the job that had him tossing and turning in the hotel bed, or that made him finally give up and move to the window to stare blankly out at the midnight Chicago skyline. His thoughts were several hundred miles away. With Stevie McLane, to be precise.
Even when he’d been immersed in discussions about figures and trends and mathematical models, he’d been aware of thoughts of her hovering at the back of his mind, ready to push to the forefront as soon as he was alone. It was rare that he allowed himself to be distracted from work, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Stevie since she’d confided her pregnancy to him Friday night. He’d acknowledged privately that Stevie had been in his thoughts increasingly often during the past months, but even more so this week.
Something she’d said Saturday kept replaying in his mind. I’ve always thought if I ever had a kid, I’d give him or her the one thing missing from my own otherwise happy childhood. A dad.
A brainstorm had occurred to him in the middle of that night, and he’d been pondering it ever since, giving it his usual thorough contemplation of all potential consequences. He still had nagging doubts about whether he was qualified to even make the offer, considering the poor example his own father had set, but he’d decided he should at least discuss the idea with Stevie.
He wasn’t sure which possible outcome unnerved him most. That she would turn him down...or that she would accept.
He turned away from the window and padded back over to the tousled bed. He always kept a few interesting nonfiction books on his tablet. Maybe if he read awhile, he’d lull himself to sleep. Reaching out to turn on the bedside lamp, he muttered a curse when he knocked his wallet off the nightstand. He reached down to scoop it up and it fell open in his hands. He started to close it when something made him pause. Very slowly, he reached into the back of the wallet and drew out a small photograph with worn edges.
He’d once commented to Natasha that she had the face of a Renaissance Madonna. She’d laughed and told him not to be silly, but that hadn’t changed the fact that she could have posed for one of those famous paintings. Framed by straight, dark hair, her oval face had been delicate, her skin a flawless olive. Her dark hazel eyes had been striking in their intensity and clarity, making him feel at times as though she could see right into him. Despite that serene exterior, she’d had a warrior spirit, refusing to accept the health issues that had eventually led to her death. She’d made plans for a long marriage, for a career, for a family. She’d clung to those dreams until the very end of her life.
He ran his fingertips slowly across the face in the photo. Natasha had been gone five years, leaving him a widower before he’d turned thirty. She wouldn’t have wanted him to spend the rest of his life alone. But still, he felt a niggle of remorse whenever he envisioned himself having all the things she had wanted so badly and would never have.
She would understand, he told himself, sliding the photo back into place. She’d have liked Stevie, though they had little in common other than kind hearts and innate optimism. Natasha would certainly understand his compulsion to offer assistance to a valued friend, someone in a difficult situation. She had once described him as a compulsive caregiver.
His growing attraction to Stevie during the past year had made him both uncomfortable and vaguely guilty, despite his assurances of what Tasha would have wanted for him. He’d thought it a futile fantasy, a sometimes-lonely bachelor’s natural infatuation for a desirable and fascinating woman. But now Stevie’s circumstances had taken a daunting turn. And he’d promised her she wouldn’t be alone.
Maybe he could give Stevie what he had failed to provide for Natasha no matter how hard he’d tried, he thought bleakly, tossing the wallet aside. Moving to stare out the window again, he wished he could erase the nagging apprehension that he didn’t have enough to offer.
* * *
After several business meetings Monday and another appointment with her obstetrician Tuesday, Stevie spent Wednesday evening relaxing with her friends Jenny Locke and Tess Miller for an ever-more-rare girls’ night out. In addition to their changing personal lives, all of them stayed busy with their successful careers. Jenny owned two fashion and accessories boutiques and planned to open another within the next year. Tess was the office manager for her fiancé’s thriving commercial construction company. Stevie’s kitchen design business was growing increasingly in demand due to recommendations from her satisfied customers. It was getting harder all the time to find a night when all three were free, but they made an effort to nurture the friendship that meant so much to all of them.
They enjoyed gathering occasionally at Jenny’s boutique, Complements, after business hours. With no other customers in the store, Stevie and Tess could try on new outfits, play with the latest bags and jewelry and supplement their wardrobes with the “friends and family discount” Jenny always extended to them. Tonight they huddled around a counter spread with magazines, photographs and fabric samples Tess had brought with her. Two computer tablets lay amongst the clutter, different bridal websites displayed on the screens.
“So, we all agree?” Tess asked. “We like these colors? Poppy red and pale yellow? And what about the bridesmaids’ dresses? Is there any particular style you both prefer?”
Stevie bit her lip as she did a quick mental calculation. Tess’s wedding was scheduled for mid-June. Stevie would be seven months pregnant and sporting a big belly by then. It was time to come clean with her friends. She didn’t know why it was so much harder to confide in them than it had been with Cole. She was sure Jenny and Tess were going to be supportive, though she wouldn’t be surprised if tears were shed, and not all of them hers. She drew a deep breath.
“Hello?” Tess studied both Stevie and Jenny with a quizzical expression. “Neither of you is answering me. Which style do you like for the bridesmaids’ dresses?”
Jenny spoke before Stevie had a chance to share her news. “Um, Tess? If it’s okay with you, I think we should choose a loose, nonfitted style.”
Something in Jenny’s tone made both Stevie and Tess look at her curiously. Her expression made Stevie’s breath catch, and she heard Tess give a little squeak.
“Jen?” Tess’s voice was breathless with anticipation.
A shaky smile spread across Jenny’s beautiful face. “I’m pregnant.”
The words Stevie had been prepared to say lodged in her throat.
Jenny looked at Tess when she added, “I’m only four weeks along, so I’m a little nervous about even mentioning it yet. But with the wedding preparations moving along, and the need to order dresses soon, I thought you should know now.”
Tess squealed and reached out to her friend. Though usually the most exuberantly demonstrative of the trio, Stevie paused a beat before throwing herself into the group hug. She hoped her hesitation, if noticed, would be attributed to happy surprise.
Jenny was already answering a barrage of questions from Tess. Yes, she felt fine other than some morning nausea; yes, Gavin was super excited; yes, they’d told their families and everyone was thrilled.
Swiping at her damp cheeks, Tess beamed and started gathering the wedding materials. “All of this can wait. Let’s go to the restaurant next door and we can talk about your news over dinner. I want to hear how your mom and grandmother reacted. I know Gavin’s big family must have gone crazy. Do you know when you’ll start decorating the nursery? I bet Stevie can help you with that, can’t you, Stevie?”
“Well, I’m more comfortable with kitchens, but I’m sure I can come up with a few suggestions for decorating a nursery.” Stevie smiled brightly as she set her own momentous news aside for now. Jenny glowed with happiness about her pregnancy, and Tess was still eager to discuss the simple, but certain-to-be-beautiful wedding she was trying to put together quickly. This seemed entirely the wrong time to mention that she was already three months pregnant herself.
She hid her inner turmoil for the remainder of the evening behind mile-a-minute chatter and animated laughter, giving her friends little opportunity to ask anything personal of her. They had an absolutely delightful