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“Sounds...fun,” she said, a little dubiously.

“It was fun. And chaotic. And lucky that there was any leftover cake, which I brought to share with you.”

“I should refuse, but I have no willpower when it comes to chocolate cake.”

“I thought your weakness was cookies ’n’ cream ice cream,” he said, following her into the kitchen.

“Okay, so I have more than one weakness,” she admitted. “Do you want a glass of milk with your cake?”

“I’d rather have coffee—if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she told him.

She took a mug out of the cupboard, popped a pod into her home brewing system and pressed the button. Her movements were usually smooth and effortless—indicative of a woman who was confident in herself and her abilities. But she seemed a little jumpy today, and unwilling to hold his gaze. It was as if she was anxious about something, and her nervousness was starting to make him nervous.

Justin found plates and forks in the cupboard, and divided the slab of cake into two pieces. Avery carried his mug of coffee and her glass of milk to the table.

“Cream? Sugar?”

He shook his head. “Black is fine.”

They sat at the dining room table and ate their dessert. Actually, he ate his while Avery—despite her declared weakness for chocolate cake—picked gingerly at hers.

“So, why did you call?” he asked, swallowing his last bite.

Avery’s fork slipped from her grasp and clattered against her plate. She pushed her half-eaten dessert away and picked up a napkin, her attention focused on wiping each and every finger. “Maybe we should do this another time.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s your birthday and there’s probably somewhere else you’d rather be.”

“I want to be here, Avery,” he said patiently. “I want to know what’s on your mind.”

She folded her napkin in half once, and then again. “I just wanted to follow up our earlier conversation...about what happened...on New Year’s.”

She wasn’t the type to meander through a conversation rather than get straight to the point, but she was meandering now. “What—
exactly
—requires follow-up?”

“Well...it, um, turns out that we didn’t, um...dodge the bullet.”

It took him a minute to figure out what she was saying, probably because his brain didn’t want to figure it out. They’d had a close call, she’d assured him he was “off the hook.”

And he’d been grateful—so incredibly grateful—because he knew there was no way he was ready to be a father. Now, he felt that hook slice deep into him, lodging painfully in his gut.

“You’re...pregnant?”

She nodded and pulled a narrow plastic stick out of her pocket to show him the two lines in the window.

“You’re going to be a daddy.”

Chapter Nine

J
ustin stared at the plastic stick for a long minute.

“Well,” he finally said, “this is an even bigger surprise than my mother’s party.”

Avery nodded again. “I’m sure you need some time...to process.”

Yeah, processing would probably be good, because right now, his mind was blank except for the
holy crap
going around and around inside his head.

When she’d told him that she got her period, he’d breathed a sigh of relief that they were in the clear and chalked up the birth-control faux pas to an “oops” that he promised himself would never happen again. And over the past couple of weeks, he’d mostly managed to put the whole pregnancy scare out of his mind.

Now...he wasn’t sure what to think or how to feel. He’d already told her how he felt about the decisions she’d made without any communication or consultation, so there was no point in rehashing all of that again.

But—
holy crap
—he really hadn’t been prepared for this.

And though he was certain he already knew the answer to the question, he had to ask, “You’re going to have the baby?”

Avery tilted her chin and narrowed her gaze on him. Maybe it was a question he felt compelled to ask, but after their previous discussion on the topic, she couldn’t help but feel angry and annoyed. “Yes, I’m going to have the baby.”

He drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Do you want to get married?”

She stared at him, certain she hadn’t heard him correctly.

“Did you just ask—” She shook her head.

“I asked if you wanted to get married,” he repeated.

The question was so completely unexpected, even the second time, that she wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I always thought I would get married someday,” she finally told him. “But not because I’m pregnant and not to a man who doesn’t understand the meaning of commitment or long-term.”

“Just because I haven’t had a long-term relationship in a while doesn’t mean I’m incapable of making a commitment.”

“Then what does it mean?” she challenged.

“Maybe I just haven’t wanted to commit to any of the other women that I’ve dated.”

“But I’m supposed to believe that you’re willing to commit to a woman you haven’t dated at all?”

“The only reason we haven’t dated is that you have some nonsensical ban on dating doctors,” he told her.

“It’s not nonsensical,” she denied.

“Then explain it to me,” he suggested.

She shrugged, figuring she probably owed him that much. “Both of my parents were doctors—more committed to their careers than either their marriage or their children—and I decided a long time ago that that’s not what I want for my life.”

“Except that we are both doctors and we’re having a baby together, so that pretty much decimates your logic, doesn’t it?” he challenged.

“I don’t expect you to make any decisions right now,” she said, striving to remain calm and reasonable.

“When should I make them?”

“When you’ve had a chance to think about what this means for you.”

“You said it yourself—it means I’m going to be a father,” he acknowledged bluntly.

“That’s true,” she agreed. “But the last time we talked about this, I told you that it was my decision to accept the potential consequences of what happened between us and I’m not asking for anything from you.”

“And I told you that if you were pregnant—and now we know that you are—you don’t just get a baby. You get me, too.”

She frowned at the grim determination in his tone. “I thought that was just...an emotional outburst.”

“I’m not prone to emotional outbursts,” he assured her. “I say what I mean and mean what I say. I want to be part of our baby’s life, and that would be easier to do if we were married.”

“And a lot harder on both of us and the baby when we decide it isn’t working, we can’t stand to live together anymore and can’t figure out who’s going to get stuck with the kids,” she argued.

It was her use of the plural pronoun that made Justin realize she was projecting her own childhood experience onto the current situation and made him want to throttle both of her parents. But at the moment, the best he could do was proceed cautiously.

“You might want to consider the possibility that we
could
make a marriage succeed,” he told her.

“If you’re serious about coparenting, we need to be able to work together for the sake of the baby. Which means we need to keep our focus on the baby and not get distracted by other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he echoed, amused despite the guilt and responsibility weighing on him now. “As in the attraction between us? The reason we’re going to be parents?”

“Maybe we’re not ready to talk about this,” she decided, pointedly ignoring his questions.

“When do you think we will be ready to talk about it?”

“I’ve had about—” she glanced at her watch “—four hours to think about this. You’ve had twenty minutes.”

“To think about the baby,” he agreed. “I’ve been thinking about us for a lot longer.”

“There is no ‘us,’” she snapped.

But beneath the frustration, he heard the desperation in her voice. She obviously wanted to believe what she was saying, to establish some control over the situation—because he knew how important it was to Avery to be in control.

“Maybe we both need some time,” he suggested.

“That’s probably best,” she agreed, relief evident in her tone.

“I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.”

She nodded, apparently willing to be agreeable and reasonable now that he was on his way out the door.

But if she expected him to back off, she was going to be disappointed. Because their future was too important—to both of them and their baby.

* * *

She told Amy about her pregnancy a few days later, in part because she continued to be plagued by fatigue and queasiness and it wouldn’t take her friend long to put the pieces together, but also because she wanted Amy to know that she’d need to reduce her hours later in her pregnancy and after the baby was born.

Amy was unreservedly thrilled by the news. She knew how much her friend wanted a child and she was convinced that Avery and Justin would be fabulous parents. When Avery pointed out that she and Justin weren’t together, Amy reaffirmed her belief that that would change before their baby was born. Avery didn’t argue with her friend—preferring to save her energy to have that battle with her baby’s father.

After sharing the news with Amy, she thought about telling her family. And when she thought about family, she thought about Ryder, her brother and—aside from Amy—her best friend. She sent him a text message inviting him to come over for dinner, because she’d never known Ryder to turn down a free meal.

She decided on pulled pork, because she could put it in the slow cooker before she went to work and also because she knew how much he liked it. When she got home, she made garlic mashed potatoes and corn—more of her brother’s favorites.

He was appreciative of her efforts and was on his second helping when Avery said, “I haven’t seen much of you over the past few weeks.”

“Our filming schedule has been pretty chaotic,” Ryder told her. “The director wants to wrap up the season before the beginning of April so that he can take an extended vacation, which means that all of the crews are working around the clock to finish projects before then.”

“I’ve been busy, too,” she said. “In addition to my usual shifts at the hospital, we’ve extended the hours at the clinic to accommodate our growing list of patients. It’s amazing how many women are having babies and, coincidentally, I’m going to have one, too.”

She’d hoped that sharing her news as a footnote might diffuse the impact of the words, at least a little. When Ryder paused with his fork halfway to his mouth to stare at her, she realized it had not.

“You’re pregnant?”

She forced a smile. “Isn’t that great?”

“I don’t know.” He continued to hold her gaze. “Is it?”

“It is,” she assured him. “I’m ready for this, and I really want this baby.”

“And the father?” he prompted.

“We’re...figuring things out.”

“I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

“You’ve been busy,” she reminded him.

“So you have been seeing someone?”

She nodded.

“For how long?” Ryder asked.

“Not very long,” she admitted.

“Does he have a name?”

“Of course,” she said, “but I’m not going to give it to you—not until I’m sure that you won’t go all Neanderthal on me and beat him over the head with a club for messing with your sister.”

“Then you better give me some more information,” he suggested.

“Such as?” she asked warily.

“The date of the wedding.”

She shook her head. “Jesus, Ryder—what century do you live in?”

“Hopefully a century in which my sister wouldn’t screw around with a guy who doesn’t believe in doing the right thing.”

She sighed. “Then you’ll be happy to know he did offer to marry me.”

“And the date of the wedding?” he prompted again.

“I said no.”

“Why?”

“He’s a doctor.”

Ryder sighed and shook his head. “You don’t learn, do you?”

“Apparently not.”

“But you obviously like the guy—at least well enough to get naked with him.”

“Yeah, I like him,” she admitted.

“So maybe you could make it work,” he said, though not very convincingly.

“Liking someone is hardly a foundation for marriage.”

“Maybe not,” he allowed. “But you need to think about your baby, too.”

“I
am
thinking about the baby. And we both know that putting the responsibility of kids on top of a shaky foundation is a blueprint for disaster.”

Her brother reluctantly nodded. “I just want you to be happy, sis. After what happened with Wyatt—”

“I’m over Wyatt,” she told him. “My broken heart is mended, fully and completely, and now I’m going to have a baby, and I’m happy about that. I wish you could be, too.”

“I am happy for you,” he said. “I just wish you were planning to marry the baby’s father.”

“Because a woman having a baby out of wedlock offends your sense of propriety?”

“I’m not worried about propriety—I’m worried that you’ve closed off your heart.”

“My heart’s not closed,” she denied. “It’s just not open to the baby’s father.”

* * *

The clinic was decorated for Valentine’s Day with hearts and flowers and adorable little cupids. When Avery finished for the day, her only thoughts were of dinner and bed—and then she got home and found Justin standing outside of her apartment door with several bags at his feet and a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and her traitorous heart swelled up inside her chest.

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought dinner and flowers for Mr. Gunnerson across the hall, but he already had a date for Valentine’s Day so he suggested that I bring everything over here to you.”

“Mr. Gunnerson let you into the building,” she guessed.

“And Mrs. Gunnerson said you were lucky to have such a handsome and thoughtful beau to share this special day with, because you’re a lovely young woman who works too hard and needs someone to take care of
you
every once in a while.”

Avery shook her head as she unlocked the door. “This was a really thoughtful gesture, but I had leftover chicken and broccoli in the freezer that I was planning to have tonight.”