Baby by Design dl-1 Page 7

  “That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

  “Ange, it’s no big deal.”

  “Yet. When Tony’s involved, it can go from no big deal to raging mess in under five seconds.”

  If Angie only knew. “You say that, but…” Trish remembered how caring and understanding Tony had been. Surely if he was the jerk Angie made him out to be, he wouldn’t have walked away from the opportunity to sleep with Trish last night. “I need more proof.”

  “What?”

  “I need proof that Tony’s capable of the messes you’re always talking about. Honestly, I don’t see it.”

  “Holy shit.” Angie stood. “Did you sleep with him?”

  Trish’s cheeks ignited. “No.” But not for lack of wanting.

  “He’s going to hurt you.”

  “How so?”

  “What do you mean, how so? I know you! You want marriage. Kids. Tony thinks marriage is for losers who can’t get laid on a regular basis without the gold band, and he’s too much of a kid himself to raise one.”

  Funny, as much as Trish loved Angie, she was getting tired of the slams against Tony’s character. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. Maybe I want a little fun now and then, too.”

  Crap. Angie’s face twisted like Trish’s gut did. “I’m sorry, Ange. I didn’t mean you didn’t know me. You know me. You…”

  “Forget it. Whatever. Tony’s right. You’re a big girl. But I warned you. Remember that.” She turned and walked away.

  “Ange, wait.” Trish jumped up and ran after her. If she wanted to have a baby with Tony, she was going to have to get used to smoothing wrinkles between her and Angie. “I like Tony, and if that makes me an idiot, then I take full responsibility.”

  Angie stopped and turned. “Fine.”

  “So you’re okay with it…with me liking him?”

  “No, but what am I going to do about it? I love him. I love you. It’s not like I can give up on either one of you.”

  That made Trish smile, and some of the stress she’d been carrying around all morning evaporated. “I’m going to hug you now.”

  “Don’t.” Angie put out both arms. “I hurt my back carrying boards. You’ll make it worse.”

  “Liar.” Trish sidestepped the outstretched arms and wrapped Angie in a fierce hug. “I love you, too.”

  “Oh God. Too much. Too much,” Angie said, squirming.

  But when Trish released her, Angie was smiling. “I’m serious, Ange. You’ll never know how much your friendship means to me.”

  “That’s all I need to know. Don’t tell me more. It’ll just lead to hugging.” She pointed a finger at Trish’s face. “And another thing you better not be telling me…details about you and my brother doing whatever you end up doing. I do not want to know. Got me?”

  “Loud and clear,” Trish answered with a nod, because, frankly, she couldn’t agree more. If Angie knew details of what Trish and Tony were thinking about doing, there’d be hell to pay, hell in the form of ruthless lectures and character smearing meant to change Trish’s mind. More than likely, when faced with that kind of pressure from Angie, Trish would crumble. Under those circumstances, she wouldn’t choose a baby with Tony over her best friend. But if Trish happened to get pregnant while she was doing whatever she and Tony ended up doing—details Angie refused to hear—there’d be no choice to make. Trish would get to have her baby and keep her best friend, too.

  “Why are you looking at me so weird?” Angie narrowed her eyes.

  Trish released an anxious laugh. “No reason. Get out of here. I have sketches to finish.”

  Angie nodded as she walked out of the shop, glancing back at Trish every so often like she was suspicious. Trish waved through the glass, partly to keep up appearances and partly to release nervous energy. She wouldn’t be settled until she was pregnant, because then the damage would be done, and she’d be mere months away from her greatest dream coming true.

  When Angie turned the corner, Trish released a big breath. As tough as it was, she laid the groundwork by letting Angie know she was interested in Tony. Now all Trish needed was for Tony to be interested in her.

  * * *

  Tony parallel parked his bike between a dumpster and Ma’s Accord. He tossed a few stray cans into the dumpster and then ducked into the narrow space between houses to get to the side door. He knocked and at the same time saw Ma sitting at the kitchen table, piles of pictures in her hands.

  “Come in,” she mouthed.

  So he did. Closing the door behind him, he stepped into the kitchen, sucked a lungful of warm, oven-scented air and walked to her side. “Where’s Nonna?” He kissed the top of her head.

  “Napping in the spare bedroom. She only made it through the first dozen cookies today. The cancer makes her tired.”

  Tony nodded, ignoring the pinch of worry in his gut. Just because Nonna was extra tired didn’t mean she was dying soon.

  “What’s this?” he asked, gesturing to the mess of pictures on the table.

  “Father Campbell has the RCIA class making collages of what inspired us to become Catholic.”

  Tony picked up a nearby picture of his father, holding the same ball peen hammer Angie had shaken earlier. Pasquale Corcarelli was standing outside this very house with a giant smile on his face, a smile that looked an awful lot like the one Tony saw every time he looked at pictures of himself. He reached for one of those, too, holding the photographs side by side.

  “You look so much like him.” Ma wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist and leaned her head against his hip.

  Tony transferred both pictures to his right hand and patted Ma’s shoulder with his left. “I know I do.” But that was where the similarities ended.

  “I should’ve done this for him. My biggest regret is not becoming Catholic while he was alive. I thought I was keeping the peace between my father and him by staying a Methodist, but any peace I managed shattered when I agreed to have you and Angie raised Catholic. Still…” She reached up and squeezed Tony’s hand, resting on her shoulder. “I spent the rest of my father’s life trying to make up for disappointing him, and in the process I missed celebrating with you. Never once did I fully partake in a sacrament. I couldn’t relax enough to be happy for the spiritual gifts my own children were being given.” She patted his hand as she shook her head. “Well, not anymore. After these classes, I can celebrate with my grandchildren.” When she looked at him, pressure popped in Tony’s head.

  Ma didn’t know about Trish’s plan. She couldn’t know. And yet, she was a mother. Mothers had that sixth sense, didn’t they?

  Tony pulled out the chair beside her and sat. “I took Trish DeVign to her cousin’s wedding yesterday.” Maybe he was looking to confess, to be saved from making another mess Angie would have to clean.

  Ma set the piles of pictures down and looked him over. “Did you have a nice time?”

  Tony scanned the pictures scattered around the table. “Yeah, I did,” he said, nodding.

  “Is this more than a casual favor sort of thing?”

  “I think it’s headed that way.” Despite his reservations and the confrontation with Angie in her garage, something about Trish’s proposal made sense to him. “I don’t think Ange is happy about it, though.”

  “She doesn’t like to be put in the middle.”

  “Nobody’s putting her there.”

  Ma grabbed his hands.

  “Be careful, Tony. Trisha’s a good girl.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “You’re a good boy, too. One of these days you’re going to stop beating yourself up for being who you are, and you’re going to let somebody love you the right way, the way you deserve to be loved.”

  He patted his hand on top of hers. “Yeah, Ma, that’s what you keep saying.”

  “Mark my word. I’m going to be taking communion at your wedding.” And when she smiled, Tony knew this plan of Trish’s could make one more dream come true.

  He didn’t often find hims
elf in the position to bring so much joy to so many people. The thought percolated until it overflowed his brain and attached to his heart.

  “I gotta go, Ma.” Tony patted her hand once more and then pushed back in the chair to stand.

  “Well, that was a short visit.”

  He snatched a couple pizzelles off the counter. “I came to see Nonna…and for these…and of course, to see you. But since she’s napping and you’re busy, I’ll leave you in peace.” He came for clarity too, and boy, did he find it.

  Now he needed to find the guts to follow through.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Trish shook Mrs. Davenport’s hand and led her to the front of the store. “I won’t place the fabric order until tomorrow, so if you have second thoughts between now and then, let me know.”

  “I’m sure it will look wonderful.” The middle-aged woman twisted a floral scarf around her neck and pushed her shoulder against the leaded glass door. “We’ll talk soon.”

  Trish smiled, nodded and watched her leave. Checking the silver watch dangling from her left wrist, she figured she had enough time to make at least one phone call before her meeting with the tile rep.

  Back behind her desk, she glanced at her cell phone. Tony said he’d call. He hadn’t. Maybe he wouldn’t. Two days was plenty of time to come to his senses and see her for the control freak she was. Who proposed something like this, having a baby with her best friend’s brother? Trish’s shoulders slumped, but then she lifted her chin and righted her posture. No moping. There was decorating to do.

  The door chimed, and Trish glanced toward the sound, hoping the tile rep wasn’t early.

  “Hey, Boss Lady.” Tony strode down the shop aisle like a vision conjured by her obsessive brain.

  A plaid oxford rolled up at the sleeves opened over a black T-shirt. Battered and beaten gray jeans hung beltless from his hips. And he was wearing boots, black boots, scuffed at the toes. No polish, no refinement, could ever look that good.

  “Hi.” She waved, lifting her left hand and flicking her wrist. “What’s up?” Dumb question. She was trying too hard to sound flippant, and she didn’t need a mirror to tell her she wasn’t matching his picture of cool.

  “I’ve been thinking, and I bet you have been, too.”

  For a split second she thought to play coy, to make him spell out his thoughts, at least to delay the inevitable awkwardness of rehashing their conversation. But, if she ever hoped to have a baby, she needed to suck it up and face the sensitive subject matter. This was not an easy conversation or decision, and a “yes” wouldn’t magically take the weirdness away.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot too…” she managed a small smile, “wondering if you’ve finally come to your senses and realized I was crazy or if you maybe, sorta, kinda want what I want, too.”

  He walked around the desk and stood beside her, grinning. “Let’s just say I’m willing to explore the opportunity.”

  His silky voice acted like a summons to the butterflies locked in her gut. They fluttered against her ribs, quickening her heart. “What does that mean exactly?”

  He reached behind him into his back pocket, drawing his jeans lower on his right hip, and then he presented her with a folded sheet of thin white paper. “Should we proceed, you’ll want this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Take a look.”

  Trish scanned the lab report, which proved Tony was clean. The realization that she was one step closer to making a baby with him acted like a vacuum in her head, sucking out thought and function, leaving her more than a little light-headed. She drew a breath and closed her eyes, hoping to maintain her balance.

  He grabbed her hand, laced his fingers with hers, and held her straight. “You okay?”

  When she looked at him, he wasn’t smiling, but there was something comforting about his face. Concern, maybe. Sincerity. She wasn’t sure. But whatever it was made her tossing insides halt their churn. “I am. I guess I’m nervous, which seems strange, because I was so sure about this for so long.”

  “You’re not sure now?”

  “No. No. I am. Definitely. It’s just more awkward than I thought it would be.”

  “Because you’re taking all the fun out of it.” His thumb circled the knuckle on her index finger. “You need to relax.”

  “I know. Stress can inhibit pregnancy, and that’s the last thing I want to do. It’s just that every time I…”

  He lifted her knuckles to his lips, stopping her words cold. “I can help you relax.” Back and forth, he smoothed the soft surface of his mouth over the bumps on her hand until she had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering. “How’s that? Better?”

  Trish nodded. “A little.”

  “You want me to up my game?”

  She couldn’t imagine what upping his game would entail, and she couldn’t imagine how she’d survive it, because his mouth exploring the surface of her hand was enough to weaken her knees. “No, I’m good.”

  He raised his brows and stared at her over the top of her hand, which was still pressed to his mouth. “Good.” And then he lifted his head away from her hand, but didn’t release her. “How long do you think it will take to get pregnant?”

  “I, um…” She had to push the word past the lump in her throat. “I’m pretty regular, if you catch my drift. I’ve been charting for over a year now so I was ready if…when…you know.”

  He grinned. “I know.” And then he sat on her desk, wrapped his free hand around her waist, and slid her to him.

  Her feet stuffed between his. “Tony, what are you doing?”

  With his body weight on the edge of her desk and her body weight on the soles of her riding boots, there was plenty of space between them. “Testing you out. Getting a feel for the goods.” He hitched his lip. “You can’t expect me to go into this cold.”

  She pushed against his chest. “Funny.”

  “Then why aren’t you laughing?”

  “I’m at work, Tony. When I’m at work, I’m all business.”

  He grinned. “Yeah. I like that about you, so serious.” The last word came deeper and slower than the rest.

  She pushed him again. “You’re mocking me.”

  “No, I’m helping you relax. Remember?”

  “Yes, well, this is a serious subject.” She crinkled her face and tried to step out of his space.

  He held her there. “You think I don’t know that? Yeah, it’s serious, and if we don’t find the fun in it, we’re both going to end up running off with cold feet.”

  God, she couldn’t bear the thought. Not when she was this close, closer than she’d ever been before. “Fair enough,” she said with a nod. She could handle his playful side as long as it didn’t get in the way of having a baby.

  “Good. I’m glad we got that settled. Now, let me ask you what our chances would be if we did it right here, right now, on this desk?”

  Her jaw dropped as her gaze rocketed to the uncovered windows a mere fifty feet away. “I think the chances of us getting caught and ruining my business reputation would be excellent.”

  Her face must’ve been a jumble of horror because he started to laugh. “It was a joke.”

  “Of course,” she said, taking advantage of his lighter grip on her waist to move further away from him.

  “So laugh already.” He stood and stepped toward her.

  “Ha ha. How’s that?”

  “Shitty.” He stepped toward her again.

  His crooked grin worried her. “Whatever you’re thinking, Tony, don’t do it.”

  But he did. He wrapped both arms around her waist and walked her backward as he dug fingers into her sides, tickling her. It was so absurd. She hadn’t been tickled since childhood. What else could she do but laugh, letting him win this strange battle for control of her mood? And he got the added bonus of her clinging to him for balance.

  Trish reflexively shoved her face against his shoulder and breathed him in, all laundry soap and warm spice. Miraculously,
her uptight tendencies scattered, and she reveled in the closeness…until the door chimed.

  Tony froze, and Trish peaked around his body to see the wide-eyed tile rep.

  “Am I early?” the well-dressed man asked.

  Trish tripped over Tony’s feet, scrambling to her desk. “No. Not at all. I was just…” What? Oh my God. She felt the heat melt the makeup off her face.

  “I was just leaving.” Tony walked to her and placed a kiss on her cheek. “We’ll finish this tonight.” And then he strolled past the man with a nod of his head and disappeared onto the crowded street.

  * * *

  Tony made it two blocks to where his bike was parked before a phone call stole his smile.

  “What do you mean she’s filling with fluid? Fluid from where?”

  “It’s called ascites, and it’s from the tumors,” Angie explained.

  “More than one tumor?”

  “I guess. I don’t know. It’s hard to get a straight answer. Everybody seems to be hearing something different. Makes me want to go to the next appointment.”

  “You should.”

  “Tell that to our aunts.”

  Tony roughed his face in his hands and released a growly breath. “So what’s this mean?”

  “Ma says Nonna’s abdomen is being drained to make her more comfortable and her treatment plan might change. And…no trip. She can’t go to Italy.”

  “Shit.”

  “Exactly. Tone, I looked on the internet, and this could mean the tumors are growing and spreading.”

  The sickness in Tony’s gut grew and spread to his heart. “Double damn.”

  “I know. Do you think you can have the car seats finished this week? I want to show her, take her for a ride, take her mind off this crap for however long I can.”

  “Yeah. You bet. Consider it done.”

  “And Vin moved the concert up.”

  Everybody was kicking into gear, readying for the worst. Tony’s eyes burned. “Ange, do you really think she’s running out of time?”

  “I hope not, Tone.”

  He hoped not too. But just in case, ready or not, he and Trish needed to speed things up.