I glanced at the time. Wow. It was only seven o'clock. It felt like a lifetime had passed since we'd left for Brooklyn late this afternoon. "Um...yes."
"Are you hungry?"
"I am."
"Would you like to come here for dinner?"
"I would. I'll be there in about an hour, okay?"
"Very good." There was a pause. "Drive safely, sweetheart."
My grip loosened on the steering wheel. "I will," I said.
Sweetheart. He called me sweetheart. The endearment nestled in my heart, a warm little jewel on this complicated night.
An hour later, I pulled into the driveway. "I'm on the patio," he called, and I went down the slate path, past the tree where the girls had a swing, past the front door.
The sun had set, but remnants of orange and red held on. Jonathan had lit a fire in the copper fire pit and a bottle of wine rested in an ice bucket. Two lounge chairs sat side by side.
"It's lovely to see you," he said, kissing me, and my heart swelled.
"You, too." I rested my head against his shoulder. "How was your day?"
"Very good, thank you. Your replacement lacks your, ah, unique energy, but he's doing a competent job so far."
"Glad to hear it."
He poured me some wine. He'd changed into jeans (I was surprised he owned a pair, but he did, and he was rocking them) and a maroon crewneck sweater, and he looked very much like what he was-a son of the Hudson River Valley, established, sure of himself, confident, wealthy.
Happy.
Then he sat down next to me, glanced down at the ground and did a double take. I followed his gaze.
Oh. My purse was open, and there was the backup pregnancy kit. Kate had opted to believe the first two tests. He raised his eyes to mine and didn't so much as blink.
"About that," I began.
"Yes. Is there something you want to tell me?"
"It's not mine. The kit, I mean." I took a sip of wine.
"So you just carry around pregnancy tests?"
"I repeat," I said. "It's not mine."
He continued looking at me, the flickering light of the fire making it hard for me to read his expression. "I see." He sat back, tension radiating off him. I would've loved to tell him it was for Kate, but I hadn't asked if that would be okay.
The sky was now almost black with a thin deep red line on the horizon.
I sighed and took another sip of wine. The bugs chirred and sang, and a mosquito whined by my ear.
"If you were pregnant," Jonathan said, not quite looking at me, "for one, you shouldn't be drinking-"
"I'm not pregnant."
"-and for two...that would be... We'd figure it out."
"Jonathan. Listen to me. Read my lips. I am not pregnant, I'm on the Pill, as I'm sure I've told you ten or fifteen times."
"I know. I just... But if you were pregnant, it...it wouldn't be horrible."
I rolled my eyes. "That's very touching. Why don't you stop now? We don't need to have this conversation."
He dipped his head in exasperation. "What I mean is, I...I like children. I'm sure I'd like your children quite a lot." He paused. "Our children."
And there it was again, that stealth missile of sentiment that hit me right in the heart. Captain Flatline was trying to say something lovely.
"Well, I already like your children quite a lot," I said, my voice a little husky. "I bet our children would be very nice, too."
The almost-smile rose, changing his face from unreadable to frickin' adorable.
"Maybe in a year or two, we should have this conversation again," he said.
A year or two. He was thinking toward the future, and with me in it.
And that was fine with me. I didn't need more than that right now. No engagement ring, no plans, just maybe someday, and that was enough.
Then he reached over and took my hand, and we sat side by side as the red faded, and the dark blue sky felt like a blessing.
"I think you may be at 70 percent," I said, and he laughed and kissed my hand and then pulled me onto his chair and kissed me properly, long and deep and wet, his hands under my hem, unzipping my dress, until the mosquitoes drove us inside to bed.
Hooray for mosquitoes.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kate
Sitting in Daniel's living room, two pregnancy tests telling me that, yep, I was knocked up, it dawned on me that God had a helluva sense of humor.
How many times in our marriage had Nathan and I done it? Seriously, how many? I'd taken my temperature, counted days, pressed on my abdomen to see if I felt the pinch of ovulation. In ninety-six days, I'd bet we'd had sex at least a hundred times, even taking into consideration his trip to Seattle and the days my period was too gross. We'd been newlyweds. Not young newlyweds, but enthusiastic newlyweds just the same.
How many times had Daniel and I had sex? Twice in the same night. Both times with a condom. Trojan was going to get a very strongly worded letter, yessiree.
"I'm so sorry about this," I said for the twentieth time.
"It's fine. Eat your sandwich. I don't want you to faint."
There was, I supposed, a microscopic chance that I was pregnant with Nathan's baby, not Daniel's. No matter what those fourteen pregnancy tests and two periods had told me.
But logic and all the signs told me what I was sure science would confirm. I'd been so tired lately. Peeing more than was normal. The smell sensitivity.
Oh, boy.
Daniel sat down next to me. "What do you want to do?" he asked.
"I have no idea."
He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him. I sat there stiffly, my heart still thudding. My boobs hurt. Why hadn't I noticed this before? Should I be cuddling here on the couch? Then again, cuddling was a little bit like closing the barn door after the horse had bolted, wasn't it?
Daniel took a deep breath. "Look. I always wanted kids. I love kids. We've known each other a long time, you and me. I like you. This is not the worst thing in the world." He looked down at me. "We can get married if you want."
"Daniel, my husband died four months ago."
"Yeah, the timing isn't great." He paused. "Kate, do you want to have the baby?"
"I don't know. I mean, I don't think I could...terminate." I bit my lip. No, that was not something I could face. "I'll have to go to the doctor. And I'm forty. God knows, a million things could go wrong. Miscarriage. This might even be a blighted ovum or something. An ectopic pregnancy."
"Right."
"So maybe I should go to the doctor tomorrow and we'll talk again. Okay?"
"That sounds good. I'll come with you."
"No, no. Not this time."
He sighed again. "Okay. Whatever happens, though, I'm here. I'm with you. I know I'm not your type and I'm a big dumb firefighter, but I'm here. Now, you're staying over tonight. You can sleep in the bed, I'll take the couch, but I'm not driving you home tonight. If we're gonna be parents, we should spend more time together."
"Bossy, aren't you?" The words were automatic, my lips numb.
"I have four sisters. Of course I'm bossy. Oh, man, they're gonna go crazy about this."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"Right." He looked me up and down. "Since you're already pregnant, you wanna-"
"No, Daniel. Jesus."
He laughed and messed up my hair. Ah. A joke. Then he went into his room to put clean sheets on the bed.
* * *
The doctor in Tarrytown-recommended by Daniel, because his sister used the same one-confirmed everything.
The condoms in Nathan's night table drawer were two months past their expiration date. Yes, the doctor said with a wry chuckle, those dates did matter. Hahaha. She asked some embarrassing questions about what Daniel and I had done and when. If Daniel had, er, lingered a little, that could've done the trick.
I was pregnant.
Four weeks along, based on my blood work. The ultrasound showed a gestational sac; the baby was too small to be seen.
It was a high-risk pregnancy, given that I was forty. Certain tests would be recommended later on. Chances of miscarriage were higher. I had to take folic acid and prenatal vitamins and stop drinking coffee and alcohol. She told me the receptionist would schedule monthly visits for me.
I was pregnant.
I called Daniel with the confirmation. He offered to come over, but I told him I wanted to be alone. Called Ainsley, who was working at the Blessed Bean, and told her, too.
Then I went home, numb, and sat in the den (or study), watching Hector swim around his beautiful bowl, Ollie curled up on my lap, moaning with love from time to time.
What would the Coburns say? What would Brooke say? She'd hate me. They'd all hate me. I didn't blame them.
"Nathan?" I whispered. "Hey." I started to say the words, then stopped. Even his ghost didn't deserve to hear my news.
My breath began to shake, and my hands tingled so hard it hurt, and the familiar dread rose up like a cold tide.
But I couldn't have a panic attack. I couldn't. I was pregnant. What if hyperventilation was bad for the baby? Huh? What then?