Читать книгу The Secretary's Secret - Michelle Celmer, Michelle Celmer - Страница 7

Nick drove them the ten minutes to Zoë’s house in Birmingham. They didn’t say much. What could they say? Zoë spent the majority of her time praying, Please, God, let it be negative.

How had she gotten herself into this mess?

Her devout Catholic parents still believed that at the age of twenty-eight she was as pure as the driven snow. If the test was positive, what would she tell them? Well, Mom and Dad, I was snow-white, but I drifted.

They were going to kill her. Or disown her.

Or both.

And this would surely be enough to send her fragile, ailing grandmother hurtling through death’s door. She would instantly be labeled the family black sheep.

It didn’t matter that her parents had been nagging her to settle down for years.

When are you going to find a nice man? When are you going to have babies?

How about never?

And if the man she settled down with was Nick they would be ecstatic. Despite the fact that he wasn’t Catholic, they adored him. Since the first time she’d brought him home for Thanksgiving dinner they’d adopted him into the fold. And Nick had been swept up into the total chaos and craziness that was her family. He loved it almost as much as it drove her nuts.

So, if she were to call home and tell them she and Nick were getting hitched, she’d be daughter of the year. But the premarital sex thing would still be a major issue. In her parents’ eyes, what they had done was a sin.

She let her head fall back against the seat and closed her eyes. Maybe this was just a bad dream. Maybe all she needed to do was pinch herself real hard and she would wake up.

She caught a hunk of skin between her thumb and forefinger, the fleshy part under her upper arm that the self-defense people claim is the most sensitive, and gave it a good hard squeeze.

“Ow!”

“What’s wrong?”

She opened her eyes and looked around. Still in Nick’s monster truck, rumbling down the street, and he was shooting her a concerned look.

She sighed. So much for her dream theory.

“Nothing. I’m just swell,” she said, turning to look out the window, barely seeing the houses of her street whizzing past.

“Don’t get upset until we know for sure,” he said, but she was pretty sure he, like her, already knew what the result would be. They’d had unprotected sex and her period was late. The test was going to be positive.

She was going to have Nick’s baby.

When they got to her house, he took her keys from her and opened the door. He’d been inside her house a thousand times, but today it felt so…surreal. As if she’d stepped onto the set of film.

A horror film.

She and Nick were the stars, and any second some lunatic was going to pop out of the kitchen wielding a knife and hack them to pieces.

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 to mention that they cost a fortune. Then they get older and there’s school and homework and rebellion. It never ends. They’re yours to worry about and pull your hair out over until the day you die.”

Wow. He knew she was jaded by her past, but he’d never expected her to be this traumatized.

“Zoë, you were just a kid when you had to take care of your brothers and sisters. It wasn’t fair for your parents to burden you with that much responsibility.” He rubbed a hand down her arm, trying to get her to relax and see things rationally. “Right now you’re still in shock. I know that when you take some time to digest it, you’ll be happy.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m not ready for this. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for it.”

A startling, disturbing thought occurred to him. What if she didn’t want to have the baby? What if she was thinking about terminating the pregnancy? It was her body so, of course, the choice was up to her, but he’d do whatever he could to talk her out of it, to rationalize with her.

“Are you saying you don’t want to have the baby?” he asked.

She looked up at him, confused. “It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Every woman has a choice, Zoë.”

She gave him another one of those horrified looks and folded a hand protectively over her stomach. He didn’t think she even realized she was doing it. “I’m not going to get rid of it if that’s what you mean. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Thankfully, not that kind. “I’ve never considered raising a baby on my own, but I will if that’s what you want.”

“Of course that’s not what I want! I could never give a baby up. Once you have it, it’s yours. My brothers and sisters may have driven me crazy but I love them to death. I wouldn’t trade them in for anything.”

He rubbed a hand across the stubble on his jaw. “You’re confusing the hell out of me.”

“I’m keeping the baby,” she said firmly. “I’m just…I guess I’m still in shock. This was not a part of my master plan. And you’re the last man on earth I saw myself doing it with. No offense.”

“None taken.” How could he be offended when he’d been thinking the same thing earlier. Although maybe not the last on earth part.

She walked over to the couch and crumpled onto the cushions. “My parents are going to kill me. They think I’m still a good Catholic girl. A twenty-eight-year-old, snow-white virgin who goes to church twice a week. What am I going to tell them?”

Nick sat down beside her. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him, soft and warm.

Yeah, this was nice. It felt…right.

And just like that he knew exactly what he needed to do.

“I guess you only have one choice,” he said.

“Live the rest of my life in shame?”

Her pessimism made him grin. “No. I think you should marry me.”

Zoë pulled out of Nick’s arms and stared up at him. “Marry you? Are you crazy?”

Dumb question, Zoë. Of course he was crazy.

Rather than being angry with her, he smiled, as if he’d been expecting her to question his sanity. “What’s so crazy about it?”

If he couldn’t figure that out himself, he really was nuts.

“If we get married right away, your parents don’t have to know you were already pregnant. Problem solved.”

And he thought marrying someone he didn’t love wouldn’t be a problem? Not that kind of love anyway. She didn’t doubt that he loved her as a friend, and she him, but that wasn’t enough.

“We’re both feeling emotional and confused,” she said. He more than her, obviously. “Maybe we should take a day or two to process this before we make any kind of life altering decisions.”

“We’re having a baby together, Zoë. You don’t get much more life altering than that.”

“My point exactly. We have a lot to consider.”

“Look, I know you’re not crazy about the idea of getting married to anyone—”

“And you’re too crazy about it. Did you even stop to think that you would be marrying me for all the wrong reasons? You want Susie homemaker. Someone to squeeze out your babies, keep your house clean and have dinner waiting in the oven when you get home from work. Well, take a look around you, Nick. My life is in shambles. My house is a disaster and if I can’t microwave myself a meal in five minutes or less, I don’t buy it.”

He didn’t look hurt by her refusal, which made her that much more certain marrying him would be a bad idea. She could never be the cardboard cutout wife he was looking for. She wouldn’t be any kind of a wife at all.

And even if they could get past all of that, it still wouldn’t work. He was such a good guy. Perfect in so many ways. Except the one that counted the most.

He didn’t love her.

She took his hand between her two. It was rough and slightly calloused from years of working construction with his employees. He may have owned the company, may have had more money than God, but he liked getting his hands dirty. He liked to feel the sun on his back and fresh air in his lungs. One day cooped up in the office and he was climbing the walls.

She didn’t doubt that he would put just as much of himself into his marriage. He was going to make some lucky woman one hell of a good husband.

Just not her.

“It was a noble gesture. But I think we both need to take some time and decide what it is we really want.”

“How much time?” he asked.

“I’m going to have to make a doctor’s appointment. Let’s get through that first then we’ll worry about the other stuff.”

Who knows, maybe she got a false positive from the pregnancy test. Maybe she would get a blood test at the doctor’s office and find out they had done all this worrying for nothing.