Cowboy Baby Daddy

“Hey,” Eric said as he came into the daycare. He frown

ed at Emma, who was sulking on the couch watching something silly on TV. “Uh oh,” he said when she didn't immediately run over to greet him.

“She was fine,” I lied again, not sure why I felt compelled to hide her bad behavior from him. I didn't want him to think that I couldn't handle her, though, or that she would be better off back with Nana. “She's just in a sulk because I put the paints up on a high shelf.”

Eric smiled a little. “Did you have a chance to talk to your mom?” he asked tentatively. We hadn't talked about this all week, and I'd kind of been hoping that we could wait until Monday to do so.

I sighed and looked at the floor, kicking my foot across the tiles and doing my best not to cry. “Yeah, we talked,” I admitted.

It had taken me a couple of days to get the guts to do so, but I'd finally managed to pluck up the courage the night before. I'd been over at her house for a Thursday night tradition that we hadn't gotten to do in a while: movie night. I hadn't wanted to spoil it with a conversation about her health, but I had remembered Eric's words about there being no time to delay.

“Have you talked to Dr. Jones about treatment options yet?” I asked softly as the credits rolled on the movie.

Mom frowned and took another bite of her ice cream. “Not yet,” she said. “And I don't plan to.”

I frowned as well. “But Mom, he said things are getting serious. The longer we wait, the more the cancer is going to spread.”

Mom waved her hand and laughed. “The whole thing is nonsense,” she said.

I blinked, gaping at her. “Nonsense?” I asked. “I don't know, Eric—Dr. Jones, rather—seems like an intelligent guy. I don't think he would be this concerned if it were nonsense.”

“Doctors and drug companies just like to keep the wheels of commerce rolling,” Mom said. She laughed again. “I suppose they have to, with the number of student loans they rack up!”

“Surely you don't think he's just trying to scam you,” I said.

Mom shrugged. “All I know is that my mother, drank, smoked, and ate bacon every morning for breakfast, for her whole life, and she still lived a good, long life. A happy life, too. Now, I know what happens when you start chemotherapy and your quality of living drops. You don't want to put your poor mother through that, do you? Especially when there's nothing wrong with me in the first place.”

“Nothing wrong with you?” I asked skeptically.

“I feel fine,” Mom insisted. “Don't you worry about me.”

The thing was, I was more comfortable living in that same state of denial, so I hadn't pressed her harder. But I'd felt guilty about it for the whole day. Now, with Eric asking about it, I felt even worse.

“I talked to her,” I admitted. “But the talk didn't go well.” I paused and glanced up at him. “I'd like more information if that's okay.”

“Of course,” Eric said. “I try to stay out of the office for the weekend so that I can spend more time with Emma and her Nana, but maybe you and I could talk over dinner tonight.”

“I'd appreciate that,” I said. The more information I had about what was wrong with Mom, the more I'd be able to combat her insistence that there was nothing wrong with her and that Eric was just trying to squeeze money out of her. Whether it was right or wrong legally, the truth was, I was worried about her. We all were.

Eric didn't really seem like the kind of guy to want to squeeze money out of his patients, though. If his true aim was to make money at this job, I had a feeling he'd be living in Chicago or some other city.

“I'll pick you up at 7,” Eric told me. “I have the perfect place in mind.”

That night, as I was getting ready, I found myself paying close attention to my appearance. I put on a nice green, spring dress that I knew made my hazel eyes shine, and I pulled my hair back into a neat plait. I blushed, feeling excited and nervous as I realized I was treating this like a date.

But that was ridiculous. Eric might be smart and handsome, and I might enjoy his sense of humor. He was my mother's doctor, though, and I doubted he was interested in me in that way. This wasn't a date; we were just having dinner so that we could talk about my mother's cancer and the different treatment options that were available.

Probably, I just wanted this to be a date because I wanted to continue ignoring the severity of Mom's condition.

That's not true, and you know it, my inner voice chided. I blushed again, putting on mascara even though I normally didn't bother with makeup.

A horn sounded out front, and I hurriedly headed downstairs and out to Eric's car.

“You look especially beautiful tonight,” Eric said, and I felt a warm flush go through my body as his eyes skimmed my curves. He looked embarrassed at having said it, though, and focused his eyes back on the road. He cleared his throat. “I thought we'd drive over to Kingsfield,” he told me. “I don't know how familiar you are with the only restaurant in Tamlin, Ernie's Diner, but the owner, Ernie, is the town's biggest gossip.”

I grinned. “Kingsfield sounds like a plan. Wouldn't want him getting the wrong impression.”

“Great,” Eric said. “It's about 20 minutes to get there, but I know a great Italian restaurant that I'm sure you'll love.”