The Pregnancy Test (NY Girlfriends #1)(44)
Author: Erin McCarthy

"Hanging in there. Listen, you’ve got to sign the listing agreement, so why don’t you stop out at my house tomorrow, have dinner with us. The wife would love to see you. She always had a crush on you – something about those ugly blue eyes of yours."

Damien snorted as he stepped off on the tenth floor. "Sure, I can do that, though I highly doubt Melanie ever gave one thought to my eyes. But don’t go blabbing to your mom that I’m here until I’ve had a chance to call my mom. I don’t want her to find out secondhand."

"Can do. And Damien? It’s good to hear from you."

And Damien found that he actually felt the same way.

Mandy didn’t know what to think.

Damien had disappeared.

He had walked out of the hospital and hadn’t returned to the office. She had gotten a cryptic e-mail from him asking her to cancel all of his appointments for the remainder of the week, as well as their dinner plans, because he was taking care of some business out of town.

Damien never canceled appointments. And it was only Tuesday. Taking three days off in a row was just unheard of for him.

Mandy was worried sick.

"Are you even listening to me?" Ben asked, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. It’s the pregnancy, you know," she lied. "It makes me forgetful and easily distracted." There was one definite plus to being pregnant. She could blame everything on that fact.

Ben had called to explain that he’d been caught up in a meeting and hadn’t been able to get away for the ultrasound. Mandy crunched pretzels and decided she couldn’t care less where Ben had been.

"It apparently has also affected your manners. Are you chewing in my ear?"

"Yes. I’m hungry. This is my bedtime snack." Mandy set her feet on the coffee table and sank farther into the sofa cushions. It had been a sweltering day outside, and she was still sweating, even in the air-conditioning. She picked at her tank top.

"I’ll keep this brief, then. I just wanted to see how the test had gone."

"Everything’s fine. The technician said the baby looks great and I’m due October twenty-one." Mandy picked up the pictures she’d spent all evening leafing through. "I’ve got pictures of the scan. Do you want me to fax them to you?"

"All right." Ben didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic. "But fax them to my apartment, not the office."

"Okay." She popped another pretzel stick in her mouth. "I’ve been thinking out some names… What do you think of Cecilia for a girl?"

"That’s pretty. Cecilia Hurst is a nice enough name."

The pretzel felt inflated in her mouth. She hadn’t thought to give the baby Ben’s last name. "It’s a girl. The technician said she’s positive of it."

"Oh, well, then. It would have been nice to have another son, but we can’t order these things, can we?" Ben gave a little laugh.

Ha ha. Mandy didn’t feel the least bit like laughing. Not when she was thinking Rebecca Sharpton would have had a father who wouldn’t have cared one whit that she was a girl instead of a boy.

But Cecilia Hurst was going to have a father like Mandy had. Distracted. Loving, but always distant, always disappointed.

It wasn’t what she wanted for her daughter, but then we can’t order these things, can we?

And she wasn’t sure she would change things if she could. If she hadn’t been pregnant with Ben’s child, she never would have met Damien at all. They never would have made love, and she never would have realized that she loved him. Truly, deeply, loved him.

But if fate had played things out the way they were supposed to be, and Beckwith Tripp’s prediction for a long, sweet, enriched life had been correct, she didn’t see where she was supposed to go from here.

Her bun was baking, but her bloody heart was breaking.

Mandy stuffed another pretzel in her mouth.

Damien shifted the box in his hands and pressed the doorbell. His palms were sweating, and his heart was pounding. He wasn’t sure he could do this.

Even though it was only ten in the morning, the sun was beating down on him, and he felt a trickle of sweat run down the back of his T-shirt. He was giving it two more seconds; then he was getting the hell out of there.

The door swung open. Damn.

His father-in-law’s greeting died on his lips, and his jaw dropped. "Damien?" He called back over his shoulder. "Susan, you want to come on out here?"

"Hi, Fred. How are you?" The words stuck in his mouth, but Damien forced them out and willed himself not to shuffle on the sidewalk.

"Good, good." Fred stared at him, then shook his head. "Jesus, come on in. Look at me just leaving you standing there. But you gave me a start, kid. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of you in three years."

Fred opened the door and gestured for Damien to enter the hall. Damien’s hand shook as he stepped forward. Three years ago Jessica’s parents had stood by him, believed in his innocence, but he hadn’t been sure they would still feel the same way. With time to think, to stew, to miss their daughter, they could have changed their minds, but it didn’t appear that was the case.

"You look good," Damien told Fred, taking in his trim gray hair and fit physique. "Retirement must agree with you."

Fred looked back over his shoulder as he led Damien to the living room. "Truthfully, it’s boring as hell." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And Susan gets on my damn nerves. Never thought I’d feel that way, but I have to tell you, now that I’m home, she suddenly thinks I give a crap about the new curtains for the kitchen and the petunias for the yard, and the eighteenth pair of sandals she’s bought."

"What’s that, Fred?" Susan came into the room and stopped short. "Oh, my God." Her hand went over her heart. "Damien." She reached for him, kissed his cheek. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"I’m okay," he said, because it was the closest to the truth. He’d been better. He’d been worse. "You look as lovely as ever, Susan."

She waved her hand and snorted. "Oh, please. I look like a hag. Fred’s driving me crazy being home all the time and I have the dark circles under my eyes to prove it."

Fred looked astonished, and Damien found himself smiling. Susan was still a beautiful woman, just like Jessica had been. He set the box down on the end table next to the suede sofa.