Little Secrets: Holiday Baby Bombshell

“You owe me five bucks.” They were always betting on sports. No longer living in the same house or competing in swimming, it was one way to keep their sibling rivalry going.

“The winning goal was completely bogus. He kicked it into the net.”

“Nope. It went off his skate. They reviewed it. A win’s a win.”

“Fine. I’ll pay you when you come at Christmas.” Michael stepped aside as a mover brought several boxes into the kitchen. He pointed at the center island, indicating that was a good landing spot. “I mean, if you still want to come.”

“What else am I going to do? Go visit Mom and Dad? I don’t think so.”

Michael and Chris had been spending Christmas together, but separate from their parents, for six years now. Things had always been difficult with their father. The man had all the warmth of a dark night in Siberia. There was no parental affection, only an intolerance for anything short of perfection. It was one thing when that revolved around swimming. It had helped both Michael and Chris get to the Olympics. It was quite another when it came to one of their sons being on the wrong end of a broken engagement.

“Okay. I’m just saying that I’m fine. I don’t want you to feel like you have to come to New York every year and console me.”

“Hey. It’s not just you. We both sort of lost our parents that day.”

Michael did his best to ward off the guilt. Chris had sided with him when Dad went off the rails about Michael’s admittedly disastrous engagement party. Mom took Dad’s side, which still confounded them both. Their marriage was anything but blissful.

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw a small dog rocket through his foyer. Charlotte raced in behind him. “Thor! No!”

“Hey, Chris. I need to run. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Michael hung up and rushed to investigate. Charlotte’s dog was in the living room, straddling a very startled Abby’s leg, humping away. “I take it this is Thor?”

Charlotte pulled her dog off Abby and tucked him under her arm, scolding him. “No. Bad dog.”

“Does he always do that? Rush into someone’s house and try to mate with the nearest canine?” Michael crouched down and showed Abby some love. “I’m sorry, sweets. He woke you up from your nap and everything.”

Charlotte blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. He got out of his kennel and bolted down the hall. He’s my little Houdini.” She lowered herself to the floor and sat with her legs crossed, letting the dogs sniff each other while she petted Abby. “Hi, Abs. Long time, no see.” Charlotte had such a sweet side when she chose to let it out, and he’d nearly forgotten what it was like to witness it. It made her even more beautiful, if that was possible. She cast her eyes up at him. “I think they can get along. I swear Thor’s not really like this. I think the move has him out of sorts. He can’t figure out what’s going on.”

“It’s funny. I’ve seen so many pictures of him, but you never brought him to my place. It seems strange that I never met him.”

Charlotte shot him one of her looks. He’d said the wrong thing. Again. “Are you serious right now? It wasn’t that I never brought him to your place. It’s that we always went to your apartment and my dog was never invited. You’re lucky I had a lonely retiree living next door to me. Thor spent most of our relationship with my old neighbor.”

Michael hadn’t really thought about it. It just always seemed easier to meet up at his apartment. “I’m sorry if it seemed that way to you.”

“It didn’t seem that way. It was that way. You never came to my apartment. Not once.”

Was that really true? He guessed it was. Damn. Michael’s phone rang again, saving him from the onslaught of shame Charlotte was likely about to launch at him. He straightened and fished his cell out of his pocket. “It’s your brother. Sorry. I need to get this.”

“It’s Sawyer? Why would he be calling you?” Charlotte seemed once again miffed by Michael’s existence on the planet.

“Maybe because we’re working together?” Michael pressed the button to pick up the call. “Hey there, Sawyer. What can I do for you this afternoon?”

“Nothing, actually. This call is purely social. I wanted to know if it’s best to mail you something at your office or if you’re ready to start getting mail at the Grand Legacy.”

“What sort of something?”

Michael watched as Charlotte attempted to further acquaint the dogs by placing Thor back on the floor. Unfortunately, the little brute returned to his previous libidinous activity.

“Is he fixed?” he whispered to Charlotte.

“Yes.” She frowned at him.

“I want to send you an invitation to my wedding,” Sawyer said.

“Oh. Great. I’d love to come to your wedding.” Michael said it entirely for Charlotte’s benefit, although he wished he could’ve received this invitation earlier, when Gabe had been bragging about it.

Charlotte’s face made the very short trip from shock to horror.

“It’s in a week, and I know this is last minute, but it occurred to me after we met the other day that we’re working on this project together and you’re the first resident of the Grand Legacy who isn’t related to me. I’d like to include you that day if you’re free. We’re having the ceremony and the reception at the hotel, so you won’t have far to go. And, of course, you should feel free to bring a date.”

Michael hadn’t been on a date since Charlotte had broken up with him. Not that he hadn’t entertained the idea. There were several women he’d considered asking out. But something stopped him, every time. He just wasn’t sure what his problem was. “Sounds great. You can go ahead and put me down with a plus-one. I’ll definitely bring a date.” Michael watched for Charlotte’s reaction, which turned out to be an overblown eye roll.

Michael and Sawyer said their goodbyes, and the movers brought in another round of boxes along with a few smaller pieces of furniture.

Charlotte scooped up her dog again. “So you’re bringing a date to my brother’s wedding? Or did you just say that for my benefit?”

Maybe. “Yes and no.”

“It wasn’t payback for Hunks with Trucks?”

He could admit to himself that he’d been irked that she’d hired an all-male revue to move her into the building, but he wasn’t about to own up to it with her. “I don’t bother with payback, Charlotte. You’re free to do whatever you want. You broke up with me, remember?” He disliked the tone in his voice, the one that said it still bothered him. He knew he should be over it by now, but it still felt like there was a lot unresolved between Charlotte and him. Being around her only brought it to the surface, like scratching a wound that hadn’t healed.

“I broke up with you because you practically dared me to do it. Which is probably why we should just agree to be kindly neighbors and work adversaries.”

Was that where this was going to end? It seemed a shame, but all signs pointed to yes. And maybe that was for the best. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“So says the guy who insists we’re racing to see who can sell their apartments first.”

“We’re still doing that.”

She closed her eyes and sucked a deep breath through her nose. “Goodbye, Michael.”

“’Bye.” He watched down the hall as she walked away, unable to ignore how much he loved the sway of her hips in stretchy black pants. He was definitely going to need to find a date for her brother’s wedding. There was no telling who Charlotte would show up with—probably Chad from Hunks with Trucks.

No, it was time for Michael to get back on the horse and start dating again. Maybe it would help him finally get Charlotte out of his system.

Four (#ubec778de-9a32-5c7b-9a38-02d488d79295)

Charlotte’s new apartment, especially her home office, was shaping up nicely. Her desk, one of her favorite pieces of furniture, was a floor model she’d picked up for a steal at a lovely designer shop in SoHo. It had weathered gray wood and legs that were heavy and scrolled, with a glass top for smoother writing. She’d never liked the idea of a rolling desk chair—too many opportunities to sit and miss—so instead, she used an upholstered side chair in linen with dark legs and nail-head trim. With a lovely bank of windows streaming in daylight, it was the sunniest possible spot to get her life back on track.

Primped by 9:00 a.m. and dressed for the day in a knee-length navy skirt, black-and-white checked blouse and black pumps, she sat at her desk and began to plan out her day. It was almost enough to make her feel like a confident and accomplished businesswoman. The only thing nagging her was the distinct sense that the clock was ticking. It would only be another ten days or so until she was starting her second trimester.

The words alone—second trimester—filled her with a cocktail of excitement and worry that far surpassed any bout of anxiety she’d ever had to battle. She couldn’t spend too much time perched on this feather-stuffed chair in her photo-spread-ready office, casually writing herself notes. Soon a crib would need to be added, a rocking chair, a bureau for the baby’s things. After that, she’d be focused on practicing breathing techniques and the best ways to navigate her environment while her belly was the size of a Smart car. Soon after that she’d be wandering the apartment in slippers and pajamas, holding her sweet little bundle, wondering what day it was and whether her breasts could ever again be used for anything fun. Or at least that was what Fran had said.