And then there was nothing but silence.
Meg waited, searching her mind for some way of bringing up the pregnancy in a way that would be fruitful instead of “what the hell are we doing?” and “how did this happen?” Because her brain had done enough of that, and she was ready for the part where they moved forward.
“It’s a lot to take in. If you need more time—”
“What are your plans?” he asked, and she might have gotten offended by the demand in his voice if he hadn’t winced after he said it.
“My plans?” she repeated, because even with the wince she wasn’t quite sure what he was after.
“I mean, insofar as you’ve had more time to think about this than I have, what is your current plan of action?”
Plan of action. She wanted to be calm. She wished she were the type of woman who could hide the look of disgust that passed over her face, but it was a part of the reason she’d never fit in her parents’ world. She didn’t have a poker face. She didn’t have a coat of armor to put on over herself when the vultures were circling. Everything she was or thought was there, and she didn’t know how to hide it.
“So you haven’t thought that far ahead,” he said gently.
A gentleness that made her stomach turn. It reminded her of the teacher in school who assumed she was dumb. You just don’t understand. That’s all right.
No, she understood. She understood this better than him. She had a plan of action, but it was her own and her own way, and hell if she’d let a stranger wreak havoc on the sliver of confidence she’d built for herself.
“The plan of action, Charlie, is to spend the next eight months growing a life inside me. And then push it out my vag—”
He held up a hand, the expression that passed over his face so very much like her father she really thought she might puke.
“That’s not quite what I meant,” he continued in that frustratingly even tone. “I meant—”
“I know what you meant, and what I mean is that this is the plan. To have this baby. That is my action plan. That is the only plan of action. This isn’t some kind of business merger we’re going to bang out the details to in a few calm and prepared meetings.”
Charlie didn’t say anything to that. He sat opposite her in the booth, his expression blank and a little hard.
She didn’t know him. She didn’t know him at all. She’d created a child with him, but she didn’t know him, and that hurt.
HE’D COME TO Moonrise prepared with a million little speeches, a million little plans, but as he stared at Meg across the old, chipped table, all he could think was, this woman was a stranger.
She was carrying his child and he didn’t know or understand a thing about her. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. That wasn’t how you were supposed to start a family.
It wasn’t part of the plan.
“What can I get you two?”
He glanced up at Mallory, who’d been a waitress at Moonrise for at least the past ten years. She met his gaze, then looked at Meg, and though she was obviously filing away the information of the two of them together, she didn’t say anything.
“You know, I think I’ll have a piece of cherry pie.”
“We’ve got the house stuff, or Cara’s Local Pies for a buck more.”
Meg smiled, the kind of smile that could almost make him forget she’d looked at him like he’d suggested harvesting her organs. Horror, disgust, complete with physical recoil.
All because he’d asked about a plan. It wasn’t as though he’d judge her if she didn’t have one. This was quite the wrench. He’d only asked in case she did.
And because if she didn’t have a plan—which she didn’t seem to, not a real one—he had one. And it would solve everything.
“Charlie, you want anything?”
He refocused on Mallory and managed a smile of his own. What would be good for a pregnant woman to eat? Probably protein. And some vegetables. He felt like maybe she was ordering pie to somehow poke fun at his mention of having a plan, and he simply wouldn’t allow that.
Something in his gut felt a little off at that point, but he wasn’t planning on listening to his gut when so many important things were at stake. He had to listen to his brain. “I’ll have a grilled chicken sandwich. Whatever steamed vegetable you’ve got on the side. And a large glass of water.” He’d try to get her to eat some before she dug into the pie.
“Oookay,” Mallory mumbled, marking it down on her pad before she walked away.
When he returned his gaze to Meg, she was scowling. It was an odd expression on her. He’d seen her sad and nervous. He’d seen her smiling and flirtatious. Irritated and possibly a little angry didn’t suit her. It didn’t seem to naturally fit her.
He needed to continue to be reasonable. Reason always won. If he laid out his plan, explained it, she’d have to realize it was a good one. If she had a few caveats to add, he’d be happy to listen.
There was a lot of compromise that lay ahead, and he was willing to bend when necessary. Okay, maybe not always happily, but he wasn’t going to be unreasonable.
“So, listen,” she said. “Let’s just take this one step at a time. I think plans of action are a little premature.”
“A plan is never premature.”
This time she rolled her eyes and he had to bite back the irritation. Because this was irritating, but he was going to accept it, handle it, deal with it like a responsible adult. Like a father.
That was the point. Not that they hadn’t planned this, but that it was here and they were going to deal with it. As parents.
“I realize we don’t know each other very well,” he continued. “And yes, this is a surprise, but there’s really only one solution I can think of that makes any sense.”
She leaned back in the booth, crossed her arms over her chest. For a second all he could think was he’d created a child with this woman and he didn’t even remember what she looked like naked.
But for a fleeting second he thought he could remember the feel of her skin under his palm, the sigh of her breath against his neck and something uncomfortably like belonging.
But that was some figment of his imagination—or the alcohol’s imagination.
“Okay, so what is this only solution?”
He knew she was determined not to like it, and that made him hesitate. Maybe he should be broaching this subject somewhere else. Somewhere more private. After more discussion about what her plans were.
But
