that supposed to mean you didn’t intend to tell me?” When she didn’t give him the correct answer for that question, he said, very very quietly, “You just agreed to take on a mountain of extra work—to become an integral part of a chocolate project that could throw the cacao market on its ear and shake up the whole chocolate industry. Yet you didn’t figure you needed to mention that you had a major health issue like a pregnancy on your plate?”
“Well. No.”
Okay. He didn’t have a temper, he’d told himself a hundred times. And if he did, there were very few people who could push it. But Lucy headed the list. Ramifications of this pregnancy—her pregnancy, their pregnancy—kept popping in his brain like mini-explosions. What to do. How. Where. When. But first, he obviously had to deal with that sick, panicked expression on Lucy’s face.
“Luce…listen to me. We can work out whatever you want to work out. We can make happen whatever you want to happen.” He heaved out a wary sigh. “Although you know my grandfather will only have one solution.”
“No one has to know it’s yours. And that includes Orson,” she promised him.
“That’s no solution.”
“I’ll get a mountain of pressure from family, too. Everyone will have an opinion about what I should do and try to railroad me into doing it.”
“Caving into pressure from any side is no solution, either.”
“So,” she said, as if that single word were a finished thought.
“So,” he echoed, and took a step forward, meaning to touch her. Why exactly, he didn’t know, when he had never initiated a personal contact of any kind with Luce before. But the instinct to touch seemed to bubble up from a well of frustration and helplessness—feelings he had no tolerance for. This was all going crazy wrong. So far their whole conversation had been awkward and weird and unnatural. For darn sure, he’d wanted to face her, wanted to have this out. Wanted it down in black ink, what they were both going to do—if there really was a pregnancy.
Only in both his head and heart, he just couldn’t seem to totally believe it. That single occasion, hell, it hadn’t even been a whole night. One single crazy, crazy hour had led to this. In fact, when he’d wakened the next morning—in his own bed, alone—he thought he’d dreamed the whole thing. It just seemed incomprehensible that anything intimate could have happened between them.
And now Lucy was shrinking from him.
Nick couldn’t remember feeling lost. The feeling was alien to everything he knew about himself. When his parents died, grief had overwhelmed him, but he’d had to take on responsibility and grow up so fast that he’d never had time to wallow. God knew, he’d made mistakes. And he’d played around plenty. But from the time he was a kid, he’d had the power to make all the major decisions about his own life with nominal outside interference. Now, though, there was Luce. Who didn’t seem willing to even talk to him, much less include him in giant decision-making that affected both of them.
This wasn’t just…upsetting and unsettling. He couldn’t feel more lost if he’d been dropped in the South Pole without a compass.
“Look, Luce,” he tried again. “Let’s work from stuff we know we can agree on. I’ll pay all your doctor bills. And for anything else you need or wanted related to this—”
“Actually, I don’t think I’ll need help. You know what great insurance I have from Bernard’s. But don’t worry. I’ll ask if something gets beyond what I can manage.”
Shit and double shit. Strangers could be having this conversation. Not people who were supposed to have been lovers. “Okay, skip any talk of money for now. What about…the pregnancy itself. I mean, I don’t know whether you’re scared or happy or angry or what. Have you thought about what you want to do?”
Her shoulders drooped just a little as she shook her head. “I just found out yesterday. To be honest, Nick, I’m still reeling.”
It was the first honest, natural thing she said. “Me, too,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to say, what to do. But it seems like the place to start is with the sure things. If you’re absolutely sure you want to keep the baby, that’s one thing. But if you’re considering—”
“An abortion? Or adoption?” She swallowed hard, as if trying to talk through a stone-size lump in her throat. “I’ll consider everything. All the options. But the only thing I’m positive of right now, Nick, is that you and I don’t even like each other. Not really. We had a moment. That’s all. There’s no basis for a marriage or anything crazy like that.”
“I wasn’t thinking marriage.”
“I’m sure you weren’t,” she said swiftly. “I just wanted to clear the air, make sure you know that I’d never pull that chain in a hundred years.”
She’d stiffened up all over again, as if braced for him to say something hurtful. He started to answer her, but then the doorknob rattled, followed by strange scratchy noises. “Not now,” Nick called out, but the knob just rattled again.
“Uncle Nick, it’s not me!” He heard Gretchen’s voice pipe up, and glanced at Lucy, who was obviously as distracted by the child’s voice as he was. Her lips twitched at Gretchen’s obvious fib.
“If it isn’t you, how come I can hear your voice?” Nick said wryly.
“Because it’s Baby and Boo Boo. Somehow they got in the front door. And they ran all over the place. They’re trying to find Lucy. And I can’t hold them. But don’t interrupt your meeting! I’m right here! I won’t let them in! Don’t you worry, Uncle Nick!”
Any other time, he’d have laughed—and Lucy undoubtedly would have, too. This time she just said quickly, “We can’t discuss this now, Nick. Not at work. And besides that…”
Yeah, he knew. Besides that, outside the door was clearly bedlam.
Of course, pregnancy was a kind of bedlam, too, but for now, hell, both his personal life and Project Bliss seemed like trying to handle balloons in a high wind. He’d not only lost control. He couldn’t imagine right then how the hell he was ever going to get control again.
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