For Their Baby. Kathleen O'Brien
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spoiled, impossible-to-please children.
This particular family, who had asked her to bring down every dragon puppet in the store, was really getting on her nerves. The parents kept backing into the corner to continue what looked like The Neverending Fight, counting on her to keep their seven-year-old son entertained enough that he didn’t overhear.
A losing battle. She’d seen too many little kids like this as she toiled at her various service jobs. She’d even been a little kid like this. And they always heard. They always knew.
What was worse, the family’s stop at the puppet store was probably just a ruse. At the last minute, the parents would undoubtedly refuse to buy, with some lame excuse like their luggage being overstuffed already.
The kid would go home empty-handed. That was rough, because, for once, this little boy wasn’t a brat. And he really, really liked the green dragon with crystal-teardrop scales and the red felt fire trailing from its nostrils. It cost about fifty dollars, and she wanted to warn him before he got his hopes up.
She glanced over at the dad. Good-looking guy, until you got to the smug face. And doing well for himself. Haircut, two hundred dollars. Sweater tied around the hips, five hundred dollars. Hips? Well, clearly, in his estimation, priceless. He’d just informed Mommy that he had janitors in his office who took better care of themselves than she did.
He caught Kitty looking at him, and lowered his voice. Right. God forbid anyone should think there was trouble in Yuppie Paradise.
Hypocrite.
She pulled off the puppet and wiped her hair back from her face, which felt suddenly sweaty. Aw, please, she thought, tightening her stomach. No vomiting now, not on this fifty-dollar dragon.
And all at once she’d had enough. She plucked one of the crystals from the dragon’s tail and turned to the dad again. “Oh, look. There’s a little damage to the scales here. I don’t know if that bothers you, but it does mean I could offer a pretty good discount.”
A discount she’d have to cover out of her own pocket, unfortunately. But the kid’s face was so hopeful, and she couldn’t stand it. She could make up the difference in her own budget by bringing a bag lunch the next week or two.
And maybe a few peanut-butter sandwich dinners.
She thrust the puppet out a bit farther to show the dad. “It’s only a tiny flaw. I’m sure your son would still love it.”
She turned to the boy. “I bet your dad does a great dragon voice, doesn’t he?”
The boy nodded. “Daddy, do your dragon voice! I’ll be Sir Galahad, and we can fight.”
The cheapskate was still considering saying no. His wife put her hand on his arm and said hesitantly, “Honey, surely we—”
He brushed her hand away. “How big a discount?”
Kitty smiled placidly. “I think it’s fifty percent. When there’s damage.”
The little boy squeezed his hands together so tightly the blood flow stopped, and his fingers were as white as marble. Kitty glanced down at him, then up at the dad with a smile that said she knew he was a great father who wouldn’t dream of breaking his kid’s heart.
With a low murmur of irritation, the man finally dug out his wallet. Kitty took a deep breath of relief.
She kept up a running chatter, to keep Dragon Dad in a good mood so that he wouldn’t take his frustration out on the family later. When they left, she pulled out her phone and calculated what her half of the dragon would be, including the tax, then took her wallet out with a sigh.
She was so focused that it wasn’t until she’d slipped her cash into the register that she noticed David Gerard standing on the other side of the store.
Her heart stumbled slightly. Now that was a sight that qualified as priceless. Muscled grace from head to toe. His thick, golden hair wind-tousled, a suit made for winning cases and breaking hearts, not necessarily in that order.
He was watching her with a dark, unreadable gaze. She flushed, wondering how much he’d seen. Did he think she’d really been flirting with that jerk? Had he seen her rip off the crystal? She’d have to explain. She didn’t need any more black marks against her in his mind.
And then her breath caught. She forgot about the little boy, the dad and the dragon, all in one swoop. Because she knew why David was here.
Though it was two days early, only one thing could have brought him all the way out here.
The test results were in.
She didn’t move from behind the register. She couldn’t. Her legs didn’t seem connected to her brain. She held on to the counter, just in case the legs gave out entirely.
She’d pictured this moment a hundred times. She’d known what the test results would be, of course, so she’d never felt any anxiety—only an eagerness to be vindicated.
She’d imagined how satisfying it would be to see his face once he understood what a bastard he’d been. How ego-soothing to listen to him try to find the words to apologize.
What she hadn’t realized was how intimate this moment would be.
The moment they looked at each other, not as adversaries in some paternity chess game, but as parents. As two people who, whatever else they might become, would be “Mommy and Daddy” to the child she carried inside her now. She didn’t want to be enemies. For her baby’s sake she wanted peace in whatever kind of family they formed. But, if not enemies…what were they?
The current sizzled across the store, connecting them like a glowing thread of awareness. He moved, then, but slowly, as if walking through a dream. By the time he reached the cash register, she felt her nerve endings spark painfully. Her mouth was dry, and it hurt to swallow.
He stopped only when the counter got in the way. “Can we talk? Outside?”
She shook her head. “My replacement will be here in a few minutes, but I can’t leave till she arrives.”
He frowned. “Kitty, we have to talk.”
She wondered what he expected her to do. Quit? For a minute he reminded her of the dragon dad, who expected everything in the world to run on his schedule.
“So talk. There’s no one in here but us. The puppets aren’t going to repeat anything they hear.”
Her voice sounded rougher than she intended it to. But she didn’t know what to do, what to say, and her voice wasn’t fully under her control. No part of her was. She still clutched the counter as if her knees might fail her at any minute.
She wasn’t exactly a pro at situations like this. If her voice sounded tough, so be it. One thing was certain—she’d rather sound like an unforgiving bitch than a breathless beggar.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll talk here. If that’s the way you want it.”
Want it? Want really didn’t come into this, but she let that go. “I take it you’ve received the test results.”
He nodded. “It’s conclusive. The baby is mine.”
She waited. Strangely, now that the moment had come, she no longer felt the slightest urge to say “I told you so.”
She was still angry, of course. Still hurt, still frightened. But she recognized his expression. That unique mixture of shock and dismay, and under it all, that blind, gutsy determination to find a way to face the unfaceable. It was exactly what she’d seen in the mirror the day she found out.
For the moment, anyhow, that expression bound them together, made them teammates in this dangerous game. So she didn’t say she’d told him from the start that of course the baby was his.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply.
She lifted her chin. “Sorry it’s yours?”
“Sorry