A Crazy Kind of Love (31 page)

“What’s going on?”

“I—
we
—have to talk.”

“Ominous.”

“No, it’s good.” She grinned quickly, briefly, then waved both hands as if she didn’t know quite what to do with them. “At least,” she continued, “
I
think it’s good. Great, really. Although you might not think so,
and by the way, I’d totally understand if you don’t, but the not knowing is why I’m a little shook here. Well, that and the pukey thing is back—”

“You’re still sick?” he asked, concern ripping through him at light speed. Nausea might be nothing. But it could also be the forerunner of a lot of
somethings
, too. And with Justin . . . “What’d the doctor say?”

“Well, that’s why I’m here.”

She’d come directly from work, as always. Her jeans were faded and torn at the knee. Her boots were dry and cracked and the letters of
MARCONI CONSTRUCTION
were peeling away from her dark blue T-shirt. Her blond hair was in its familiar braid, but her face was pale and her sky blue eyes looked . . .
worried
.

“What’s going on?”

“I went by Papa’s house before I came,” she said, and waved one hand at the bed. “Wanted to get my medical records to show you.”

Only then did he notice the stack of manila envelopes, loose papers, and a small, three-ring binder. Confusion had him shifting his gaze to her. “Why do I need to see your records?” Something cold fisted around his heart. “Is there something seriously wrong with you?”

“No, not at all. Not wrong. Really,
really
right.”

“I’m confused.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and waited.

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” She grinned again, then wiped the smile away with one hand. “Okay, the best way to do this is to just do it. Like pulling off a Band-Aid, right? Fast.”

He took a step closer to her but she held up a hand to keep him at bay.

“Lucas, I’m
pregnant
.”

Blood roared in his ears. His mouth went dry and he tried hard to swallow. Something a lot like panic coiled in the pit of his stomach, but Lucas ignored it. For the moment.

“Pregnant?”

“Yeah.” She grinned again, then folded her arms in front of her. “Shelley says I’m just barely pregnant, but little whozit’s in there all right.”

“Shelley.”

“Baker. My doctor.”

“Right.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said and scrubbed both palms over his face. He’d just been hit in the head with a metaphorical two-by-four, but yeah. He was great. Shooting her a quick look, he said, “But you said you couldn’t
get
pregnant. Because of the accident you told me about.”

“I know, I know.” She shook her head wildly enough to send her braid flapping back and forth. “Hey, I was as surprised as you look, believe me.”

He found
that
hard to believe.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said slowly, keeping her gaze fixed on him.

“Oh, I doubt that.” Hell, even
he
didn’t know what he was thinking.

“I brought all my medical stuff over so you could see that I didn’t lie to you before. There really was almost zero chance of me getting pregnant.”

“And yet . . .”

“Yeah.” A short laugh shot from her throat and she dropped her arms to her middle and gave herself a hug.
“Guess your little guys are like commandos or something,” she said, dropping her hands to her sides, then shoving them into the front pockets of her jeans. “The little buggers just stormed through and set up camp.”

“My little guys.” This was the most bizarre conversation he’d ever had.

“I didn’t lie to you, Lucas,” she said and pulled her hands out of her pockets before folding them at her waist. “If you’ll just look at the records . . .”

“Don’t have to,” he said, still trying to think. Trying to figure out what the hell to say—to
do
. “I believe you.”

“You believe me.”

“Yeah.” He looked at her and shrugged.

“Just like that?”

“You are
many
things, Michaela Marconi—but you’re not a liar.”

“Thanks.” She blew out a breath and gave him a staggeringly wide smile. “It means a lot that you trust me on this.”

“Of course I do.”

“God, I’m glad to hear you say that,” she said. “I was so worried you’d be all pissed off and crabby.”

She bent over the bed and gathered up all the files, shoving loose papers into folders, stacking envelopes. “It’s like a miracle or something, Lucas.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “So I guess there really
is
something in the water.”

She straightened up, and looked at him cautiously. “I know this is really new for you. I mean, I only found out an hour or so ago and I’m a little shaky with it myself, but I’m really excited, Lucas. Really. I’m gonna have a
baby
.”

“Yeah.” He walked to the edge of the bed and sat down. Looking up at her, Lucas could almost
see
exhilaration rippling off her like waves crashing against the shore. She practically glowed.

A baby.

He was going to be a father.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” he said.

She laughed shortly, and if it sounded a little strained, Lucas figured she had reason. “Look, you don’t have to
say
anything. You don’t have to
do
anything.”

“What?” Her words pinged around inside him like steel balls ricocheting around the inside of an empty can.

“I’m telling you because you have a right to know—” she said. “Not because I expect anything from you.” She pulled in a breath and kept going before he could say anything.

“I’m going to have this baby, Lucas.” She covered her belly with one hand as if she could protect it from hearing anything it shouldn’t. “Because for me, this is a one-in-a-million chance. This baby is alive inside me and she’s—he’s—
it’s
going to stay that way.”

Slowly, Lucas stood up and looked down at her. “Did I say anything at all about you getting rid of my child?”

“No,” she acknowledged, “but just in case you were thinking it, you can forget about it.”

For the first time, a flicker of anger sputtered to life inside him. Not surprising, really, since so much of his time around Mike was spent being mad. “And what have
you
decided is
my
part in all this?”

“No need to get pissy now,” she said, planting both
hands on her hips and staring up at him through narrowed eyes. “I’m trying to be
nice
here.”

“Doing a helluva job.”

“Well, it’s not easy being nice to a dumb ass.”

“Most of the scientific community considers me a genius,” he pointed out. “And the mother of my child calls me a dumb ass.”

She sucked in air and then paused, holding it in and tapping the toe of one boot heavily against the floor. He was willing to bet she was counting to ten.

“Fine, you’re not a dumb ass. But the point is, I’m the one who’s pregnant and I’m the one who’s going to call the shots. Starting with—” She walked to the other side of the bed, picked up her packed duffel bag and swung it around to drop onto the mattress.

“What’re you doing?” He had a bad feeling about this.

“I’m moving out of your house,” she said, as she stuffed her medical records into the open bag and then zipped it closed.

“What?” He grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. “Why? Why now?”

“I’m pregnant now.”

“So?”

“So, it’s not . . .” She hissed a sigh, looked embarrassed, and then blurted, “We can’t be living together, okay? I’m gonna be a mother. What kind of example is that for the baby?”

He laughed, loud and long, hearing his own voice echo in the cavernous room. Mike’s eyes narrowed on him while the laughter rolled out around her, but she didn’t try to shut him up.

“Finished?” she asked at last.

“Mike,” he argued when he found his voice again, “the baby’s the size of a rice grain at the moment.”

She scowled at him and slapped one hand protectively against her still flat abdomen. “But she’s—he’s—there and her, his—damn it,
its
—mother is
not
going to be living in
sin
.”

“Sin?” For the second time in ten minutes, she’d stunned him flat. “Thought you didn’t go to church anymore.”

“I don’t,” she admitted, scowling. “But trust me on this, when you least expect it, Catholic guilt comes roaring out of the shadows and slaps you back into line.”

She meant it. She was leaving. He watched her finish zipping the bag, then fold the Velcro handle closed over the twin straps. She’d been here, in his house, for more than two weeks and now he couldn’t imagine
not
having her here.

He was used to hearing her voice in the night. Watching her in the kitchen as she leaned over that first cup of coffee in the morning. He liked watching her at the lake’s edge, tossing bread slices into the water for the ducks. He enjoyed hearing her talk about what she did all day and looked forward to having her curl up against him at night.

When had she become so important to him?

What the hell was he going to do without her?

“Don’t go,” he said softly, kneading her upper arm with his thumb.

“Hey, it’s not like we won’t see each other anymore,” she said. “I’m not saying we can’t have sex, we just can’t be living together . . .”

Because the baby will know if they’re living together, but won’t know when they have sex? Her disjointed logic rattled him, but he didn’t say so. He wasn’t that stupid.

“I don’t want you to leave, Mike. Especially now.”

“I have to go,” she said sadly, looking up at him. “Especially now. This . . . arrangement we have, it was never about us being a couple. You said so yourself. Remember?”

He closed his eyes against that memory and wished he could wipe it away. Things had changed since then.
He’d
changed since then.

“This was about neither one of us being alone.” She lifted the duffel bag and slung it over one shoulder before he could stop her. “Well, you don’t need me as a buffer against Justin anymore. And I’m not alone, either. I’ve got little Rocky.”

“Rocky?”

She smiled. “I can’t stay, Lucas. Not now. Not anymore.”

Desperate to keep her there, he said, “You’re moving back home? But your father’s still at Grace’s . . .”

If he could just convince her to stay, they could work this out. They could find a way. She had to give him time. Time to find the words.

That sensation of panic was rising within again, then just as it blossomed, it bled away, leaving behind an emptiness he hadn’t expected. Hadn’t been prepared for.

He had to fight for air. Mike. The woman who’d stomped all over his life in her clunky work boots, changing it forever, was now walking out of it again. And taking his child with her.

His child?

He couldn’t really wrap his brain around that concept. It was too ephemeral. Too new.

But losing
Mike
.

That was different.

She’d become such a part of his life over the last few months, he couldn’t imagine
not
having her around to drive him insane. Couldn’t bear the thought of going back to the quiet, boring life he’d led before they’d met.

“Papa’s with Grace,” she said, “but it’s okay. I’m not going
home
home.” She lifted her chin and swung her long blond braid back over her shoulder. “I rented Stevie’s old apartment. Over the Leaf and Bean. Doesn’t have much of a roof right now, but it’s close to coffee and it’ll be good. Good for me. Good for little Anastasia—”

“Anastasia?”

“Good for
you
,” she finished. “Spend more time with your brother. Enjoy him while you can.”

“I can do that with you here,” he pointed out.

“No you can’t,” she said and started past him. “Not anymore.”

“Wait.”

She stopped and Lucas came up behind her, sliding the duffel bag off her shoulder and taking it himself. “This is too heavy for you. I’ll carry it.”

“Okay,” she said, giving him a smile despite the regret pooled in her eyes. “Thanks.”

Lucas looked down at her and knew something was slipping away. Somehow, he’d lost his tenuous grip on the threads of his life and they were all unraveling.

He was losing his twin.

He was losing his child.

He was losing
Mike
.

“Don’t ask me to stay again, okay?” Her eyes displayed every emotion she felt and he knew that despite her joy at being pregnant, she was as close to the ragged edge of misery as he was.

So he swallowed his own wants, his own needs, and nodded. “There is one thing, though. Bree and Justin are getting married tomorrow.”

“Really?” She gave him a wide smile and it was breathtaking. Her whole face lit up. “That’s great. I’m so glad for Bree. And for Justin.”

“Will you come?” he asked. “Tomorrow. At two. It’ll be just the four of us.” He lifted one hand and reached to touch her cheek. But he stopped short and let his hand fall empty to his side.

She swallowed hard. “Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Then she touched his face, gently, briefly, and whispered, “God, I hate us being so
polite
.”

Turning abruptly, she walked out, headed for the hall. Lucas stood alone in the sun-washed bedroom, fisted his hand around the duffel strap, and reluctantly followed.

Mike shivered as the minister took his place in front of Justin and Bree. Here on the back deck at Lucas’s house, the wind was cold and the sky was gray. As if even nature were already mourning a marriage that would be too brief.

There were vases filled with chrysanthemums and a
string of white lights ringing the deck railing. Autumn leaves provided the music as they brushed together in the sighing wind.

Standing beside Lucas, Mike tried to keep her mind on the ceremony, but it wasn’t easy. She’d been up half the night. First, trying to feel comfortable in a place that didn’t—and would probably
never
—feel like home. The apartment over the shop was lovely, mostly wood and glass and a few braided rugs for warmth. It was furnished with a big, comfortable bed, a TV, some chairs, and it had a small kitchenette.