And Babies Make Five / At Long Last, a Bride: And Babies Make Five

“Don’t give me a hard time. You can’t blame me for wondering. I’ve been trying to talk you into settling down forever. But maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. It looks like you might have already found someone.”

“Slow down, sis. Samantha is my neighbor. And since she’s a single mom, I thought she deserved a night out. We’re just friends.”

“She’s not pregnant with your baby?”

“Nope. ‘Fraid not.”

He could hear the disappointment in her sigh, and he decided to set her straight. “If the woman I got involved with was expecting my baby, my family would definitely know about it.”

“I guess you’re right. But you can be so secretive at times.”

“Relax. Samantha’s a nice woman. But no, we’re not involved.”

“I’m actually sorry to hear that.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Recently, Hector’s parents had joined his sister in pressuring him to remarry, to start a family and to enjoy the fruits of his labor. According to his brother, Diego, they were proud of him and his Horatio Alger success, but they were worried about him and his nonexistent social life.

He’d tried to explain to them that a woman and kids didn’t fit into his life, which was why his first marriage didn’t last.

“Samantha is a beautiful woman,” Yolanda said. “Aren’t you the least bit interested in her?”

A bit too much, he realized. “Come on, sis. She’s pregnant.”

“I guess that means you’re not attracted to expectant mothers, and I can see why you wouldn’t be. I was looking in the mirror one morning and realized I was as getting to be as wide as I am tall. I started to cry—I do a lot of that these days—but Chad was such a sweetheart. He told me he loved me and said that I was more appealing to him now than ever before. He seemed sincere, so I sure hope he meant it.”

“He did mean it,” Hector said. “I can’t imagine how exciting it must be for him to know that a baby was created out of your love for each other. And looking at you, seeing that the baby is growing and getting ready for birth, has to be a real thrill for him.”

“Thanks, Hector. I needed to hear that.” She paused for a moment, as if taking it all in. “So I guess that means Samantha’s pregnancy is a turnoff to you since it’s not your baby.”

It certainly should have been, but for some reason, it wasn’t, and he had no idea why. But since he didn’t understand it himself, he certainly couldn’t explain it to someone else. So he decided to change the subject. “Hey, I’ve got a question for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Even though Samantha and I aren’t dating, do you still plan to give her a call?”

“I told her I would. And she seems like a nice person. Do you have a problem with us having lunch together?”

“No, not at all. I think it would be nice if you did. Her mother died recently, so she’s pretty much alone.”

“What about the baby’s father?” she asked.

“He’s out of the picture—completely.”

“And so you’re looking out for her?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Hmm. Now, that’s really interesting, Hector.”

He blew out a sigh. “Stop trying to read things into this.”

“Okay, I won’t. But don’t you wish you had someone in your life again? Someone to come home to?”

“Not if she’s like Patrice.”

“You see similarities between Samantha and your ex-wife?”

Actually? Not a single one. But if he gave his sister any idea that he was interested in Samantha—well, he wasn’t; he couldn’t be. So he couldn’t let Yolanda jump on an idea like that, or he’d never hear the end of it. And neither would Samantha, if the two women did end up having lunch together.

“So you’re glad to be footloose and single?” his sister asked.

“Of course.” He scanned his living room, which was cluttered with this morning’s newspaper, a copy of Golf Digest, an empty beer bottle he’d forgotten to take to the kitchen a couple of days ago, a golf scorecard he was rather proud of.

If Patrice were here, she’d be bitching about how messy he was. Not that he didn’t like a clean house; he wasn’t a slob. If he spilled something, he mopped it up. And he never let the trash pile up until things smelled rotten.

He just didn’t always pick up after himself. But he had a maid come in once a week, and she did the things he didn’t have the time or the inclination to do.

And she never complained.

“You don’t miss having a wife?” Yolanda asked.

“Why would I? I take my dirty clothes to the laundry, and my shirts come back starched the way I like them. I eat at my favorite restaurants, and for the most part, my house is clean. It’s easier that way.”

“But you’re also missing out on love and companionship.”

“I’m happy,” he told his sister. “You’ve never heard me complain.”

But he had to admit, at least to himself, that it wasn’t all that fun coming home to a dark, empty house.

Or sleeping alone in a king-size bed.

Odd, he thought. Before Samantha moved back home, he hadn’t given either much thought.

Chapter Four

The next morning, as Hector walked out to get the morning newspaper, he noticed quite a few of the neighbors had taken their recycling bins and their rubbish to the curb, which was a reminder that it was trash day.

Samantha hadn’t yet taken out hers, either. And the truck always came early.

Maybe she’d overslept. Or maybe she’d completely forgotten it was Thursday.

Hector hated to think of her struggling with the bins and cans, especially in her condition. So even though he’d made up his mind to put a little distance between them from now on, he would offer to take her garbage out to the street for her.

He carried the newspaper with him, strode to her stoop and rang the bell. When the door swung open, he braced himself to see her wearing a robe, her hair tousled from sleep. But she was dressed for the day in a pair of black slacks and a light green blouse. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which made her look a bit younger than she had last night. A bit more vulnerable—and sad.

“Did you forget what day it is?” he asked.