* * *
Three pregnancy tests could not be wrong. Unfortunately.
It had taken a week of Poppy's nagging for Brodie to find her courage to do a pregnancy test and now she desperately wished she hadn't.
Brodie stared at the three sticks lined up on the edge of her bathroom counter and hoped her Jedi mind trick would turn the positive signs to negative. After five minutes her brain felt like it was about to explode so she sat down on the toilet seat and placed her head in her hands.
She was pregnant. Tears ran down her face as she admitted that Poppy had called it-the girl who had the sex life of a nun was pregnant because Kade Webb carried around a faulty condom.
Jerk. Dipstick. Moron.
Brodie bit her lip. What was the moron/jerk/dipstick doing tonight? It was Saturday. He might be on a date with one of her suggestions for his first date. Which one? The redhead with the engineering degree? The blonde teacher? The Brazilian doctor? Brodie pulled her hair. If she thought about Kade dating, she'd go crazy.
Maybe, instead of feeling jealous of those women, it would be sensible to consider the much bigger problem growing inside her. The exploding bundle of cells that would, in a couple of weeks, become a fetus and then a little human, a perfect mixture of Kade and her.
She wasn't ready to be a mommy. Hell, she wasn't ready-possibly wouldn't ever be ready-for a relationship. And motherhood was the biggest relationship of them all. It never ended. Until death...
Brodie felt the room spin and knew she was close to panicking. She couldn't be responsible for another life. She couldn't even emotionally connect to anyone else. How would she raise a well-balanced, well-adjusted kid with all her trust and loss and abandonment issues?
How could she raise a kid at all? She couldn't do this. She didn't have to do this. It was the twenty-first century and if she wanted, she could un-pregnant herself. Her life could go back to what it was before... She could be back in control. She wouldn't have to confront Kade. She wouldn't have to change her life. By tomorrow, or the day after, she'd be back to normal.
Brodie stood up and looked at her pale face in the mirror. Back to normal. She wanted normal... Didn't she? She wanted smooth, unemotional, uncluttered. She wasn't the type who wanted to sail her ship through stormy seas. She'd experienced the tempests and vagaries and sheer brutality of life and she didn't want to be on another rocking boat.
Right. Sorted. She had a plan. So why wasn't she feeling at peace with the decision? Why did she feel at odds with herself and the universe?
"You can't hide in there forever." Poppy's voice drifted under the door. Brodie reached over and flipped the lock. Within ten seconds Poppy's keen eyes saw the tests and the results. Poppy, being Poppy, just raised her eyebrows. "What are you going to do?"
Brodie lifted her shoulders and let them hover somewhere around her ears. It would help to talk this through with someone and since Poppy was here Brodie figured she was a good candidate. "I'm thinking about-" she couldn't articulate the process,"-becoming un-pregnant."
If she couldn't say it, how was she going to do it?
Poppy, unmarried by choice, didn't react to that statement. "That's one option," she stated, crossing her arms over her chest, her bright blue eyes shrewd.
"Raising a child by myself is not much of an option," Brodie snapped.
"Depends on your point of view," Poppy replied, her voice easy. "Your parents thought you were the best thing to hit this planet and they had you in far more difficult circumstances than you are in now."
Brodie frowned. "I'll be a single mother, Poppy. My parents were together."
"They were married, yes, but your father was in the army, stationed overseas. Your mom was alone for six, eight months at a time and she coped. Money was tight for them." Poppy looked at Brodie's designer jeans and pointed to her expensive toiletries. "Money is not an object for you. You are your own boss and you can juggle your time. You could take your child to work or you could start working more from home. This is not the disaster you think it is."
Brodie tried to find an argument to counter Poppy's, but she came up blank. Before she could speak, Poppy continued. "Your parents were practically broke and always apart and yet they never once regretted having you. They were so excited when you came along."
Brodie's mom had loved kids and had wanted a houseful but, because she'd had complications while she was pregnant with Brodie, she'd had to forgo that dream. "I can't wait until you have kids," she'd tell Brodie. "I hope you have lots and I'll help you look after them."
Except you are not here when I need you most. You won't be here to help and I'll have to do it...alone.
Poppy wouldn't give up her traveling to become a nanny. Besides, knowing Poppy, she'd probably leave the baby at the supermarket or something.
"What about the man who impregnated you?"
"You make me sound like a broodmare, Pops," Brodie complained, pushing her hand into her hair. She looked around and noticed they were having this life-changing discussion in her too-small bathroom. "And why are we talking in here?"
"Because I'm standing in the doorway and you can't run away when the topic gets heated."
"I don't run away!" Brodie protested. Though, in her heart, she knew she did.
Poppy rolled her eyes at the blatant lie. "So, about the father."
"What about him?" Brodie demanded.
"Are you going to tell him?"
Brodie groaned. "I don't know what the hell I am going to do, Poppy!"
Poppy crossed one ankle over the other and Brodie saw she'd acquired a new tattoo in Bali, this one on her wrist. "I think you should talk to him. The decision lies with you but he was there. He helped create the situation and he has a right to be part of the solution."
"He doesn't have to know, either way."
"Legally? No. Morally? You sure?" Poppy asked.
Brodie tipped her head up to look at the ceiling. "I was at the point of making a decision," Brodie complained. "Thank you for complicating the situation for me, Great-aunt."
"Someone needs to," Poppy muttered, looking exasperated. She pointed a long finger at Brodie's face. "Your problem is that since your parents and friends died, you always take the easy route, Brodie."
"I do not!"
"Pfft. Of course you do! Not having this baby is the easy way. Not telling the father is the easy way. Living in this house and burying yourself in your work-finding other people love but not yourself!-is taking the easy route. You need to be braver!"
"I survived a multicar pileup that wiped out my parents and best friends!" Brodie shouted.
"But it didn't kill you!" Poppy responded, her voice rising, too. "You are so damn scared to risk being hurt that you don't live! You satisfy your need for love by setting up other people. You keep busy to stop yourself from feeling lonely, and you don't do anything exciting or fun. Do you know how thrilled I am to find out that you've had a one-night stand? I think it's brilliant because someone finally jolted you out of your safety bubble. And, dammit, I hope you are brave enough to talk to the father, to have this kid, because I think it will be the making of you."
Through Brodie's shock and anger she saw Poppy blink back tears. Poppy was the strongest person she knew and not given to showing emotion. "I want you to be brave, Brodie. I want you to start living."
Brodie felt her anger fade. "I don't know how," she whispered. "I've forgotten."
Poppy walked toward her and pulled her to her slight frame. "You start by taking one step at a time, my darling. Go talk to the father..." Poppy pulled back to frown at Brodie. "Who is the father?"
"Kade Webb."
"My baby has taste." Poppy grinned. "Well, at the risk of sounding shallow, at the very least the baby will be one good-looking little human." Poppy grabbed Brodie's hand and pulled her from the bathroom. "Now come and tell me how you met and, crucially, how you ended up in bed."
Six
Date one of three and he was officially off the publicity wagon until he had to do this again next month.
Well, he would be done as soon as she left his apartment. He wouldn't offer her any more wine, Kade decided. He wasn't going to extend the date any longer than he absolutely had to. He'd wanted to have supper at a restaurant but Wren had insisted he cook Rachel dinner in his expansive loft apartment. Cooking her dinner would show the public his caring, domestic side.