The Baby Arrangement Page 10

  “Actually, I have something to talk to you about. Maybe Sunday night?”

  He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “Sunday night? That works. You can bring your friends if you want.”

  She was quiet for a few long seconds. “No, I’d like to come alone. Can you join me if we do it later in the evening?”

  “I can do that. Is nine o’clock too late for you?” He couldn’t believe she was agreeing to come. Maybe she’d had time to remember their good times on the island—not counting the time they’d spent in bed—and was interested in continuing their new friendship. Or whatever it was that they had.

  “Nine is perfect. I’ll see you then.”

  She disconnected and he stared at his phone. How had that happened? He’d only wanted to check up on her, make sure she was doing okay.

  And now they had a date. A real date. Well, sort of. He wasn’t sure she considered it a date.

  Kind of backward since they’d already slept together, but he found that made looking forward to Sunday night even sweeter.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SUNDAY AFTERNOON, BREE was startled awake from her slumber by the ringing telephone. She’d never been one to sleep during the day, but this pregnancy had made it a necessary habit.

  She threw off the afghan she kept on the chair in the corner of her bedroom where she took her naps because she refused to climb into her perfectly made bed in the middle of the day. She stumbled to her cell phone, which was clear across the room on her antique oak armoire. Roxie’s name was on the caller ID. “Hi, Roxie.”

  “Hey, you’re not answering your texts,” Roxie said. “Are you okay?”

  “Sorry. I’m fine. Phone was on vibrate.” Bree inhaled deeply to wake herself up and also to not sound like she’d just wakened. Not that she’d committed a crime, but sleeping during the day was certainly out of character for her. “What’s up?”

  “I was reminding you that we’re getting together at my house to watch Love for a Lifetime. The new season starts tonight.” The four women had taken turns hosting weekly viewing parties for the reality television show since it began three years ago. They drank wine, ate snacks and made snarky comments about the contestants, who were looking for love, whether it cost them their pride or not.

  “I forgot the season premiere was tonight. I’m sorry, I’ve made other plans.”

  “Plans?” Roxie sounded suspicious. “What kind of plans?”

  Bree didn’t want to share that she was having dinner with Nick, no matter how innocent it was. She knew Roxie would blow it out of proportion. Before Bree could explain why she’d agreed to have dinner with Nick, Roxie would have the two of them married.

  “I’m having a late dinner with a friend.” That sounded innocent enough.

  “How late? The show starts at nine. Can’t you come after dinner?”

  “That’s when we planned to meet.”

  “Why so late?” Roxie asked. “I thought you’ve been going to bed early since you’re...you know.”

  “It’s called pregnancy, Rox. There’s no getting around it. I’m pregnant. I’ve accepted it and so should you.”

  Roxie didn’t say anything at first. “I’m trying to, Bree.” She paused. “It’s just that this situation isn’t that simple.”

  “Not true. For the next eight months, I’m pregnant, and I have to deal with the symptoms and limitations. After that, it’ll have a good home, I’ll go back to my regular life and this will all be in the past.” Her doctor had given her a provisional due date of mid-October even though Bree could pinpoint the exact day she’d gotten pregnant. So she figured that by Halloween, all would be back to normal.

  “This isn’t a business contract, Bree. You can’t treat it like it doesn’t affect you and the baby and Nick and everyone else around you.”

  Bree disagreed, but didn’t want to argue. “Like I said, this is the way it is for now.”

  Silence. Roxie finally asked, “So you’re definitely not coming to the watch party?”

  “I don’t see how I can. I’ll record the show and catch up with what happened. Then we can talk about it over lunch one day this week.”

  “Can’t you do dinner some other night? We’ll really miss you.” She paused. “And who did you say you were meeting for dinner?”

  Bree grinned. “Good one, Rox. You know I didn’t say.” She hesitated and then decided it didn’t matter if Roxie knew or not. As long as she didn’t read anything into it. “I’m meeting Nick at his restaurant. He’s sorry about the tiramisu incident and wants to make it up to me—”

  “Nick! You’re having dinner with Nick?”

  Bree should have known that Roxie would get excited at the prospect of the two of them getting together.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “He’s your baby daddy. What else can I think? Are you telling him about the pregnancy tonight?”

  “No.”

  “But it’s perfect timing.”

  “I only agreed to dinner because I have a business proposition for him.”

  Roxie was silent for several seconds. “So you’re eating that late because he’ll be working?”

  “Right. The restaurant closes at nine on Sundays, so we’ll have the place to ourselves as soon as the patrons clear out.”

  “How romantic!” Roxie was clearly out of control. This was not the levelheaded woman Bree was used to. Amazing what news of a baby could do to a person.

  “Romantic is the last thing I’d call it. I told you I need to discuss business with him.”

  “Whatever,” Roxie said on a sigh. “I guess I’ll talk to you at the office in the morning.”

  “Absolutely.”

  They disconnected and Bree walked across her bedroom to smooth out the quilt on her bed. Then she folded the afghan and placed it across the back of the chair where it belonged. She looked around her bedroom to see that everything was in its place before heading to the updated kitchen she used only for making coffee and reheating leftovers.

  Until this morning.

  After her extensive reading about pregnancy, she’d decided that eating out so much wasn’t healthy for her or the baby. So she was going to teach herself how to cook some nutritious meals.

  She opened the refrigerator to retrieve a yogurt, not ready to test her cooking skills twice in one day. At lunchtime, she’d burned her finger while attempting to scramble an egg, followed by burning the egg when the smell turned her stomach. All would have been fine if she’d turned off the burner before sprinting to the bathroom.

  She opened the yogurt and got a spoon from the drawer, hoping it would hold her until dinner. Just in case, she’d bought crackers to keep in her purse. Several of the pregnancy websites said eating them would help with the nausea that seemed to be never ending.

  Heaven knew she needed all the help she could get in that area.

  Especially if she was going to keep this pregnancy news a secret from Nick until she absolutely had to tell him.

  * * *

  SUNDAY DINNER SERVICE went smoothly at The Fresh Pantry, but you couldn’t tell that from the way Nick’s insides felt.

  Why was he this nervous about having Bree here for dinner? Maybe it was because he was so out of practice when it came to women. Dipping his toe into the dating puddle was one of the things on his to-do list. Right after getting his restaurant back into the black.

  He hadn’t been completely honest with Bree when he’d invited her to dinner. He had let her believe it was more of an apology than a date. Maybe he should think of it that way, too. After all, if he eventually needed her company’s financial help because his attempts to find new revenue weren’t panning out, then dating her might appear as though he were creating an inside track to her money.

  No matter how uno
rthodox the invitation had been, he needed to take small steps in that direction and avoid large leaps. Keeping it on a friend basis was probably the best plan for everyone.

  “Hey, Nick.” His mom popped her head into the kitchen while he was prepping for the meal he hoped Bree would enjoy.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  She’d been acting as hostess tonight, filling in for the part-time college student who normally worked weekends. His mom usually worked the lunch crowd Tuesdays through Saturday. Since his dad passed away almost two years ago, his mom had gone from part-time to full-time, probably feeling the need to keep busy.

  “I’m going to take off now,” she said, before stepping over to where he was chopping dill. “Trying out a new recipe?”

  Should he tell her the truth or let her think what she wanted?

  “I’ve got a friend coming for dinner after we close.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “A female friend, I hope?” Another sly comment to remind him how anxious she was for him to get married and give her grandchildren.

  Heat suffused Nick’s face. “Yes, a female friend.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “Actually, it’s Bree. The woman who passed out at the pop-up.”

  “And the one who didn’t like the tiramisu.” His mom nodded approvingly. “I take it she’s feeling better now?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Well, you enjoy yourself.” She came around to give him a kiss on his cheek. “You deserve it.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  After she left and there were only a few staff members finishing up, Nick made sure a table was set for two and that everything was perfect. He’d even paired a special wine for the main course.

  After the last customer had left around eight thirty, the front door had been locked, and now Nick went to unlock it for Bree. He stepped outside onto the sidewalk to see if she was close by and saw her immediately. She wore a black peacoat that was unbuttoned, and underneath she had on a long, high-necked sweater with a coordinating scarf and dark, skinny jeans with black knee-high boots.

  She looked perfect.

  “How long have you been out here waiting for me?” she asked as she approached. “You’re not dressed for the weather.” She gestured to his long-sleeved Henley that he’d changed into from his chef jacket.

  “I’m fine.” She had no idea how overheated he felt once he saw her heading his way.

  He held the door open for her and then locked it from the inside. He showed her to the table he had set for them. She removed her gloves and put them into her coat pockets before taking off her coat and hanging it on the back of her chair.

  “Would you like a drink to start?” he asked when she was seated. “I’ve got wine for the entrée course, unless you’d like some now?” He thought he saw her cringe slightly, but it must have been his imagination. “Or maybe a cocktail from the bar? I’m a pretty good mixologist, if I say so myself.”

  She smiled and tossed her luscious hair back over her shoulder, which made him smile in return. “I’ll just have some water right now, please,” she said.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  When he returned, he carried a tray with water for each of them, as well as a special amuse-bouche. “To start us off, I’ve made an ahi tuna tartare amuse-bouche. I hope you like it. We don’t serve amuse-bouches here at the restaurant, so this was a nice opportunity for me to do something different.” He placed a small, shallow bowl in front of her and she laid her linen napkin on her lap.

  She inspected the food carefully, making him feel self-conscious. “What exactly is in this?” She looked up at him, waiting for an answer.

  He grinned. “You haven’t even tasted it yet, and you’re already trying to figure out the recipe?”

  Her lips twitched. “No, no. It looks delicious. I’m just...um. I have some food allergies and I like to know ahead of time what I’m eating so I don’t have a reaction.”

  “I guess I should have asked about allergies, but I didn’t think of it.” Although with the way she’d been feeling every time he saw her eat, he knew he should have at least wondered about food sensitivity.

  He pointed to the different layers of the approximately one-inch cube that he was very proud of. “The bottom layer has a mixture of avocado and lemon juice. Next is the tuna tartare—”

  “Raw fish,” she said, her eyes widening. “And what’s on top and in that sauce?”

  “Crispy rice and shallots on top, but the sauce has soy if that’s a problem for you.” He took his seat across from her.

  “No, I’m good with soy.” Then she proceeded to pick apart the layers, nibbling little bits from her fork and pushing the tuna off to the side. She suddenly lifted her head and looked at him. “What?”

  He shook his head and couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “If you only knew how intricate that was to make.”

  “Sorry.” She had the decency to appear regretful that she hadn’t enjoyed the food the way he would have liked.

  “So I guess you don’t like sushi, since you’re not eating the tuna tartare.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I love sushi!” Before he could figure out why she loved sushi and not what was in front of her, she said, “Um...but only California rolls.”

  Her choice of the one kind of sushi that had no raw fish in it answered his unasked question. Now he only hoped she wouldn’t be as picky with the rest of the food he’d prepared.

  * * *

  BREE LOVED SUSHI! All sushi! In fact, it was her favorite carryout food from the Little Sushi Bar a block from her apartment. Watching what she ate during this pregnancy was going to be more difficult than she’d expected.

  She needed to be more careful when it came to what she was putting in her mouth and also the words coming out of it. The last thing she wanted to do was make Nick suspicious.

  “So the reason I accepted your dinner invitation—”

  Nick raised his hand. “Excuse me just a minute,” he said as he rose. “I need to check on the next course.”

  Bree nodded and took several long swallows of her water while she waited for him to return.

  As soon as he left the kitchen and headed her way, she knew she was in trouble. He was holding the bottle of wine he’d mentioned, as well as a basket of bread. What was she going to say? He’d seen her drink alcohol on the island, so she couldn’t say she didn’t like it or her religious beliefs didn’t allow her to drink it.

  He set down the bread on the table and showed her the wine label. “I chose this wine to go with our entrée.”

  Cabernet sauvignon. Her absolute favorite red wine. She even recognized the label as one she occasionally splurged on.

  “I’ve been letting it breathe back in the kitchen. Would you like me to pour you a glass?”

  She swallowed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.” She stumbled through her reasons. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. She’d already picked at his amuse-bouche that, under different circumstances, she would have devoured as it was meant to be devoured—all together in one bite.

  He seemed to be waiting for her to continue with an explanation.

  “I’m taking medication and it wouldn’t be good to mix it with alcohol.” There. That was a perfect reason.

  “So they put you on medication for the symptoms you’ve been having?”

  She hadn’t expected a follow-up interrogation. She could be snotty and say it was an antibiotic for a UTI, but that wasn’t her style. Even if they had already seen each other naked. “I took an antihistamine...for my allergies.”

  “Oh! I understand completely.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “But I’m surprised you’re having allergy problems this time of year. I know spring can be tough for some people, but I didn’t think winter was such a problem.”

/>   “Yes, well, I—” How could she get herself out of this one? She had zero allergies. What were some things people were allergic to all year round? She couldn’t think. “Cats,” she blurted. “I’m allergic to cats and I was visiting a friend with cats this afternoon. She has lots of cats. She’s a cat lady.” Shut up, Bree.

  “I see. Well, I’ll keep that in mind.” He’d taken a seat again and offered her a roll. “Unless you have a gluten allergy? Or dairy? We use real butter.”

  Bree smiled and put a roll on the small plate he’d provided. He was being extremely nice. She wished she could just come out and tell him the truth about the pregnancy, but she wasn’t ready to do that yet. He would just complicate things and she had enough going on with her company and now this pregnancy. “Thank you.” She buttered a small piece of the warm roll and took a bite. “This is delicious.” At least that was no lie.

  “They’re an old recipe of my grandmother’s,” he said. “Several of the recipes we use come from her.” He scowled. “Like the tiramisu the other night.”

  She could feel herself blush and she put her hands to her face. “I’m so sorry about that. I’m sure it was delicious. I’m just not a coffee person.” At least not since he’d gotten her pregnant. Before that, she couldn’t survive without her caffeine of choice.

  He smiled at her. He was so handsome with his flirty brown eyes and straight, white teeth that had probably worn braces early in his life. No wonder she’d decided to have that vacation fling with him.

  “You were telling me why you accepted my dinner invitation,” he reminded her. “I’m sure it was to experience my charming disposition and delicious food. Correct?” His eyes were dancing and she couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Well, there is that, but I had another reason, too.” She took a sip of her water. “I don’t remember how much I told you about my company when we were on the island—or what Roxie has shared with you—but we began by retraining women for jobs and helping them move up in their current jobs.”

  “So you started the company, right?”