Her Motherhood Wish (Parent Portal 3)

She always wore eyeliner so that people could see that she had eyes there above those cheekbones. And she always wore earrings, too, to detract from the angular jawbone just beneath them, and that morning she particularly liked the look of three crystal and onyx drops, placing one dangling decoration and two smaller studs in the three piercings going up each ear.

Her hair, which she regarded as her best feature, she left long and straight, its silky weight helping to distract from her shoulders. Deciding, with one last look in the mirror, that she’d done the best she could, she took the selfie and quickly texted it, feeling self-conscious. Which zapped some of her usual confidence.

And allowed worry to intrude. What if the amniocentesis showed something? What if there really was something wrong with her tiny little baby?

Hot and then cold, she felt like lying down. Canceling lunch.

After getting into the car, she regained her senses. Her looks didn’t matter. Him liking her didn’t matter—as long as she didn’t turn him off so badly he reneged on his promise to donate bone marrow to her baby should the need arise.

More importantly, unless the need arose, there was no need. She could worry all week, borrow trouble, and then the test could come out just fine and she’d have wasted a whole week of enjoying this very special time in her life. She’d have lost a week of happiness.

And while she wasn’t a raving beauty, she knew she was a likable person. Always had more invitations to do things than she had time to accept. Or wanted to accept.

Soon, she approached the diner’s spread-out parking lot. Avoiding the front spots because they were too hard to back out of with all of the cars coming and going, Cassie drove around back. After she put her car in Park, her gaze went immediately for the ocean off in the distance. The water helped her to keep her mind on the very real power that life had to sustain itself. On the fact that miracles happened every single day.

And then, pulling out her phone, she touched the text messaging app button, scrolled and touched again, bringing up Woodrow Alexander’s picture. And almost dropped the phone.

The man was...not what she’d expected. Not only was he true California gorgeous, with those vivid blue eyes and thick blond hair, but his features... They must belong to a standout movie-star hunk. Way out of her league—or the league of anyone she’d ever been lucky enough to attract. Certainly more handsome than any father her child might have come by naturally.

She felt the sudden need to cover up the feelings she couldn’t allow to bubble up. The fear that seemed to be so dangerously close to the surface. She was looking into the face of the man who had fathered her child. The man whose genes her baby carried.

And she was finding everything about him wonderful. Even the slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that seemed to speak of the things he’d seen. And the wisdom gained from them.

Those eyes... They surprised her the most. His gaze was straight on. Even from a selfie. And seemed to be filled with a command to see things for what they were.

Whatever the hell that meant.

She had to get out. Walk to the door of the restaurant. Face the fact that the only reason she was there, meeting Woodrow Alexander, was because her baby might be terminally ill. As though meeting the real-life man made the dark shadow horribly real. A true threat.

And then a funny thing happened. As she stared into those eyes gazing up at her from her phone, she felt as if he’d read her mind and was telling her that she was a strong, capable woman who’d get through whatever was to

come. One who knew better than to allow panic to take over what could be good moments in her life.

More likely, it was just her better self, saving her.

Dropping her phone into its proper slot in the big black designer shoulder bag she took everywhere, she deposited her keys into their own pocket and opened the door of her Jag, stood up and froze. Standing there, not two feet away, watching her—how long had he been standing there?—was the man in the photo. His gaze, sharp and yet filled with something that reminded her of her own strength, could have been staring out at her from her phone.

“Wood?” She tried a smile. Managed a tremulous half grin. Walked toward him, with her hand held out. It took her a minute to look off to the side of him, to see if he’d come alone. The spot was unoccupied, and she had no reason to be glad for that.

Other than that the meeting was hard enough without having to do it twofold. Compassion was all fine and good—until it was directed at her over something she was powerless to control. Because sometimes she was more her mother’s daughter than her father’s.

“Cassie.” He didn’t ask, as she had. Her name on his lips seemed mere confirmation. He didn’t smile, either. Didn’t even seem to try. Smart man. Why pretend?

Used to meeting the men in her life eye to eye, she had to crick her neck to look up at him, but she did so naturally, drawn by that expression in his gaze. As though it was familiar to her. And yet, it wasn’t. At all.

This man looked like no one in her life. Ever. The whole moment took on a surreal relevance that she was pretty sure was going to go down in the book of life memories she’d never forget.

In shorts, a polo shirt and tennis shoes, he could have been any number of beautiful California men. There was no particular confidence about him. No arrogance. Just an air of acceptance of what drew her to him in a way she couldn’t deny.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” she said as her hand briefly touched his and then let go. They turned toward the restaurant door.

“I’m the one who invited you,” he pointed out, and she did smile then.

And suddenly had her appetite back.

A good thing, since she was eating for two.

* * *