Man of the Month (Willowdale Romance Novel) (16 page)

Brad dropped a box of shower stuff in Tommy’s spare room. “Lily wasn’t real happy about the situation.”

Tommy nodded. “Women can be funny that way. So, it’s going good with Lily?”

“Yeah. Real good.”

Tommy stared at him. “Dude, don’t ever commit a crime. You suck at lying.”

Brad loaded his jeans into the bottom drawer of the dresser. It was the same dresser that had been in the room he and Tommy shared growing up. The dent from where his father had thrown a full beer can at him, after Brad came home late, was still there.

Tommy noticed him staring at the mark. “I should probably get that refinished.”

“It won’t take away what he did.”

“I truly don’t think he remembered most of what he did. The next day after a real bad fight, he’d act as if nothing had happened.”

“Yeah, act.”

“No, I really think he was so drunk everything was a blur.”

Brad said nothing.

“It was the alcohol, not him.”

“And if I get out of control with alcohol, I could do the same thing.”

“You don’t remember him from before Mom was killed, but he was a good man then. Sure, he probably drank too much then, too. But he could handle it better. He’d pack up the four of us boys, even little Mitch toddling around in diapers, and we’d all go fishing.” Tommy put his hands on his hips and sighed. “You don’t remember the good stuff, just the bad. You’re not destined to repeat his mistakes. Am I like that? No. And that meanness isn’t in you, either.”

“You found your peace in taking care of folks as a police officer. Protecting them. I haven’t found my peace, Tommy, and I’m not going to take a chance. Which is why I’m telling you things are going real well with Lily. They have to be going well.”

“Now, that’s real fair to her, isn’t it?”

“Maybe I’m not the nice guy you think I am.” Brad kicked that damn bottom drawer shut, leaving another mark.

WORK WAS NO relief from Jeanne’s problems. Seemed like every day, Lily popped into the kitchen. Jeanne was certain she’d developed a full-blown bout of depression. She’d nap for hours and just didn’t feel like herself.

So this is what heartbreak feels like
, she thought, curled up in bed on a Saturday afternoon sipping tea and watching an old movie. Her place was lonely without Brad. He and Lily were out somewhere, and Jeanne was all alone feeling sorry for herself. She had a gripping headache and realized her period was due any day, which would just make life even more fun.

Then she sat up in bed, counting on her fingers.

What day is it?
She kicked off her covers, dashed to her desk, and scanned the calendar. June 28th. No, she wasn’t due for her monthly visitor. She was overdue, by a week. Then she froze. She hadn’t gotten her period at all last month. She’d been so distracted worrying about Brad and Lily, she hadn’t noticed.

She dropped to her bed.
No, no, no, no.

She couldn’t be. Brad had used a condom. This was just because of stress. The stress of seeing the two of them together. Stress could delay a period. Or two. Absolutely.

This is what she told herself for the next few hours, until panic had her driving all the way to Whitesville to buy a pregnancy test from one of the little drug stores where there was no chance she’d bump into someone she knew. How much fun would that be, running into Faye Jenkins picking up laxatives at the Save More? They stocked all that embarrassing stuff in the same aisle. Faye talked quite openly about her plumbing problems. Even asked Jeanne if she’d ever try making a prune pie. If Faye saw Jeanne with a pregnancy test in hand, she might as well start filling out birth announcements for the whole dang town.

Jeanne pulled into a convenience store in Whitesville, safely away from home, and headed for the feminine products aisle.

“Hey, Jeanne?”

She jumped and spun around to see Sam. She let out a little yelp. Trying to recover, she smoothed down her shorts—which needed no smoothing seeing how the zipper had been so hard to yank up that morning. Now she knew why. “Hi, Sam. How are you?”

He grinned. “Excellent. Got a job down at the plant, and I can take you for a ride in my new car if you’d like.” He tipped his chin toward the parking lot.

“Oh, hey, good for you.” He still didn’t seem the least bit attractive to her, even though he’d caught the cashier’s eye. “I’m actually headed home, Sam. I’m just picking up
 . . .
a
 . . .
drink for the ride.”

He put his beefy hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s on me. I owe you. Pick out anything you want. Then let me show you my car.”

She sighed. What else could she do? She grabbed lemonade, and Sam made a big show of whipping out a twenty to pay for it.

“Now come on, come see my ride.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Brad does the same thing,
she thought,
only it’s sexy when he does it.

They walked out into the bright sunlight. Jeanne didn’t know cars, but she knew this was a clunker for sure. “It’s nice. You must be glad you aren’t riding that bike around.”

He cracked his knuckles. “Sure am. So, you want to get together again?”

Her knees were almost knocking she was so desperate to get her hands on a pregnancy test. Her bladder was ready to play its part, too. Of course, that could just be nerves. “No, I’m seeing someone. But thanks.”

His smile fell.

She touched his arm. “You’ll find someone. Don’t worry. I never thought I would, but when I least expected it, there he was,” she lied.

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Lucky guy.”

“Thanks. I’ve gotta get going.” She climbed in her car, wondering if her lucky guy was getting lucky with his new girlfriend as they spoke.

He leaned into her open window. “Let me know if things change. I’ll be around,” Sam said, not moving.

She realized he wasn’t going to leave until she did, so she’d have to find another drug store. And she was getting more desperate by the minute. She couldn’t be pregnant. She could not, could not, could not. It was so ridiculous—the thing she wanted the most now scared her more than anything. Her world had flipped on its head—and she’d never been good at doing handstands. Always ended up tumbling onto her behind.

She started her car, and Sam backed up. She pulled away and drove another few miles until she found a grocery store, put on her sunglasses, just in case she ran into any other old dates, and dashed to the appropriate aisle. Dozens of choices sat on the shelves, and she had no idea how they were different. But she grabbed the nearest box, the one with big, loopy, purple flowers, and paid for it.

Could she wait forty minutes before she drove home and found out? She glanced at the restroom near the exit, paused to nibble on her lip, and ducked into the bathroom. She locked herself in a stall, hung up her purse, and tore open the box. She unfolded the directions as the tears slipped down her face. This was not how she had envisioned this moment. In her dreams, Brad would be waiting anxiously outside the closed door—at home—so he could pull her into a hug when she said, “Yes, yes! We’re going to have a baby.”

Instead she was alone in a dank public bathroom, with balled-up paper towels littering the floor, and the intercom paging someone to Aisle Six for a wet cleanup.

Once she figured out how to work the test, she took a deep breath and got to business. It didn’t take the whole suggested five minutes for the results to show. In thirty seconds the little plus appeared in the window. She was pregnant.

She looked at it again. And again. And again. And each time, that cocky, tiny little plus was staring back at her.

She read the directions again to make sure it was right. Plus indicates positive pregnancy, she read. She sucked in a breath. Maybe it was wrong.
If condoms fail, so can pregnancy tests, right?

She capped the test and dropped the stick in her purse. She dashed back into the store to purchase another test, this time, a three-pack. But ten minutes later, after downing her lemonade, all three tests had shown the same result. She dropped those in her purse too and ran to her car. She folded her arms on the steering wheel and cried.

“A plus is not always a good thing,” she wailed to herself. Those tests should really be marketed separately for people wanting to be pregnant and those who can’t handle being knocked up. A little frowning face would be a much better pregnancy indicator for someone like her.

This isn’t how she’d wanted to become a mother. And how was she going to tell Brad? He didn’t want to be a father, and this would probably ruin his relationship with Lily, just like Tommy had lost Kate when he got Ellen pregnant. How many times had Brad talked about what a damn shame that was? And here it was happening to him. She brushed away her tears with the heel of her hand.

No
, she said to herself. She wasn’t going to tell him. Not yet, anyway. She had to work this out in her head. What was she going to do? She drove home and pulled over twice to throw up. How in the world was she going to keep this a secret from him when she was literally spilling her guts every hour?

BRAD TRIED to concentrate on the beautiful woman kissing him and, really, it shouldn’t have been that hard. True, it was distracting to have Lily’s Grandma inside the house, even though she couldn’t see across the room or hear the doorbell ring ten times in a row. No way could she spot him outside smooching her granddaughter. Lily was sweet and wonderful, and sitting there kissing her on a sunny summer day under a big old oak tree would have been any man’s dream. But so far, not his. More than once he’d opened his eyes after kissing her and expected to see Jeanne there.

This time, it wasn’t Jeanne’s face that interrupted their kissing, it was his phone.

He pulled back. “Let me get that.”

It was Saturday, and they didn’t have anything booked for the night, but who knew, it could be business.

Lily frowned and leaned back in the grass while he answered, twirling a piece of grass between two fingers.

“Really? That’s great! Good, we’ll meet next week to go over the details.” He hung up and jumped up off the ground.

“What is it?” Lily asked, looking up at him.

“Elegant Eats landed the Willowdale New Year’s bash!”

She stood up. “That’s fantastic!”

“I know, I’ve gotta tell Jeanne. She should be home now. I’ve got to find her and tell her in person. I can’t wait to see the look on her face. She didn’t think we could do it.” He kissed Lily on the top of her head and tried to pretend he didn’t notice her frown. He’d have to send her flowers again. Lily had scored her share of bouquets, thanks to his guilt over taking things slow.

He picked up Jeanne’s favorite champagne so they could celebrate. Sure, he’d rib her a bit about the last time she’d had champagne, but this was big news. He knocked on the door. “Jeanne?”

No answer. Which was weird, because her car was in the driveway. “J? Jeanne?”

She opened the door looking horrible. Her hair was a mess, and circles smudged her eyes.

“Jeanne, are you sick?”

She paused before answering. “I’ve caught a bug or something.” She rubbed her hands down her face. “What are you doing here?”

He pulled the champagne from behind his back. “I’ve got great news.”

“What?”

“We landed the New Year’s Eve party!” He scooped her up in his arms, swinging her around in her tiny foyer.

A woozy look crossed her face, so he set her down. “Isn’t that fantastic?”

She steadied herself on her feet. “I can’t even believe it.”

Remembering the champagne, he laid it across one arm like a waiter. “I don’t suppose you’re up for a glass of this?”

She held up her hand. “No, not today.” Her hand moved down to her stomach.

He rubbed her arm. He couldn’t help feeling like some of this was his fault because of his relationship with Lily. It hadn’t been easy on Jeanne, but it was for the best. For both of them.

“Are you all right? I know you’re sick, but you’ve been sick quite a bit lately.”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. “I
 . . .
”

“J, if something’s wrong, Lily and I are here for you. Whatever you need.”

She nodded, and her shoulders slumped. “Just run down, I guess.”

How he wished he could pull her against him, hold her, make her feel better. Even if he couldn’t make love to her again, he’d be happy just running his fingers along her skin, sleeping with her in his arms.

But he took a step back. He was finally taking action to stomp out his feelings for her. He couldn’t back off now. He had to let Jeanne know he was moving on.

Even if he really, truly wasn’t.

So he gave her a big smile. Felt about as phony as using artificial sweetener for sugar in a pie. “I’m going to get back to Lily’s, then. We’ve got a lot of work to do next week, recipes to try out. Hope you’re ready.”

“Yes. It’s great news. Thanks for coming over to tell me.” She handed him the bottle of champagne. “Might as well take this and celebrate with Lily.”

He took it from her and set it down. “No, I’ll leave it. We’ll have another reason to use it in the future, I’m sure.” Should he stay with her? Take care of her? They stared at each for a moment. “Get to bed, Jeanne. You’ll feel better.”

She nodded, and he quietly closed the door behind him, feeling like someone was standing on his heart—with cowboy boots and spurs.