The Baby Miracle Page 14

  “Involved how?”

  “I don’t know,” Chase says. “I can’t have children, so I don’t really think about—”

  “Just imagine it.”

  His voice cracks as he speaks again. “I would want to coach the soccer team,” he says. “Take them hiking in the woods and teach them to pitch a tent. Teach them to cook and to play pool. I would” He swallows hard. “I would want to teach them right from wrong. How to make good choices and become a good person.”

  That’s exactly what I’ve been hoping to hear.

  Between one thing and another, I have to admit that I’ve begun to doubt Chase’s potential as a father since arriving here in Tala. But now, hearing him talk about how he would respond to having a child—it’s the same sequence of thoughts that went through my head when I realized I was pregnant.

  We would be a perfect parenting team, I realize. We would have the same ideas, the same goals. We would want to raise our child the same way.

  I’m about to tell him so when he frowns.

  “But that’s probably wishful thinking,” he says.

  “Because you don’t believe it’s your baby.”

  “Not only that.”

  “Then what?”

  “All that talk about being a good father, an involved parent…” He sighs and shakes his head. “Who am I kidding? I have no idea how to be that kind of a father. The only role model I ever had was my father, and he wasn’t exactly the gold standard for active parenting. He was a good role model for how to run a business, and that’s about it.”

  “You wouldn’t be like your father, Chase,” I protest.

  “I probably would,” Chase says. “That’s what happens, right? People grow up to be like their parents, no matter how much they tell themselves it isn’t going to happen. Everyone becomes their father or their mother eventually.”

  “So what are you saying?” I ask. “If this was your baby, you would do what your father did? Throw money at the problem? Pay for a life of comfort without ever getting involved on a personal level?”

  I hate to believe it of him, but I have to accept that I don’t know him all that well. A few days spent together aren’t that much to go on. And the fact that I feel like I’ve connected with him so deeply, like I’ve known him for a lifetime…well, that’s just a trick of chemistry, and maybe of pregnancy hormones.

  Chase gives me a penetrating look. “Do you think I would?”

  “I don’t know. I’m asking you.”

  He sighs. “Okay, Kendall, I just need to ask this one more time. Is that what this is about? Money?”

  A sudden chill washes over me. We’ve been having such a wonderful night. I’ve felt closer to Chase than I have since the night we first met. Finally, it was starting to seem like things were getting somewhere. And now he’s asking me this. Again. This question we can’t seem to get away from.

  “I can’t believe this,” I say, stepping back and putting some distance between us. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”

  “Kendall—”

  “I can’t believe you’re still accusing me of lying to you. You said you believed I wasn’t trying to trick you.”

  “I do believe that,” he says. “I do.”

  “Then what are you talking about? How could you think I’m just here to take your money?”

  “Not to take it,” he says. “I don’t think you’re lying. I know you believe you’re carrying my baby.”

  “Because I am.”

  “And based on that belief, I’m just wondering if the reason you came is to secure a better future for yourself and your child. Are you hoping I’ll set you up in a nice place, pay for the kid’s education and everything, and otherwise leave you alone?”

  “I don’t know how you can ask me that,” I say quietly. “You really believe I came all this way to extort you?”

  “I wouldn’t consider that extortion.”

  “This is your baby, Chase. I want you to know you’re going to be a father. I want you to be in your child’s life. I can’t put it any plainer than that.”

  Suddenly I’m tired. I’m tired of going around and around in circles, debating this same topic without end.

  “I can see you’re not going to listen to me,” I say. “And if you really see me as someone who’s only out for money, maybe it’s best we don’t spend any more time around each other after all. I came here to tell you the truth, and now I have. There’s nothing else I can do if you’re not willing to listen.”

  I turn toward the door.

  “Kendall, wait.”

  I pause, one hand resting on the back of my chair. I don’t turn back to him, though. Not yet. Looking Chase in the eyes will make it ten times harder to say goodbye.

  “Don’t just leave,” he says. “You can’t just walk away.”

  “Why not?” I ask. “You did.”

  “And I’ve been telling you how much I regret it, haven’t I?” he asks. “Don’t you believe me?”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “Kendall—” his voice is so raw that I can’t help turning back to look at him. His hands are fisted in his hair, and he looks anguished. “I want to believe it. Can’t you see how badly I want that? Can’t you see that I want that baby to be mine?”

  I shake my head. “You’re full of contradictions. You’re angry with me for coming to Tala, for bringing you here, but then you set up this beautiful date for us. You want to have children, but you berate me and call me a liar when I tell you you’re going to be a father. Even the first night we spent together—you say it was special, but that didn’t stop you from walking away before the sun came up.”

  He looks wretched, but I have to keep going.

  “How can you blame me for being confused?” I ask. “For not being sure of what you want, or what you feel?”

  “I can’t,” he admits.

  “And meanwhile you keep acting like you don’t know what I want from you, whether I’m seeking money or some kind of journalistic opportunity. But I’ve been completely honest and consistent. All I want is for you to know about your baby. I’ve given you no reason to doubt me.”

  “That’s right,” he agrees. “You haven’t.”

  “But you still do.”

  “It’s just that I went to the best doctors money could buy,” he says. “I saw specialists. And they told me there was no chance of my ever having a child. Not even that it was unlikely. It was impossible, they said. I was sitting there in that office being handed pamphlets about adoption and artificial insemination and my world was crashing down.”

  And now he can’t bring himself to believe again, I realize. It would hurt him too much if he accepted the idea that this child might be his and then he was wrong. That’s what’s going on here. He’s shielding himself against heartbreak.

  And I can understand that.

  “I’ll take a test,” I say.

  “A pregnancy test? I know you’re pregnant.”

  “No. A paternity test.”

  “Can they do that before the baby’s born?”

  “Yes,” I say. “They just need DNA from the father, to compare. So you’ll have to come with me.”

  He nods slowly. “I suppose I could do that.”

  “Good,” I say, not wanting to push him.

  I’m sure he thinks he’s coming to the paternity test to prove to me that he’s not the father, so I’ll move on from the idea. Well, let him believe that, as long as it gets him there. Because I do believe Chase when he says that he wants my baby to be his. Once I break through his defenses and offer him solid scientific proof, our problems should finally be at an end.

  Chapter 19

  Chase

  I’m nervous about seeing Kendall in the morning after the way we left things last night. Things weren’t unpleasant between us, but they were definitely awkward. At least we’ve reached a truce for now, and I’m hoping the results of this paternity test she’s having me do will put to rest any remaining
conflict between us. There won’t be anything left to argue about at that point, after all.

  I find her down on the dock, waiting for the ferry that will take us back to Muharraq. She’s dressed in white shorts and a flowy light blue top that moves with the wind, and her hair hangs free down her back. Her legs have grown tan in just the few days we’ve been here. She belongs on an island, I think, and a part of me wishes that we could just stay here. That we could get a place together, walk along the beach every day, maybe buy a sailboat and take it out together in the afternoons and watch the sun set over the water.

  That’s not going to happen, I remind myself. You don’t get to stay with her. Once she finds out I’m not the father of her baby, she’s not going to want anything more to do with me. I have to admit, I’d half-hoped last night that she actually was after my money. At least that was something that was really mine.

  But of course, Kendall isn’t the type of girl to pursue someone for money. I should never have thought that. And I wouldn’t want to be with a girl like that anyway. I’d rather be alone.

  She turns when she hears me coming and smiles. I feel like I’m going downhill on a rollercoaster, my stomach leaping into my throat.

  I don’t know when it happened, but at some point my complicated feelings for this woman changed. Our chemical attraction is definitely still there, and I definitely still admire her wit and personality. But there’s something more now. Maybe it’s as a result of everything we’ve been through together. Maybe it’s bonded us in some way.

  God, though, I just want to be close to her.

  “Can you believe we’re finally going home?” she asks. “I felt like we’d be stuck on this island forever.”

  It’s heartbreaking to hear her sound so happy about leaving.

  “I know,” I say, struggling to sound normal and not allow her to hear the hesitation in my voice. “I should have remembered how irregular the ferry is.”

  “You haven’t been here in a long time,” she points out.

  “That’s true,” I say. “I’ll need to start coming back more often.”

  “Lucky you.”

  The boat arrives and we board. I quickly stake out a spot along the aft rail so I can watch Tala recede into the distance behind us. Kendall joins me. Her hand rests right beside mine on the ferry rail, and I’m aching to reach out and grab it, but I don’t.

  She isn’t mine. That baby isn’t mine, and Kendall isn’t mine, no matter how much I’d like them to be. I can’t allow myself to fall into that belief. It would hurt too much to lose them later.

  Back in Muharraq, we share a taxi to the airport. The ride is quiet. Kendall spends most of the time gazing out the window at the city, and it occurs to me that this might be her first trip abroad. It’s the kind of thing I take for granted. My family traveled to Europe all the time when I was growing up, and my modeling career sent me all over the world. But I know that not everyone is so lucky. Judging by the way Kendall’s drinking in her surroundings, I’m pretty sure she’s never been to Bahrain before, at the very least.

  The two of us are on the same flight back to Chicago. We find seats at the gate, and then she watches our luggage while I go to a restaurant and buy us lamb shawarma and tabbouleh salads, along with a couple of sodas. We eat with our feet propped up on our suitcases.

  It feels so familiar. This is what it was like to travel with Ashley. There was a partnership to it. There was always someone to watch the suitcases while the other person went to get food or magazines.

  But it’s different, too. Ashley was always distracted, always in a hurry. She complained about how cramped the seats were in the waiting area, and then when we boarded she complained about the seats on the plane. She never enjoyed the experience.

  I turn to Kendall. “Can I see your ticket?”

  She nods and fishes it out. “This food is great. I’m going to have to come back here sometime.”

  I laugh. “You can get Middle Eastern food in Chicago. I’ll give you the name of a restaurant.” I take her ticket. “Be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  I don’t answer. Instead, I approach the woman at the counter. She looks up and smiles when she sees me.

  “Hi,” I say, pushing Kendall’s ticket across to her. “Can I see about upgrading my friend?”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Kendall and I are seated in the first-class section of the plane, and the flight attendant has brought us each a glass of mineral water.

  “These seats are so big,” Kendall says, wiggling around in hers. “I can’t believe people really travel like this.”

  “I can’t believe you never have,” I counter.

  “It’s too expensive,” she says. “Even coach airline tickets to Tala are too expensive. I don’t even want to ask how much it’s costing you.”

  “Good,” I say, smiling. “Trust that instinct.” I don’t want the issue of money to make things awkward. I want her to enjoy this experience. “I’ll tell you what,” I say. “How about we watch a movie?”

  “Really?” She laughs.

  “What? You don’t want to?”

  “No, a movie sounds fun,” she says. “I was just thinking…that’s how we first met.”

  “I guess it is.”

  Suddenly that night in the movie theater in Applewood seems like a long time ago. I feel like Kendall has always been a part of my life. It’s strange to think that that isn’t the case, that there was a night when I hadn’t yet met her and I walked into a movie theater with no idea that my whole world was about to change.

  “Here,” I say, fishing out the complimentary headphones from the seat back pocket in front of her. “Choose something for us.”

  She scrolls through the options and lands on a romantic comedy. “Have you seen this one?” she asks.

  “No,” I say. “I’ve heard of it, but I never got around to seeing it.”

  “Me either. Want to check it out?”

  In answer, I pull out my own headphones and plug in. Kendall finds the movie on the little screen in front of my seat, so we’ve both got it loaded and ready.

  “We need to hit play at the same time,” she says.

  “We do?”

  “Yes. That way we’re really watching it together, even though we’re looking at different screens.”

  “Gotcha. Count us in, then.”

  “Three…two…one…go.”

  We both hit the start button, and the logo for the movie production company appears on the screens in unison. Kendall and I grin at each other and settle in to watch.

  The movie is light fare, a story about a man and a woman who work together and fall in love, forcing them to hide their relationship from the higher-ups at their office. It’s sneaky and sexy and funny, and totally unrealistic.

  Somewhere toward the midpoint of the movie, I realize Kendall has curled up against me, her head resting on my shoulder. Although she’s listening to the sound from her own screen, her eyes are on mine. I shift a little so I can wrap my arm around her shoulder, making both of us more comfortable.

  The movie ends, and the two protagonists end up together and happy. No surprise there. That’s always how these movies go, the heroes being handed their happiness. I look down at Kendall and wish it could be like that for us. When this plane lands, we’re going to go our separate ways, and that will be it, more or less.

  At least I know I’ll see her one more time. The paternity test. There’s still that.

  “It’s easy like this, isn’t it?” Kendall says.

  I glance down. Her eyes have drifted closed. “What do you mean?”

  “Just the two of us hanging out together. Watching a movie. Not worrying about anything else. Like it was that first night.” She sighs. “If we could have had a second date like this…”

  A second date like this. I wonder about it too. It wouldn’t have been on a plane. It would have been in my apartment. I would have brought her there after dinner toge
ther at one of my favorite restaurants. I would have popped popcorn on the stove and let her choose any movie she wanted. And we would have been casual and happy. We would have gotten to know each other.

  “I should have asked you out,” I say. “I should have asked you on a date after that night we spent together.”

  She opens her eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “It’s what I’m saying. We had something, Kendall. I’ve regretted leaving the way I did, but it’s not just because I realize that I was selfish and unkind. I regret ignoring that potential.”

  “You were afraid,” she says. “I don’t blame you, after what happened with your last relationship.”

  “But I shouldn’t have let that fear rule me,” I say. “I should have asked you out. We live in the same city. It would have been easy for us to see each other again.”

  I know it’s too late now. We can’t have a normal relationship. She’s about to be a mother. She’s about to find out what I’ve known all along—that I’m not her baby’s father. I can’t expect her to make any kind of commitment to me under these circumstances. I’d never ask it of her.

  If only I’d realized all these things sooner.

  All too soon, the plane begins its descent into Chicago. I know on an intellectual level that the flight took hours, but it seems to have passed in a blink. Kendall sits up, pulls on a hoodie, and runs her fingers through her hair, readying herself for the Chicago weather. My shoulder is warm where her head rested. I can still smell the scent of her clinging to my shirt.

  We stay together from the gate all the way through the airport to the taxi stand, where we finally have to say our goodbyes. Kendall smiles up at me.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry for bringing you to Tala under false pretenses. I’m not sorry you came, but I’m sorry I had to lie to get you there.”

  “I’m not sorry I came either.” I pull out my phone and hand it to her. “Put your phone number in there.”

  She hands me her phone and I do the same, going so far as to take a quick snapshot of my face to go with the newly entered contact information. Then we exchange phones again and hesitate, looking at each other.