Her Best Friend's Baby

Stuffing a washcloth over her mouth to hide the noise, Mary Jane cried under the shower until the water turned cold.

WHILE GETTING DRESSED, she could hear noise downstairs in the kitchen—the faucet going on and off, the refrigerator door closing and cabinet doors banging shut. She could guess what Morgan was up to. He was checking to see what she’d been eating. Wonderful. She’d planned to stock up on fresh veggies today. Her supply was pretty much gone.

She wondered if he’d found the brownie mix in the cupboard or noticed the box of doughnuts sitting on top of the refrigerator with one stale raised glazed left in it. She’d left the bag of Jolly Ranchers right out on the counter.

Well, too bad. She would not be treated like a wayward child in her own house. Glancing at herself in denim overalls and a T-shirt as she passed the dresser mirror, she realized that’s exactly what she looked like. Damn.

Quickly she rummaged through her drawers and pawed through the clothes in her closet, looking for something more sophisticated. Finally she gave up. Unless she planned to parade downstairs in the silky silver number she’d worn on New Year’s, she was SOL. The silver dress wouldn’t fit anymore, anyway.

She should probably do something with her hair. Freshly washed, it curled and cavorted everywhere. But she had to tame her hair for work, and after six days of that she was sick of tying it back. Screw it.

She should put on shoes. Otherwise she’d appear in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant. Smiling grimly, she slipped her feet into a pair of leather mules, took a deep breath and went downstairs.

Morgan sat in her sunny little kitchen nook making a list on the back of a paper sack. With the dark stubble on his chin and the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled back, he looked like a gangster, or maybe a pirate. He sure didn’t look like a respectable New York City pediatrician.

He glanced up when she walked into the kitchen. “We need to go to the store, but first I’ll take you to breakfast. There’s nothing decent to eat here.”

She wasn’t hungry, but she’d deal with that question later. “I was going to—” She caught herself as the words came out sounding more belligerent and defensive than she wanted them to. Clearing her throat, she started again. “I was planning to shop today,” she said quietly. “I just got off six straight days at work.”

“Six days straight?” He looked scandalized. “You’re still at the diner, right?”

“Yes.”

“We have to do something about that. Six days straight is criminal. Who’s your boss? I want to talk to—”

“Hold it!” So she sounded belligerent. She couldn’t help it. He wasn’t going to waltz in here and take over her life. “You are so not going to talk to Shelby Lord! She asked me to work an extra day as a special favor, and she’s very concerned about my health, if you must know. I told her I would be fine with it, and I am fine with it.” She’d never admit that the last day had been more tiring than she’d expected.

He tossed the pen he’d been using on the table and pushed back his chair. Standing, he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at her. “You may be fine with it, but hours and hours on your feet are not the best thing for the baby. Why do you insist on continuing to work there, when we’ve offered to subsidize you so that you could quit?”

Pain shot through her and she stared at him, wondering if he realized he’d just used the word we. There was no we anymore. She saw the exact moment his mistake registered. His brown eyes clouded and he looked away, swallowing several times.

Watching him struggle with his grief, she quickly lost her anger. “I keep my job because I like it,” she said softly. “I know waitressing doesn’t seem like a career to you, but I have a good time helping customers, at least most of the time. All of us weren’t meant to be white-collar workers.”

He shook his head, but he didn’t look at her. Instead he pretended great interest in birds gathered at the feeder in her tiny back patio. “I didn’t mean that,” he murmured. “You may think I’m some sort of elitist snob, but I’m not.”

“The truth is I don’t know you very well, Morgan.” She thought of the way they’d come together last night, the knowing that had taken place on an elemental level, and wondered if she knew him better than anyone else on earth.

He cleared his throat and glanced at her, his eyes moist. “I guess you don’t know me. There were those few days before the wedding, and then the last visit, for the procedure.”

She nodded. “Arielle kept saying the two of you would visit Austin, but you never came.”

“No. She really liked New York.”

“I know.” She looked into his eyes and knew they had to get out of this house or they would both break down again. “You said something about shopping.”

He nodded. “Your food supply leaves much to be desired.”

She decided to ignore the insult. At least he hadn’t specifically started in on her about the sweets. “Do you want to go out looking like that?”

“Like—” He looked startled, and then he rubbed a hand over his chin. “Maybe I should shave.”

“Unless you want to frighten old ladies and small children.”

The ghost of a smile flitted across his mouth. “I’d rather not.”

She’d forgotten that he had a wonderful smile. This wasn’t a real version of it, but it reminded her why she’d taken a liking to Morgan when she’d first met him. When he smiled, really smiled, he put his whole heart into it. His whole heart wasn’t in it now, but she could hardly blame him for that.

“Come on upstairs and I’ll find you a new razor,” she said. “You’ll have to lather up with soap instead of shaving cream, though. And the razor will be pink. I hope that doesn’t offend you.” She started out of the kitchen.

“Nothing could offend me more than I’ve offended myself.”

Whirling, she threw out both hands in exasperation. “Good Lord, will you stop?” She’d never been a patient person under the best of circumstances, and he was sorely trying what little patience she could find this morning. “We were both under a hideous strain, and we comforted each other! I thank God you were here to tell me in person! Don’t you thank God that you had someone to run to, someone who loved Arielle as much as you did?”

His throat worked. His dark eyes filled. “Yes. I thank God for you, Mary Jane. I will thank God for you for the rest of my life.”

She looked into his eyes and something happened to her heart, making it go all squishy and warm and tender. Wow. The guy packed a wallop. She needed to get him moving or she was liable to do something really embarrassing, like move closer and kiss him. Like suggest they go upstairs for something besides that razor…

“Shaving,” she said. “We can get through this, Morgan, if we just put one foot in front of the other.”

“Maybe you should get the razor and bring it down. I can shave in the half bath.”

“You can, but the light’s no good in there. And the mirror distorts a little. Believe me, I know these things, having stared into both mirrors more times than I should probably admit. Come on.” She started up the stairs.

“That’s okay. I’ll use the half bath.”

One hand on the railing, she turned and gazed at him. She wondered if he was one of those stubborn men who turned everything into a power struggle. If so, the sooner he left Austin, the better. “I hate to say this, Morgan, but you are being a pain in the ass. I’ll bring the razor down if you insist, but what damned difference does it make where you shave?”

He cleared his throat and looked away. “I just think…it would be better if I stayed down here. And out of the…bedroom.”

Oh. As she gripped the railing and considered the implications of what he’d said, she couldn’t hold back a small feeling of triumph. He’d liked his experience with her last night. He’d liked it so much that he wanted more. Maybe Morgan wasn’t all brain, after all.

“I’ll get the razor,” she said, her step much lighter as she went upstairs.

AT MARY JANE’S suggestion, they’d driven across town to an area she seldom visited to have breakfast and shop for groceries. Morgan thought it was a smart move. Mary Jane didn’t want to run into anyone she knew until she had herself more emotionally together, and he didn’t want to run into anyone who had known Arielle. After all, his wife had spent the first twenty-two years of her life in this town.

Taking another sip of his coffee, he sat across the table from Mary Jane in the booth of a small neighborhood restaurant and watched her not eat. She made a show of it, cutting her omelette into bite-size pieces, sipping her juice, putting a little pepper on her food. His plate looked as untouched as hers, but he wasn’t pregnant. She needed to eat.

“Look, I know you’re not hungry,” he said at last. “But you need to try.”

She glanced at him. “Couldn’t I swallow twice as many of those prenatal magic bullets you’ve prescribed for me?”

He shook his head and felt a smile trying to work its way through his pain. “They don’t work very well if you don’t have food in there, too.”

She sighed and took a bite of omelette into her mouth. Chewing and swallowing, she made a face. “It’s cold and the cheese has congealed.”

“Then I’ll order you another one.” He lifted his hand to signal the waitress.

“You most certainly will not!” She shoveled in another bite. “I’m eating. See? Eating.”