“Are you enjoying New Hampshire? Have you had a chance to do any sightseeing?”
Marienne placed two poached shrimp on a small plate and reached for the rémoulade sauce. “We walked around town a bit today. It’s beautiful. We picked up some gifts for our daughter, Ella. She’s almost four.”
“She’s adorable. I remember your Christmas card. What did you get her?”
“A few books at the children’s book store. And Daniel picked up a white teddy bear with a Dartmouth sweater.”
“I’m sure she’ll love that.” Cynthia handed Marienne a fork and a napkin.
“She loves anything Daniel gives her. She’s in a total Daddy phase right now.”
Cynthia nodded, popping a bite of fresh mozzarella into her mouth. “We have a daughter and two sons, and I remember the years when Daddy could do no wrong. It all comes in waves. You’ll see.”
Marienne could feel the tension ebbing out of her as she ate and talked. Cynthia’s warmth surrounded her and it felt as if she’d known her for year. Every time she caught sight of Daniel, he was talking and laughing, more relaxed than she’d seen him in ages. When it was time to be seated for dinner, he came up beside her, his hand slipping around her waist as he placed another kiss on the side of her head. “Having a good time?” he asked, pulling a chair out for her.
“Yes. I’m so glad we came.”
A couple around their age sat beside Marienne and Daniel introduced her. They were seated at a table full of professors and their spouses. It was wonderful to see Daniel so animated as he talked. He hadn’t complained, but she knew work had been stressing him out due to departmental changes. She wondered if he’d ever consider switching to a smaller university like Dartmouth, or if that would even be an option. As they strolled back to the car after dinner, she decided to try to ask. “Do you ever wish you worked someplace like this?”
Daniel looked surprised by the question. “Sometimes. Why?”
“Seems like a smaller university might suit you. It’s…cozier.”
“Well, maybe one day I’ll transfer to one.”
Marienne smiled. She knew he’d at least been toying with the idea. “Like here?”
“Perhaps. But not in the foreseeable future. I think we’ve got plenty of changes going on already.” Her rubbed his hand across her belly and pulled her closer. She didn’t care where they were as long as they were together.
Chapter Six
The sound of Marienne’s rhythmic breathing was both a comfort and a distraction. Daniel glanced at the bedside clock. It was nearly two in the morning. He stared into the darkness of their bedroom, watching the shadows play on the ceiling as a breeze blew outside the window. Sleep seemed impossible. Again.
As soon as they’d gotten home from New Hampshire Daniel’s insomnia had returned with a vengeance. Every evening he’d climb into bed with Marienne, hopeful that perhaps he’d get some rest, but each time the same thing happened. Tossing and turning and eventually giving up.
He slipped out of bed and crept downstairs. It was the tenth night in a row he’d sought late night refuge at his computer. The first few nights he’d tried working on his novel, but found he couldn’t concentrate and wound up erasing nearly everything he wrote. The rest of the week he’d read every pregnancy website he could find, which had only added to his list of worries.
To make matters worse he had been unable to stop thinking about his mum. Whenever something significant happened—high school and college graduation, earning his PhD, getting married, meeting Marienne—he always missed her more. There were so many things he wanted to share with her, things he knew she’d want to know. Learning he was going to become a father had brought that yearning to an all-time painful level. She would have enjoyed meeting Marienne and Ella so much…would have loved being a grandmother…all things that would never happen. Now in addition to missing her he worried about Ella and the baby. What if something happened to him or Marienne? He wouldn’t wish the experience of losing a parent on anyone let alone them. His chest felt tight.
He rubbed his eyes while he waited for his computer to reboot. He had no new emails. Nothing earth shattering appeared on the news updates. He clicked open a new document and began to type, about pregnancy from a nervous father’s point of view. It was like he’d flipped some sort of unknown switch. The words poured out of him. He wrote until his eyes felt heavy then hit save and stumbled up to bed. He fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.
His writing took on a life of its own. Every night he’d work on the new project. He’d never written a screenplay before, but he’d read hundreds of them while interning for a film agent in college. He crafted a script about four men at different stages of their lives who were all expecting babies. To his surprise the story seemed to write itself. Each character embodied different concerns he had, some of which he hadn’t even acknowledged until he let his characters experience them. Night after night he typed away, and when he finished writing he was able to go back to bed and actually fall asleep.
****
By the time Marienne was in her seventh month the screenplay was finished. Daniel was feeling much calmer. Knowing she was far enough along that even if the baby came now it would likely be okay gave him a sense of security. And the fact that Marienne was showing no signs of complications meant she likely wouldn’t. He finally felt able to cautiously enjoy the idea that they were expecting.
Daniel clicked on his computer screen to check the status of his printing document. It was almost done. He wheeled his desk chair toward the window and looked outside. It was a grey New York day and students hurried along Waverly Place on their way to and from classes. He glanced at the clock. His next class was in less than half an hour.
“What the hell are you doing? Your printer’s been going nonstop for an hour.”
Daniel turned to see his co-worker Christina striding toward his printer, just as the last page chugged out. She grabbed it and read aloud. “
Pregnant Pauses
.” Her eyes doubled in size. “By Daniel Gardner.” Her eyebrows rose and she grabbed the whole stack of pages, darting out of his way as he lunged for them.
“I didn’t know you were working on anything.” She flipped through the papers.
“That’s because I didn’t tell you.” He stood and stepped toward her. “Now give it back.”
She grinned at him. “Oh, of course.” She took a step backward. “As soon as I’m done reading.” She raced across the room to her office and slammed the door.
“Bugger.” He could hear her laughing. He pinched his fingers on the bridge of his nose then rubbed his eyes, trying to ward off the headache he already felt brewing. It was ten fifteen.
I don’t have time for this. I need to get to class.
He strode across the hall and knocked on Christina’s door.
“Who is it?” Her singsong voice grated on his already frazzled nerves.
“Give it back,” he said.
“I’ll be done reading by the time your class is over. You better run along, don’t want to keep those students waiting.”
He closed his eyes and raked his hand through his hair.
“Now, please.”
“Go to class. You’re bothering me. I’m trying to read.”
He knew it was pointless to try to convince her. He checked his watch and sighed. “I’m bothering her,” he muttered as he gathered his things and headed to class.
Three hours later he walked back down the corridor. He could see that Christina’s door was open and paused before he reached it.
What if she thought it was total rubbish?
He hadn’t planned on having anyone read it—it was more a form of therapy than a writing exercise. His stomach tensed as he peeked into her office. She was at her desk, leaning back in her chair, a book open in her lap.
Oh, good, she’s reading something else. Maybe she didn’t read my stuff at all.
“There you are.” She looked up and motioned toward the chair next to her desk. “I’ve been waiting for you. Close the door.”
Close the door? Oh God. She read it and she hated it. She needs privacy to tell me.
He closed the door and took a seat, rubbing his thumb along the square armrest, bracing himself for a barrage of criticism.
“How long have you been working on this?” She held up his screenplay.
He was tempted to grab it and leave. “Just a few months. It’s my insomnia project while Marienne’s been pregnant. It’s really just—”
“It’s fantastic.”
Wait. What?
He gaped at her.
She flipped through it, nodding. “The whole thing, the characters, the situations, the emotions. It’s brilliant. Not to mention hilarious. I nearly peed my pants—for real—I didn’t want to stop reading to go to the bathroom.”
“You’re kidding, right?” He was waiting for the punch line. Christina was notoriously critical of everything she read. She never liked anything.
“I’m totally serious. I had three cups of coffee this morning. I really had to pee.”
“Not what I meant.”
She blinked at him.
He sighed. “Come on, you’ve said the nice things, now tell me what you really thought.” He shifted in the chair, waiting.
“I just did. I love it. I mean there are a few things here or there you could tweak, but otherwise it’s great. What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m going to take it back from my kleptomaniacal coworker and put it in a box somewhere.”
“Oh no, no, no. You can sell this.”
Daniel laughed. “Okay, fine, give me twenty bucks.” He held out his hand.
She swatted it away. “I’m not kidding.”
“Neither am I. Where’s my twenty?”
To his amazement she reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet.
“Here.” She smushed a bill into his hand. “But I’m keeping it. I want to read it again.”
“Fine.” Daniel shook his head. His stomach rumbled. “Have you had lunch yet?”
“No, I’ve been too busy reading this brilliant new writer and trying not to wet myself.”
“Let’s go grab some food. On me.” He held up the twenty. “I just sold my first screenplay.”
Chapter Seven
The fall weather was turning colder, and Daniel sipped from his hot mug of coffee to warm up while he prepared his next lecture, adding notes as he went.
“Daniel.” Christina’s voice echoed across the corridor.
“What?” he yelled back.
“Get in here.”
Daniel finished the sentence he was typing and pushed away from his desk. “What is it?” he asked, walking into her office.
“Sit down. Close the door.”
“You’re awfully bossy today.” He took a seat and started playing with the slinky she kept on her desk.
“Today?” She raised her eyebrows.
“I was being nice.”
“You’re too nice,” she said. “That’s your problem.”
“Did you call me in here to psychoanalyze me? Because if you did I’d really prefer if you got a couch, this chair isn’t quite doing it for me. Though the slinky is a nice touch.” He ran the spring back and forth between his hands.
“As much as I’d love to discuss your mental health, no. I called you in here to discuss this.” She tossed his screenplay onto his lap. “Don’t get mad.”
Oh God
. “What have you done?”
“I may have given it to Philip Porter over at Tisch.”
Daniel’s mouth fell open. “You what?”
“And he sort of gave it to a friend of his at Paramount. And it seems they want to meet you.”
“Meet me? What on earth for? I can’t believe this has been passed around to people.”
“I think they’re interested in purchasing it. They want to make the movie.”
Daniel stared at her. He couldn’t even blink.
“I know.” She nodded. “It’s amazing isn’t it?”
“Amazing?” He shook his head, certain he was still hearing her wrong, though the tension in his stomach told him otherwise. “You’re telling me someone is actually considering turning my script into a movie?”
“More than considering it, from what I’ve heard. ‘Very excited’ were the words I was told.” She paused. “Stay calm.”
What now?
His mind raced.
“I’ve set up a lunch meeting for you. Today.”
“You what?” He dropped the slinky, and it walked off the chair onto the floor. “Where? With whom?”
“Breathe.”
“If you were worried about me breathing you shouldn’t have been passing my script all over town.”
Christina put her hand on his arm. “I checked your schedule, you’re free and now you have hardly any time to obsess before the meeting. Go teach your class, then head to lunch. And give me all the details the minute you get back.”
Chapter Eight
Marienne strode down Prince Street looking for Christina’s apartment. The street was busy for a Thursday night, bustling with holiday shoppers. Marienne was glad she’d found a parking spot on Spring Street. It wasn’t too chilly, but a recent snow had left the streets lined with deep grey slush puddles.
She spotted the building number and crossed the street. She scanned the list of names on the intercom and pressed the button. The buzzer went off and the door clicked. Marienne made her way up the narrow staircase to the second floor. The door swung open before she knocked. Christina greeted her with her typical Cheshire cat smile. “You made it. Come on in.”