Dr. O’s Baby Page 6

  “Good to kiss—I mean, see you again too,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

  I hopped out of his arms, took his hand, and turned toward the gate. “You ready for this?” I asked.

  “You know it, darlin’.”

  The ice was well and truly broken, and I could finally relax. After stocking up on snacks and drinks, we followed the crowd to the stands and found our seats.

  “Dang, great seats! We’re close enough to see everything.”

  “And high enough up that we might make it on TV,” he added with a boyish grin.

  “Have you ever had that happen?”

  “Not even once,” he said. “But I’m convinced that if I keep showing up, the odds will eventually fall in my favor.” He said this with a devious, evil-genius grin which made me laugh. Nick was kind of a dork, though he hid it well. The realization made me relax even more.

  “Always been a Sox fan?” I asked before popping a piece of caramel corn in my mouth.

  “From birth,” he replied with a firm nod. “I’ve got pictures to prove it, too.”

  “Baby pictures? I want to see.”

  “We’ll see,” he told me with a wink. “I keep those locked up in a secret vault in my lair.”

  “Ooh, a lair. You take ‘bad boy’ to a whole new level.”

  “You know it, darlin’. Should have seen me growing up, I was always rooting for the villains.”

  I laughed, feeling more comfortable by the second. “Why on earth did you do that?”

  “Because I’m evil, obviously,” he said, putting on a haughty tone. He couldn’t keep a straight face, though, and quickly broke character. “Nah, it’s not like that. It was more that I knew the heroes were going to win, and everybody else was rooting for them anyway. Besides, a lot of the villains had understandable motivations.”

  “What?” This actually startled me, because he sounded so serious.

  “Think about it,” he urged, turning to me. “Most of the time, we only know that the villains are evil because we see everything from the heroes’ perspective, and so that’s the one we relate to.”

  “Well, yeah, but sometimes the villains are objectively evil.”

  “Only if you believe that good and evil can be objective,” he argued. I was intrigued and gestured for him to go on. “All right, check it out, it’s like….” He groped around for a metaphor and slapped a palm to his forehead. “Okay, it’s like a baseball game. I’m a Sox fan, so are you, so obviously we’re going to root for our team, right? But those people over there rooting for the Yankees, they think their team is the one who should win.”

  “Okay, but that’s a game,” I objected.

  “True. However, the only reason we root for these teams is because we have an emotional connection to them, whether it’s because our families were fans or because of where we grew up or whatever it is—it’s emotional. Same with sympathizing with the protagonists.”

  “Okay, so what happens when you start sympathizing with the villains? Doesn’t that make you villainous?”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said with a shrug. “But once you look at the story from their perspective, it’s easier to understand their motivations, which makes it easier to find their weaknesses.”

  “So you sympathized with the villains in movies as a tactical measure?”

  “Partially for the tactical advantage and partially as a critical thinking measure.”

  “So that you wouldn’t just be letting people tell you who was right and who was wrong?”

  “Exactly,” he said with a grin. “In retrospect, it was a terrible idea.”

  “Why? It sounds like a great exercise in critical thinking.”

  “That’s exactly why it was a terrible idea. You don’t want to think too hard about stuff like that if you want to be able to stomach a job. Most jobs, to be honest, but—”

  “But especially the military,” I finished, realizing for the first time how difficult it must have been. “You were already in the habit of analyzing the enemy’s motivations, and then all of a sudden you were actually fighting enemy soldiers.”

  “Exactly,” he said, gesturing at me with his soda. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll never regret spending that time serving my country. But it definitely gave me a different perspective on global politics.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “Kind of like this,” I said as I popped another piece of popcorn in my mouth.

  “Meaning?”

  “Well, we’re invested in the game—or we will be, whenever it decides to get started. We can understand the rules, pick a side, show our support, but we’re not down in it.”

  He nodded. “Perspective is everything. I’m confident in the positions I take exactly because I’ve switched the perspective up enough to see the other side. Well, except for baseball. Sox are the best because they are, period, full stop.”

  That made me laugh, especially since the timing couldn’t have been better. The second he had finished speaking, the game finally got underway. The longer we were together there, cheering on our team, sharing in swells of excitement and moments of disappointment, the less Nick’s looks intimidated me. By the seventh-inning stretch, I had forgotten every reservation I’d had about coming out with him in the first place.

  “I’ve never had a date here,” I confessed as we stood in line at the concession stand. “My dad used to bring me all the time, and I’ve come with my girls, but…” I trailed off with a shrug. “I never thought about it as a romantic kind of place.”

  “Yeah, it’s not,” he said, grimacing as he pulled his foot off the cement floor, dragging a sticky wad of bubble gum behind him. “Definitely not a five-star romantic resort.” He hesitated, looking like he was considering apologizing for that fact.

  “It’s a good thing,” I assured him quickly. “I spent a lot of time dating places and ideas when I was younger. I’d much rather date people.”

  He relaxed and smiled at me. “Good, I’m glad. You didn’t strike me as the kind of woman who’d date a wallet.”

  “Well, not anymore,” I said with embarrassment. We carried drinks and snacks back to our seats, and I got settled in. I assumed he hadn’t heard me and was more than willing to let it go at that, but then he responded.

  “So you used to chase money?” he asked neutrally.

  “Sort of. I planned out my whole life when I was still in school. A man with money was a point on the chart. Not because of the money itself, but because it would lay the foundation for the rest of my plans.”

  “What were those?”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I’d learned a long time ago that mentioning babies on the first couple of dates was a great way to make men run. “They’ve changed significantly since then,” I said dodging the question.

  “Tell me,” he insisted. “I’m curious. It’s not the first time you’ve mentioned your life’s plans, remember.”

  I blushed, recalling the rambling email I’d sent to him before I’d ever met him. For a moment there, I had almost forgotten the circumstances of our meeting. “Okay, but keep in mind that these were plans I made a long time ago,” I said with a nervous little laugh.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn tail and run,” he promised with a grin. “I like a woman with a plan.”

  I felt a little proud of myself in that moment, and an unfamiliar confidence washed over me. “So the plan was to meet a man in college who was financially and personally stable, and get married as soon as I graduated. Then we would buy a house, and I’d open a business of some kind. I didn’t know what kind, just that it would have to be something that I could work around a family. Then, as soon as that was established and doing well, I’d start having kids.”

  “How many kids?” He seemed more curious than nervous, which emboldened me.

  “Three,” I said firmly. “Two of one, one of the other, preferably, but three of the same would have been nice too. The plan was to have all of this before I turned thirty-five.�
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  “How long does that give you?” He asked with an unreadable expression.

  I laughed. “It would give me four years, if I was still trying to do that.”

  “You aren’t?”

  I scrunched my face for a second. “Ship’s kind of sailed. I didn’t meet anybody who fit my criteria and also wanted to be with me in college. I never got married, never started my own business. The plan is basically tanked at this point.”

  He looked thoughtfully at me like he wanted to say something, but the game started again, and we were well and truly distracted. It was a tight game, keeping us on the edge of our seats the whole time. In the end, though, the Sox won, so it was on a wave of elation that we moved through the celebrating crowd, surfing it right out of the stadium.

  “Can I give you a ride home?” he asked as we reached the parking lot.

  My stomach lurched as I looked up into his eyes. Now that the game was over, there was nothing to draw my attention away from him…all six gorgeous feet of him. “Yes,” I said, feeling lightheaded. “Yes, please.”

  His sensuous lips curved in a smile full of secrets, and I shivered. I desperately wanted to touch those lips again…and so much more.

  Chapter 8

  Carmen

  Nick’s car was new and comfortable, in a luxurious kind of way. Which was good, as it was clear that we would be stuck in traffic for a significant amount of time. The quiet was almost overwhelmingly intimate after spending hours with a roaring crowd. I basked in it, noticing in passing that I didn’t feel the twitchy itch to fill the silence with irrelevant small talk.

  “I find it hard to believe that you’ve given up on your plans,” he said out of the blue.

  “Hm? Well, I’ve come to accept that making plans involving other people only works if the other people agree to those plans. Or, you know, even exist.” I laughed, but it was a humorless sound.

  “Fair enough,” he said with a slight smile. “But I assume that means you’ve come up with a new plan?”

  “Oh, sure,” I said without thinking, and immediately cringed. I wasn’t about to admit to him that I had only come up with a new plan after our last date, and the entire plan could be summed up with “Active husband-hunting.” Rather than put him on the spot, I amended my answer.

  “Actually, I don’t have a real plan. Not yet. It took me a year to let go of all of my previous plans, and I haven’t quite made it to the part where I make a new one. What about you? Do you have a plan?”

  “More or less,” he said. “Mostly less. I like where I’m at right now. Spending my evenings at the bar and my nights with women. It’s a winning combination for a die-hard bachelor.”

  My heart sank, crushed under a surprising disappointment. Somehow I had forgotten that this date wasn’t real; not in the scoping-ever-after kind of way, anyway. But then, I hadn’t realized how much I liked him until it was clear that I would never have the chance to keep him.

  I should just end it here, I thought. End it now, before the disappointment becomes too much to bear. But then I thought about something Tyra had told me a long time ago, one night when I was distraught over some guy who turned out to be less than I had hoped; that disappointment can’t exist in the absence of expectations. Then, as now, I hadn’t even realized that the expectations existed within me; now that I knew, I could change the outcome.

  “Sounds like you’re set on having as much fun as possible,” I said with a smile.

  “Why not? I’ve put myself through hell to get here. I figure I better embrace the fun now, while it lasts.” With this, he touched my thigh, giving it a squeeze. Heat rushed through me, simmering in the lowest point of my belly, and I bit my lip without meaning to.

  Embrace the fun while it lasts. Okay, if that’s where his mind was, there was no reason I couldn’t do the same. Nick was a carnival, I told myself. You wouldn’t want to live at a carnival, but there’s no reason not to experience it while you’re there.

  Traffic had started to move, finally. Too soon; my apartment wasn’t far, and I hadn’t quite stirred up my courage, even if I had made up my mind.

  “I used to live in there,” he said, pointing at a condemned building. “Looks like they’re finally tearing it down. Should have done that twenty years ago.”

  “I don’t remember ever seeing that building inhabited,” I said. “How old were you?”

  “Fifteen, sixteen, somewhere in there. I remember being obsessed with getting my license, so it must have been that year.”

  “Didn’t your parents own a house?” I asked, my heart suddenly lurching. It wouldn’t have been the first time a seemingly benign little discrepancy had been a red flag for a serial liar.

  “Yeah, they did. My mom had it that year. Dad was still paying for it, but they…they went through some stuff.”

  “Oh. Separated?”

  He nodded. “Temporarily. Probably should have been permanent, to be honest. I didn’t know it at the time, but my dad had been screwing around on her for years. Mom finally got sick of it and kicked him out. I took his side because she seemed irrational and gave me some non-answer about needing to find herself or have some space or something.”

  He sighed, shifting in his seat.

  “If they didn’t tell you, you couldn’t have known,” I pointed out.

  “Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But I knew my mom well enough. I should have known that there was more to it than that. She just didn’t want me looking at my dad differently, I think. She was always a champion for him, no matter how toxic he was.”

  A question arose in my mind, but I couldn’t possibly ask him that, not now. We hardly knew one another. Still, I couldn’t seem to find anything else to say. He grinned at me.

  “That’s why I like the setup I’ve got,” he said. “I do what I want when I want, and everybody knows exactly what they can expect from me, and I from them. Nobody’s feelings get hurt, and nobody is put in the position of having to apologize for my behavior.”

  He was answering my unspoken question; the question of whether his parents’ relationship had anything to do with his life choices. The answer was a resounding yes, it seemed. I wasn’t about to take on the project of undoing the hurt of a dysfunctional family; I’d tried and failed at that before. But now, at least, I was confident that I understood my position in his life, and I was willing to be happy with that.

  I smiled at him. “Smart solution,” I said. “Nobody should get hurt, and you’ll never have a reason to change unless you actually want to.”

  “Exactly,” he said, grinning back at me. “I’m glad you get it. I’ve spent most of my adult life obligated to do things I didn’t want to do. Never again.”

  Never. With a deep intake of breath and a slow exhale, I let my hopes and wishes go away into the ether. All that mattered was right now. And right now we were pulling up to my apartment.

  “Would you like to come upstairs?” There was no longer any nervousness attached to the question; I was entirely comfortable asking it, and he was just as comfortable in his acceptance.

  “I would like nothing better.”

  Desire rolled through his voice and shone from his eyes, leaving me breathless with anticipation. I felt I couldn’t get up to my apartment fast enough, but after we stepped out of the car, he pulled me into his arms. I could feel his heart beating in his chest, as wild as my own, and it suddenly struck me that maybe—just maybe—he was as excited about me as I was about him.

  “You’re something special,” he murmured low in his throat.

  I looked up at him, catching my breath. Me? I almost looked over my shoulder to see who he was talking to, but his brilliant blue eyes pinned me in place, burning into my soul.

  “Carmen,” he said. Lifting me ever so slightly in his powerful arms, he crushed my mouth with a kiss. Wave after wave of passionate power crashed over me, vibrating every molecule in my body. His molten tongue twisted around mine, tempting, teasing, then demanding. I melted again
st him, utterly helpless against my need.

  “Oh, Nick,” I sighed as he gently released me. My head fell against his strong chest, swirling and buzzing with a flood of sensations. Time moved in slow motion as I took his hand and drew him alongside me, walking into my building as if in a dream, floating over the tacky carpet, flying up the stairs.

  His eyes, dark with desire, suddenly sharpened as we entered my place. I could see him taking it all in, analyzing, calculating, memorizing my space. If he had been anyone else, it would have made me uncomfortable, made me want to shrink away and hide; with him, though, I felt pride instead. Yes, this is me. Know me, and be fascinated.

  Maybe it was all of his compliments finally going to my head, or maybe it was because I had made the first move. I wasn’t usually so bold, and certainly not with someone like him; but something had changed in me, something which finally rejected the idea that I was destined to be the net floating alone in the seat, collecting whatever flotsam and jetsam that happened by. I knew what I wanted, and I had the power to get it.

  Nick made no comment about my home except to lock the door behind us. Wrapping his arms around me, he kissed me again, nearly squeezing me to death against his muscular chest. What a way to go, though. I drank from him, returning his demands with interest, and he rose to the occasion. Gasping for breath between passionate kisses, we danced our way to my bed.

  Releasing my expectations was the best decision I had ever made, as the surprises came thick and fast. He was graceful as a dancer as he laid me on the bed, still seducing my mouth with his own. His gentle strength was like nothing I had experienced before.

  He never touched my clothes with the intention of taking them off; instead, he moved his hands over my body, learning about me through my clothes. Over my ribs, down my waist, gripping my hips, he traced every curve with slow deliberation. Breaking our kiss, he met my eyes.

  “Has anybody ever told you how beautiful you are?” he asked huskily as he ran his fingers through my hair.