He stood and watched her, leaning a hip against the edge of the counter, arms crossed. “You asked me to say something back there. Now it’s your turn. Talk to me, Mel.”
She stopped and closed her eyes, flattening both hands on the countertop. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” she admitted.
“It’s been six weeks since you found out. How much more time do you need?”
More than I’ve gotten. A lifetime, maybe. I’m simply not prepared for this.
“You weren’t even going to tell me tonight, were you?”
She shook her head. “It was just because you…said what you did,” she admitted.
She stared down at the backs of her hands. Doctor’s hands. Well trained, sensitive yet strong. A narrow scar ran from her left wrist toward her thumb, a memento from that day over twenty years ago. And she had other scars, too—the invisible kind. The kind that wrenched you from sleep in the middle of the night, soaked with the sweat from another bad dream.
“How long were you going to wait, then?” Kyle asked. “Until you started to show? Were you going to make me work it out on my own when I saw your belly get big?”
She turned toward him, chin raised. “Kyle, I can’t do this right now. I need some space.”
He ran a hand through his short, dark hair, tousling it.
The man was gorgeous, she thought—an irrelevant, inappropriate fact to focus on. But she didn’t stop herself. She let herself stare at the father of her baby.
The firm, lean muscles of his tall physique attested to the hours he spent on the basketball court at the park down the street; to the long runs and summer hikes and that intense kind of yoga he did.
He held himself and moved with graceful, careless elegance; easy charm. And unutterably sexy masculinity. Two and a half months ago Melissa had lost her ability to ignore it.
She remembered what it had been like to make love with him. He’d been very, very good in bed, drawing out her arousal until she’d lost control. Until she’d whimpered and moaned in a way that embarrassed and appalled her now.
She turned away so he wouldn’t see the flush spreading over her ears and face.
He sighed. “I’ll walk you home.”
“Thank you.”
He always walked her around the corner after dark. Their urban neighborhood wasn’t a bad one, but Kyle said he saw no point in taking chances. He liked to make sure she got home safely.
Kyle had an intensely protective side, and because she knew him, she didn’t think it was sexist. Just caring. In his own way—despite his fear of commitment, his inability to sustain a long-term romantic relationship—Kyle was very caring.
He did good work at the clinic, touching hundreds of lives.
He loved his mother and his younger brother and had looked after them when his father had decided to drop out of the family, leaving only a mildly apologetic note and a pile of overdue bills.
And he’d loved Felicity. The woman who, despite her name, had been hopelessly, hopelessly sad. Too sad to stay in the world, even with Kyle right beside her. Even when their wedding date had been only three weeks away.
In silence she and Kyle walked downstairs and left the apartment building. The night air had a hint of fall crispness and she was glad for the light sweater she wore. Beside her Kyle shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled along, looking almost like his usual, easygoing self.
How many people, she wondered, would guess what kind of conversation they’d just had? Who would think, seeing their composed expressions and unexceptional behavior, that they’d discussed, for the very first time, the new life they’d created together?
Briefly she stared upward at a dark, cloudless sky dotted with thousands of glittering pinpricks of light. So many, many stars. And they were so far away her mind couldn’t even begin to grasp the distance. She marveled at the vastness of the universe the way a child would.
In such a big space as the universe, she was small, and insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but she existed.
I’m right here with Kyle. Kyle Davenport, my best friend.
And by midspring our baby will be with us, too.
Our baby. The phrase still had the power to shock her. Even after six weeks she couldn’t quite believe she was pregnant.
Barely aware of her actions, she cupped the faint curve of her abdomen.
“No one else knows?” Kyle asked as they turned the corner onto her street.
“No.”
“You could have told your sister.”
Melissa grasped his meaning. She could have told Anita and gotten her to move back in. It would have been the perfect way. Her sister would have come back to help her throughout the pregnancy. But then, Anita would have been the one taking care of her. And it was supposed to be the other way around, wasn’t it?
Maybe Kyle was right. Maybe that was why she hadn’t told her sister yet. She couldn’t stand to be the one in trouble, the one who might need support.
“There’s a lot we’ll have to discuss,” Kyle said.
“I know.”
“You should let me know when you’re ready to tell other people. I won’t do it until you’re ready, but we should both tell our families soon. You are going to keep the baby, I assume.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
They both understood she could never have an abortion, even though she believed in a woman’s right to choose.
“How much time do you think you’ll need?” he asked. “Before you’re ready to talk again.”
“I don’t know.” She fished her keys out of her handbag as they climbed her front steps. The two-bedroom bungalow, painted light blue, seemed lonely and dark.
“I need some kind of timeline, Melissa. Come on. This isn’t fair.”
She acknowledged that he was right. Opening the door, she reached inside to flip on the porch light. It bathed them in a pale-yellow glow. She turned around in the doorway to face him. “How about a week.”
“So we’ll talk next Wednesday?”
“Yes.”
“And this weekend? We’re still on for Sunday dinner with your dad and Anita? We’re still going to Whitney’s dance performance on Friday?”
The possibility of canceling their plans surprised her. She’d been behaving as if everything were perfectly ordinary for so long now. Going through the motions. She’d gotten used to it.
“You don’t want to?” she asked.
“It’ll be awkward, that’s all. Especially around your family.”
But we’re so good at pretending nothing’s wrong, she thought. We’ve had plenty of practice since July. How many times have we seen Dad and Anita and acted as though we were still the same platonic pair as always?
He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll deal with it. We’ll touch base tomorrow night, okay?”
She nodded.
“Melissa?”
“Yes?”
He raised a hand to her hair. She tried to hide a shiver as he stroked his fingers through the strands, rustling them and making her scalp tingle.
Why are you touching me like this? It isn’t