All Fixed Up (28 page)

“One thing first,” he said, the fear in his eyes receding. “Can we please throw out whatever crawled into your purse and died? Because I don't think they'll let us into City Hall with a biohazard.”

*   *   *

The Marriage Bureau at the Manhattan Office of the City Clerk was only moderately busy. We filled out some forms, showed our driver's licenses, and boom, we had a license. There was a minor hiccup when we found out we'd have to wait twenty-four hours to do the deed unless we got a judicial waiver. Billy batted his gorgeous eyelashes at a few harried city employees, who promptly contacted a handy judge, and boom, waiver on the way.

Al and Candy had agreed to be our witnesses. Candy was actually excited about it—she thought it was the most romantic thing ever. We didn't mention the reason behind the big rush, and she was couth enough not to ask. Al … well, he didn't say much, but I suspected he was beginning to wish the shopping expedition hadn't been cancelled.

Candy had come in with us while Al found secure parking. Not wanting to draw attention to her occupation, she'd left her firearm locked in the car, but she told us not to worry, she was “pretty good” with her hands. If she was anywhere near as proficient as Laura—and from the way she carried herself, I suspected she was—I knew there was no reason for concern. If Loughlin, or one of his minions, had the temerity to come into this building after us, at least we could be sure they didn't have a gun. And I had a feeling none of them would stand a chance unarmed against Candy, much less Al or Billy. Possibly even me. (Okay, that was probably a stretch. But I
was
getting better at the hand-to-hand stuff.)

After we got the judicial waiver, we took a number and hung out with half a dozen other couples who'd chosen to join their lives together without the fuss of a big wedding. The waiting area was pleasant enough for a municipal building, furnished with modern sofas upholstered in some sort of industrial-strength green fabric. (Billy said it really set off my eyes.)

When Al joined us he had a bouquet of white roses tied together with red ribbon, which he handed to me. “Every bride oughta have flowers,” he said.

“Why, Al, you big ol' softie!” Candy said. “Where'd you find those?”

His cheeks reddened, and he shrugged. “My brother's a florist. He brought 'em over for me.”

I held them to my nose. Surprisingly for modern roses, they actually had some fragrance. “This is so sweet. Thank you!” I said, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He had to lean down so I could reach.

“Aw, it's nothing. I have a daughter about your age. I hate to think she wouldn't have flowers at her wedding.”

My father's face popped into my head, quiet and handsome and strong. Now he'd never get to walk me down the aisle. He'd never complain about it, never say a thing to make me feel guilty (Mom would pick up the slack for him), but I knew it would matter to him.

I turned to Billy, tears starting to fog my vision. “I can't do this. I can't get married without my father! Please say you understand,” I said, practically hyperventilating in my effort to get the words out before I dissolved into an embarrassing heap of weeping womanhood.

Gawd.
I didn't even have a tissue.

Billy took me by the shoulders and looked me right in my watery eyes. “You know this will mean a wedding, don't you? And our mothers won't do small. It will be a full-on Mo and Ro extravaganza,” he said seriously.

“Are you trying to scare me into going through with this?”

He tilted up one corner of his mouth, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe. Is it working?”

I chuckled through my snuffles, and almost snotted myself. Candy handed me a man-size tissue she'd dug up from somewhere. I could get used to having a bodyguard.

“I'm his only daughter,” I said, trusting the explanation to be sufficient.

Billy quirked his mouth, looking like he still wanted to argue his case, but finally leaned over and kissed me. Chastely, on the forehead. “Come on, cuz. Let's blow this joint.”

*   *   *

We went back to Billy's place, deciding we'd had enough excitement and would wait until the next day to gather our parents around and break the news. Candy and Al resumed their post across from the door to the building, taking the latest minor upheaval in their professional stride.

The beautiful white roses were in a vase on the slate-and-metal coffee table across from the sofa where we sat holding hands. Billy alternated, as usual, between being super sweet and teasing me mercilessly, mostly about the wedding hell I was about to descend into. It felt good to be back on a normal footing with him.

“You know, a good adaptor fiancé would volunteer to go dress shopping with my mother for me.” I slugged him playfully on the bicep closest to me, pretty sure that part of him hadn't been injured in the car accident.

“Yeah. Too bad you're stuck with a
smart
adaptor fiancé,” he said with a wink.

“Smart, huh? Idiot savant, maybe.”

“I'll savant you.” He pulled me closer and proceeded to demonstrate one area where his expertise definitely qualified him for savant status.

“You know,” he said during a pause I didn't especially want him to take, “just because we didn't get married doesn't mean we can't have a wedding night.”

I pretended to weigh the matter while I ruthlessly trampled down flashes of sleeping with Mark the night before. That guilt was my burden to bear, not Billy's. “But wouldn't it be improper, Mr. Doyle? Isn't there supposed to be a certain protocol to these events?”

“Screw protocol. Haven't you heard? ‘Life is short. Eat dessert first.'”

“That is an unfair metaphor to employ with me. You know how I feel about dessert.”

“What can I say?” He pointed back at himself with his thumb. “Savant.”

My cell phone took that inopportune time to buzz in my pants pocket. Since Billy's hand was already in the area, he dug it out for me.

“It's Mark. Do you want to take it?” He kept his eyes neutral.

I couldn't help feeling the wise thing to do would be to hit “ignore,” but I really didn't think I could. “It might be about Loughlin.”

Billy nodded, with only the slightest downturn of his lips. I'd already decided to respect his wishes not to know what I'd attempted to tell him about my night with Mark. That was an aberration, a reflection of my trauma more than anything else. When you really thought about it, it was more therapy than sex. And therapy sessions are supposed to remain private, right?

Okay, that was rationalization on my part. But, honestly, not that far from true. I'd needed it at the time, but to tell Billy would be unnecessarily cruel. Confession might be good for
my
soul, but I had a feeling it would shred his.

If I felt guilty about anyone, it was Mark. But I'd been honest with him about Billy even then. He could have refused.

Yeah, right, Ciel. Like he was going to turn down your plea for help. When has Mark ever done that?

Gah.
I couldn't think about that now. I swiped the screen and kept my voice light. “Hey there.”

“Hey, Howdy. I have some good news.”

“You caught the bastard?” I said. “Fantastic!”

“Slow down. No, we don't have Loughlin yet, but we have a few more leads.”

“Is it Carl? Is he out of intensive care?”

“No, but it's looking better for him. He's showing signs of waking up.”

“What's the good news then? Did Mom and Auntie Mo swear off parties?” I grinned at Billy, who was close enough to hear both sides of the conversation.

Mark chuckled. “Not a chance. But I found out something interesting when I was speaking with Dr. Carson about Loughlin. She mentioned she'd peeked at her medical records to make sure there weren't any hints about her kidney stone. She also said she hoped you weren't feeling any ill effects from the fertility hormones she saw you received before the reduced gravity flight—she never meant for you to get those.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you happen to get any injections while you were filling in for her?”

“Well, yeah. It was part of her preflight physical. The doctor called them her ‘special vitamins.' I assumed it was to keep her healthy for the mission.”

“It was for mission prep all right, but only to make sure she's ovulating at the right time. The side effects can be uncomfortable for some women.” He paused for a beat. “They can also cause a false positive on a pregnancy test.”

“So you mean…?”

“You might not be pregnant after all.”

 

Chapter 23

I turned to Billy. He looked as stunned as I felt.

“Listen,” Mark said, “tell me when you're finished shopping and I'll swing by and get you. You can take another test at my place if you don't want to do it at your parents' house. The hormones should be mostly out of your system by now.”

“I'm not shopping,” I said, dazed, not knowing quite what to feel. “I'm at Billy's. He came back.”

There was a pause. A long one, by Mark standards. “Good. That's good. Maybe he can—”

Billy took the phone from me. “I'll take care of it and call you after. And Mark … thanks. For everything. You're a better friend than I deserve.”

I winced inwardly, knowing it should be me telling Mark that.

“So,” I said after Billy slipped my phone back into my pocket.

“So,” he said, watching me closely.

I took a deep breath. “Let's see what we're dealing with before anything else.”

“Agreed,” he said. To his credit, he wasn't doing backflips of joy, or even smiling in a relieved manner. Of course, that might come if he saw a minus sign on the pee-stick.

As for me, I was keeping all thoughts on hold until after the test. Superstitiously, I didn't even want to think—about
anything
—until I knew for sure. I especially didn't want to examine the niggling jab of disappointment I felt. Not that I wanted a baby—I absolutely didn't. Not now, anyway. But I had begun to, I don't know, get used to the idea or something.

Which was stupid, and I refused to entertain that line of thinking, so I redirected my thoughts to the practical. “How are we going to buy a test without raising Candy and Al's eyebrows? They probably already wonder, after our field trip today, but to confirm it … I mean, I know they aren't paid to judge, but…”

“They can wait in the car while we go into the store.”

“Yeah, right. If they wouldn't let us go into a highly secure government building without them, you think they're going to let us traipse into a drugstore alone? Would you, if it were
your
assignment?”

“I can sneak by them. You wait here. I'll go get it.”

“Don't you think they might notice you leaving?”

Billy shrugged. “I won't be me.”

“Mark has read them in about adaptors. I'm sure they've been told to keep track of
anyone
coming or going, no matter what they look like.”

“So I'll go as one of my neighbors. I won't look like a ‘suspicious stranger.'”

“And if the neighbor you choose happens to come or go at the same time?”

“Fine. What do you suggest then?”

“Well, it's not ideal, but…” I dug my phone back out and dialed.

*   *   *

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Devon said. “I've never been to a pee-stick party before!”

James cut him a look while shaking Billy's hand. He'd already hugged me. “This
isn't
a party,” he said.

“Sure it is. We brought pizza and beer. That makes it a party,” Devon said, depositing the goodies on the kitchen counter. “Heck, we even brought extra for the security details—with soda, not beer, naturally. Can't go dulling those protective reflexes, now, can we? But we thought it would be cruel to leave our guys pizza-less after making them inhale the delicious aroma for blocks. And your guys shouldn't be the only ones left out, so there you are. Party all around!” He took a bag from James and handed it to me. “Ciel, honey, we brought four test kits. Hope you've been holding it!”

I had, of course, already explained to Billy what had happened when I went shopping with James and Devon. (He wasn't surprised—he'd known something was up then.) Then I'd called James and explained about the fertility hormones, and he'd confirmed what Mark had said about the possibility of a false positive. He was understandably confused, since I'd led him to believe I wasn't pregnant. I had to admit I'd
implied
my period had started, even though it hadn't, but only so as not to worry him. Fortunately, he'd kept the test kits (no doubt thriftily figuring his wayward little sister might one day need them again).

I had also explained to James (via a text message while Billy was informing Al and Candy we were expecting visitors) that Billy did
not
know that James and Devon knew about Mark being a possible baby-daddy, and I'd appreciate it if he acted like they assumed Billy was the only one. Because the whole damn situation was difficult enough without Billy knowing they were in on the who's-your-baby-daddy game. Yeah, yeah. I know. So much for being open. But this was different. Why make Billy feel even more awkward around James and Devon?

My plan had been for James to discreetly make the delivery, pretending it was something innocuous, like a piece of mail, or a DVD of some movie Billy and I wanted to borrow, and then leave. Apparently, Devon had had other ideas.

“Well, thanks for bringing the pizza, guys,” Billy said, hovering at the door. “We'll let you know how it goes.”

Had James been alone, he might have taken the hint—he's sensitive to nuance—but when Devon walked over to the couch and plopped down on it, my brother rather sheepishly joined him.