The Baby Miracle Page 13

  “I felt the same way,” Kendall says quietly. “I didn’t want to admit it to myself. Especially once you left. I told myself that it was all chemical, that I was attracted to you and that was all. And I was attracted to you.”

  “So was I.” I still am.

  “But it was more than that,” she says.

  “It was more for me too. I enjoyed talking to you. You were funny. Fun to be around. You made me laugh. And…well, you’re beautiful.”

  She watches me now, saying nothing.

  “But I’m infertile,” I continue. “I knew I couldn’t give you what you deserve. I knew the two of us could never be. And I probably should have told you the truth that morning, explained why there was no future for us, but I was afraid. I was too ashamed to tell you. So I ran.”

  I feel a weight lift from my chest as I confess, but at the same time, I feel utterly exhausted.

  “That’s the truth,” I say. “That’s why I did what I did.”

  “So you would have been interested in a possible future with me?” Kendall says.

  “Yes,” I admit. “Very interested.”

  “But you didn’t pursue it,” she says. “You didn’t even discuss it with me.”

  “No.”

  “Because you couldn’t give me babies? That was your reason?”

  “It’s enough of a reason.”

  She shakes her head. “Chase, you didn’t even talk to me. You didn’t even ask me if I wanted children. Not every woman does, you know. That night was special to me too. You and I had something I’ve never experienced before. And you threw that away without even discussing it with me first.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “No, I’m not angry. I’m sad. It’s hard to think about what could have been. If you’d told me the truth and asked me if I wanted to see you again, I would have said yes. Think about that. We could have been four months into a relationship by now.” She touches her belly. “And I think it would have been a good one.”

  I shake my head. “You can’t know that.”

  “Of course I can’t know it. No one ever knows. I’m telling you what I believe. That night we spent together was one of the best of my life.”

  It was one of the best of my life too. But even so…

  “You don’t understand,” I tell her. “You can’t understand. My ex left me because I’m infertile.”

  “Tell me about that.”

  “We were in love. We were going to spend the rest of our lives together. And even that wasn’t enough. So even though you and I had an amazing night—and it was amazing—how could that be enough to overcome what a commitment like the one I had with Ashley couldn’t?”

  “I don’t know her. Ashley,” Kendall says. “But it sounds like she and I are very different people. I’m not saying anything against her. But for some women, the idea of children is very important, and for other women, it isn’t. It sounds like she couldn’t get past her desire to be a mother. Not every woman you meet is going to be like that, though. You should have asked me.”

  “But you do want a baby,” I say. “I hate to point out the obvious, but you clearly want a baby. You’re having one.”

  “This baby was a surprise,” she says. “It’s not like I was looking for this to happen.”

  “Okay,” I say, “but you’re keeping it.”

  “Well, sure. I want this baby. I want it now that it’s, you know, a real thing. Now that I can actually feel it and see it growing. That’s a lot different from wanting some random baby I didn’t even know.”

  “But aren’t you glad you’re having it?” I persist. “I know it was a surprise, but now that it’s here, you’re glad it happened, right? If you had the chance to go back and undo it, you wouldn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t undo it,” she agrees. “I’m glad to be pregnant. I’m excited to be a mother.”

  “So you see?” I say. “You do want children.”

  “Chase, I don’t know why you’re arguing with me about this,” she says. “I know my own mind. I’m telling you, four months ago if you’d offered me the chance to get to know you better, I would have taken it. Even if I’d known that my own kids wouldn’t be a part of the equation. But there is adoption. I could be a mom without giving birth.”

  “That’s fine for you,” I say. “But what about me? How am I supposed to trust my heart to someone knowing that once things really get serious, something she’s known about me all along might be a deal-breaker? What if she changes her mind?”

  “I just told you—”

  “I know what you told me. My infertility wouldn’t stop you from wanting to date me. And that’s fine, I believe you. But what if things went well? What if we got to the point of marriage? Would you want to marry me if you knew we would never be able to have a family?”

  “I can’t answer that right now,” she says.

  “See?” I knew it.

  “Not because of your infertility,” she says. “I’ve spent three days with you. I can’t tell you if I’d want to marry you or not.”

  Oh.

  “But I can tell you that if I fell in love and wanted to marry somebody, infertility wouldn’t stop me,” she says.

  “I mean, that’s probably a lot easier to say now that you’re expecting a baby, though,” I counter. “You’re not going to be childless, no matter what.”

  “You’re making excuses,” she says. “Besides, it’s your baby I’m expecting, Chase, so this whole conversation is moot. Neither of us is going to be childless. We’re talking about the past, before we knew we would conceive a child together, and we’re talking about a hypothetical future in which we’re together and there is no child.”

  I kind of can’t believe she’s still clinging to her belief that the baby is mine, even after I’ve opened up to her about my infertility so completely. It’s a little bit hurtful, truth be told. Doesn’t she think I would like to father a child, particularly with a woman I have such strong feelings for?

  I can’t say any of this to her, though, or it will reopen the old argument. It’s so nice to be sitting here with Kendall and getting along that I’m not willing to risk that. We can settle the fatherhood question later. Both of us deserve to enjoy this moment, sitting together on this beautiful island and watching the sunlight glisten off the sea.

  But Kendall has other things on her mind. “Can we talk about it?” she asks. “The baby?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I say.

  “It’s necessary,” she says. “We have to make some decisions, Chase.”

  “You don’t need my help to make those decisions.” Because I’m not the father of your baby. “You’re smart, Kendall, and you’re capable, and I know you’ve got what it takes to be a wonderful mother. I don’t worry about that baby at all. You can handle this.”

  “I don’t want to do it alone,” Kendall says. “I want my child to have his or her father.”

  Then go talk to the father. But I don’t say that, of course. I understand how she feels. It must be intimidating to be facing down single motherhood. And the child should have the opportunity to know their father. I agree with her on that point. But that person isn’t me. At some point Kendall is going to have to accept that I can’t give her what she needs.

  But I have to admit, I’m beginning to wish I could.

  What if it was my baby? It would be so easy to give in to her now, to agree that she’s probably right. To step into the role of father. I would co-parent with Kendall, and we’d always be in each other’s lives.

  I would have a little son or daughter that I could raise as my own, and would it really matter that they wouldn’t be the child of my body? We would still be a family. I could have that.

  For a moment it’s so close I can almost taste it. I’ve dreamed of this. It was torn away from me when I learned I was infertile. And now here’s a woman, a woman I actually care about, offering it back to me.

  But I can’t.

  I can’t ac
cept what I know to be a lie. I can’t agree that this child is mine when I know it’s not. It would be unfair and dishonest. It would be cheating the baby of a chance to get to know its real father.

  “Please,” says Kendall. “We came all this way to meet. This is the reason I brought you here. Please, let’s just discuss it.”

  What can I say? How can I tell her no?

  “Dinner,” I say finally. “Come to dinner with me tonight. We’ll talk.”

  Kendall nods. “All right.”

  Chapter 18

  Kendall

  The fact that Chase wants to have dinner feels miraculous. I’m finally going to be given the chance to persuade him of the truth. For the sake of myself and my baby—even for his own sake—I hope I can do it.

  The one thing that I have working in my favor—aside from the fact that what I’m trying to convince him of is actually true—is that he so clearly wants to believe he’s the father of my baby. He’s not denying it because he wants to evade the responsibility that comes along with fatherhood, or because he’s worried about being embarrassed by the situation. From the way he talks about infertility and how it’s held him back since he received his diagnosis, I know he would love to have a child. He’s just having trouble accepting the reality of it. He’s given up on the idea, and now that’s standing in his way.

  I’ll just have to get through to him.

  At five o’clock sharp, a bellhop arrives at my door with a message in an envelope. I thank him, take the letter, and sit down on my bed to read it.

  Kendall,

  There is a small room off the left side of the main dining room with an anchor mounted on the door. Please meet me there at seven o’clock. I look forward to it.

  Chase

  Seven o’clock. That gives me two hours to play with my hair and makeup and try to achieve the perfect look. It’s far more than I would need under ordinary circumstances, but suddenly it feels like nowhere near enough. Looking good is vital tonight. I need to remind Chase of the spark that existed between us. I need to convince him that I’m the last person in the world who would do him any harm. I need him to trust my honesty and my judgment so he’ll accept that my child is his.

  Finally, I head downstairs. As I move through the lobby, I feel as though everyone’s eyes are on me. Do they all know where I’m going and who I’m meeting? I’m sure Chase is well-recognized in this hotel—it’s where he made his first ever business deal, after all. I wonder what they think of me, heading off to rendezvous with him in a private room.

  The smell reaches me before I spot the anchor on the door—garlic and herbs wafting alluringly through the air. I push open the door, confused, and find Chase standing before a stove with the handle of a frying pan in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other.

  “You found the place,” he says.

  I nod. “It’s a kitchen.”

  “Have a seat.” He inclines his head toward a table set into an alcove in the wall. “This is the chef’s kitchen. Resort guests pay extra to dine here and have the chef cook a personal meal for them, right before their eyes.”

  I sit down. “Where’s the chef today?”

  Chase grins. “I gave him the night off.”

  He lifts two steaks out of the pan, one at a time, and places them carefully on white plates, already holding a few spears of asparagus and a scoop of what looks like mashed potatoes. Then he reaches for a small sauce pot and a spoon and carefully drizzles the steaks with a white sauce.

  “Dinner is served,” he announces, switching off the stove and carrying the plates to the table.

  “I didn’t know you could cook,” I say.

  “Well, try it before you give me too much credit,” Chase says with a laugh. He grabs a bottle off the counter and uncorks it. “It’s sparkling cider,” he says. “I thought you might not want to drink wine.”

  “That was thoughtful.” I rest a hand on my belly. He’s thinking of not just me, but the baby too. Does that mean he’s coming around to the truth?

  “Go ahead,” he says. “Try the steak.”

  I cut into it. It’s tender and juicy and separates easily, and when I take a bite, it seems to melt in my mouth. “It’s perfect.”

  Chase seems pleased. “I’ve been learning to cook over the past few years,” he says. “It’s an entertaining hobby.”

  “Well, you’re good at it.”

  Chase takes the seat opposite me and cuts into his own steak. “So,” he says, “you’re a journalist.”

  I’m so surprised by this turn of conversation that it takes me a moment to answer. “Yes,” I say.

  “But you’re not doing a story about me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “So what do you write about?”

  “Well…” I chuckle. “I hope you find this funny. I actually did pitch a story about you.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. I suggested to my editor that we write a profile about your conquering the business world. That’s the kind of thing I write about. Entrepreneurs and small business ventures that have found success. You actually would have fit in perfectly. And, you know, I was trying to get in touch with you anyway. That would have been a good way to do it.”

  To my relief, he laughs. “So I was right,” he says. “You were after me for a story.”

  “I was using my job to get to you,” I tease back. “I wasn’t using you to do my job.”

  “So what happened to the idea?”

  “Oh, my boss figured you’d never agree to an interview with someone as small potatoes as me. She said I should wait a few years and then try you.”

  “Hmm,” Chase says. “I guess you showed her. You didn’t just get a meeting, you got a personal meal, a trip to Tala, and an evening stranded on an island with me.”

  “I’m the luckiest girl in the world,” I say, grinning. It’s a joke, but the truth is that in this moment I do feel pretty lucky.

  When the plates have been cleared, Chase rises and extends his hand to me. “May I have this dance?”

  “Really?”

  “We’ve never danced,” he says. “The kitchen isn’t the only place I have skills.”

  “No, I know. You’re also good at pool.”

  He chuckles. “There’s that.”

  You’re also good in the bedroom, I think, but I’m not bold enough to say it. Instead I take his hand and let him lead me past the stove to a clear space in the middle of the room.

  He reaches out and dims the lights, and I hear music coming in from the lobby. It’s nothing special—tranquil hotel lobby music—but suddenly it seems like the most romantic melody I’ve ever heard. I’m tempted to go to the reception desk when all this is over and ask for the name of the album they’re playing.

  Chase rests a hand on my hip and pulls me close. I want to relax in his embrace and enjoy the pure sensuality of this moment. Swaying here, with Chase’s body against mine, I’m physically reminded of the night we spent together and how wonderful it was. It’s as if we were never apart.

  But we were apart. And there are things that have to be discussed.

  “We need to talk about it, Chase,” I say, not pulling away from him. I don’t want to let him go.

  Chase hums a little but otherwise says nothing.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” I insist.

  He sighs. “I’ve been alone for a long time, Kendall. I thought I would be alone forever. After my diagnosis, I thought no one would ever want me. And the thing is, I accepted that. I was ready to live with that.”

  “That’s why you’ve thrown yourself into your work so deeply, isn’t it?” I ask.

  “I needed something to fill the hours,” he explains. “I needed something to give me a sense of accomplishment. If I couldn’t find love and build a family, I needed to find a way to build something else.”

  “And you’ve done that,” I point out.

  He nods. “And it helps a little. But I’m still…”

  “Lone
ly.”

  “But not when I’m with you,” he says, holding me tighter. “With you, that feeling that I’m broken seems to go away. With you, life feels more full. And I have to be honest. That terrifies me. It feels like waking up from something, and I’m afraid of the moment when you leave and I have to be alone again.”

  “That moment doesn’t have to come.” I reach down and grab his hand, moving it from my hip to my stomach. “It’s your baby, Chase. Accept it. Be a family with us.”

  He closes his eyes. “I wish I could, Kendall.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s a mistake. You’re making a mistake. I’m not the father of your baby. It’s somebody else, and I can’t take that away from him. And I can’t take away your child’s chance to know his or her real father.”

  “Chase. No. There isn’t anybody else,” I say. “Why won’t you believe me?”

  “Because it’s not scientifically possible,” he says. “I tried to conceive once before, with my ex-girlfriend.”

  “So you two were unsuccessful. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

  “No, but then my doctor confirmed it,” he says. “And even then, I wasn’t sure. I thought there might be a mistake. So I got a second opinion. And that doctor agreed. I have the medical reports in a file at home. I could show them to you, if you wanted to see them.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t need to see them. I need you to see something.”

  “What?”

  “Close your eyes,” I say. He does. “Now just imagine for a moment. Imagine it’s true.”

  “But—”

  I press my fingers to his lips to silence him. “Don’t talk. Just picture it. You don’t have to believe it right now. Just think about it. What if it were true? What if it was your baby?”

  He’s quiet for a long time, his imagination at work.

  “What would you do?” I ask. “How would you want to handle the situation if you knew the baby was yours?”

  “That’s easy,” Chase says. “I would want to be involved. Of course I would.”