My Babies and Me

And that rankled, too.

THE OFFER FROM Coppel Industries came through on Friday morning. Coppel stockholders wanted to make Michael a vice president of finance. If he accepted, he’d be on the road, traveling around the country, analyzing current holdings, but mostly seeking out new ones. Diversification was the key to success. And Coppel felt that Michael could pick winners.

He’d have an office, too, a posh one, at Coppel headquarters in Atlanta.

The offer exceeded his expectations; it was a culmination of everything he’d worked for his entire life. More than a dream come true, it was a mountain successfully scaled, a goal reached, years of endless toil rewarded. Of course, it also came with Coppel’s words of warning still ringing in Michael’s ear. No entanglements. No dependents.

Michael took the job.

“OKAY.”

“Okay?” Susan sat down. She’d been waiting for his call all week.

“I can’t pretend I’m happy about this.”

Sitting on the floor of her bedroom, wearing nothing but the slip and panty hose she’d been in the process of taking off, Susan couldn’t stop grinning. “I know.” She couldn’t believe it! He was really going to do it.

“You don’t have a child on a whim, Susan.”

“I don’t do anything on a whim, Michael.”

“Single-parenting is tough.”

Susan glanced at her watch. Seven o’clock on Friday night. She wondered if he was still at the office.

“I can handle it.”

“And you think it’s fair to the kid, bringing him into the world without a father?”

“I have five brothers, Michael, all of whom live within twenty miles of my home. I don’t think he—or she—will be lacking male attention.”

“This is nuts.”

“I don’t think so.” It felt right. To be having a baby. To be having Michael’s baby. Of course she’d prefer to be doing it the traditional way. To be sharing more than just the conception with Michael. But she’d be happy.

A baby!

“What about your job?”

“What about it?”

“You’re still planning to work?”

Susan frowned. “Of course.” And then, “Who do you think’s going to support this child?”

“And you honestly think you can work fourteen hours a day and still be a good parent?”

Her arms about her empty stomach, Susan leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “The only reason I still work fourteen-hour days is because I have nothing to come home for.” It was the first time she’d admitted the truth, even to herself. “I’m not climbing up anymore, Michael. I’m at the top.”

“There are always higher mountains to climb.”

“I like the one I’m on.” She used to, anyway. And she would again. In spite of Tricia Halliday.

“I can’t be a father, Susan.”

“I’m not asking you to be.”

Ice clinked in a glass and she heard him swallow. “Hell,” he swore softly. “I don’t even live in the same state.”