The Midwife's Glass Slipper / Best For the Baby

Her heart lurched. She did not want a relationship, especially not with a man who couldn’t trust. The idea of getting involved again, getting penned up, trapped, controlled, almost made her panic.

He must have seen the look in her eye because he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to have this child and raise this child and love this child. But that doesn’t mean you and I have to be…connected.”

“What has you so spooked? You weren’t like this that night.”

No, she wasn’t. That night had been full of wonder and impulse. When she’d met Grady, the chemistry between them had been so strong she hadn’t thought about the next day or a week from that night.

“I’m not spooked. I just don’t want to be involved.”

“You are spooked. You’re afraid I’ll do something you don’t want me to do. So why did you tell me?”

“You had the right to know. Sagebrush is a small town.”

“And I could put have two and two together easily if I saw you pregnant and figured out the dates.”

“Yes,” she admitted, wanting to turn from his probing blue eyes but unable to do so.

His voice lowered…was gentle yet more intense. “You’re not going to cut me out of the baby’s life. If I’m a dad, I’m going be a dad. Do you understand that, Francesca?”

She went cold inside from the thought of him wanting any kind of control, and licked her dry lips. “What does that mean?”

“It means I want to spend time with my son or daughter. I want to have a say in decisions. I want to act like a real parent. I’ve looked forward all my life to being a dad. I’m not going to let the opportunity slip away.”

Grady came from a large family, a loving family, and she should have realized he’d feel this way.

“Don’t look so scared, Frannie. I’m not going to try to take custody away from you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She didn’t know what she was thinking. No one had ever called her Frannie.

“I’m not scared,” she returned defensively, squaring her shoulders. “I’m just worried you’ll want to tell me what to do and that’s not going to happen.”

He eyed her assessingly. “I guess we really don’t know each other, do we? One night on the sofa doesn’t a couple make.”

“No, it doesn’t. And we’re not a couple.”

He let a few pounding heartbeats pass before he asked, “When are you due?”

“February twenty-seventh.”

“What are you going to do about your practice?”

“I haven’t figured everything out yet. I’ve only known a short while.”

He cocked his head. “Did you think about not telling me and moving away from Sagebrush?”

She was hoping her guilt didn’t show.

“You did, didn’t you?” he accused. Then calmly he asked, “What made you decide to stay and not run?”

“I’m not a coward. I have a life here. I’m not going to let any man make me give up what I’m building.”

He slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans—as if maybe he wanted to do something else with them—and continued to study her. “So what do you suggest we do?”

“I’d like you to give me time—the length of my pregnancy—to figure some things out.”

A line creased his brow and he didn’t seem to like the idea. Yet he asked, “You’ll call me when the baby’s born?”

She nodded.

His strong jaw set and his mouth formed a tight line. “I have one condition.”

“What?”

“You e-mail me a report every time you go to the doctor just to let me know everything’s okay.”

For some reason, she didn’t quibble. She didn’t see the condition as manipulation. Grady was asking her to communicate with him and it didn’t have to be in a personal way, just in the form of a report. She could do that.

“All right,” she agreed. “That won’t be a problem.”

“Have you been to see a doctor yet?” he asked.

“Yes, yesterday. Dr. Jared Madison’s my doctor. Every other month, I’ll see his obstetrical nurse practitioner. She’s my roommate, Emily Diaz. When I hit the third trimester, I’ll see him.”

Grady reached over to his desk and picked up a card from the holder there. He turned it around and jotted something on the back. Then he handed it to her. “My e-mail address is on the front. My cell phone number’s on the back. If you need anything—”

“I won’t, Grady. Really.”

“When you go into labor, I want to know.”

“When I go into labor? Why?”

“Because I want to be with you. I want to anticipate this baby being born and be there when he or she is. I mean it, Frannie. Don’t deny me that right.”

Remembering the night they’d spent together—his passion, tenderness and hunger, she assured him, “I won’t,” controlling her voice so it wouldn’t tremble. Then she tucked his card into her purse and turned to leave.

He followed her to the door.

After he’d opened it for her, he suggested, “I want you to think about the benefit of a child having two parents rather than one. I know it won’t be easy to do, but we’re smart people. We should be able to figure it out.”

She’d have six and a half more months to figure this out, thank goodness. She had a feeling she was going to need every day of those six and a half months to decide how she could coparent with Grady without being involved with him. Getting involved when she was actually ready for it wouldn’t be easy. Getting involved in this situation would be sheer lunacy.

As she said good-bye and left, she realized she liked having a nickname for the first time in her life…and she liked the sound of that nickname on Grady Fitzgerald’s lips.

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