“I forget nothing. That’s why I’m the world’s most awesome lawyer. Don’t change the subject. A kid’s going to be just like that. Your heart will know what the rest of you isn’t sure about. Peter’s loaded. Get a housekeeper slash childcare person to back you up, make you less worried about safety stuff. I guarantee you are going to love that kid so much, he or she will be grateful to have you for a mom. But let’s get down to the root of it. Do you want to have a baby?”
She sighed. “Have you ever known Peter to try and talk me into anything he didn’t already know I wanted so bad it makes me cry into my pillow at night?” She shook her head at herself. “But I can’t even see pictures of other people’s babies. How exactly am I supposed to raise one of my own?”
“Like every other parent does,” Ben responded. “With lots of stumbles and falls, sleepless nights, occasional brilliant victories, and a never-ending well of love. No direct experience on this in any way, but I hear that’s the way it looks when it’s right. Not perfect, but even a flawed brick house can stand up to a lot of bad weather.”
He touched her face. “Dana, you know how crazy you being scared to have a kid sounds, right? You work in one of New Orleans’ toughest neighborhoods. You scold gang members and make them come to church.”
Not too long ago, he’d helped Peter exercise a nice punishment on her pretty ass for that kind of risky behavior. Not that it would stop her from doing more of it, but Peter had needed it. Like all the K&A executives, he was a sexist bastard. It was sometimes tough to accept the women in their lives were just as determined to do the right thing, regardless of personal risk, as any in the group with a dick.
But that kind of risk was okay for the men because…they were men. It didn’t have to make sense, loving their women’s strength and courage so much, and yet wanting to protect them from everything.
He thought of Marcie and some of the things she’d done as a corporate investigator. And how she sometimes made noises about wanting to be a New Orleans cop. God help him if she persisted on that. That is, if God hadn’t already written him off long ago. But if He had, that was okay. Just so long as He protected Marcie.
“You can do all that,” he told Dana. “But raising a kid scares you?”
“Yes. Hell yes.”
“Well, get the fuck over it.” He winced as a tiny smile appeared on her face. They had a strict “no cursing in front of women” rule, one Matt had instituted and for some reason they all followed. Ben was the worst at it. On the honor system, he was supposed to give a hundred to charity every time he screwed up. At this point, he expected the Salvation Army had been able to install Olympic swimming pools in all the regional summer camps, thanks to him.
“Don’t say it,” he warned her, and got back on point. “Look at it like that day you confronted those gang members recruiting some of your boys from the church. You knew you were going to get in their faces, and the second you started down that path, the fear disappeared, because you were committed to your path. From there you run on adrenaline and pure courage, which you have in abundance. And faith, which again, double helpings for you. It will all work out.”
Her lips twisted. “Your advice boils down to, ‘Throw away the fucking rubbers and just get it done. Once conception happens, there’s no turning back, so no use worrying about it anymore’?”
“Precisely. From there, you’ll just love the ride. I mean, you babysit Angelica without any worries, right?”
“With Peter. And Savannah and Matt’s live-in housekeeper.”
“Remember what I just said about staff and Peter’s bank account? I’m sure there’s a sharp-eyed grandmother at that church of yours who wouldn’t mind having a part-time job that involved doting on a cute toddler.”
She digested that. He expected she wasn’t just going over his dubious pearls of wisdom. She was probably also remembering things Peter had said, before he’d managed to piss her off and the words had been obscured by feminine temper. A few moments later, she set her jaw in a way he recognized well enough to bite back a satisfied smile. Meeting Max’s gaze once more, he saw the same approval there.
“Okay. I’ll think about it.” She took a breath and put her hand out for her glasses. He picked them up and perched them on her nose. Their position made her look owlish as she turned her face in his direction and spoke dryly. “You’re all big talk when it’s about me and Peter. What’ll you do when Marcie says she wants a baby?”
“We haven’t even set a date,” he informed her. Or done a formal proposal, but he didn’t add that. “But if a baby’s in the mix, marriage is coming first. I’m traditional that way.”
“Marcie isn’t the hold-up on a date. So, when you do marry her, what will you do when she wants a baby?”
“We really need to stop letting you women talk to one another.”
“Yeah, like that would ever happen. Avoiding the question, counselor.”
Ben sighed and pinched her again, this time hoping to leave a bruise. From her yelp and swat, he figured he was successful, but he relented and answered.
“Freak the fuck out and then give her what she wants. As always.”
Dana chuckled. “That’s two hundred. And you’re already freaking out about the marriage thing.”
“We’re working on it.” He flicked her ear. “Don’t be a pest. And you curse worse than I do, Army grunt.”
She snorted, but cocked her head with that mischievous look that told him she was feeling more herself again. “Sooo…this necking thing?”
“Sorry, I prefer this face to launch ships, not be keelhauled by one. Namely, your husband’s Bass boat.”
“Well, why don’t you and Max neck, and I’ll ‘watch’.” She fluttered her fingers in tactile illustration.
He shuddered. “Out. Go buy more combat boots.”
“You have to come in,” she reminded him. “That’s part of the conditions of the shopping spree. You are a full participant in the whole torturous thing.”
“Don’t remind me. But I’m not trying on any stilettos. Those things pinch my toes.”
She chuckled, but paused, putting a hand on the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Yes, I will text your husband and tell him you don’t think he’s a total a-hole. But we both know you still love me better.”
The shoe store was one of those artsy places where the shoes were purportedly limited edition unique designs, as much art as functional. At least, that was what Ben picked up from the pink, flowing script teaser line etched on the double doors. When it came to his own preferences, he was good with anything with a four-inch plus toothpick heel, and wanted to mandate that women wear them all the time. The thought called to mind the pleasing vision of Marcie’s hips swaying when she wore that style of shoe to work at Savannah’s office, and met him for lunch.
True to an upscale boutique, the store had eye-catching wall art and sculptures to frame their shoe selection displays. Fashionable print sofas and easy chairs, as well as gilt-edged mirrors, ensured their patrons could try on the shoes in a so-not-Pic-n-Pay atmosphere.