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combination of pregnancy hormones as well as a low blood sugar level from not eating, but she would talk to the doctor to make sure. There was no reason to take any unnecessary chances or to jeopardize the baby’s health. From now on, she would put the child’s best interests above her own.
Simone didn’t need a psychiatric evaluation to tell her the baby would be much better off with another mom. She’d wished a hundred times over that her mother would have had the courage to do the right thing when faced with an unwanted, unplanned pregnancy. Susan Garner would have done herself and Simone a huge favor by signing over maternal rights at birth, but that hadn’t happened.
And now, ironically, Simone was faced with the same decision. And while that decision might have come quickly, it wasn’t being made easily.
Would the baby look like Mike, with his black hair and green eyes? Or would it look more like her?
She could hardly imagine.
Had her mother been faced with those same questions when she’d been pregnant?
Maybe even more so, under the circumstances. And she suspected that when handed a baby who favored her father, Susan Garner had recoiled emotionally.
Genetics could be a real bitch sometimes.
When Simone had taken her second bite of the sandwich, she glanced up to catch Mike studying her. His hair, as black as a young raven’s wing, was spiked in a style that suited him. And his eyes, as green as a blade of new grass, were intense and quick.
He was of medium height, but there was nothing average or run-of-the-mill about him.
Their gazes locked, as they sometimes did, with a bond of friendship and professional respect.
So there was a bit of sexual attraction, too. But she knew better than to latch onto something as fleeting as that and glanced back at her food.
“Maybe you ought to see your doctor and have your glucose level checked,” he said.
“Don’t worry. Now that I’m eating, I feel much better.”
“Okay, but promise me you’ll make an appointment with the doctor anyway.”
Simone placed her half-eaten sandwich on the plate, then picked up her soupspoon. “All right. I’ll do that as soon as I get home.”
It was a promise she meant to keep, but she wouldn’t call Dr. Grayson, her general practitioner. Instead, she would contact Dr. Kipper’s office and schedule her first obstetrical appointment.
Of course, at thirty-seven, it was a little embarrassing to be unmarried and expecting a baby, but at least something good would come of it—especially if she could set up a private adoption with Millie and Fred.
Yes, she understood that Fred had some serious health issues, but he was a wonderful man. Her baby would be lucky to have a daddy like him.
“Okay,” Mike said, “you’re probably right.”
She glanced up from her nearly empty bowl, knowing that she hadn’t been thinking out loud, but having the strangest feeling that he’d been privy to her musing. “Right about what?”
“You’re wolfing down your food as though you hadn’t eaten in ages.”
“I told you that I hadn’t. Didn’t you believe me?”
“You’ve never lied to me, so I guess I have no reason not to.”
Would his worry increase if he knew she was pregnant?
Once Mike had implied that she would make the perfect wife. And he’d made no secret that he was ready to settle down and start a family.
She sure hoped he wouldn’t give her a hard time about the decision she’d made. Surely he’d see the wisdom in it.
And if he didn’t?
She could recite a list of reasons why it was the perfect decision—for both of them.
First, there was the age difference. And she wasn’t just talking chronologically. Simone had always been older than her years, even as a child; she’d had to be.
Secondly, his upbringing had been so completely different from hers that the two of them had very little in common. Mike had tons of stories he could relate about his childhood, memories that always brought a smile to his face. And on the other hand…well, hers were better left unsaid.
In addition, Mike had been born into a big, happy family. And Simone—an only child and a loner by nature—wasn’t comfortable in a crowd, especially when there were expectations of intimacy.
The one and only serious boyfriend she’d had in college had referred to her as an ice queen.
At the time, she’d laughed it off, but the words had hurt since they’d held a ring of truth. And while she preferred to think of herself as having intimacy issues, it hadn’t taken a major in psychology to connect the dots and realize that it was a miracle she’d become the woman she was.
So what if she’d avoided having a relationship with another man after that?
She might not be able to pin her hopes and dreams on having a typical home and family, but she was happy with herself—and with her life.
Eventually, Mike would realize that she’d done them both a favor by refusing to let him get tied down with a woman he would soon grow unhappy with.
She looked up from her meal, saw him relishing his pastrami on rye as though he didn’t have a problem in the world.
And he didn’t.
The pregnancy dilemma and possible solutions were hers.
Still, a wave of nausea rolled across her stomach, something that she believed had more of an emotional cause than hormonal.
She pushed her empty soup bowl aside.
What if Mike didn’t agree with her decision to put the baby up for adoption? What if he didn’t let up on her about wanting some kind of commitment?
She didn’t want to jeopardize her friendship with Mike; she truly liked the handsome paramedic.
But if worst came to worst, she would be forced to shut him out of her life—permanently.
As Simone led Mike along the sidewalk to her front door, Woofer howled at the side gate, welcoming her home.
“Hey, buddy,” Mike said. “We’ve got a surprise for you.”
“It’ll be a surprise, all right.” Simone glanced at the puppy in her arms. “I’m not sure how he’s going to feel about having Wags as a houseguest.”
“He’ll adjust,” Mike said.
Simone let them into the house, then went to the back door to greet Woofer.
Mike hadn’t given it much thought before, but he now realized that if the big dog didn’t take to the puppy, he’d be in a bind. Of course, Woofer didn’t seem to have a mean bone in his body, so maybe he was being overly concerned.
He took a seat on the sofa and waited for Simone to return. He could hear the click of the lock as she opened the door and let in the dog.
“Ar-oof, ar-oof.” Woofer’s tail thumped against something in the kitchen, and his claws scratched against the floor.
Since Simone didn’t immediately return, Mike figured she was trying to calm Woofer down in the other room before allowing him into the front of the house.
Maybe bringing the puppy here hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
Mike looked at Wags and whispered, “If she wouldn’t have fainted earlier this morning, I wouldn’t feel so uneasy about this now.”
Of course, Simone had seemed fine during lunch and on the way back home.
Moments later, Simone led Woofer into the living