My Babies and Me (16 page)

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Authors: Tara Taylor Quinn

BOOK: My Babies and Me
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But he escaped to the kitchen anyway. Dished himself a bowl of ice cream he didn't want. And then, while it melted beside him, took up paper and pencil and doodled.
What was the matter with him? What in
hell
was the matter with him that he checked out anytime she got too close, anytime those babies got too close? Michael wished to God he knew. Wished he could control the claustrophobic dizziness that assailed him anytime he tried to force himself into a decision about the children.
One thing was for certain. He couldn't keep on like this much longer. Couldn't keep hurting Susan. There
didn't seem to be much point in moving forward when there were some fundamental things that couldn't be changed.
Zack Kennedy
. He looked down at what he'd written. A good name for a boy. Short. Strong. Solid.
If the boy were his, he'd name him Zack.
 
LAURA WAS getting desperate. In the four weeks since Jeremy had announced he was quitting soccer, the boy had been late for school six times, he'd been held for detention twice, and failed an exam. Looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to her, she stole over to the computer cubicle in one corner of Jenny's classroom and logged on to the Internet. She was at the school to volunteer, but the class was having reading time. That gave her fifteen minutes.
Moving around the Internet much more slowly than her kids would have done, she managed to find a search engine, and then a button to click on to find people. A prompt asked her to type in the name of the person.
She did that. And waited nervously, glancing over her shoulder every couple of seconds. It wasn't that anyone cared whether she played around on the computer; she just didn't want to have to explain what she was doing. Not even to herself if truth be known.
Had she no pride?
And then, just that easily, up popped a listing—name, address, phone number. And even a place she could click on to see a map.
She clicked. And printed. Snatching up the page as
soon as the printer let go of it, she folded it and slipped it inside her purse.
She was armed.
 
MICHAEL WAS making her walk on a treadmill. He'd brought one home the day before without even discussing it first and set it up in her study. “To make the birth's easier,” he'd said.
And because Susan was so crazy in love with him, so thrilled that he'd cared enough to buy the stupid thing, she was treading quite sweatily Saturday morning.
She just wished Michael looked as pleased to have her on it as he'd looked bringing it home the night before.
“You sure you feel okay?” she asked for the second time.
He glanced up from the papers he'd been studying. “Fine, why?”
“I don't know.” Susan held her side as she trod, wondering why something that was so good for you had to feel so bad. “You've been awfully quiet.”
“We've only been up for half an hour.” Head bent, he returned to the business in front of him.
She tried to catch his eye the next time he glanced up. He managed not to notice.
“My folks invited us to their place tomorrow.” His words came out of nowhere.
Susan's heart gave a little jolt—even more than it was already jolting. She'd always adored Michael's parents. But she hadn't known he'd told them—
“There's a family reunion planned, a picnic.”
A Fourth of July picnic. And she'd been planning
to stay home and get caught up on laundry, reading, lying by the pool—anything that would keep her close in case Michael had some time to spend with her.
“Are you asking me to go?” she finally murmured when he said nothing else.
Arms crossed at his chest, he sat back in his chair. “They don't know about you.”
There was no reason to feel disappointed. After all, she'd assumed as much. “About the babies, you mean.”
“About any pregnancy at all.”
Susan nodded. She understood. “So you're going alone.” And she was on her own for the holiday. No big deal. She had that laundry and reading and...
Coming around to the front of the desk, Michael leaned back against it, close enough for her to touch. “I don't know what to tell them, Sus.”
“You don't have to tell them anything,” she panted. “I'm not pinning these babies on you.”
“They know we still see each other....”
“What if I'd had artificial insemination?” One foot in front of the other. Nothing more than that required. Just one foot at a time. Easy. “Insemination was always one way to meet my goal.” Not that she'd have done it. She'd need to know far more about the father of her child than the reports prepared by a clinic.
“Those babies...” He swallowed, looked down at her bulging stomach covered by the cotton T-shirt and shorts she was sweating in. “They're my parents' grandchildren, Susan. My parents are their grandparents. They have a right to know each other.”
She hadn't dared hope that could ever be. At least, she'd tried not to.
“They have as much right as your father has to know them,” he said, his chin jutting almost defensively.
“Is that what you want?” she asked him. Didn't he know that all he had to do was say so?
Michael stood up, strode to the window, lifted it to let in a fresh Cincinnati breeze. “I don't think it matters what I want or don't want in this situation,” he said. He'd moved to the far wall, straightening a picture. Susan was getting dizzy—keeping up with him, treading and breathing, all at once.
They were right back to square one. And she wasn't sure how much more energy she had. “Of course what you want matters,” she told him. She couldn't seem to come up with another way to tell him that she wasn't going to be responsible for ruining his life. That he was under no obligation, that there was no reason for him to give up what he was to become something he was not.
“Not in this case.” He sat back down beside her. “The children are people, Susan, with rights and freedoms of their own. My parents, too. What right do you or I have to keep them apart?”
She frowned. She hadn't thought of it like that. Hadn't thought her choice to become a mother would have such far-reaching effects on so many people. “I just—”
“Sure,” he interrupted, his brow furrowed. “We can keep them apart easily enough in the beginning. But what about later?” He turned and locked gazes with her. “What happens when the children find out
about me and look up my family? I'll tell you what. They'll all have lost years of a relationship that they'll never be able to regain. Can you do that to them? To any of them?”
She couldn't even think about doing it. But she couldn't not do it, either, if that was what Michael needed. “You've given this a lot of thought.”
“Haven't you?” He looked surprised.
“I really believed that my decision to have a baby was a very personal one,” she said, studying a spot on her off-white carpet. She'd never felt less intelligent in her life. “And that as long as I was willing, ready and able to bear the total responsibility on my own, I was doing no one any harm.” She turned off the treadmill and came to a stop.
“I wish it was that easy.”
“Yeah,” she said, sharing a sad smile with him. “Me, too.” And then, softly, “I'm sorry, Michael. I never meant...”
“Shhh.” He placed a finger on her lips. “I know.”
She cradled her stomach, loving the babies too much to feel that having them was wrong. And yet...
“So what are we going to tell my parents?”
As much as she wanted to go home with Michael, to be welcomed into that fold, she knew she couldn't. “We don't have to tell them anything yet, do we?” she asked. “At least until the babies are born.”
She had to give Michael all the time she could, all the freedom she could, to determine for himself what part he'd play in their lives.
“My mother and sisters would have a shower for you.”
She would have loved every minute of it, too. “I'll
have just as much fun picking everything out on my own,” she said instead.
“But they'd love to do that, and more. To share in the anticipation of the coming babies. My mom would start sewing immediately. And bragging.”
“Michael.” She stepped closer to him, running her fingers through his hair. “You aren't responsible for everyone's happiness, you know,” she said. “Yes, they'd probably like knowing right now, but it's not going to kill them if they don't. You need to think of yourself.”
“Seems to me that's all I've been doing since this whole thing began. Probably before that, too.”
“No more than anyone else,” she told him adamantly, “and less than most.”
He said nothing, just walked with her as she headed toward a shower. “You've spent your entire career listening to your customers, making sure you give them only what they need, not what it would most benefit you to sell them. They come away from transactions with you feeling cared for, not used.”
“That's just—”
“And what about Bobbie Jayne?” she interrupted. “Every time that child needs a bandage, you're there, not only paying for it, but making sure it's properly applied.”
He propped his shoulder against the door of the bathroom. “She doesn't ask for much.”
“That's not the point.” She pushed off her tennis shoes and socks. “The point is, you care, and you help, every single time she calls. And what about Melanie Dryson?”
“What about her?” A sexy half grin lingered on
his face as he watched her strip down, piece by sweaty piece.
“You stuck your nose out more than once to see that she got the promotions and the credit she deserved.”
Completely naked, Susan stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain behind her.
The water, once it warmed, felt wonderful on her skin, soothing muscles that were already tired so early in the day.
“How 'bout I give you something you deserve, stripping like that so delicately right in front of me?”
Opening her eyes, Susan saw Michael standing in the shower with her, utterly gorgeous in his masculine perfection. Utterly naked. And wanting her.
“How 'bout it?” she asked him.
He proceeded to do that very well. And if there was a hint of desperation in their lovemaking these days, she tried very hard not to notice.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“C
AN I ASK YOU something?” Susan asked later, watching as he brushed his wet hair into some semblance of order.
“Of course.”
“These past three years, before I got pregnant, were you happy?”
He waited so long to answer her stomach tensed.
“I was content, sure.”
Content. Not happy. Why wasn't she surprised?
As she toasted bagels and Michael mixed up some orange juice, Susan wondered if he'd ever been happy. If he even knew what the word meant. If, maybe, the problem wasn't about goals and dreams and being who you were, but about never reaching quite far enough: Never asking for it all. And never relaxing enough to even know if he had it.
 
NEEDING TO PUT some distance between her and Michael, Susan went shopping right after breakfast. Baby clothes and toys, bottles and diapers were all happy things. And she got really, really happy. So happy that there was barely room for her in the Infiniti when she finally called it quits midafternoon. She had enough stuff for three baby showers. And she even
had mints and chips and probably some peanuts to go with the loot. She'd have herself a party.
Another strange, and very old, car was blocking her drive when she arrived home. Heart plunging, she groaned. “Ah, Seth.” If he was blasted this early in the day, she was taking him straight to detox.
“Close your ears, little ones,” she instructed firmly as she headed empty-handed up the walk. The baby shower was going to have to wait.
On the alert, she let herself in, listening carefully to gauge how bad things were.
Shock held her immobile two steps inside the door. That wasn't Seth's voice.
“You're such a nice man.” The voice was definitely feminine. And the woman just a tad too fond of Michael, in Susan's opinion.
And since the house was Susan's, hers was the opinion that counted. Set on charging the living room like a pit bull, she stopped suddenly, struck by a thought that left her weak and shaking.
Michael mattered that much to her. The idea of him with another woman was enough to make her insane.
She was acting as if he still belonged to her. As if he were her husband—and the father of her children. She could no longer hide from the truth. She was not only hopelessly, illogically, passionately in love with him, she truly didn't think she could live without him. For real. Until that moment, she'd never actually faced the fact that she might have to try.
Which meant she
had
tried to trap him.
As her thoughts fell over themselves, they became increasingly dangerous. If she felt these things, wasn't it possible, probable even, that Michael felt them,
too? From her? That all the while her mouth had been telling him he was free to go, her eyes and heart were telling him something completely different?
Oh, God.
Her fingers to her lips, she searched for a way to escape.
“Susan? Is that you?” Michael was calling her.
She made a dash for the hall, but ran into Michael as he came out of the living room. “There's someone here to see you,” he said. With one glance at her face he stopped.
“You okay?”
Nodding her head jerkily, Susan tried to think, to behave normally. “Just have to go to the bathroom.” She blurted the only thing that came to mind. “You know how it is with pregnant women.”
Babbling like an idiot, she made a dash for their bedroom, ran into the adjoining bath and locked the door.
For want of something better to do, she splashed water on her face—and then repaired her makeup.
“I can think about this later,” she told her children who were protesting the butterflies that were sharing their space. “I'll get rid of whoever's come to see me, if she really did come to see me, and then claim I need a nap.”
With a plan, she felt a little better, but stopped again, just as she was about to open the bathroom door.
“I really do need a nap,” she said to her stomach. “I wouldn't lie to Michael, not ever.”
Except she had. She'd been lying all along.
 
MICHAEL WATCHED Susan closely as she joined them in the living room. Relieved to see that her color was
back, he smiled at her. She'd been sickly white when she'd first come in from shopping.
Their guest jumped up from the couch as Susan approached. “Hi,” she said, holding out her hand. “I'm Laura Sinclair.”
Michael almost felt sorry for the woman, standing up to Susan's intimidating once-over—followed by her clear lack of recognition.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Sinclair?”
“You've never heard of me.” Michael's sympathy for their pretty blond guest grew. Her glance darted toward the door.
“Laura's the woman Seth told you about,” he said quickly, before the other woman decided to run.
“You're
Seth's woman?” Susan asked, her eyes wide as they took in Laura's long blond hair, faded blue jeans, the old but neatly ironed blouse that accented her tiny waist. “He's got better taste than I realized.” Susan grinned and Michael, standing with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, relaxed just a little.
Laura's brow was still furrowed, her eyes worried. “So you have heard of me?”
“I actually know more about you from what Seth hasn't said than what he has,” Susan said frankly. “Have a seat.” She led the woman over to the couch. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Classic Susan, handling everything, Michael thought with admiration. Almost six months pregnant with twins, she'd been shopping all day, and with a quick trip to freshen up, was now playing the perfect hostess.
Laura declined the drink, but she sat. After Susan had joined her, Michael sat, too, in a chair opposite them.
“You're probably both wondering why I'm here,” Laura said, twisting her fingers in her lap as she gazed earnestly from one to the other.
Susan sent Michael a worried look. And because he knew her well enough to read her mind, he quickly reassured her.
“I explained to Laura that I was an old friend staying with you while I'm in town on business.”
“I'm sorry,” Laura said, still fidgeting with her hands. “I didn't catch your name.”
“Michael,” he and Susan answered in unison. Both forgoing the surname that would surely bring more questions than either of them was prepared to answer.
“Then you're—” Laura broke off, bright color creeping up her cheeks. “I'm sorry,” she said. “It's just that Seth told me a lot more about you two than he apparently told you about me.”
“Oh,” they both answered again.
Damn. Restless, Michael stood. “I'm going to the kitchen for some tea. You ladies sure you don't want anything?” he asked.
He barely heard their requests for tea because he was already down the hall. Escaping from the watchful eyes of a stranger who knew what he'd done. Fathered a child with the full intent of abandoning all responsibility for it.
Escaping, too, from the pressure that had been slowly building all these months. The pressure to just give in. He'd had to leave before he made promises
he wasn't sure he could keep. He'd almost told Laura that it wasn't the way she thought, that Seth didn't know everything. He'd almost told her he was in town because he had every intention of marrying Susan again. And of being a proper father to his children.
He poured three glasses of iced tea, the peppermint tea he'd begun to favor since her pregnancy.
And had himself more firmly under control as he carried them to the living room. He'd done nothing but grant his ex-wife a favor, given her something that apparently mattered more to her than life itself, saved her from throwing herself at the mercy of some unknown man who might have done far worse than leave her with his child growing in her womb.
So why, since that fateful Super Bowl weekend, had he felt no higher than a slug in the mud? Unfortunately, he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with Atlanta losing.
 
SURPRISING HERSELF, Laura liked Susan. A lot. She was intimidated by Seth's older sister. Sure. Who wouldn't be? The woman was a hotshot lawyer, and gorgeous to boot. Six months pregnant and her hair was styled and beautiful, her makeup impeccable. And the only place she'd gained any weight was her stomach. Laura had had fat arms. She'd hated that.
But she wasn't there on a social call. She waited until Michael returned with their tea, and then dove in before she could change her mind again and bolt.
“I'm sorry to bother you both,” she heard herself say and followed the words with a silent reprimand. She'd decided to think more positively. Which meant
presenting herself in a positive light. She tried again. “Thanks for seeing me.”
“You're welcome,” Susan said, grinning at Michael, who remained silent. Laura was so envious of them it hurt. It was obvious just being with them during this short period of time how attuned they were to each other.
Laura had once believed she and Seth were that connected, too.
“I just had to do something,” she blurted as the pain rose once again to swamp her.
“About what?” Susan's voice was warm, her eyes soft and concerned.
“I've made a mess of things.” As usual. “And now I'm not sure how to go about fixing them.”
“And you thought I could help?”
Laura had a feeling the woman could do anything she put her mind to. “You know Seth so well,” She tried to explain what had sounded so good in the middle of one of her many sleepless nights. “I thought maybe you could give me some direction.”
With another quick glance at Michael, Susan included Laura in her smile this time and said, “I'll certainly try.”
“I have a son.” Laura decided to get it all out there. Licking her dry lips, she yearned for the tea she'd yet to touch.
“I know. Jeremy. I've seen him.”
“You have?” Laura was incredulous—and confused.
“Mmm-hmm.” Susan nodded encouragingly. “The same day I found out about you.”
“Where? When?”
“Seth drove me by a ballpark where Jeremy was practicing soccer. And then around the corner to point out your house.”
“That was you?” Laura wanted to laugh, her relief was so great. And to cry.
“What do you mean?”
“Was that maybe six weeks ago?”
“Seems about right.”
Hope sprang even in hopeless hearts, it seemed. And then Laura recalled what else Susan had said. “You've seen my house?” She hadn't meant to say the words aloud. Trying to make herself as small as she could, she hoped Susan wasn't worried that Laura was getting her couch dirty.
“Yeah,” Susan said. “Seth was staring at your door—and I've never seen such longing in his eyes.”
“You must have been mistaken,” Laura whispered. Seth had walked out that door of his own accord. Mostly.
“Uh-uh.” Susan shook her head so vigorously, the layers of her beautiful hair slapped her face. “I've known Seth his whole life. I could feel his misery as clearly as if it were my own.”
Afraid to hope, for fear of her inability to survive another letdown, Laura looked for other possible explanations. And finding none, she changed the subject. Reminded herself what mattered.
“Jeremy saw the two of you,” she said.
“Oh.”
“He told you this?” Michael asked, speaking for the first time since he'd brought in the tea. His glass was empty.
Laura nodded. “And he hasn't been back to soccer since.”
Susan gasped. “Nooo.” The one word was so sincere, so full of honest empathy, Laura almost wept. She should've known Susan would be a wonderful person. She'd practically raised Seth, and he was the most honorable man she'd ever met.
“It seems Seth has been watching practices and games from a distance since we, uh, broke up.” The explanations came a little easier. “And because of that, Jeremy kept playing. He figured Seth's being there meant Seth still loved us.”
“He does.”
“Susan...” Michael said in a warning voice.
“He does, Michael,” Susan said, meeting her ex-husband's gaze head-on. Laura wished she had half of Susan's gumption. “He does,” she said again to Laura. “I don't know what happened between the two of you, but there's no doubt how much my brother loves you.”
“Just not enough to marry me.” Laura forced herself to acknowledge the truth.

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