah.
“Tomorrow morning. I’m too exhausted to get behind the wheel tonight. Tonya called to confirm for tomorrow and I told her we were coming.”
“Good.” Jasmine wondered how long she would be able to conceal her condition from her friends. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Drive safely.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
* * *
Jasmine held out her arms when Tonya Martin opened the front door. The talented executive chef looked different from when she last saw her. She’d lost weight, her face appeared more sculpted, and her pixie haircut with a sprinkling of gray hugged her scalp like a neat cap. Twin dimples flashed in her flawless brown face.
“You look incredible, Tonya. You’re going to be a beautiful bride.”
Tonya returned the hug. “Thank you.” She eased back, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Your face looks different.”
“That’s what I said to her,” Hannah said as she joined them.
