“Sure.”
He glanced around, found the kitchen and made his way there. She followed, then fished the wine opener out of a drawer and handed it to him. She collected glasses and set them on the counter.
“I saw my doctor today,” she said. “We talked about the next steps and I got my physical.”
He turned to face her. “What did she say?”
“That there’s no reason why I can’t deliver Crystal’s babies to term. Apparently getting them implanted isn’t too bad.”
Saying the words made it all seem a little too real, she thought, feeling a bit light-headed. “Two weeks later, I take a pregnancy test.”
His dark gaze never wavered. “You’d have all three done at the same time?”
“She thinks that would be best. Apparently there’s a chance some of them might not survive the thawing process. But even if they all do, three is considered okay.”
He handed her a glass of wine. “You ready for this?”
“No, but it’s not like I’m suddenly going to get ready. I think plunging ahead is the best plan. I don’t want to talk myself out of this.”
“You don’t have to do it. You don’t have to have Crystal’s babies.”
She clutched her wine in both hands. “Yeah, I do. It’s what she wanted and she’s my friend. I would have done anything to save her. Bone marrow, a kidney, whatever. None of that would have helped, so I’m going to have her children and raise them as my own.”
Emotions moved through his eyes, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “You’re a helluva woman, Pia O’Brian.”
“Not really, but thanks for thinking I am.”
She led the way into the living room. She curled up in one corner of the sofa, and Raoul sat at the opposite end. He faced her.
“Nervous?” he asked.
She was, but not for the reasons he thought. “Yes, but I’m dealing.”
He looked around at her bright apartment. “How many bedrooms do you have here?”
She blinked at him. “One.” Reality hit her. “I’m going to have to move, aren’t I? I’ll need more bedrooms.” She thought of the two flights of stairs she went up and down several times a day. There was no way she could deal with them and a stroller…or three.
He reached his arm across the back of the red sofa and patted her shoulder, then left his fingers lightly resting against her. “You don’t have to move today. Don’t worry about it. When the time comes, I’ll help.”
“I’ve lived here six years,” she murmured, aware of the heat of his touch. “I don’t want to move.”
What other changes would there be? How many things hadn’t she thought of?
“Can we please change the subject?” she asked. “I’m starting to freak.”
“Don’t freak. You’re not even pregnant yet.”
“Yet” being the key word.
She forced herself to breathe slowly, then she took a sip of her wine. “I can do this,” she said, more to herself than him. “I’m strong. The town will help.”
“Don’t forget me,” he added. “Your pregnancy buddy.”
She still thought there was something odd about that, but why spoil his fun?
“Have you been a pregnancy buddy before?”
His expression tightened, then he relaxed. “No, but my girlfriend in high school thought she was pregnant.”
“What did you do?”
“Offered to marry her.”
“Of course you did.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s the nice-guy thing.” She sighed. “I’m sure everyone adored you in high school.”
“I wouldn’t say adored.”
“Sure they did.” She sipped her wine. “I was a cheerleader.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Still have the uniform?”
She laughed. “Yes, but that’s not the point. A lot of people don’t like cheerleaders. It’s the whole popular-girl thing.”
“Were you popular?”
“Sort of.” At least until her life had crashed in around her. “I wasn’t exactly humble and caring,” she admitted. “The phrase ‘mean girl’ has been tossed around.”
“You’re not mean.”
“I was. I made fun of people, flaunted what I had. I know now it was an uncomfortable combination of immaturity and insecurity, but it’s not as if that information will make any of my victims feel better.”
“You had victims?”
“I had people I picked on.” They were having the last laugh now, she thought sadly. Most of them had wonderful lives, while she lived in a one-bedroom apartment and couldn’t even get a cat to like her.
“You’re pretty hard on yourself,” he said.
“Maybe I deserve it.”
“Maybe everyone gets to screw up every now and then.”
“I’d like it to be that simple.”
“Why does it have to be complicated?” he asked.
An interesting question, she thought, allowing herself to get lost in his eyes.