Caroselli's Christmas Baby

They walked past the receptionist’s desk and he used his key card to activate the elevator. Only authorized personnel and approved visitors were allowed above the ground floor. And no one but the Caroselli family and employees with special clearance were allowed in the test kitchen.

Nick was quiet the entire ride up to the fourth floor, and while they walked down the hall to his office. She had to smile as he opened the door and switched on the light, and she saw the lopsided stacks of papers and memos on the surface of his desk, leaving no space at all to work. She suspected that this was why he spent so much time on the top floor in the kitchen.

He opened the desk drawer and pulled out his car keys, but then he just stood there. Something was definitely bugging him and she needed to know what.

“What’s the matter, Nick? And don’t tell me nothing. I’ve known you long enough to know when something is wrong.”

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“About me having a baby?”

He nodded.

“It’s what I want.”

“Then there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Okay,” she said, her heart sinking just the tiniest bit, mostly because he wouldn’t look at her. And he must have been anticipating a long discussion because he took off his coat and tossed it over the back of his chair. She did the same, then nudged aside a pile of papers so she could sit beside him on the edge of his desk.

He was quiet for several long seconds, as though he was working something through in his head, then he looked at her and said, “You really want to do it? Have a baby, I mean.”

“I really do.”

“What if I had a better way?”

“A better way?”

He nodded. “For both of us.”

Both of them? She failed to see how her plan to have a baby could in any way benefit him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I know the perfect man to be the father of your baby. Someone who would actually be around. Someone willing to take financial responsibility for the rest of the baby’s life.”

Whoever this so-called perfect man was, he sounded too good to be true. “Oh, yeah?” she said. “Who?”

He leaned forward, his dark eyes serious. “Me.”

For a second she was too stunned to speak. Nick wanted to have a baby with her? “Why? You’ve been pretty adamant about the fact that you don’t want children.”

“Trust me when I say that it will be a mutually advantageous arrangement.”

“Advantageous how?”

“What I’m about to tell you, you have to promise not to repeat to anyone. Ever.”

“Okay.”

“Say, ‘I promise.’”

She rolled her eyes. What were they, twelve? “I promise.”

“Last week my grandfather called me, Rob and Tony to his house for a secret meeting. He offered us ten million dollars each to produce a male heir to carry on the Caroselli name.”

“Holy crap.”

“That was pretty much my first reaction, too. I wasn’t sure I was even going to accept his offer. I’m really not ready to settle down, but then you mentioned your plan …” He shrugged. “I mean, how much more perfect could it be? You get the baby you want and I get the money.”

It made sense in a weird way, but her and Nick?

“Of course, we would have to get married,” he said.

Whoa, wait a minute. “Married? Haven’t you told me about a million times that you’ll never get married?”

“You know how traditional Nonno is. I don’t have a choice. But the minute I have the cash in hand, we can file for a quickie divorce. An ironclad prenup should eliminate any complications … not that I expect there would be any.”

“That sounds almost too easy.”

“Well, we will have to make it look convincing.”

Why did she get the feeling she wasn’t going to like this? “What exactly do you mean by convincing?”

“You’ll have to move into my place.”

A fake marriage was one thing, but to live together? “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I have lots of space. You can have the spare bedroom and you can turn the den into your office.”

Space wasn’t the issue. They’d tried the roommate thing right after college, in an apartment more than spacious enough for two people. Between the random girls parading in and out at ridiculous hours—and the fact that Nick never picked up after himself and left the sink filled with his dirty dishes while the dishwasher sat empty, and a couple dozen other annoying quirks and habits he had—after two months she’d reached her limit. Had she stayed even a day longer, it would have either killed their friendship, or she would have killed him.

“Nick, you know I love you, and I value our friendship beyond anything else, but we’ve tried this before. It didn’t work.”

“That was almost eight years ago. I’m sure we’ve both matured since then.”

“Have you stopped being a slob, too? Because I loathe the thought of spending the next nine months cleaning up after you.”

“You won’t have to. I have a cleaning service come in three times a week. And for the record, I’m not particularly looking forward to you nagging me incessantly.”

“I do not nag,” she said, and he shot her a look. “Okay, maybe I nag a little, but only out of sheer frustration.”

“Then we’ll just have to make an effort to be more accommodating to each other. I promise to keep on top of the clutter, if you promise not to nag.”

That might be easier said than done.

“Think how lucky the kid will be,” Nick said. “Most divorced parents hate each other. Mine haven’t had a civilized conversation in years. His will be best friends.”

He had a good point there. “So that means you’ll be a regular part of the baby’s life?”

“Of course. And he’ll have lots of cousins, and aunts and uncles.”