My Babies and Me
Page 12
Michael fell down to the couch beside her, feeling a little drunk, though he’d only had the one shot. “Thank God.”
Only him. In her entire life. He started to grin.
She grazed his face with one slim hand. “Would it really have mattered so much if there was someone in Cincinnati?” Her words were soft, easy, but the light in her eyes was soul-deep.
“It would.” In seven years’ time, they’d never discussed fidelity. Or infidelity, either.
“I’m glad.”
Pulling her into his arms, Michael held her, wondering if they’d just made some kind of crazy commitment in this relationship that wasn’t. And hoping, irrationally, that they had.
Slowly, though, as he sat listening to her breathing in the quiet of the night, Michael’s mind started to clear. He still had his good news to share. But first...
“Why did you say you were going to have a baby if you aren’t?” he asked, frowning in the near darkness.
“Who says I’m not?” She turned to look at him.
“You just did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Susan...” His tension was building again. “You just said—”
“That I’m not pr
egnant,” she finished for him. “But I’m going to be.”
“When?”
“Soon, I hope.”
Aghast, he stared at her. “Why?”
“Because I want to be.”
“But...” He was adrift. Lost. He stared at a scrap of paper he’d been doodling on earlier and left on the coffee table. “...then you’d have a child.”
“I know.” It was the quiet conviction in Susan’s words that got to him. And scared the hell out of him. Who was this woman? Susan didn’t want children.
Did she?
“Will you give me a baby, Michael?”
Michael jumped up again. “No!” He hadn’t meant the word to be so loud—so harsh. “You’re kidding, right?” It was late; she’d been working long hours. That must be it.
As soon as she started to shake her head, Michael looked away.
“Please try to understand, Michael.”
Looking back at her, he nodded. He wanted to understand.
“Having a baby is something I’ve always planned to do.”
“Since when?”
“Since before you and I were married.”
“And you don’t think I should have known about this?”