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“He’s the father?” her mother guessed.

“Yes, he’s the father.”

“So you have a...relationship?”

She nodded.

“Are you planning to get married?” Cristina asked. “Or live together?”

“We haven’t worked out all of the details yet.”

Her mother sipped her drink. “Is he pressuring you to do this?”

“What?”

“Is he pressuring you to have the baby?”

“No, Mom. This was
my
decision.”

“Because I have a friend—she works at a private women’s clinic in Forest Park. I can give her a call and get you in to see her this weekend. Then you can go back to Karma and tell him that you lost the baby. Ten to twenty percent of women miscarry in their first trimester.”

She drew in a slow breath and mentally counted to ten. “It’s Charisma,” she reminded her mother. “And I’m well aware of the statistics about miscarriages—and I want to have this baby.”

Cristina lifted her glass again, frowning when she saw it was empty.

“Can I get you a refill?” the bartender asked.

“No,” Avery responded before Cristina could, because she didn’t want to prolong this painful encounter a single minute longer than necessary. Then, to her mother, she said, “I appreciate you squeezing in some time to see me, but I know you’re busy and anxious to get back to the conference.”

“I do have to review my notes for the presentation,” Cristina acknowledged, taking out her wallet to pay for their drinks.

Avery just nodded.

“Think about what I said,” her mother advised, tucking the money under her glass. “I’m happy to make the call for you, if you change your mind.”

“I won’t change my mind,” she promised. “But what is even more important, I won’t ever let my child doubt that she was both wanted and loved from the minute I learned of her existence.”

* * *

After meeting with her mother, Avery took off her conference badge, tucked it into her bag and headed up to her room on the eighth floor.

Her mother’s reaction to the news didn’t just bother her—it worried her. Cristina Tobin was the only example of a mother Avery had ever had. Anything she thought she knew about parenting had been learned from her own parents, and neither of them had been the warm, fuzzy type.

Justin’s family was different. Even in her limited interactions with them, she could tell that much. She could tell even more by the way he talked about them—the easy but unmistakable affection in his voice. And it wasn’t just his parents and his brothers that he was close to. When he talked about his family, he meant all of his aunts, uncles and cousins, too. Even his half sister.

There were still a lot of months before their baby would be born, but she realized that she no longer wanted him to lose interest. Instead, she was hoping his family could be an example that she and Justin might emulate for their child, because she had no intention of basing her parenting style on her own family.

Thinking about Justin now, she impulsively pulled her cell phone out of her purse and called his number. He answered on the second ring and the sound of his voice, so strong and familiar, brought tears to her eyes. And because no one was around to see, she didn’t worry about holding them back.

“Avery? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she lied. “I just...I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Then I’m glad you called,” he said. “How’s the conference?”

She swiped at the tears that spilled onto her cheeks. “It’s good.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” he said gently.

“I was just thinking...and wondering...do you...do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

“About what?”

“The baby.”

He was silent for a minute. “Well, I’d prefer if we got married—”

“No,” she said. “I mean...do you wish I had taken the morning-after pill?”

“No,” he said, his immediate and vehement response soothing some of her anxiety. “Maybe in the beginning, before we knew that you were pregnant, I might have thought that was the right choice. But now, I’m so glad that you didn’t. I
want
this baby—
our
baby.”

The tears were falling in earnest now.

“What’s this about?” he asked.

“I saw my mother today and told her that I was pregnant,” she admitted.

“And she didn’t respond well to the news,” he guessed.

“She told me...” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “She told me that it wasn’t...too late...to terminate my pregnancy.”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

She shook her head, though she knew he couldn’t see her. It was all she could manage without sobbing.

“Avery?” he prompted.

“I’m not joking,” she told him. “She said that I have no idea how—” she drew in a shuddering breath “—how difficult it will be to juggle the demands of a baby with my career.”

“It won’t be easy,” he agreed. “But I know we can do it.”

We
can do it.

The words, combined with his unwavering conviction, helped steady her. She only wished he was there with her so she could feel the solid warmth of his arms around her and not feel so alone. But that, of course, was the danger she was fighting against—needing him, relying on him, loving him.

“Please tell me you’re not considering what she suggested,” he pleaded.

“I’m not,” she told him. “Of course not.”

“Good.”

“You really do want this baby?”

“More than I ever thought I would,” he admitted. “And more and more every day.”

And me?
She wanted to ask.

But, of course, she didn’t. Because she had no idea what his answer might be, and she wasn’t prepared to open herself up for yet another rejection.

They talked awhile longer and she felt a lot better about everything when she finally disconnected the call. Not good enough to want to go back downstairs and risk running into her mother again, but better.

Though it was only four o’clock, she took a shower, put on her pajamas, fell asleep on top of the covers and woke up three hours later to realize it was past dinnertime and she was hungry. She ordered room service, then booted up her computer to look at changing her return flight to Charisma. She’d originally planned to see her father for brunch the following day, but she wasn’t sure she could deal with a second round of what she’d gone through with her mother.

Maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe her father would be more supportive of her choices. She honestly didn’t know, and that alone said everything about their relationship.

And now that the insult wasn’t quite so fresh, Avery found it interesting that Cristina didn’t believe her daughter would be able to balance her career with the responsibilities of a child. Because, as far as Avery could tell, neither of her parents had ever really tried to do so, preferring to work longer hours to pay someone else to raise their children.

A knock sounded at the door, dragging her attention away from those unhappy memories. Her stomach growled in anticipation of her dinner, but when she opened the door it wasn’t room service on the other side.

It was Justin.

Chapter Fourteen

I
t seemed like forever that she just stood there, staring at him. Certainly it was long enough for Justin to question the wisdom of rearranging his schedule and hopping on a plane just because she’d called and he thought she might need him.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he began, and her lips curved, just a little.

It wasn’t even really a smile, but it was all he needed to be glad that he’d made the trip.

“Are you going to let me come in?” he asked.

“I was waiting for the rest of the story—” she stepped away from the door, gesturing for him to enter “—about why you were in the neighborhood.”

“Because I needed to see you,” he admitted, setting his overnight bag inside the door. “To be sure that you were okay.”

The warmth in her eyes dimmed a little. “You thought I was going to do it.”

“Do what?” he asked, baffled by the accusatory tone.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Get rid of our baby.”

“No, I didn’t.” He stroked his hands down her arms. “I promise you, Avery, the possibility never even crossed my mind.”

“It didn’t?” she asked uncertainly.

“Of course not,” he told her. “There may be a lot I still don’t know about you, but I know you want our baby as much as I do.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because you sounded like you needed a friend.”

She unfolded her arms and splayed her palms on his chest. “You flew four hundred miles because I sounded like a needed a friend?”

“And because it would have taken too long to drive,” he said logically.

She shook her head, but she was smiling again. “You constantly surprise me.”

“Good, then I shouldn’t have to worry about you getting bored with me,” he said, and lowered his head to touch his lips to hers.

It was a fleeting kiss—friendly, casual—that might have led to something more if another knock hadn’t sounded at the door.

“Room service.”

She pulled away from him, drew in a breath. “That’s my dinner.”

He went to the door and slipped some bills from his pocket in exchange for the tray. He set it on the table and lifted the lid to uncover two slices of bread with thinly-sliced roast beef in between and a scoop of potato salad on the side. “
This
is your dinner?”

“I didn’t know what I wanted,” she admitted. “Then I remembered the day you showed up in the doctors’ lounge with the roast beef sandwich, demanding that I take care of myself.”

“A sandwich is fine for lunch when you’re rushing from the hospital to the clinic, but you need something more substantial for dinner,” he said, putting the lid back on the plate. “Let’s go out and get some real food.”

She glanced pointedly at her plaid pajama pants and rib-knit Henley. “I can’t go out like this.”

“Why not?”

“Because these are my pajamas.”

“Then put some clothes on,” he suggested.

“And I’ve cried off all of my makeup.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “I hate to think of you here, by yourself, crying,” he admitted.

“I think it’s the pregnancy hormones,” she said. “I feel like I don’t have any control over my emotions anymore.”

He thought it was probably as much the fault of her mother, but he wasn’t going to go there now. “How about pregnancy cravings?” he asked instead. “What are you in the mood to eat?”

“A whole cow.”

“Okay, I’ll call the concierge and ask for a nearby cattle ranch recommendation while you get dressed.”

She gathered up her clothes and moved toward the bathroom, pausing in the doorway. “Justin—”

He turned back.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He smiled. “My pleasure.”

* * *

He took her to a restaurant called the Chophouse. The decor was simple: sturdy tables covered with neatly pressed linen cloths, leather booth seating and muted lighting. But it was the mouthwatering scent of grilled meat that really appealed to Avery and made her stomach growl so loudly that Justin turned to look at her.

She started with a field greens salad with a tomato-parmesan vinaigrette, followed by a ten-ounce filet mignon with roasted fingerling potatoes and grilled asparagus. He had the same type of salad, then the New York Strip with sautéed sweet corn and mashed red-skinned potatoes.

“I can’t believe I ate all of that,” she said, after she’d cleared her plate.

“It was too good not to,” Justin said, having polished off his own meal. “And you look better now that you’ve got some food in you.”

She managed a wry smile. “I probably couldn’t look much worse than I did when you showed up at the door of my hotel room.”

“You’re always beautiful,” he told her. “But you looked a little tired and a lot sad.”

“I was feeling a little tired and a lot sad,” she admitted.

“And now?”

“I feel better.” And maybe a little foolish that she’d let her mother’s insensitive remarks get to her. Maybe she should have been stronger. Maybe she shouldn’t have called Justin. But she couldn’t deny that she was glad he was there with her now.

“Dessert?” he asked.

She managed a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

He nudged the dessert menu that the waiter had left on the edge of the table toward her. “They have homemade ice cream.”

“You are the devil.”

He just grinned. “I’m going to try the raspberry mango cheesecake.”

“Some women lose weight in the first trimester, but I’ve gained three pounds already,” she told him.

“Gaining weight is necessary when you’re growing a baby,” he said matter-of-factly.

She looked at him across the table, his gaze steady even in the flickering light of the candle. He was so incredibly handsome—and so much more than his playboy personality had led her to believe.

“You know, a few weeks ago I was thinking that I’d completely screwed up, getting pregnant with your baby,” she confided. “I’ve only recently started to realize that if I had to get pregnant, I’m so glad it was with
your
baby.”

He reached across the table to take her hand. “Me, too.”

“Does that mean you’ll come with me to see my dad tomorrow?”

“I was just waiting for you to ask,” he told her.

“And if I didn’t ask?”

“I was going, anyway.”

His answer didn’t surprise her. What did surprise her was that she was grateful for his determination to stand by her side. Over the past few weeks, he’d proven that he was a man she could count on and trust—maybe even a man she could fall in love with—which was why she was trying very hard to keep her balance.

When the waiter came back to the table, Justin ordered the cheesecake and Avery opted for the ice cream.

By the time they left the restaurant, it was after ten o’clock. He took her hand again as they walked to the hotel. It was a cool night, but she didn’t feel the chill in the air with Justin beside her.

“I need to stop at the desk,” he said, when they entered the lobby and she started automatically toward the bank of elevators.