She slipped her jacket off and tossed it over the back of the couch while Nick took in her cluttered living room.
Last night’s dinner dishes still sat on the coffee table, the plate covered with little kitty lick marks from Dexter her cat. Newspapers from the past two weeks lay in a messy pile at one end of the couch.
She looked down at the rug, at the tufts of white cat fur poking out from the Berber and realized it had been too long since she’d last vacuumed. Her entire house—entire life—was more than a little chaotic right now. As if acting irresponsibly would somehow prove what a lousy parent she would be.
Nick looked around and made a face. “You really need to hire a maid.”
She tossed her purse down on the cluttered coffee table. “I am so not in the mood for a lecture on my domestic shortcomings.”
He had the decency to look apologetic.
“Sorry.” He reached inside his leather bomber jacket and pulled out the test kit. “I guess we should just get this over with, huh?”
“We?” Like he had to go in the bathroom and pee on a stick. Like he had to endure months of torture if it was positive. A guy like him wouldn’t last a week on the nest. He may have been tough, may have been able to bench press a compact car, but five minutes of hard labor and he would be toast.
Her mother had done home births for Zoë’s three youngest siblings and Zoë had had the misfortune of being stuck in the room with her for the last one. She had witnessed the horror. Going through it once seemed like torture enough, but understandable since most women probably didn’t realize what they were getting themselves into. But nine times. That was just crazy.
“I’m afraid to go in there,” she said.
Nick reached up and dropped one big, work-roughened hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’re in this together, Zoë. Whatever the outcome. We’ll get through it.”
It amazed her at times, how such a big, burly guy who oozed testosterone could be so damned tender and sweet. Not that the stubborn, overbearing alpha male gene had passed him by. He could be a major pain in the behind, too. But he’d never let her down in a time of need and she didn’t believe for a second that he would now.
“Okay, here goes.” She took the test kit from him and walked to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her, her stomach tangled in knots. She opened the box and with a trembling hand spilled the contents out onto the vanity.
“Please, God,” she whispered, “let it be negative.”
She read the instructions three times, just to be sure she was doing it right, then followed them word for word. It was amazingly quick and simple for such a life-altering procedure. Too simple.
Less than five minutes later, after rereading the instructions one more time just to be sure, she had her answer.
Nick paced the living room rug, his eye on the bathroom door, wondering what in the heck was taking Zoë so long. She’d been in there almost twenty minutes now and he hadn’t heard a peep out of her. No curdling screams, no thud to indicate she’d hit the floor in a dead faint. And no whoops of joy.
It was ironic that not five minutes before she stepped into her office he’d been thinking about having children. Just not with her, and not quite so soon. Ideally he would like to be married, but life had a way of throwing a curve ball.
At least, his life did.
He let out a thundering sneeze and glanced with disdain at the fluffy white ball of fur sunbathing on the front windowsill. It stared back at him with scornful green eyes.
He was so not a cat person.
He sat on the couch, propped his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his fisted hands.
So what if she was pregnant?
The truth was, this was all happening so fast, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. What he did know is that if she didn’t come out of the damned bathroom soon, he was going to pound the door down. It couldn’t possibly take this long. He remembered the box specifically stating something about results in only minutes.
As if conjuring her through sheer will, the bathroom door swung open and Zoë stepped out. Nick shot to his feet. He didn’t have to ask what the results were, he could see it in her waxy, pasty-white pallor. Her wide, glassy-eyed disbelief.
“Oh boy,” he breathed. Zoë was pregnant.
He was going to be a father. They were going to be parents.
Together.
She looked about two seconds from passing out cold, so he walked over to where she stood and pulled her into his arms. She collapsed against him, her entire body trembling.
She rested her forehead on his chest, wrapped her arms around him, and he buried his nose in her hair. She smelled spicy and sweet, like cinnamon and apples. He realized, he’d missed this. Since that night in the hotel, he’d been itching to get his arms around her again.
He’d almost forgotten just how good it felt to be close to her, how perfectly she fit in his arms. Something had definitely changed between them that night in the hotel. Something that he doubted would ever change back.
For a while they only held each other, until she’d stopped shaking and she wasn’t breathing so hard. Until she had gone from cold and rigid to warm and relaxed in his arms.
He cupped her chin and tilted her face up. “It’s going to be okay.”
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“Well, I guess we’re going to have a baby,” he said, and felt the corners of his mouth begin to tip up.
Zoë gaped at him, her look going from bewilderment to abject horror. She broke from his grasp and took a step back. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You’re smiling. You’re happy about this.”
Was he?
The smile spread to encompass his entire face. He tried to stop it, then realized it was impossible. He really was happy. For five years now he’d felt it was time to settle down and start a family. True, this wasn’t exactly how he planned it, and he sure as hell hadn’t planned on doing it with Zoë, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work. That didn’t mean they shouldn’t at least give it a shot.
He gave her a shrug. “Yeah, I guess I am. Would you feel better if I was angry?”
“Of course not. But do you have even the slightest clue what we’re getting into? What I’ll have to go through?”
She made it sound as though he was making her remove an appendage. “You’re having a baby, Zoë. It’s not as if it’s never been done before.”
“Of course it has, but have you ever actually witnessed a baby being born?”
No, but he definitely wanted to be in the delivery room. He wouldn’t miss that for anything. “I’m sure it will be fascinating.”
“Fascinating? I was there when my mom had Jonah, my youngest brother.”
“And?”
“Have you ever seen the movie, The Thing?” she asked, and he nodded. “You remember the scene where the alien bursts out of the guy and there is this huge spray of blood and guts? Well, it’s kinda’ like that. Only it goes on for hours. And hurts twice as much.
“And that’s only the beginning,” she went on, in full rant. “After it’s born there are sleepless nights to look forward to and endless dirty diapers. Never having a second to yourself…a moment’s silence. They cry and whine and demand and smother. Not