Having Nathan's Baby (6 page)

I
was still holding my breath when he smiled, releasing me. “Adam will be here any minute.” His low voice held a mildly satisfied tone; I wondered if he’d just wanted to prove he could have me if he wanted. He stood up. “Saved by the bell.”

I
brought my mutinous libido back under control. It was a bit like trying to get a hissing cat into a box.

The rest of the weekend passed relatively calmly.
We spent Saturday afternoon on the lake; Nathan had purchased a forty-foot pleasure boat – on a whim, it seemed, when he’d purchased the lake house – which he jokingly referred to as the little fishing boat. We took a few laps around the lake before lunch, and then tried our hand at fishing. We caught nothing, each of us worse than the next at it, but Adam and Rosalind were fun company and the afternoon passed quickly. We had a relaxing dinner, and then on Sunday we visited the farmer’s market in the village. After a long leisurely lunch we headed back to the house to get ready to leave. I promised to meet up with Rosalind again in the city in the coming weeks.

After the
other couple had left, I helped Nathan close the house up. Now waiting for me by the door, he seemed anxious to get on the road.

“All set?”
he said.

I
paused to look around the bright, spacious house, my eyes soothed by the warm colors coming from the lake and surrounding hills in the view. I wanted to stay another week. The weekend had been so much fun. Hell, I wanted to stay another month. Since when had I not wanted to go back to work? My stomach dipped as I imagined returning to my dry, airless office tomorrow. The stress of my current case mingled with lingering morning sickness; it occurred to me that I hadn’t been ill the previous day. Nathan would be on a plane by ten o’clock that night, flying back to his life at the other side of the continent. I was gripped by a sense of loneliness so strong that it almost brought tears to my eyes.

I
swallowed the emotion back. Damn these hormones. “All set,” I said. I repeated the words in a monotone, unable to meet his eyes as I reached for my light bag. I almost collided with him at the door.

“What’s going on?”
he asked. He had clearly noticed the dip in my mood. His hands clasped my shoulders, his frown heavy.

I
bit down on the emotions again, now welling in my like a tidal wave. “Nothing.” My voice sounding reedy and unconvincing. I took a deep breath. Having a hormone-fuelled meltdown right now would achieve nothing. I wasn’t even sure what was prompting it. “Really, it’s nothing,” I said. I forced a semblance of control into my voice. “I’m fine.”

His brows lifted.

“We should get going. I have a ton of things to do tonight,” I added for good measure.

He kept his hands in place for a second longer.
I held my breath, allowing him to search my eyes. I reminded myself who I was; an independent, strong woman who didn’t need a man to hold me up. Leaning on him would be a mistake.

He seemed to get the message. “Okay,
” he said, but his tone was reluctant. “Let’s get on the road.”

I
felt a mixture of relief and desolation as he turned away and opened the door.

The following week, I slowly morphed back to my usual self. Though tired, I was head-deep in a patent case that was fuelling my motivation. From the first hour back in the office, I was my old distracted and logical self. I was also thankfully too busy to wonder whether or not Nathan was missing me the way I’d been missing him, almost from the second I’d got out of his car outside my apartment block after our weekend in Vermont. Like some kind of love-struck teenager, I’d rushed back up to my apartment, flung myself on my bed and bawled my eyes out. I’d spent a fitful night’s sleep wishing he were there, in my bed. Over and over in my head I’d replayed the safe and loved feelings I’d felt wrapped in his arms that first night in Vermont. Over and over I’d berated myself for the foolish no-sex rule I’d imposed for the rest of the weekend, only belatedly realizing I’d effectively also denied myself any semblance of affection and love. It was almost a relief to be back at work and free of the horrible neediness of it all.

I
missed him, but that was neither here nor there. I’d admitted, to myself at least, that I was in love with Nathan. I’d decided I was having his baby. That didn’t change the fact that we weren’t in a committed relationship, and never had been. How did we go from so many years of respectful distance to … what? I wasn’t even sure what we were moving towards. I wasn’t even sure, in the cold light of day, if I wanted to change the fragile equilibrium in our relationship. We were going to be parents and that was a momentous shift in itself. I was amazed we’d managed to get through the weekend. We had a million things to decide – tiny, important, practical details that had nothing to do with the grief that seemed to be gnawing at my heart, a heart which in turn was permanently swollen with hormone-fuelled emotion. So I put it out of my head and focused instead on work.

I
met Rosalind for lunch the following Friday. Tall and blonde, Rosalind looked like she was walking a runway as she approached the table. I got up and gave her a quick hug.

“How are you feeling?”
She wasted no time in getting to the point. “Still got the morning sickness?”

“It comes and goes,
” I said.

“Adam’s been driving me mad all week with questions!”
She shook her head as she got comfortable. “I think Nathan’s been plying him with things to check.” Her voice mimicked her boyfriend’s. “Find out what kind of hours she’s working. Check what she eats during the meal-”

“Really?”
I laughed, but a spark lit inside of me. Did that mean Nathan was worried about me? The spark extinguished; he was probably just worried about the baby.

“I told him, if Nathan really wants to k
now, he needs to get on a plane,” Rosalind said. “But they were recording all last week, I think.” Her expression lifted. “Did you hear he bought a brownstone?”

My
eyes widened. “In New York?”

“The Upper East Side.”

“You guys are moving in together?” I asked, delighted at the news. Rosalind was good for Adam. I’d never seen him so calm and settled.

“Not Adam: Nathan!” Rosalind laughed. “
Nathan bought it. Apparently he thought it would make a good family home...” She winked.

Overwhelmed, both by the news and the speed at which Rosalind talked,
I could only stare. I ordered blindly when the waiter approached. I focused on the most innocuous aspect of the news that I could find. “You mean he bought a brownstone without even seeing it? He never mentioned anything about this when we were in Vermont.”

“And...” Rosalind picked up
her leather clutch bag from the table. Her smile was infectious. After rummaging for a moment, she held up three keys attached to a plain circular keychain. “He asked Adam to ask me to give you these.”

I
stared, nonplussed, at the keychain. My heart felt like it was floating in still water for a moment, the sensation making me lightheaded. I couldn’t even begin to work out what this meant.

Rosalind put them on the table and nudged them towards
me. “No explanation, just hand them over, that’s what I was told,” she said.

“I already have an apartment,
” I said in return. I frowned down at the keys, feeling unsettled in my stomach. If I had wanted a brownstone, I would have bought one. It was an odd moment for the strange flashback of children’s paraphernalia wrecking the lines of my sleek, modern apartment to occur. As soon as it was finished, I had another flash, only this time of another future. I was in a bright, airy house, joyfully mussed with the marks of a happy, young family.

I
didn’t move to touch the keys.

“Take them anyway. I’m not sure what the whole thing’s about.” Rosalind sighed and touched
my shoulder with distracted affection. “I think he bought it for himself, but you know what these guys are like. They buy real estate like other people buy shoes. He probably thought since you’re here and he’s there that you could go check on it or something...”

Finally picking up the keys,
I shoved them in my bag, out of sight. I’d call Nathan later and get to the bottom of this. Right now, in the middle of lunch, I really didn’t want to give my emotions any other excuse to run riot. 

Turning back to Rosalind,
I clasped my hands on the table and forced a smile. “So, talk to me about something that doesn’t involve pregnancy, men or food,” I said.

That evening, I finished up mercifully early. The two parties involved in my case had agreed to a last-minute deal before it went to court. Though I would never have admitted it, I was elated that it would free up my schedule for the next six months. Of course, there was no telling how many other cases my seniors had waiting to deposit in my inbox, but since I’d be tied up in paperwork finalizing the deal for some time, I was hoping I might have a few less stressful months to look forward to. I at least had a much less hectic weekend to look forward to. So I left the building early and, instead of taking the subway, sauntered in the direction of my apartment to enjoy the lingering dusk.

I
made a detour through the park since it was still not quite dark. Coming out at the other side, I found myself standing a few blocks down from my apartment, facing a row of terraced brownstone townhouses. It sparked a reminder in my head. Rummaging in my bag for a moment, I found the keychain Rosalind had given my earlier in the day. I looked at the address handwritten on it:
West 71st St
.
I looked up at the street sign ahead of me, my lips parting to allow a small gasp: W 72nd Street. I faltered only for a second before heading south.

West Seventy-First Street was a tree-lined road with terraced townhouses running as far as the eye could see.
I crossed over to the left side of the street, my eyes pouring over the rich detail as I passed. Each townhouse had four stories, not including the basement, with three windows per floor facing the street. I came to Nathan’s house quickly; it was the only painted brownstone on the street, gleaming white against the rest of the dark houses. An elaborate stone staircase led to the double front doors. Unable to bridle my curiosity, I jogged up the stairs and fitted the key in the door. At the click of the lock I felt a burst of excitement.

Inside,
I groped around for a light switch. I prayed that the electricity would still be connected. It was, and when the light flicked on I was rewarded with an amazing view. Wooden flooring gleamed from the foyer to a set of stairs that seemed to continue upwards towards the heavens. I stepped forward, peering into a sizable family room. Out at the back I could see a decked garden area in the remaining light from the dusk. I walked towards the French doors, my eyes widening when I saw plump snowflakes pouring from the sky. No wonder it had seemed so light outside! The grin that gripped me was childish and gleeful.

Turning
my attention back to the house, I was surprised to find myself standing in the large kitchen area. It was fully fitted but bare of appliances. A leisurely tour of the house uncovered a first floor with a study and two large rooms. The bedrooms were on the third and fourth floors, each with an impressive en suite bathroom. The house was a dream, with amazing views of the park and the surrounding city. It had so much potential! I wondered if Nathan was going to decorate it from a distance, the way he had with his Vermont house. The idea prompted a rush of anguish. It would be a crime not to renovate and decorate this house with all the respect the architecture deserved. It should be lovingly worked on. I awed and fretted in equal measures as I eyed the cornices, which I was sure were original. If it were my house, I’d do it bit by bit, starting with a clean base and then adding to it with pieces discovered here and there. This, in my humble opinion, was how a house became a home.

I
wandered back down the stairs, my fingers trailing down the smooth wooden balcony. Also an original, I suspected, as I studied the ornate wrought-iron guard. On the first floor, I stopped to stare out at the back garden again, enjoying the sight of the rushing snow coating the decking. I thought for a second I could see my apartment building, but a noise stopped my investigation.

Alarm slid across
me like ice when I heard the front door rattling. The house was lit, but apart from me, completely empty. Feeling a rush of blood to my head, I tiptoed over to the balcony again to peer down at the front door. A figure was behind the glass, tall and wide enough to be a man. He seemed to be alone. My heartbeat hammered. He was rummaging through his pockets. My eyes zeroed in on him desperately, looking for something reassuring.

Could it be a realtor?

When the door opened and I saw Nathan stepping inside, I was momentarily incapacitated by the joy fizzing through my veins. He looked up, smiling at me. His dark hair and clothes were dappled with moisture from the snow. Before he could say anything, I skipped down the stairs, surprising myself by opening my arms to him when I reached the bottom. I wound my arms around his neck and buried myself in his hard warmth.

“Hey...” He sounded taken aback
, his deep voice gentle. “You okay?” He pulled me back, still smiling. “You like the house?”