One to Tell the Grandkids (8 page)

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Dr. Morris said.

Caleb rubbed his thumb over Taryn’s tense knuckles, more sorry than he had words for. Taryn didn’t turn to him, but her fingers tightened around his. Defective genetics were a hell of a thing to grapple with.

“Okay,” Dr. Morris said after she’d asked a few more questions. “Now let’s hear more about Daddy’s side of the family tree.”

Slate’s concept of what could be considered TMI was low, so Caleb was able to fill in a few blanks on his behalf. “Slate’s genetics are flawless as far as history of illness. He doesn’t know much about his father’s side of the family, but his mother’s side has no problems.”

“How do you know all this?” Taryn asked. “It seems like a strange thing to chat about over beers.”

“Came up,” he said. Luckily Taryn seemed to understand he didn’t want to get into it.

“It’s amazing and terrifying at the same time, isn’t it?” Taryn said when the doctor excused herself for a minute. “Assembling a whole new human based on a grab bag of bits and pieces. My nose, Slate’s great-great-grandfather’s eyebrows. All of it is already decided. No going back, no fixing what you don’t like.”

“Hey.” He squeezed her hand. “Babies are supposed to give you hope. It’s a new life, its story unwritten.”

“Poetic.”

“You know what they say. Every bartender is an amateur philosopher.”

“I think you mean a psychiatrist, slick.”

Caleb smirked because he’d succeeded in making her smile.

The doctor came back. Caleb kept quiet, lending his support without comment for the rest of the checkup. Dr. Morris finished with the usual litany of the care and upkeep of being a human incubator. Taryn made a ducky face, but she didn’t complain.

After the doctor appointment, he waited while she got her blood drawn. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes, trying not to think about why the whole situation felt surreal. Caleb was the kind of guy who tried his hardest to learn from his mistakes. He’d promised himself he would never be in this position again. It wasn’t the same—he was doing this for Slate, not himself—but unease settled over him like a film on his skin.

A movement in his periphery caught his attention, and Caleb looked up to see Taryn appear at the end of the hallway leading to the lab. As soon as he saw her, Caleb forgot every other worry, every bad memory of doctor visits past. As he watched, she shuffled forward a few steps before she stopped and swayed on her feet, her complexion as pale as the corpses she worked on.

Concerned, Caleb got up. It was lucky he did, because almost as soon as he got to her, Taryn crumpled. He caught her around the waist. “Whoa now,” he said with a gasp. He pulled her tight against him so she wouldn’t fall. She blinked up at him, her gaze unfocused and disoriented. Her hand splayed wide on his chest, her body small and warm against him.

He cupped her cheek, calling her name quietly. It lasted only a few seconds before she drew in a sharp breath and her eyes focused on his. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t apologize.” He guided her a few steps forward and lowered her down into one of the cushy waiting room sofas. She slumped forward, hanging her head between her knees.

“Ugh,” she said after she’d had a chance to take a few breaths. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I get lightheaded. Needles and bloodletting and all that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stroked her hair back away from her clammy face. “Hold on a second.” He moved to the water cooler in the corner and filled a paper cup. “Here,” he said, sitting down beside her again. “This will make you feel better.”

She lifted her head. Her hands trembled, so he kept his fingers over hers as she lifted the cup to her lips. “It’s cold. That feels good.” She leaned with her head against the wall and closed her eyes. For a minute or so, she just breathed. “I think I’m okay now.”

“You sure?” He held his arm out so she could lean on him while she got to her feet.

“Yeah. Thank you. For everything.” Her eyes darted from his and away, that shyness from before coming back. “I’m really glad you were here.”

He squeezed her hand before he let her go. “Anytime.”

But his heart beat a hollow rhythm in his chest, remembering another woman’s big brown eyes, sincere at the time, as she’d said those exact same words.

Chapter Eight

A
fter her appointment, Caleb insisted on taking Taryn out to lunch. There he discovered one of her darker secrets. She hated driving.

“But this is Southern California.”

Taryn stared at Caleb with a patient but amused expression. “I’m drinking a delicious milkshake. Are we playing the state-the-obvious game?”

Caleb closed his mouth and shook his head. “I just mean it’s practically impossible to get anywhere without a car.”

“I have a car.” She grimaced. “Technically. Maybe. We’ll see what Slate and his people have to say about it.”

“But you hate driving.” Caleb repeated her words from just a minute before, trying to get them to sink in. How could anyone hate driving?

“I do what I have to do, but why does that mean I have to like it?” She shrugged. “My coworkers always make fun of me. I’ve been known to offer to pay for lunch just so I don’t have to drive five minutes down the road.”

“So you walked to the doctor’s. Meanwhile, I’m so lazy, I was known to drive a block and a half to rent a DVD before movie streaming was a thing. I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?”

“The day after I turned fifteen, I dragged my dad out so I could get a learner’s permit. I love my car. I have my prerequisite two or three speeding tickets on record.”

“Ah, see, I must have missed that very expensive prerequisite of being a Southern Californian.”

Her smug expression amused him. Before he could tease her about being so proud over such an achievement, she took another sip of her milkshake. The movement distracted him. She hollowed out her cheeks when she drank, he noted. It was cute. His eyes were drawn to the purse of her lips around the straw. When she pulled back, the tip of her tongue darted out, licking the remains of her shake.

“I guess I just don’t like how much concentration it takes,” she said.

Caleb blinked, confused for a brief second until he remembered they’d been in the middle of a conversation. He sat back and dragged a fry through a pond of ketchup. “It’s not rocket science.”

“I didn’t say it was difficult—I said it took concentration. Cars weigh what? Two tons? Three? And you know as well as I do all it takes to cause an accident is a split second of lapsed concentration. Less than a second. Not only do you want to put me in charge of this killing machine, but you expect everyone else to pay attention at the same time?” She nodded across the restaurant. Caleb followed her gaze to where a mother and father sat staring at their phones while their child poured sugar packets into a spinning top, spun it, and giggled crazily as the sugar went everywhere. “These are the people you’re trusting to concentrate on the hundreds of other people on the road as well as what they’re doing.”

Caleb and Taryn shared a quiet laugh. “I guess if you think about it that way,” he said.

She folded her hands on the table and leaned in. “Then here’s the other thing I don’t understand. You love driving, but how often do we actually get to drive? Nine times out of ten we’re going to be in traffic. How is that fun?”

“You have a point. But it gives you time to do things you wouldn’t otherwise.”

“Like what?”

“I used to listen to books on tape when I drove to LA. Before you, I mean.”

“On the other hand, you could actually read the book in the amount of time you spend in traffic.”

“Ah, you assume I’m literate.”

Her giggle made Caleb grin. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re going to be able to get your reading in again, then. Slate is insistent on me keeping his car until he gets mine fixed, so I guess I have no excuse.”

The idea made Caleb sadder than it should have. Her eyes met his, and he was sure he wasn’t alone in thinking he didn’t want their drive time to end. He cleared his throat. “I don’t see why we can’t still go together.” She tilted her head, and he continued. “You hate driving. I like driving. I also like carpool lanes.” He pressed his lips together a moment, deciding whether or not he could tease her. “Plus you’re about to be a parent. It would be the responsible thing.”

“How is being driven around a responsible decision as a parent?”

“Lessens our carbon footprint. You know—saving the earth for our children? You’re supposed to be concerned about all that.”

“What about your books?”

“I have a lot of time on my hands. Believe me, I read a lot of books. I don’t mind missing the ones I listen to. You’re better company than some of them.”

Her eyes lit up at the compliment, and the way she smiled at him made him want to smile back.

“Is this one of those polite offers? I have to warn you, I hate driving so much, I really don’t care about being polite.”

“I don’t make polite offers. You’re good company. We’re friends now, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Friends who habitually travel to the same place. Why wouldn’t we drive together?” He drummed his finger on the table for all of half a second before he continued. “That’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. You spend an insane amount of money on a hotel room every weekend.”

“It’s not that expensive. It’s not a fancy place.”

“Well, all the more reason.” He took a deep breath. “I’d like it if you considered staying at my place. My place in LA, I mean.”

“What? I can’t do that. Didn’t you say you live in a one bedroom?”

“You’re welcome to the bed, of course.” He rushed ahead, because he could see she was about to protest. “No, really. I almost never make it to the bedroom. I’m at the bar most of the night catching up on paperwork, and when I get in the door, I crash on the couch more often than not. You’d have the place to yourself—except you might have to pass by me drooling and snoring on the way out the door.”

She stared at him for a full five seconds before she said a word. “Are you insane? You don’t even know me.”

His lips twitched. “Taryn, not that there’s anything of great value at my place, but if you were to take something, I know where you live.”

She scrunched her nose and crossed her arms.

“You let Slate stay in your spare bedroom when you hardly knew him,” Caleb said.

“That’s different. I happened to have a spare bedroom because my roommates moved out and I haven’t been able to find another one.”

“And if Slate didn’t have five thousand roommates, I know he would have liked to offer you a spare room. So let me do this. If not for you, for him.”

“There’s not a lot you wouldn’t do for him, is there?”

“He asked me to pose naked for an art class he took once. I wouldn’t do that for him.”

Taryn blinked, and then she laughed. It was a deep laugh, a belly laugh, and Caleb chuckled, pleased at her mirth.

“For Slate, then,” Taryn said when she’d calmed. “If you’re sure I’m not putting you out.”

“You’re not.”

“Then yeah. It would be nice.”

Caleb pictured coming home to Taryn in his bed. A tendril of excitement curled in his belly. He quelled it as quickly as it came and cleared his throat. “Good. And now you have to walk to work. You should let me give you a lift.”

“It’s not too far. I can walk.” She let her hand drift down to her stomach and smirked at him. “Have to start thinking about the kid, like you said. Walking will reduce my carbon footprint. Plus you heard the doctor.”

“Exercise is good.”

“I read an article about a woman who had to walk a mile to the bus station every day of her pregnancy. Her kid was born into her pajama leg as she was trying to get inside the hospital. Birthing a kid into a pajama leg sounds terrifying, but I wouldn’t mind the quick labor thing.” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders. It might have been his imagination, but she’d gone pale.

“Are you okay?” Caleb reached across the table and tapped her hands with his fingertips to get her attention.

She looked up from under her eyelashes. “Sorry. I’m trying not to think about labor.”

“Ah. Yeah, I can’t say I blame you there.”

“I’m trying not to be a coward. Billions of women have given birth. Mike has told me only a thousand times how zen Pauline was with the idea of labor.”

“I think you deserve to be scared, and I wish Mike a lifetime of kidney stones if he thinks handling that kind of pain is nothing to be scared of.” He curled his fingers around hers. “It’ll be worth it, you know. The pain? I know. I’m a man, and I shouldn’t get an opinion, but the kid? It’ll be worth it.”

There was a vulnerability in her eyes, the same he’d seen in the doctor’s office, that eased as he spoke. “Yeah. I know.”

She didn’t sound certain, but she was getting there.