“Good.” His expression relaxes. “How long does the treatment last?”
“A couple of weeks. The doctor will talk us both through it. I don’t know all of the details yet.”
He falls silent, and stays that way for long enough that I wonder whether I should excuse myself. Perhaps I’ve overstayed my welcome. But then he speaks. “Where are you living these days?”
“Huh?” That’s not the direction I expected this conversation to take.
He cocks his head. “If you’re going to be pregnant with my kid, I should know where you’re living.”
I wince. He has a point. “That’s fair. I bought a house a couple of years ago, and I’m renovating it myself.” I wait for laughter, but it doesn’t come. I was never particularly handy, so I can’t imagine what he thinks of the idea of me undertaking a project like that.
He hums in the back of his throat. “Good for you. How’s your family doing? Have you thought about how you’re going to tell them?”
I grit my teeth. Unintentionally or not, he’s poking at all my sensitive spots today. “Not yet. I don’t think there’s any point mentioning it until everything is ready to go. No reason to upset them without good cause.”
He lays a hand on my knee. Mybareknee. My skirt has ridden up my thighs. Heat flares along my skin. “Whatever they say, I’ll stand by you. We’re in this together.”
“We are?” I ask, before I have time to filter the thought.
“Yeah.” He flashes me one of his incredibly rare smiles, and I can’t help but wish it would last for longer because it’s over almost as soon as it begins. “You, me, and the future kiddo.”
“Thank you.” My ovaries want to weep for joy. It’s sexy how supportive he is.
“No problem. From here on out, I’ve got your back.”
I catch his unspoken meaning. He thinks he didn’t in the past. I’m not sure I agree. Yeah, he was distant when I needed him most, but I was too dependent on him for my own good. Perhaps learning to stand on my own was a painful lesson, but it was a necessary one, nonetheless.
Something tickles my nostrils, and I sniff. “Are you… cooking?”
“Yeah.” He acts like it’s no big deal, but the Seth I married didn’t cook unless it was a matter of reheating something someone else had already made. “It’s just baked vegetables.” He ducks his head, self-deprecating. “Harley is teaching me a few things.”
“That’s great. It smells good.”
His face lights up. “You want to stay for a meal?”
Uh-oh, I hope he doesn’t think I was angling for an invitation. If so, he’s going to be disappointed.
“I can’t, sorry. I need to get home.” I don’t tell him that the only thing waiting for me there is leftover chicken parmigiana. The fact is, if I stayed here, things could go sideways quickly. It’s best if we avoid the potential for awkwardness. After all, we’re going to be seeing each other for the rest of our lives.
6
Seth
Several days after seeing Ashlin at my condo, I find myself standing outside a nondescript gray building near the hospital. The time has come for what I’ve been terming my “spunk test” but what I’ve been informed is properly referred to as a “sperm analysis.” I head inside, take an elevator to the third floor, and give my name to the receptionist at the fertility clinic.
“Doctor Wood will be out soon,” she assures me. “Please take a seat.”
“Doctor Wood?” I ask, to confirm I haven’t misheard.
She winks. “That’s right. Purely a coincidence, I promise.”
Nodding dubiously, I head over to one of two empty chairs. While I wait, I check my emails on my phone. There’s one from a promoter who wants Devon at his event in a couple of months, and another from Mom, which I skim over, a flare of guilt surfacing. She’s met a man, and it seems like they’re getting serious. She’s mentioned him a few times, and hinted that she’d like Harley and me to meet him. I made it clear I’m happy to pay for flights any time she wants to visit, but so far she hasn’t taken me up on it. Perhaps they’re not as serious as I think. It’s just unlike her to talk about a man at all. Mae Isles rarely dates, and not because no one is interested. She was barely twenty when I was born, and now she’s not far off sixty but could easily be mistaken for being in her forties.
Unfortunately, spending most of my childhood being called the town whore was enough to put her off dating for years. Not that she was ever a prostitute—or even promiscuous, as far as I could tell—but she made the poor life choice of sleeping with the town mayor. Neither his wife nor the residents of Cedar Bend approved. Making it worse, his son by his wife is only a few months older than me, and everyone always suspected he and I share a father. Mom never confirmed or denied it.
Yeah, we werethatfamily. The messed up one. The one nobody wanted anything to do with. Not that Mae ever acknowledged the rumors, or the mayor ever acknowledged me. Both facts were damning. If the stories were untrue, surely one of them would have said something. Mom isn’t big, but she’s scrappy.
“Mr. Isles?” A man’s voice jerks me from my reverie, and I pocket my phone and stand, offering him a hand. “I’m Doctor Wood,” he says, smiling wryly. “Call me Allan. Would you like to come on through?”
