Having Justin's Baby

“No, I don’t want you to wear dresses,” she said with a hint of impatience. “I want you to stand up for me—just like you have for the past twenty years. You’d wear tuxes, like the other men in the wedding party.”

“But we’d be standing with the women,” Kyle pointed out.

“There aren’t going to be any women,” Paige told them. “It’s a small wedding. I’m only having a maid of honor, and Michael is only having a best man.”

“So there’ll be four men and you?” Justin asked.

“You guys sound like you don’t want to do it.” There was a plaintive note in Paige’s voice.

“We didn’t say that,” Justin told her, although one glance at Kyle told him that not even his lifelong crush on their former housemate was going to persuade him to be a maid of honor at her wedding. He was gesturing “no way” with his hands and shaking his head.

“Then what are you saying?” she demanded to know.

Justin avoided answering the question. “Is your fiancé okay with this?”

“I haven’t run it by him yet,” she admitted.

“Don’t you think you should?” Again it was Justin who spoke.

“I will, but first I wanted to ask you guys. I mean, you’ve been my best friends since the fourth grade. It wouldn’t feel right to ask someone else.”

Silence stretched between them, prompting her to ask, “You are going to do it, aren’t you?”

Justin was about to say, “Let us think about it,” when Kyle spoke. “Of course we’ll do it.”

Justin glared at him, but Kyle paid no attention. “Or at least one of us will.”

Justin frowned. “What do you mean one of us?”

“I know the three of us have been friends for a long time and it’s always been one for all and all for one,” Kyle said, “but don’t you think Paige should have only one of us as maid of honor. After all, Michael is having one best man.”

“But I can’t choose between the two of you,” she protested.

“Then we’ll choose for you,” Kyle said. “We’ll talk it over and let you know which one it’ll be. Okay?”

Justin had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“I’m okay with that if you guys are,” Paige replied.

“Of course we are,” Kyle said.

“Justin?”

Now was his time to protest. He should have said no, but he didn’t. Because like Kyle, he didn’t want to disappoint Paige. “I’m okay with it,” he muttered.

As soon as she had hung up he turned to Kyle and said, “Why do I have the feeling that there is going to be no discussion as to which one of us gets to play the girl part at the wedding?”

“I would do it, but I can’t,” he said, climbing out of bed and pulling on a pair of jeans. “You know how I feel about Paige. It’s going to be tough enough watching her marry Michael Cross. I can’t do it standing right next to her and in front of everyone. You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

Justin exhaled a long sigh. “Yeah, I understand.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Kyle clapped him on the arm as he passed him on his way out of the room. “You’ll make a great maid of honor,” he called over his shoulder as he headed down the hallway.

No, he was going to make a terrible one. Paige should have chosen someone who would be happy for her, someone who would truly share in the joy of her wedding. That someone was not him. Because like Kyle, he was a marshmallow when it came to Paige. He’d been in love with her since the fourth grade. Only no one knew.

CHAPTER ONE

“YOU’RE NOT NERVOUS, are you?” Paige Stephens asked her fiancé.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because your knees are creating an air current under the table.”

“Sorry.” Michael Cross stopped wriggling and gave her a lazy half smile that caused a dimple to appear in his left cheek. “Maybe I do feel a little like Ben Stiller in Meet the Parents.”

“There’s no need to. The Colliers aren’t my parents. They’re just friends.”

Paige took a sip of the ice water in her glass. Even though she didn’t want to admit it to Michael, she felt a twinge of anxiety herself. That’s why she’d chosen Betty’s Pie Shop for lunch instead of the dining room at the Cascading Waters Resort. She didn’t want to be under the scrutiny of her coworkers. The pie shop was always crowded with lots of noise and commotion. Fidgeting wouldn’t be as noticeable among clanking silverware and clattering plates.

“They must be special friends if you want them to be host and hostess at the wedding.”

“They are special. I’ve known them most of my life. I think I probably spent more time in their home than mine when I was a kid.”

“Because of their son Justin?”

“No, because Nancy ran a day care and my father made me stay there even when I was old enough to stay home by myself. I can remember the exact moment my father sat me down and told me I’d be spending the hours after school at her day care. I cried and begged him to let me stay by myself. He didn’t think that nine was old enough to be left alone and didn’t believe me when I said I could take care of myself.”

Michael smiled indulgently. “I bet you would have been just fine on your own.”

“Of course I would have,” she insisted. “I was a very responsible child.”

“I believe you.” He gave her the smile she found the most endearing of all of his grins—the one that made her feel warm and fuzzy. “You’re such a capable woman. I can’t imagine you were any different as a child.”

“What a sweet thing to say. Thank you.” She reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “No wonder I fell in love with you. You have a sensitivity that is rare in a man.”

Actually he had quite a few qualities that she’d found to be rare in guys she had dated over the past twelve years. Michael was honest. Sincere. Trustworthy.

Until she met him she’d never believed in love at first sight, but all it had taken was one look from his deep-set eyes and a slow seductive smile on his lips and she’d been smitten. She had been a volunteer in the education building at the State Fair handing out buttons that promoted literacy. He kept returning to the booth until the entire front of his shirt was covered in “I like to read” buttons. She’d been charmed from the first moment he said hello—not an easy thing for any guy to do with her, especially one who made a living teaching golf. At first she thought it was the whole preppie look he had going—the polo shirts, the casual pants, the carefully groomed black hair. But the more time they spent together, the more wonderful she found him to be.

“I aim to please,” Michael said with a lift of his water glass. Then he looked again at his watch.

“Please relax,” she urged him. “I don’t think you were this nervous when you came to Thanksgiving dinner and had to meet my father.”

“Probably because you talk about the Colliers a lot more than you talk about your dad. You’re not very close to your dad, are you?”

She rubbed the moisture from the base of her water glass with her thumb. “We have issues.”

“What kind of issues?”