Beginning with Their Baby

He glanced at her still-flat stomach, knowing exactly what she meant. He felt like he’d been pulled up short, run over by a steamroller. Pulled into a swirling abyss of emotions and decisions he was in no way ready for.

“I want to help.” The words came out stilted, cool, and she stiffened in response.

“Look, I didn’t come here to hit you up for money.”

“Still, I want to help. And I don’t just mean financially. That’s my kid, too.”

“Well, that wasn’t the reaction I’d anticipated.” The careless, mocking tone he knew so well was back, and he couldn’t help being relieved. He knew how to deal with this Camille.

“So what did you anticipate? You fly halfway around the world and show up on my doorstep with no warning—you must have been expecting something.”

“You didn’t even ask me if the baby was yours.”

His stomach churned acid at her words, until all he could think of was Camille in the arms of another man. Other men. How many had there been since she’d left him, anyway? He shoved the uncomfortable images away—regret wouldn’t change anything.

“I figured if you made the effort to tell me, you had to be pretty sure…”

“You’re the father.”

He released the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “All right, then. So what do we do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you seen a doctor? Figured out where you want to live? Thought about getting a job? You don’t have to work right now, if you don’t want to. I make enough money to—”

“Whoa, Matt.” It was the first time she’d said his name since she’d come back, and warmth curled through him. At least until her next words hit him. “I’ve barely begun to think things through. I came back because I figured I owed it to you to tell you about the baby face-to-face. But nothing says I’m going to stay here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Austin isn’t exactly my dream spot, you know.” She glanced around the generic motel room. “I never planned to settle here.”

“But my business is here. My life is here.”

“That doesn’t mean mine has to be.”

Ice skated down his spine. “What are you saying, Camille? That you don’t want me to be a part of this baby’s life?”

“Are you saying you really want to be a part of its life?” She looked him up and down skeptically. “You don’t exactly come across as a family man.”

Her words came at him from left field. Sure, when they’d been together, he hadn’t talked about wanting to get married and have a family. He hadn’t wanted to spook her. But he’d always anticipated having a wife and kids someday—just because his parents’ marriage hadn’t worked out didn’t mean he didn’t believe in the institution.

The thought gave him pause, made him wonder if this thing with Camille would ruin all his plans for the future. He’d always planned to do things the normal way—wife first, then kids. Having a kid first—with a woman who had no feelings for him and no plans to stick around—hadn’t been part of the agenda.

Would a woman like Ariane—smart, savvy, driven—accept his ties to another woman, accept the fact that he’d had a child out of wedlock? Or would his lack of formal relationship with Camille make her suspicious about his ability to commit?

With a sigh, he let the worries go—things were what they were and there was nothing he could do but to make new plans, plans that included his baby and its commitment-phobic mother.

“I find it hard to believe that you think you can criticize me on my lifestyle. When you can’t even hold a job for more than a month at a time.”

“I choose not to hold a job. There’s a huge difference.”

“Yeah—and the distinction’s not a particularly flattering one to you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she drawled. “I think footloose and fancy-free is a lot better than buttoned-up and bitter as hell.”

“For the second time, I am not bitter.”

“Now, there’s a good defense.” Her eyes mocked him even more than her words. “Denial’s not just a river in Egypt, Matt.”

“Babies have a way of tying you down, Camille. They need things like security and stability.”

She clenched her hands into fists, and he stared at her long artist’s fingers, fascinated. They still bore traces of blue and green paint, as if she’d finished a painting and caught a plane to America all in the same hour.

Of course, she might have done just that—it was her way. Attacking her on it was going to get them nowhere.

“Look, Camille, it’s my turn to apologize. This whole baby thing came out of nowhere and it’s made me a little punchy.” He pushed out of the chair, strode over to where she was. “I can’t imagine what it’s done to you.”

“It’s freaked me out,” she admitted candidly. “Turned my whole life upside down—and the kid isn’t even here yet.”

“That’s kind of what I figured—and I’m not making this any easier for you.” He settled himself next to her on the bed, rested a soft hand on her knee. A jolt of electricity ripped between them, but he worked to ignore it. Chemistry—or a lack thereof—had never been their problem.

Too bad he couldn’t say the same thing about communication.

“Look, nothing has to be decided now. Right? So we can just take things slowly, see how they work out.”

“How do you think they’re going to work out?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

She didn’t answer, just stared at him for so long that he began to feel like a bug under a microscope—and a dead one, at that.

Just when his nerves were at the breaking point, she whispered, “Okay.”

Relief swept through him, though he didn’t know why. This baby was a complication he didn’t need. Yet the idea of her taking off again, of never seeing the baby he’d helped create, left him cold.

Clearing away the sudden lump in his throat, he asked, “Have you seen a doctor yet?”

“I figured I’d do that here.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?”

She shook her head and he started to relax. This is what he was good at. Planning. Thinking things out. Getting things done. If she’d let him, he’d take care of everything. “I’ll figure something out. My friend Reece’s wife had a baby just a few weeks ago—maybe she knows someone.”

“Same old Matt, taking care of anyone who will let him.”

He forced himself not to take offense. “You’re not anyone. You’re the mother of my child.”

“Matt, I didn’t tell you about the baby because I wanted to guilt you into anything. I don’t work that way.”