Because Of The Baby. Anne HavenЧитать онлайн книгу.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ONLY MELISSA.

      Only Melissa, Kyle thought, could have kept her pregnancy secret for so damn long. Only she could have maintained the fiction that nothing had changed, could have managed not to reveal anything through words or expressions or actions. It was simply a logical extension of her business-as-usual performance after they’d made love.

      Oh, Mel.

      The woman was purely herself. She didn’t try to act like anyone else.

      He knew some people considered her inhuman, even cold. She wasn’t. She might be more subtle, less immediately accessible. But the depth and the feelings were there. Only people who had no patience for subtlety had a hard time with her. People who needed everything to be simple and easy and obvious.

      Kyle changed into sweats and shoved on his court shoes. It was Thursday afternoon and he’d made plans to meet his friend Jerome down at the park for some hoops. He needed the physical activity and the diversion of athletic competition. Badly.

      His keys sat on his dresser, next to a framed photo of Felicity and him. He grabbed the keys and stuffed them into the zippered pocket of his sweat-pants, then jogged down the stairs and left the building at an easy run, warming up his body slowly. The October air felt cool and refreshing against his skin. The change to standard time hadn’t occurred yet, so a few more hours of daylight remained this afternoon.

      He tilted up his face to the sun, briefly closing his eyes as he ran along the sidewalk, and thought, How could this have happened? This impossible, incomprehensible situation. How can Melissa and I be having a baby together?

      Neither of them had expected to have children—let alone with each other.

      How strange and terrifying…

      Not that either of them had something against kids. No, they both liked them. They’d enjoyed the times when Kyle’s brother and his wife—now his ex-wife—had come to visit, bringing little Danny and Mira. They often volunteered to baby-sit for friends.

      But to take on parenthood themselves?

      Kyle reached the park, saw Jerome and waved as he jogged toward him.

      “Hey,” the other man said, clasping his hand in a quick man-to-man shake when he reached the court. “How’s it going, Kyle?”

      He shrugged. “You know.”

      I’m going to be a father.

      The thought resounded in his head like the echoing announcements in a sports arena. He tried to ignore it and said, “Ready to be the old farts who kick some seventeen-year-old butts?”

      Jerome laughed. “You bet, man.”

      Within a couple minutes they’d found more players and started a game. Kyle worked up a sweat. As the only white guy this afternoon—and one who was only five-eleven at that—he had to work extra hard to prove himself. And then there was the age thing. He and Jerome were thirty-two and thirty-six respectively. The teenagers here really did see them as old farts.

      I’m going to be a father.

      He jumped up and aimed for the hoop. The ball made a satisfying whoosh as it slid cleanly through; unlike some public courts, this one had nets hanging.

      Jerome tagged him on the arm as they moved back out. “Good shot, buddy.”

      “Thanks.”

      I’m going to be a father. They played another thirty minutes before taking a break. Kyle walked over to the water fountain, breathing hard. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm.

      A few yards away children laughed and shouted as they pumped back and forth on the swings and climbed all over the brightly painted jungle gym.

      Hell.

      I’m going to be a father.

      Jerome caught up with him as he leaned down for a drink. “Hey, old man,” he teased. “Too much for you?”

      Kyle swallowed a mouthful of water. “I’m not the one who was gasping and wheezing on the court back there,” he said, and took another long gulp.

      His friend laughed.

      Kyle felt dizzy and weak. And it wasn’t because of the basketball game.

      ANITA LOPEZ did not look forward to seeing her sister. She loved Melissa and usually enjoyed spending time together—but sometimes the tensions in their relationship were more than she wanted to deal with.

      And sometimes her perfect, overachieving sister could be a royal pain.

      This Friday morning, Anita feared, was going to be one of those times. Especially after she told her the news. Without a doubt Melissa would flip.

      Oh, she wouldn’t shout and wave her arms in the air, or swear, or do any of the things most people did when they flew off the handle. No, Melissa would stay completely calm. Her very noticeable lack of a strong response would signal her flipped-outedness.

      Through the kitchen window of her ground-floor apartment Anita saw her sister’s white Honda pull up in the parking lot.

      She’d been washing dishes from breakfast. She rinsed the last plate and wiped off her hands.

      Melissa had almost reached the front stoop when Anita opened the door. They greeted each other with the genuine affection they shared—despite the issues between them—and Anita ushered her inside.

      “I made some herbal tea to take with us,” Anita said, “since I noticed you stopped drinking coffee last month.”

      “Thanks, that sounds great.”

      “Just let me get a wool sweater. It’s a bit nippy out today, isn’t it?”

      When she returned from the bedroom, Melissa had retrieved the two insulated travel mugs from the kitchen counter. She handed one to Anita. “What’s Troy up to this morning?”

      “Working for his brother at the hardware store. Didn’t I tell you?” She grabbed her backpack and keys from the dining-room table and they headed outside. “He started working there to pick up some extra cash.”

      “Mmm. I don’t remember hearing about it.”

      They passed Melissa’s car. They were going to shop at a little commercial area a mile or so away, and Melissa had suggested walking in order to get some exercise.

      Anita shrugged as they reached the street and started off down the sidewalk. “I probably forgot to mention it. I’ve been…distracted lately.”

      “Painting a lot?”

      “No, it’s just…” She swallowed. How did you tell your younger sister, who’d never made a mistake in her life, that you’d gotten yourself knocked up? “Anyway, um, Troy had to leave before you got here. He said to say hello and he’ll see you on Sunday at Dad’s.”

      Melissa glanced at her. “He’s going to be there?”

      So far Troy hadn’t made a lot of appearances at the Lopez family dinners. Their old-fashioned father hadn’t quite accepted the man who was living in sin with her. She and Troy had decided to take it slowly instead of forcing the matter.

      But now everything had changed.

      “Melissa,” she began, “Troy and I have some news…” Damn it. Her voice sounded high-pitched and shaky, but she had to go on. “That’s why he’s coming to dinner on Sunday—so we can tell Dad together.”

      “What kind of news? Do you mind telling me now or did you want to wait?”

      “No, I don’t want to wait.”

      Melissa