Her Motherhood Wish (Parent Portal 3)

He and Elaina needed to move on—and out—from their complicated situation, even though it was platonic. He’d known for months. Had been prepared for a while, but having her absent so much in nonwork hours, maybe getting closer to that time when she was ready to end living arrangements that had grown comfortable, could explain his unease.

Yet it didn’t. Truth was, he preferred nights out alone to sitting at home with the love of his brother’s life shut away in her suite. Though he’d never been romantically in love with Elaina, it bugged the hell out of Wood that he had been unable to make her happy. And maybe bothered him some that until she was gone, he couldn’t have more than casual, no-strings-attached relationships with anyone else.

A group of women, early-to midthirties, professional looking, passed, sounding to him as though they were all talking at once. They seemed to all hear each other. He’d never understood that. In the next second, he wondered about the older couple, midsixties maybe, both in shorts and nice shirts, holding hands as they passed him. On their way to a late dinner? Or on vacation?

People surrounded him. One or two alone, like him, most in groups or couples. It was the way of life. He didn’t begrudge them. Or envy them, either. He just couldn’t find his peace that night.

It wasn’t until the third group of women passed, and he found himself studying them, that he admitted to himself he was looking for one woman in particular. One who wouldn’t have been at a club, drinking or dancing. But might be out to dinner. Or in one of the fancy bars where lawyers met important clien

ts to discuss business. He couldn’t just happen to run into her unless he was out and about.

What did it say about him, a thirty-six-year-old guy who’d spend his evening wandering aimlessly just to catch sight of a woman he couldn’t get off his mind? Probably that he was pathetic. He didn’t much care what anyone thought of him, though. Cassie might be with clients. Or friends. For all he knew, her parents drove down every Monday for a visit. But no matter whom she was with that particular Monday night, he sensed she must be feeling more alone than she’d probably ever been. Alone with her fear. Her worry. Her battle not to give in to either.

He wanted her to know that she truly wasn’t alone. That he had a stake in the outcome of the upcoming test. That he cared about that outcome. And not just because of his bone marrow.

What he really wanted to do was call her.

He didn’t want to scare her off again.

Up one side of Main and down the other, he wrestled with himself. Walked off some tension. Let the voices and bustling and sights around him distract him a bit. And still he wasn’t ready to head home.

Retro would be ready for bed. Wondering where he was. Lying beside his dog in the dark, or with the TV on, or sitting up reading didn’t appeal to him. His mind, in its current state, would linger places it shouldn’t be.

An hour and a half after he’d left the club, Wood stopped in at a small, more quaint than ritzy, place across the street from his truck. Sat on a stool at the bar, ordered a beer on draft and pulled out his phone.

Hey, he typed. Hit Send. Dropped the phone on the bar next to his glass. Sipped and tried to let go of this absurd pressure to connect with someone he barely knew.

She was alone and pregnant. The child was biologically half his. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. The baby wasn’t really his. At all. And yet...it was half him. His seed. His genes. It could look like him, maybe even dislike grape jelly as much as he did.

His nerves tensed when his phone vibrated against the wood of the bar top.

Hey.

Leaving his phone where it lay, he read her reply as it popped up on the screen.

Took another sip of beer. Watched the bartender mix a scotch sour. Heard a woman flirt with the two older guys at the end of the bar.

And, of course, he eventually, after a good two minutes, picked up his phone.

How you doing?

The phone had barely left his hand before her response came back.

Okay.

Not “good.” Or “fine.” Just “okay.”

Two things came to mind. She had to be worried. And she was talking to him.

What did you have for dinner?

Innocuous. But keeping her company. If she wanted it. If not, she wouldn’t answer.

Taco salad. You?

Grilled chicken with camp potatoes

The kind you make in foil on the grill? she replied.