Caroselli's Christmas Baby. Michelle Celmer
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a sip. “So, what did he say when you dumped him?”
“That I’ll never find anyone else like him.”
Nick laughed. “Well, yeah, isn’t that the point? He was about as interesting as a paper clip. With half the personality.”
She wouldn’t deny that he’d been a little, well … bland. His idea of a good time was sitting at the computer, with it’s twenty-seven-inch high-def monitor, for hours on end playing World of Warcraft while she watched television or read. The truth is, he would probably miss her computer more than her.
“He’s an okay guy. He just isn’t the guy for me,” she told Nick. One day he would meet the game addict of his dreams and they would live a long happy life in cyberspace together.
Their waitress appeared to deliver their meal. A double pepperoni deep-dish pizza and cheesy bread. When she was gone, Nick said, “He’s out there, you know. The one for you. You’ll find him.”
She used to think so, too. But here she was almost thirty with not a single prospect anywhere in her near future. Her life plan had her married with a couple kids already. Which is why she had decided to take matters into her own hands.
“There’s something else we’re celebrating,” she told Nick. “I’m going to have a baby.”
He bolted upright and set down his glass so hard she was surprised it didn’t shatter against the tiled tabletop.
“What? When? Is it Blake’s?”
“God, no!” She could just imagine that. The kid would probably be born with a game remote fused to its hands.
Nick leaned forward and hissed under his breath, “Whoever it is, he damn well better be planning to do right by you and the baby.”
Always looking out for her, she thought with a shot of affection so intense it burned. When he wasn’t getting her into trouble, that is. Although it was usually the other way around. It was typically her making rash decisions, and Nick talking sense into her. This time was different. This time she knew exactly what she was doing.
“There is no who,” she told him, dishing them each out a slice of pizza. “I’m not actually pregnant. Yet.”
Nick frowned. “Then why did you say you’re having a baby?”
“Because I will be, hopefully within the next year. I’m going to be a single mom.”
He sat back in his seat, looking stunned. “How? I mean, who’s going to be the father?”
“I’m going to use a donor.”
“A donor?” His dark brows pulled together. “You’re not serious.”
She shoved down the deep sting of disappointment. She had hoped he would understand, that he would be happy for her. Clearly, he wasn’t. “Completely serious. I’m ready. I’m financially sound, and since I work at home, I won’t have to put the baby in day care. The timing is perfect.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you were married?”
“I’ve pretty much struck out finding Mr. Right. I always said that I wanted to have my first baby by the time I’m thirty, and I’m almost there. And you know that I’ve always wanted a family of my own. Since my aunt died, I’ve got no one.”
“You’ve got me,” he said, his expression so earnest her heart melted.
Yes, she had him, not to mention his entire crazy family, but it wasn’t the same. When the chips were down, she was still an outsider.
“This doesn’t mean we aren’t going to be friends still,” she said. “In fact, I’ll probably need you more than ever. You’ll be the baby’s only other family. Uncle Nicky.”
The sentiment did nothing to erase the disenchantment from his expression. He pushed away his plate, as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite, and said, “You deserve better than a sperm donor.”
“I don’t exactly have the best luck with men.”
“But what about the baby?” Nick said, sounding testier by the second. “Doesn’t it deserve to have two parents?”
“As you well know, having two parents doesn’t necessarily make for a happy childhood.”
His deepening frown said that he knew she was right. Though he didn’t like to admit it, his childhood had left deep, indelible scars.
“I was hoping you would understand,” she said, and for some stupid reason she felt like crying. And she hardly ever cried. At least, not in front of other people. All it had ever earned her from her aunt—who didn’t have a sympathetic bone in her body—was a firm lecture.
“I do,” Nick said, reaching across the table for her hand. “I just want you to be happy.”
“This will make me happy.”
He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “Then I’m happy, too.”
She hoped he really meant that. That he wasn’t just humoring her. But as they ate their pizza and chatted, Nick seemed distracted, and she began to wonder if telling him about having a baby had been a bad idea, although for the life of her she wasn’t sure why it would matter either way to him.
After they finished eating, they put on their coats and were walking to the door when Nick asked, “Did you drive or take the bus?”
“Bus,” she said. If she thought she might be drinking, she always opted for public transportation. If the man who had plowed into her father’s car had only been as responsible, she wouldn’t be an orphan.
“Walk back to the office with me and I’ll drive you home.”
“Okay.”
The snow had stopped, but a prematurely cold wind whipped her hair around her face and the pavement was slippery, which made the two-block hike tricky. It was how she rationalized the fact that he was unusually quiet and there was a deep furrow in his brow.
When they got to the Caroselli Chocolate world headquarters building, it was closed for the night, so Nick used a key card to let them in. With a retail store taking up most of the ground floor, the lobby smelled of the chocolate confections lining the shelves. Everything from standard chocolate bars to gourmet chocolate-covered apples.
Nick felt around in his pockets, then cursed under his breath. “I left my car keys in my office.”
“You want me to wait down here?”
“No, you can come up.” Then he grinned and said, “Unless you’re an industrial spy trying to steal the Caroselli secret recipe.”
“Right, because we both know what an accomplished cook I am.” If there were a way to burn water, she would figure it out. Meaning she ordered out a lot, and the rest of the time ate microwave dinners.
They walked past the receptionist’s desk and he used his key card to activate the elevator. Only authorized personnel and approved visitors were allowed above the ground floor. And no one but the Caroselli family and employees with special clearance were allowed in the test kitchen.
Nick was quiet the entire ride up to the fourth floor, and while they walked down the hall to his office. She had to smile as he opened the door and switched on the light, and she saw the lopsided stacks of papers and memos on the surface of his desk, leaving no space at all to work. She suspected that this was why he spent so much time on the top floor in the kitchen.
He opened the desk drawer and pulled out his car keys, but then he just stood there. Something was definitely bugging him and she needed to know what.
“What’s the matter, Nick? And don’t tell me nothing. I’ve known you long enough to know when something is wrong.”
“I’ve just been thinking.”
“About