want this baby.”
He nodded.
“I’m having it.”
“All right.”
“When my mother had her heart attack, she thought she was going to die. She told me how much she regretted not being able to see her grandchildren.”
“She didn’t mean for you to—”
“I know.” She folded her arms across her waist. “I know. And she wanted me to be married. I didn’t plan this, Steve. It was an accident. Sometimes things happen. Life throws you a curve. You can duck, or you can lean into it.”
“You’re going with it.” He wasn’t asking a question.
“I want this baby,” she said again.
He nodded. “When are-you due?”
“Six months.” She knew what was going through his mind. Why hadn’t she made plans to marry Wayne when she’d first discovered the pregnancy? That was none of his business.
But instead he asked, “Isn’t morning sickness supposed to be over by now?”
She shrugged. “Marchettis never do anything halfway.”
He nodded absently as he studied her. He was still sitting on the side of the tub. His intense gaze rested on her abdomen, assessing her for proof of the baby’s existence. She felt like roadkill, but outwardly there was no sign. And she would know. Every day she looked in the mirror at her almost-flat tummy. Part of her couldn’t wait to see how she would look, know what the baby’s initial tiny movements would feel like, experience a good solid kick for the first time.
There was another part of her that hoped no one would notice for a decent length of time. By then she would have been married to Wayne and no one would have started counting back the months. Even if they had, it wouldn’t have mattered because she would have had a husband. And the baby, a father. It had been a lovely fairy tale, one she realized that her shallow fiancé would have destroyed pretty quickly. But if Steve hadn’t been so eager to take orders from her mother, at least the baby would have had his father’s name.
After her parents, her brother Nick would take this news hardest. He had always been protective of her. Steve, too. His gaze lifted from her tummy, past her breasts, to her lips, where it lingered for a moment before he looked into her eyes. She saw an expression—something sad?—that made her want to wrap her arms around him. Before she could name the emotion, it was gone. Just as well. More than once she’d been accused of trying to mother the world. In a matter of a few months, she would be a mother for real. She needed to focus on her baby. His welfare came first.
“Six months isn’t very long.” Steve stood and let out a long breath. He ran a hand through his hair, then checked his watch. As he walked out of the bathroom he said, “The sooner your mother knows about this, the better. Are you packed? We’ve got a plane to catch—”
“You go ahead,” she called after him.
He poked his head back in. “What?”
“I’m not going home.”
Steve stared hard at her as he struggled to tamp down his frustration. Even more than before he wanted to get her to her mother. He wanted the peace and serenity of the Marchetti family cabin in the San Bernardino Mountains. He wanted to forget his part in this mess.
He cursed Wayne for the umpteenth time. If he hadn’t been world-class scum he wouldn’t have taken the bribe and everything would be fine. But the weasel’s cheerful greed had made Steve’s dirty mission easy. He wished for five minutes alone with the jerk right now. But Rosie’s fiancé was gone. Steve’s work here was done. It was over. He could leave. All he had to do was take one of those plane tickets and split—out the door. Hit the road. As quickly as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. No way could he walk out on her. Not now.
Her pregnancy changed everything.
The situation had all seemed so simple when he’d left Mrs. M. It was all about getting Wayne out of Ro’s life.
Rosie’s baby put a one-eighty spin on everything. She was angry at her family right now. But she needed them. Somehow he had to convince her to go home to her mother. But the stubborn expression on her pale face told him he was in for a rough sell.
“If you don’t go home, what will happen to your business? You have to get back to that. It’s even more important now, with—” He made a vague gesture in the general direction of her stomach.
“A child on the way?” Her mouth turned up in a brittle smile. “Yes, I know. I’m not abandoning my bookstore. It’s covered. I’d planned to take off two weeks for a honeymoon. Jackie is minding things there.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Just take some time alone to sort things out.”
“Your mother could help you do that.”
“Then I wouldn’t be alone. Besides, I don’t need help,” she snapped. “I’m a grown woman.”
No kidding. He had tried on numerous occasions to ignore that fact, but her lush curves and unbelievable femininity reminded him on an excruciatingly frequent basis.
“Everyone needs help from time to time,” he said.
“Even you?” she challenged.
“Even me.” The answer was automatic. But the truth was, he didn’t need anything from anyone. Not anymore. If he ever did, there was only one person he would ask. Nick Marchetti.
Their relationship was his most precious possession. He had money now and could buy anything he needed. Nick had been there when Steve hadn’t had a dime to his name. You couldn’t put a price on a friend like Nick. Steve knew how his buddy would take the news of his sister’s pregnancy. Not well.
He kicked himself for not revealing his incriminating information right away, before Wayne had taken advantage of Rosie. Keeping it under wraps had seemed like a good idea at the time. Steve had figured the weasel would trip himself up and she would give him the heave-ho. In fact Nick had told him she’d dumped Wayne. Obviously not in time. Steve knew he would never forgive himself for that. Although he still felt he’d done the right thing in breaking up the wedding. Letting her know Wayne could be bought off had been for the best. Now she would never have to see the damning pictures. But that didn’t change the fact that she was pregnant and not married. Guilt settled on him like a stone. He was to blame for at least part of it.
When Mrs. M. had asked him to stop the wedding, Steve knew he could have said no. Rosie was dead-on about that. If he had, she would be married now. It was his fault that she had no husband to give her baby a name.
He was in way over his head. He had to try just one more time to convince her to confide in her family. “Rosie, you have to tell your mother.”
“No, I don’t,” she said.
Stubbornness and sensibility didn’t necessarily go hand in hand, he thought ruefully. “Sooner or later she’ll have to know. Your dad, too.”
She
