What kind of fool would choose someone he didn’t like, trust a woman he didn’t admire, to keep his baby safe?
“I met him once,” Christine was saying. “At a fundraiser, actually. A dinner put on by the Wentworth Corporation.”
Lionel Wentworth, a local financier, was a friend and golfing buddy of Tom’s. Jamie had seen him once or twice, in passing, at the club.
“You know the Wentworths?”
“Not really. I know Margot Simmons, an employee of theirs. She’s in charge of their charitable donations. I sought her out several years ago, asking for a donation, and she’s graciously included us on her recipient list every year since.”
A thread tying them all together.
Relaxing back in the seat of his dark blue SUV, he watched a couple get out of their luxury sedan and head into the restaurant. He was no longer part of a couple. But he was going to need a car seat.
“I’m house hunting this afternoon, but I’d be happy to drop a wrap off to you,” he said. More eager than ever to see her. A decent guy felt gratitude toward those helping him.
“I’d eat it, if you did,” she said.
Not quite a request—Christine was far too independent for that—but Jamie was already out of his vehicle, phone still to his ear, heading in to place their order. He’d eat his on the way—saved him from sitting alone in the restaurant, noticing all the couples enjoying their Saturday relaxation time together.
He wasn’t ready for that yet.
He’d get there at some point... With another woman.
“You like pickles?”
“And onions and tomatoes.”
As did he. Easy order.
“I’ll be there shortly...”
He rang off, happier than he’d been in a long time. He was on his way to being a father.
Alive. With a future stretching
before him.
He’d definitely made the right decision.
* * *
On Sunday Christine watched her phone. Carried it with her from room to room as she dusted the rooms she’d missed for two days. She took it easy. Did light dusting where necessary, using a wand instead of climbing up to get the scrolls at the top of the grandfather clock in the dining room.
When she found herself carrying her phone with her to the bathroom, she had to acknowledge that she was waiting for Jamie to call. The wrap he’d dropped off the day before had been enough for two meals. She’d thoroughly enjoyed it. Took a moment to wonder what he might offer to bring over for dinner.
And realized that she was enjoying being spoiled a little bit.
Not good.
Yes, she had to give him access to the intimacies involved in her process of giving birth. Not physical intimacies, of course, but the information involving them. And physical access...
She could even enjoy the process, like she enjoyed her work in general. And certain aspects of it more.
But there had to be a balance. Clear boundaries.
Allowing him to tend to her some was fine. Looking forward to that attentiveness crossed boundaries.
Which was why, when he called a little after noon, and her lower belly jumped with approval just at the sight of his name on her screen, she accepted his offer to bring over a healthy portion of a mixed green salad with mangoes and grilled chicken, but didn’t invite him in to eat with her.