The Millionaire Affair(38)

"Anxiety?"

She choked out a laugh. "You could say that. You could also say pregnancy."

Grace froze, both mugs in her hands, eyes wide for a few seconds. Then  her made-up face melted into a mask of happiness, her eyes brimming with  tears, her voice a high squeak when she spoke. "I get a grandbaby?"

Abandoning the mugs on the kitchen table, she hugged Kimber hard enough  to crush ribs. Well. She'd taken that much better than Kimber had  expected.

"Sit, sit." Grace shoved the coffee in front of her. "It's half-caff.  And anyway, doctors say you can safely have a cup a day. Don't fret."

Kimber warmed her palms on the mug. Her mother's house was a chilly, air-conditioned tomb. Menopause.

"Who is he?"

Just a guy I worked down a list of sex acts with.

"Um …  well …  funny story. Remember Angel Downey? My best friend from high  school? I spent a summer at her house the year you and Dad divorced."

Her mother's mouth tightened. Amazing how the mention of the divorce  hurt her after all these years. More reason to make sure Kimber married  only once. "Of course. Lovely family."

"I'm glad you said that." Kimber gave her a sheepish smile. "It's her older brother, Landon."

"The one who's engaged to a supermodel?"

"Was," Kimber corrected. "They weren't really …  engaged. They had an  arrangement of sorts." Ugh. Did that sound horrible? "Anyway, I babysat  for his nephew recently and we …  well …  we hit it off."

"I'll say," her mother quipped, sipping her coffee. "Congratulations.  You'll be a remarkable mother. Especially since you'll insist on keeping  your identity, your job, your independence." Grace speared her with a  look, her brows angling.

Kimber gave her mom a tight smile. It was a speech she'd heard before.  How Grace had given up her dreams, goals, and life to be a mother. As  much as Kimber loved and appreciated her, there was always a part of her  that felt responsible for her mother missing out on the part of her  life Kimber had essentially taken.

Grace's voice went hard, her eyes focused on the table as she lifted her mug. "Whatever you do, Kimber, do not marry this man."

"His name is Landon," Kimber said, frustrated her mother had called him  this man instead of by his name. "We're not really at the marriage  stage … " Which made her sound like a bit of a trollop, but it was the  truth.

"Good." Her mother's no-nonsense tone had replaced the gushy  grandmotherly one. "You don't want to lash yourself to him forever  because you made a baby together."

Like I did, her tone implied.

"I see no reason why two parents can't raise a child apart," she  continued. "You will need breaks. And if the father is sidebar,  available to babysit, you'll have more time to date."         

     



 

Kimber winced. That painted a …  not fairy-tale-like picture. But she  supposed fairy tales didn't start and end with lists. Arrangements.

Last night wasn't an arrangement.

Didn't she know it. Landon had made the sweetest, softest love to her,  watching her closely, the most frightening clarity in his eyes. He'd  been gentle and perfect and …  loving. So loving. Or had she been  projecting her love onto him?

Maybe it's not love. Maybe it's the idea of love. The romanticism of carrying his child.

"I don't want to date anyone, Mom," she grumbled through her confusion.  Unless I date Landon. So much for keeping emotional distance. Already,  her thoughts were a jumbled, unsorted mass, like the unorganized boxes  in her storeroom. She closed her eyes. Maybe there were more to these  pregnancy hormones than she'd first thought.

"I want you to understand why it's important that you don't tie yourself  to him." Her mother, the jaded wonder, said. "Marriages like these  start out with the best of intentions. You do it for the baby. You think  you're in love. You try and hold things together …  then one day …  you  can't stand looking at the man you vowed to stay with forever. Forever  is a very long time."

Her mother's eyes were focused on a spot across the room, fuzzy with a  memory Kimber was pretty sure she didn't want to hear about. Grace  refocused on her daughter, a diamond-hard glint in her dark eyes. "Don't  waste your best years, sweetheart. You have an amazing career. You can  have everything."

Was her mother really that unhappy with how her life had turned out?  Yes, Kimber decided. Under her highly polished veneer, Grace was bitter  and sad, and angry. And still in love with Dad. Kimber could only hope  the subject of his new wife didn't come up. She didn't know if she could  take a "Jill the Pill" rant today.

Is this what would become of Kimber if she gave into the feelings of  love filling her chest right now? If she made the mistake of believing  she and Landon were "forever" material? Would she be here, in her  mother's position thirty-two years later, casting shadows of doubt over  her own daughter's future?

God. She hoped not.

"You will keep your business, right?" her mother asked worriedly.

"Yes, of course." In every imagined scenario of her future Kimber hadn't  dreamed of giving up Hobo Chic. The store was her lifeblood. Her mother  knew about Mick, knew they'd dated and split, but she didn't tell her  how Mick owned half of Hobo Chic. Heaven forbid Grace find out her only  daughter had attached herself to a man who was now partly responsible  for keeping her business afloat. She would totally freak.

"You don't have anything to worry about, Mom. I'm going to raise my  child, and Landon is …  very well-off. Child support will not be an  issue," she added for her mother's benefit.

"They say that in the beginning, but you know your father complained about the two years he had to pay yours."

TMI. But this wasn't her argument. She rested her hand over her  mother's. "Let's focus on now. What's the first thing I need to do to  prepare for this baby?"

The next afternoon, Kimber kissed and hugged her mother after loading up  her car with purchases from the local Babies ‘R' Us. Grace had gone a  little shopping-happy, but as she was a future grandmother, Kimber  figured that was her prerogative. Plus, unless Kimber dipped into the  money she had squirreled away to buy Mick out of Hobo Chic, she really  couldn't afford expensive items like strollers and breast pumps. Grace's  doting, in this case, was much appreciated. Planning very, very far  into the future, but appreciated all the same.

"You won't miscarry," her mother had told her as she climbed in the car. "Unplanned pregnancies never miscarry."

She'd tried not to take her mother's remark too personally.

Since hauling her purchases up the steep stairs to her apartment was not  advised, Kimber had no choice but to ask for help when she returned  home. She thought about calling Landon. He'd called yesterday but she  ignored it, unsure what she'd say if she answered, or if she wanted him  to know she'd driven to Ohio by herself.

For some reason, she was afraid if he knew she'd left town without  telling him, he might feel hurt. Or worse, offer to show up. Then ask  her to go to his father's house and share the news with him, too. The  idea of telling his family scared her. Probably because she felt as if  she and Landon were in a waiting period. Only, waiting for what, she had  no idea.         

     



 

Inside Hobo Chic, Neil was busy with customers and Mick was in the  storeroom. She debated for a moment before approaching him. Did she  really want Mick to know so soon?

He's going to find out eventually. Like when you're the size of a parade float.

With no way to argue her own logic, she cleared her throat to get Mick's  attention. He'd pulled back the front of his hair with a clip so it  wouldn't fall into his face when he bent over. The urge to resurrect an  old argument-he always procrastinated getting his hair cut-sat unspoken  in her throat. This is not why you're here.

"Can you do me a favor?" she asked with a smile.

He skimmed her body with eager eyes and waggled his eyebrows. His lips  lifted into an almost charming curve, making her remember his rakish  appeal the night they'd met. Too bad they got along as well as a pair of  cats in a potato sack.

"I am at your service, Red."

"You are a pain in the butt," she told him, an errant smirk on her face.  "But Neil's busy. Come on." She led him outside to the alley and popped  the trunk. The stroller was in there, price tag still hanging, along  with several bags.

His eyes flitted over the store name on the bags, leaving no doubt as to  what she was stockpiling for, then back to the stroller, then to  Kimber. "Say it ain't so."

She sniffed. "Thanks a lot. Can you take the heavy stuff up?" She reached for one of the lighter bags.

He stopped her hand. "I'll take it all up. You rest."