“Aha. You’re getting that glazed-over look in your eyes.” He made a show of peering intently into her face. “I told you my work is boring. You’re about to take a nap right here at the table. Next question.”
Next question? Well, the man certainly had honed demanding into an art form. He was second only to Logan.
Damn. She’d promised herself to stop thinking about Logan. That had to have been at least the fourth time she’d thought of him today.
“Hmm.” She forced her mind back to the task at hand. “Have you ever been married?”
Marcus seemed mildly surprised by the question. “Never had the pleasure. I’ve been in more than my fair share of weddings, but never as the groom. I’m also currently single, totally unattached. Well, except for Arnold, but he doesn’t really count.”
Claire couldn’t help it. She had to ask. “Arnold?”
“My pet beta fish.” He held up a hand. “I know, I know. I don’t look like a pet beta fish kind of man. I’m not either. A friend of mine gave me the damn thing and I can’t bring myself to flush him.”
“A girlfriend?” she guessed.
He nodded, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. “How’d you guess?”
Her lips twitched, but she managed to stifle her laughter. “I don’t think guys usually give each other pet beta fishes.”
“They don’t.” Marcus scowled. “She thought I was commitment phobic. Said it would help if I had something else to take care of.”
“And are you commitment phobic?” She was curious.
“No.” His tone was offended. “Of course not. Not with all women, anyway. Just with some.”
“Ah.” She did laugh then, unable to contain it any longer. “Selective commitment phobia?”
“You got it.” He raised his glass of lemonade to her in mock salute. “I’ll always drink to a smart woman.”
“I don’t know that I’d fit into that class at this point,” Claire told him wryly. “My life is proof of that.”
“We all do things we regret. You’re being too hard on yourself.”
She didn’t think she was. She could have done a great deal of things differently. Better. Like not sleeping with Logan. Of course, if she’d never slept with Logan, she wouldn’t be pregnant now. Despite everything, she was looking forward to her baby’s arrival. Its conception was one thing she would never regret, Logan or no.
“It’s not that I regret the baby,” she hastened to add. “I can’t wait for him or her to be born. But sometimes I wish I had better circumstances to offer her. Or him.”
Claire had begun to think of the baby as a girl recently—maybe because she’d begun having dreams in which she held a baby wearing pink booties. She didn’t know. But what she did know was that she could not bear to let Baby Thumper, as Derek had begun calling him or her, down in any way. She wanted to give the baby the best life possible and the most loving, stable environment she could.
“You’ll be a good mother, Claire,” Marcus said softly, reassuringly.
She looked up, startled by his perceptiveness. “How do you know?”
“It’s in your eyes, in your voice.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his.
His grip was warm and comforting, a stable lifeline in the storm-tossed sea that had become her life. She looked at Marcus’ hand covering hers, glad for his presence and for his understanding. “Thank you,” she whispered, tears choking her throat. “That means a lot to me.” Claire sniffed, trying to hold back the good cry she felt coming on.
He squeezed her hand gently, then released it. “Hey, I’m not that much of a pain in the ass. No matter what Trevor tells you.”
“No,” she agreed, swiping at the lone tear that clung to her lashes, “you’re not. Not that Trevor ever said you were, of course.”
Marcus threw back his head with a bark of laughter. “You’re a terrible liar. But I’ll forgive you if you order some dessert.”
Hmm. Dessert. Claire’s stomach rumbled at the prospect, suddenly eager for food once more. An image of a creamy chocolate cake loomed in her mind. She sent him a sly smile. “I think I might have room for that after all.”
There was a goddamn siren blaring in Logan’s ear.
Groggily, he swiped in the direction of the offending noise. The warm, silky texture of cat fur tickled his palm. The fog of sleep began clearing from his mind.
