The Best Laid Plans (10 page)

As he’d noted, there was a lot of crossover on their lists. They both wanted to discuss the custody arrangements, and they quickly agreed that it would be difficult for Ethan to have overnight visits until the baby stopped breast-feeding. But after that they would both like the visitation rights to be split fifty-fifty.

“I’d like to try to breast-feed for at least six months, twelve if possible,” she said.

“This is an area I know next to nothing about,” Ethan said.

“Well, me, too, to be honest. But my understanding is that breast-feeding is supposed to be better,” she said.

She could feel her face becoming warm and hoped that Ethan would blame it on the wine. She’d never sat at a dining table and discussed her breasts before. Perhaps after a few months of nursing she would be as casual about them as some of the women she saw in restaurants and cafés, but she wasn’t there yet.

Ethan raised the subject of education, and here, too, they readily found common ground.

“Private,” she said firmly. “The best we can find.”

Her years at an underfunded state school were still vivid in her memory. Even though she’d eyed the “rich kids” from the private schools with angry resentment on the bus, she’d always understood that they were getting a head start in life. She wanted her child to have every opportunity possible.

“Absolutely. I went to Scotch College, but I’d prefer a coed school,” he said.

They talked about sharing the workload and making allowances for their mutually busy schedules and how they would handle differences of opinion. Over two glasses of wine and a bowl of the most sinfully rich chocolate mousse she’d ever tasted, Alex found herself relaxing more and more.

It seemed the rapport they’d always enjoyed on the court and during their lunches extended beyond the boundaries they’d set. She’d already known that Ethan was good at his job—he had a reputation for being a fair-minded litigator, a lawyer who always looked after the best interests of his clients even if it meant billing fewer hours—and she’d known that he was smart and that he listened well and had a good sense of humor. And now she knew that they saw eye to eye on many of the key issues around parenting.

She was sure other issues would crop up along the way, problems and situations they couldn’t even conceive of in their childless state. But if tonight was anything to go by, they could handle them. The bottom line was that they were two intelligent adults with lots of common ground. Whatever came their way, they would deal with it.

They moved to the couches for coffee and chocolates. By mutual unspoken consent the conversation shifted to other subjects, as though they both needed some breathing space while they processed everything they’d learned about each other.

Alex told him about her recent holiday to France and Italy and they compared notes on Florence and Rome. Ethan pulled out a book he’d bought on the architecture of Venice and they pored over stunning photographs of basilicas and piazzas and palaces.

“Tell me about your childhood,” he asked as she closed the book.

She leaned forward and returned the book to his coffee table. “What do you want to know?”

“The usual. Were you happy? Were you lonely, being an only child? What was your childhood like?”

She shifted on the couch. She didn’t like talking about her childhood. People tended to become uncomfortable when she explained about her mother and the accident. They didn’t know what to say or they tried to paint her as some kind of a long-suffering saint. But Ethan might be the father of her child, so she had to be prepared to offer up her truths.

“My childhood was pretty typical, really. Mom was on her own, so we weren’t exactly rich. But we got by. She was always pretty creative with presents and making money go a long way.”

She smiled, remembering how much she’d longed for something new—anything!—because her mother bought all her clothes from the thrift shop. By the time her mother was finished altering or embellishing them they were unique and special but Alex had always craved clothes that had never been worn by anyone, ever. When she’d gotten her first real job after graduating she’d saved up a nest egg, then spent it all in an uncharacteristic splurge, replacing everything in her wardrobe in one fell swoop. To this day she still had a weakness for the pristine freshness of new clothes.

“What did your mom do?”

“She worked at a dry cleaners. She did the repairs and alterations and managed the front desk. I used to go there after school and do my homework.”

She couldn’t smell dry-cleaning fluid without thinking of that milk crate in the corner where she’d sat and read her books and puzzled over her homework. Her mom used to quiz her on her times tables between customers.

“She was a good mother. I hope I can be half as good as her,” Alex said.

“So you didn’t go through the mandatory stage of hating her when you were a teenager?”

Here we go.

“Not really.” She took a deep breath. “My mom had a car accident when I was twelve. She was a passenger, but she wasn’t wearing her seat belt and she went through the windshield. She fractured her skull and for a while there they thought she was going to die.”

Ethan was watching her intently and she was grateful that he didn’t interrupt.

“She pulled through, though.” She reached for one of the cushions, resting it in her lap. Like the rest of Ethan’s things it had clean, strong lines but the fabric had a pleasing nap and she ran her hand over it a few times before making eye contact with him. “She was different afterward. She couldn’t remember things, she cried for no reason. She couldn’t count past ten and sometimes she’d have trouble finding the right word for what she wanted to say. If I didn’t keep an eye on her, she’d try to cook and put an empty pot on the stove. Or leave the fridge door open. Or go out and leave all the doors and windows open.”

“So you wound up being the mother,” Ethan guessed.

“Someone had to do it. And she was still very loving. She was still my mom.” She smoothed her hand across the cushion again.

“Did you have any help?”

“Oh, yes,” she said drily. “Social services were
awesome.
They wanted to put me in a home and institutionalize Mom. Fortunately I was nearly sixteen by the time they started getting really aggressive and I was able to prove I could look after both of us.”

“You said she died in hospital?”

“Yes. She was having headaches and they found some scar tissue on her brain they wanted to remove. She had a heart attack coming out of the anesthetic.”

“So you dusted yourself off and put yourself through law school?”

She nodded. “Not exactly the cheeriest tale, I know. But not the worst, either. Like I said, she was a great mom.”

“Sounds like you were a pretty good mom, too.”

She thought about it. “I was okay. I used to get angry with her sometimes. And resentful.”

“Thank God. I was beginning to feel really inadequate.”

She laughed.

“You want another coffee?” Ethan asked.

She looked at him. She’d expected him to probe more, perhaps mouth some platitudes about how hard it must have been. Instead, he was offering her more coffee.

He raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just you’re the first person who didn’t want to turn it into
Angela’s Ashes.
”

“Really? You have friends who are stupid enough to think you want their pity?”

She laughed. Apparently he knew her better than she thought he did.

“Believe it or not, yes.”

“Obviously they’ve never been pounded by you on the racquetball court.”

She laughed again.

“So was that a yes to coffee?”

“I’ll be up all night if I do. But thanks,” she said.

They both fell silent. She glanced at the time on his DVD player and blinked when she saw it was past one in the morning.

Wow. How had that happened?

“I should really get going,” she said, unfolding her legs from the couch and searching for her shoes with her toes.

“Sure.”

There was a new tension in the room as she pulled on her shoes and stood. Ethan stood, too.

“Thanks for tonight. And thanks for being so open to all my questions,” she said.

For some reason she didn’t know what to do with her hands. She settled for clasping them loosely at her waist.

“Ditto.”

“Do you feel like there’s anything else that we should cover? Anything else you need to know?” she asked.

“No. Do you?”

She looked at him, watching her so carefully. Did she need to know anything more?

Probably. But she felt she knew the important things. He was a nice man. Surprising, given the invitation to be not-so-nice that Mother Nature had handed him when she gave him that face and that body. She thought he would make a good and loving father. And that they would find a way to pull together, no matter what came their way.

“I think we should do this.” Her voice sounded very firm, very sure, even though she was quivering inside.

The tight look left Ethan’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yes. I think that between us we could be decent parents.”

“Absolutely.”

He was grinning and she couldn’t help smiling in response. She’d made the right decision. She could feel it in her gut.

“So, what next?” he asked.

“I’ve got my first session with the clinic next week. There’s a mandatory counseling session and some tests they need to do. Then it’s simply a matter of waiting until I ovulate again.”

“Right. Any idea when that might be?”

“Four weeks or so. Give or take.”

“Four weeks. Okay. I’ll make sure I’ve got some clear days in my diary.”

Ethan followed her to the door. Now that the decision was made and they were about to embark on this crazy, wonderful journey together, she didn’t know what to say to him.

“Thanks for the meal. I’d offer to return the favor but I’m guessing you’re not a fan of charcoal. But maybe I could manage cheese on toast and some two-minute noodles. And I dial a mean takeout, too.”

“I’m game,” he said.

“Spoken like a true sucker.” She palmed her car keys. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

She turned to go.

“Alex.”

He waited until she’d turned back before reaching out and pulling her into his arms.

It was totally unexpected and for a second she didn’t know what to do as his arms tightened around her and she felt the hard warmth of his chest against her breasts. Then she lifted her arms and returned the embrace, her hands flattening against the firm planes of his back.

He smelled good—more of that sandalwood scent that she liked—and their knees knocked together briefly.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice gravelly with emotion. “I think we’re going to make a great team, slowpoke.”

Then he released her, stepped back and it was over. She hoped like hell she didn’t look as flustered as she felt. She told herself that she simply hadn’t been expecting the close contact.

“Me, too,” she said. Then she glanced over her shoulder toward the elevator. “I’d better go.”

He nodded. “Sure.”

She took a step backward. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Before you go…”

She stopped. “Yes?”

“It’s my eldest nephew’s birthday tomorrow. If we’re going to do this, I’d really like you to meet my family.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t thought that far ahead but she realized he was right. He’d referenced his brother and his sister-in-law a few times tonight. It was obvious they were close. “Well. I’m not doing anything apart from catching up on work. As always. What time is it?”

“Midday. I’ll swing by and pick you up if you like.”

“Okay.” She frowned. “Do they know? About any of this, I mean?”

“I talked it over with my brother before I talked to you. I think it’s safe to assume that Kay knows, since they’re joined at the brain and various other body parts.”

“Huh.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. No, it’s fine. They’re your family, right? And if we have a baby, then your nephews will be our baby’s cousins.” And not telling Ethan’s relatives about their arrangement would mean they’d be sentenced to a lifetime of lies and half-truths.

“That was pretty much what I figured.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

She lifted her hand in a last goodbye and walked to the elevator. She waited until the doors closed before sagging against the wall and pressing her face into her hands.

She was going to try for a baby.

In four weeks’ time.

With Ethan Stone.

It felt surreal and scary and wonderful and strange all at the same time. She pressed a hand to her flat belly, trying to imagine what it might be like to feel a baby moving inside her.

It was too big a stretch, too far outside her experience. But maybe one day soon it wouldn’t be.