All I Want. Nicole Helm

be right.

      She blinked at the tears, hoping to have them under control before Charlie arrived. She was going to have to come to terms with the fact that tears would be part of the next eight months. That was okay, but for the next however long Charlie wanted to talk, she needed to be in control.

      She didn’t know Charlie. The kind of man he was. If he’d want a piece of this responsibility. She thought it might be easier if he didn’t, but that was easier for her and she understood that some of the choices she was going to have to make in the next few months were about her child—not her.

      She had a responsibility to protect both of them. It had to be the mantra she held on to while she navigated some really tricky and unknown waters. She wouldn’t let that spiral her back to where she’d come from, and she wouldn’t let a few mistakes break her down.

      She had to be calm, rational and above all...a mother.

      A mother.

      Better than my own. I will be better than my own. She would love this child no matter what he or she looked like, or acted like, or wanted out of life. She would always love them so much more than she cared about her reputation or image. Always.

      If that was the thing that kept her going, so be it.

      She glanced at her watch, trying to calm her nerves and her worries with the prospect of the business at hand. It didn’t surprise her that just as the second hand hit the twelve to make it one thirty exactly, Charlie walked through the front door.

      He seemed like that kind of man. Prompt and responsible and dutiful. At least in business. Her father’s ethics and morals had lacked plenty, but he’d never been late to a meeting. Never shirked a business responsibility.

      She hoped against hope that Charlie was a better man than her father.

      He gave her a slight nod and walked to the booth, all seriousness.

      He was handsome. The nice jeans, the preppy fashionable sneakers, the T-shirt he’d probably bought from some high-end department store—none of it detracted from the way his face was put together. Strong jaw, sharp nose.

      He didn’t ooze charm like his brother had at the market, but there was something attractive about his self-assurance. The way he moved like he knew exactly where he belonged.

      It disappeared the moment he sat down, and she found that endearing too. Because God knew she was working with a big old question mark. The least he could do was feel the same.

      “Hi,” she offered.

      “Hi. Are you eating?”

      She glanced at the counter, where Mallory was chatting with some customers. “Maybe.”

      He gave a slight nod.

      And then there was nothing but silence.

      Meg waited, searching her mind for some way of bringing up the pregnancy in a way that would be fruitful instead of “what the hell are we doing?” and “how did this happen?” Because her brain had done enough of that, and she was ready for the part where they moved forward.

      “It’s a lot to take in. If you need more time—”

      “What are your plans?” he asked, and she might have gotten offended by the demand in his voice if he hadn’t winced after he said it.

      “My plans?” she repeated, because even with the wince she wasn’t quite sure what he was after.

      “I mean, insofar as you’ve had more time to think about this than I have, what is your current plan of action?”

      Plan of action. She wanted to be calm. She wished she were the type of woman who could hide the look of disgust that passed over her face, but it was a part of the reason she’d never fit in her parents’ world. She didn’t have a poker face. She didn’t have a coat of armor to put on over herself when the vultures were circling. Everything she was or thought was there, and she didn’t know how to hide it.

      “So you haven’t thought that far ahead,” he said gently.

      A gentleness that made her stomach turn. It reminded her of the teacher in school who assumed she was dumb. You just don’t understand. That’s all right.

      No, she understood. She understood this better than him. She had a plan of action, but it was her own and her own way, and hell if she’d let a stranger wreak havoc on the sliver of confidence she’d built for herself.

      “The plan of action, Charlie, is to spend the next eight months growing a life inside me. And then push it out my vag—”

      He held up a hand, the expression that passed over his face so very much like her father she really thought she might puke.

      “That’s not quite what I meant,” he continued in that frustratingly even tone. “I meant—”

      “I know what you meant, and what I mean is that this is the plan. To have this baby. That is my action plan. That is the only plan of action. This isn’t some kind of business merger we’re going to bang out the details to in a few calm and prepared meetings.”

      Charlie didn’t say anything to that. He sat opposite her in the booth, his expression blank and a little hard.

      She didn’t know him. She didn’t know him at all. She’d created a child with him, but she didn’t know him, and that hurt.