“I see.” the doctor said. “Well, I hope to see you again,” she said to West as she went to the door.
To Soleil she said, “I’ll see you next month.”
“I’ll go out to the desk and get our pictures while you change,” he told Soleil, and she nodded.
He needed to get away from her right now. The contrast between the high of seeing their baby for the first time and the low of getting slapped in the face with the truth was too much. He needed a chance to regroup before she nailed him with any more of her harsh reality.
In the safety of the waiting room, he asked the woman at the reception window for the ultrasound photos, and he felt a bit of the tension drain from his shoulders. As he gazed at an image of the baby, he almost couldn’t bear the enormity of it. Tears came to his eyes, and he blinked stupidly.
Tears?
What the hell was happening to him? He wasn’t the kind of guy who got choked up at the sentimental parts of movies, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the sting of tears in his eyes.
He faked interest in something on the wall and forced his mind to go blank for a moment until he’d recovered. As he studied the framed print, he slowly allowed himself to consider what he needed to deal with next.
Soleil, their future, his career, hers, how to join their lives for the sake of the baby…Was it even possible?
It had to be. He had to be involved in his child’s life. The alternative was unimaginable. And yet, he couldn’t quite imagine how to make it happen, either.
That was why he and Soleil needed to talk.
In that brief moment of hopefulness, when they’d seen their baby together on the ultrasound screen, he’d felt a powerful connection to Soleil. That connection was evidenced by the photos in his hand. He had to hold on to that feeling of hope, because there had to be some way they could make a family.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SOLEIL HAD NEVER GAZED longingly at other people’s babies, wishing for one of her own. She liked babies well enough, enjoyed holding them, thought they were cute and all. But ached for one?
Not at all.
So when she saw her own child’s ultrasound image, looking so much more like a real baby than it had at twelve weeks, she was surprised at the overwhelming ache, coming from somewhere so deep down she couldn’t begin to pinpoint its origin.
Even after they’d left the doctor’s office, she could still feel its grip on her, almost choking in its intensity.
West, for his part, looked shell-shocked yet again. She wondered if he was feeling as freaked out as she was, but she wasn’t ready to talk about it.
That look on his face during the ultrasound-it had spoken volumes. She’d seen in his eyes the same wonder she’d been feeling, and she’d understood in that moment that the baby was as big a deal for him as it was for her.
Of course, he didn’t have to watch his body taken over by it, and his life wouldn’t change in the same ways hers would, but he was, no doubt, profoundly affected.
Remorse like she’d never felt before crept up on her as they walked across the parking lot. What had she done? What on earth had she been thinking, not telling him about the pregnancy from the start? Now things were such a tangled mess. They had so far to go, so much to sort out before they could begin to see the way toward a resolution.
But what if…
Maybe…
The hope she’d felt while looking at their baby’s image minutes ago dared a resurgence. West was here. And she was here. They were two caring adults. Somehow, they could make this work, couldn’t they?
Back in the car, she dug around in her purse for more crackers and found instead a voice-mail notice on her cell phone. Grateful for the distraction, she checked the message.
It was her mom, saying that she’d decided to come to stay for the holidays, that she’d be arriving tomorrow.
Tomorrow?
“Oh, God,” Soleil muttered into the phone as West settled in the driver’s seat.
“What’s wrong?”
She deleted the message and put her phone away. “It’s my mother. She’s coming for the holidays.”
“You weren’t expecting her?”
“I usually visit her. That way I can see my friends in the Bay Area and leave before my mom starts driving me insane.”
“But this year you’re staying home?”
“Yeah.”
Because of you, Soleil thought to herself.
Whoa.
Where had that come from?
But it was true.
She hadn’t planned on it. She hadn’t given much thought to the reasons she didn’t feel like going to her mom’s house. She’d known West was part of it, but she hadn’t realized he was the main reason she wasn’t leaving town. There was the issue of the baby, too, of her mom not knowing yet, but mostly, staying home was about West.
And of course her mother had gotten her e-mail and taken it as a hint to come to Soleil instead.
West started the car. “I’m looking forward to meeting her,” he said, smiling in a way that didn’t sit right with Soleil.
“You won’t feel that way after she spends an evening with you, railing against the military-industrial complex or explaining how all her poems are really about the inferiority of men.”
He smiled that lazy smile of his that never failed to spark desire in her. “I bet she’s not as bad as you make her out to be.”
“She’s worse.”
Soleil finally remembered that she’d left the package of crackers in the storage compartment in the door, and she found it and quickly popped another cracker into her mouth.
“Maybe we ought to have some lunch,” West said.
“There’s a great Thai place a few blocks that way,” Soleil said, pointing south.
“Let’s do it.”
“I’m not sure what your schedule is like for the rest of the day, but if you have time, I’d like to stop at a store, too.”
“No problem.”
This was all sounding way too domestic and feeling way too claustrophobic for Soleil’s taste, especially when she considered the reality of going crib shopping with West. Yet, when contrasted with the thought of her mother’s probable reaction to him, she had a rebellious urge to go wild with the whole domestic thing.
She gave him directions to the restaurant, and a few minutes later they were being seated at a table for two next to a window that overlooked the strip-mall parking lot.
“Not so great on ambience,” she said, “but the curries are to die for.”
“Great.” He paused, seeming distracted. “Listen, about your mom, I really would like to meet her. Maybe we could have dinner with my mother and yours both. Sort of, you know, get the two families together.”
She tried to imagine lovely, sensible, capable Julia Morgan enduring an entire evening with her arrogant, self-important, whiskey-loving mother.
“I like your mom. I don’t think she deserves that kind of suffering.”
The waitress arrived then.
“Order for both of us-whatever you think it is good,” West said, so she asked for two Thai iced teas, spring rolls and green curry with rice.
After the waitress left the table, Soleil stared at him, trying to decide how to proceed from green curry to what to do with the rest of their lives.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
“My mom really likes you, too, you know,” he said.
She nodded, grateful for the change of subject. “That’s a compliment. She’s one of those pillars of the community that, if anything really bad ever happens, you know she’ll be right there, putting civilization back together from scratch.”
He laughed without smiling. “She is definitely that, to her own detriment, I think.”
“What do you mean?”
“My dad-his health is declining, and he’s harassed all his caretakers into quitting, so what does my mom do when she hears about it?”
The waitress showed up with their drinks, and Soleil gave West a questioning look as she began mixing the tea, condensed milk and cream together in her glass.