Her Motherhood Wish (Parent Portal 3)

Asking her if she’d ever gone skydiving.

She hadn’t. He had. Said that while it seemed scary at first, once you took the training, it was mostly just a matter of trusting the process. She’d never been up in a hot air balloon, either. He’d flown them for a time, to earn extra money. He’d never been on a commercial train. She had once, in Europe, an overnight trip from Paris to Barcelona. He’d never been in-line skating. She used to do twenty-mile skates to let off tension during law school.

As soon as she answered one question, he came back with another. She knew what he was doing. Distracting her from the fear that she wouldn’t admit to. How he just seemed to know how to help, she couldn’t explain, but didn’t question, either.

Cassie was smart enough to accept kindness where it was offered.

For the sake of her baby.

Maybe she’d ask Wood to be the baby’s godfather. Down the road. If things went well. It was something to think about, anyway.

Or maybe everything would be fine and they’d go their separate ways and these days out of time would fade into distant memory, transporting them back to strangers who passed on the street without saying hello.

The thought made her sad. And she didn’t think that these excruciating hours that seemed to crawl at the pace of years would ever become distant memory to her. No matter what happened, she was never going to forget. Or take life for granted again, either.

She was up before dawn on Wednesday morning. She’d taken the day off work, after all. The doctor’s office had told her she might have some cramping. She’d also been told she could resume normal activity immediately following the procedure, but she couldn’t be sure she’d have the proper focus her clients deserved that day. Thought maybe she’d spend the afternoon lying on the beach. At the moment, the thought of the sun’s warmth brought comfort.

By six thirty she was pacing. Wanting to call her mother. But refrained when she imagined the worry she’d hear in her voice. She had to get through the procedure first. To be able to tell everyone that everything went fine, the placenta wasn’t damaged in any way. And they had a healthy...boy or girl?

Her friends had asked her at brunch on Sunday what she was hoping for: a son or a daughter. She’d told them all she wanted was a healthy baby. There must have been something in her voice

as she’d answered, because no one pushed her after that.

No one had asked questions, either, which had been a blessing.

She buzzed Wood in at the gate when he typed in her code and was waiting outside by the time his truck pulled up, a bag of homemade cookies in her hand. In black jeans and a polo shirt, he jumped out, opening her door for her—a completely unnecessary but compassionate gesture—and closed it behind her once she was inside.

She watched him as he walked, not meaning to notice that he was the hottest guy she’d ever known, but aware anyway. The square of his shoulders, their breadth, the bulge of muscle in his arms, the way his chest tapered to that completely flat midsection... She couldn’t see any lower than that, and as her gaze moved back up toward that thick and curly blond hair, and the strength in his features, she caught him looking back at her.

Checking up on her, she was sure. And she flushed with shame as she realized she’d been lusting over a man who was only there because her baby might need his help.

She’d been feeling that way because at the moment, she’d do about anything to keep her mind off what was coming. She wouldn’t know anything right away, of course. She was aware of that. But just to know that the amniocentesis was done, that the baby was unharmed by the test, would be a relief.

While she sat, mostly frozen, beside him, Wood talked about the weather during the ten-minute drive to the doctor’s office complex across from the hospital. Innocuous conversation that required nothing of her, and yet provided a tiny bit of distraction at the same time. Kept her somewhat grounded in the world around her, and not completely consumed by the one inside her.

Checking in and filling out the requisite paperwork didn’t take nearly as long as she’d expected, leaving too much time to sit and wait for her name to be called in a room that was mostly deserted, since she’d taken the first appointment of the day.

But before panic set in, Wood started talking about boys and girls, baseball bats and hair ribbons, building scenarios with each—not necessarily gender-related ones, either. At one point her daughter grew up to be the youngest baseball player to beat Babe Ruth’s home run record.

And then he started talking about names. Not really asking her if she’d decided on any, just throwing them out there. Partnering them with her last name. He didn’t ask for any responses, but engaged with any comments she made. Mostly, she could just sit and breathe, finding her calm spot, and focus on his voice, if not his words.

The procedure itself wasn’t as much of a big deal as she’d expected—maybe because her expectations had had such critical results attached to them. The test could show something horrible, so the procedure had taken on that menace in her mind. It wasn’t completely pain-free, but the discomfort was minimal and things went quickly, perfectly; soon, she was back out with Wood, postprocedure information in mind, ready to go.

“You want to get something to eat?” Wood’s unexpected invitation tempted her.

Now that the test was done, she was feeling kind of hungry. And kept replaying the expressions on the doctor’s face, too, as the procedure was performed, as though the obstetrician could somehow read test results when Cassie knew darn well that the fluid had to be allowed to grow things in a lab before anyone would know anything. Being alone, lying on the beach, or on the couch, sounded about as appealing as standing in a blizzard in shorts.

“Don’t you have to get to work?”

“I told them not to expect me until after lunch.”

She didn’t feel much like eating anymore. Or driving, either. What if she cramped? Or started to bleed? But there was someplace she really wanted to go. With her natural inclination pushing her to politely decline—accepting help on a personal level didn’t come easily—she hesitated. He was there. He knew her current hell. He was the only one in her world who understood.

And it wasn’t right to take advantage of his kindness. Or make it more than it was. Neither did she want him hanging out at her house, watching her. He’d said he was off until lunch.

“I’m not hungry, but would you mind if we made one stop on the way home?”

“I don’t mind. Where do you want to go?”