Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
EMMA
F ifteen minutes later, I was sitting at the breakfast bar with a cup of ginger tea and a notepad full of scribbles. Turns out being left alone with my thoughts resulted in lists. Long lists. I’d compiled at least three pages of questions I needed to ask him.
He’d mercifully — or unfortunately — covered up. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or disappointed.
You’re here to co-parent, not drool over his abs.
Only, the t-shirt he wore didn’t do all that good a job at hiding the sculpted chest beneath. It was practically skin tight, making my mouth water and my core ache.
I forced my eyes away from his muscular arms as he reached for a mixing bowl.
Focus, Emma. You’re here to ask questions, not ogle the father of your child.
His eyes instantly zeroed in on the notepad. “What’s all this?”
I took a deep breath, bracing myself for his reaction. “We barely know each other, and that’s weird for two people having a baby. I figured we should just rip the Band-Aid off, rapid-fire style, and get it out of the way.”
His brows shot up, but he nodded. “Makes sense. Alright, hit me with your best shot while I whip up those pancakes.”
As he moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients, I launched into my interrogation. “Are you religious? Should we get the baby christened? Does your family do the godparents thing? I don’t, but if you really insist on it, Lila will throw herself in as a sacrifice, happily, I imagine.”
“Whoa, slow down!” Charlie laughed, cracking eggs into a bowl. “One at a time, please. I’m not particularly religious, but I’m open to discussing it if you are. As for christening and godparents, that’s something we’d need to decide together if you’re religious?”
“I’m not.” I crossed those questions off the lists, happy I didn’t need to worry about the embarrassment of a christening when my side of the church would literally feature one person — two, if my aunt bothered to check her messages and then get on a plane.
Charlie nodded, pouring batter onto the pan. “Alright, next question?”
I watched his forearms flex as he tilted the bowl, the muscles rippling under his skin. Jeez, this man is distracting. I shook my head, trying to clear it.
Bracing myself, I waited for the familiar wave of nausea to hit as the smell of cooking pancakes filled the air.
My stomach clenched in anticipation, but to my surprise, the scent was almost... appetising?
Don’t get your hopes up.
“Okay, here’s a big one. How are we going to co-parent without being a couple?” I asked, my pen poised over the notepad. “We’re not together, and we don’t need to pretend so we can be good parents. But we do need a plan.”
Charlie flipped a pancake, his brows knit together in thought. “That’s a good point. I suppose we’ll need to communicate a lot, make decisions together about the big things. Maybe set up regular ‘parent meetings’ to discuss any issues?”
I stared at him for a second, my eyes narrowing as I tried to work out if he was saying all the right things to please me or if he meant it. A man who would willingly commit to open communication and proper discussions? Where had he been hiding all my life?
LA, of course.
His sincerity seemed genuine, but I couldn’t help but wonder if this was just another performance from the charming Hollywood agent.
Stop it. He’s trying. Give him a chance.
I scribbled his response down. “And what about when I don’t need constant monitoring anymore? Where will I live then? How will we share custody if I go back to New York?”
He paused, spatula mid-air. “I... hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. I guess we’d need to figure out a custody arrangement. Maybe alternating weeks or months?”
“We’d need to consider the baby’s routine, schooling…” I muttered, adding more notes. “In the first few years, yeah alternating every few weeks could be possible. Expensive though,” I grimaced. “But when she or he starts school, I wouldn’t really want to pull them out of their routine.”
“You could stay in LA.” He side-eyed me as he flipped another pancake. He sounded nonchalant, but there was an edge to his voice that made my attention sharpen. “Do you have any reason to go back to New York? Do you have family there?”
He must have already known that answer. I wouldn’t be here if I had family in the city.
I shook my head, pushing away the twinge of loneliness that threatened to surface. “No, I don’t have family there. Just Lila and my business.”
Not that my business would survive the next six months.
Charlie nodded, sliding a plate of steaming pancakes in front of me. “Well, let’s table that discussion for now. We’ve got time to figure it out. What’s next on your list?”
“I think we should probably set some ground rules for living together.”
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What kind of ground rules?”
“Like me contributing to bills.” I straightened in my seat, trying to look more confident than I felt. “I know you said not to worry about it, but I need to feel like I’m pulling my weight.” Charlie opened his mouth to protest, but I held up a hand. “Please, it’s important to me.”
“Alright.” He nodded reluctantly. “We can work something out. Anything else?”
I bit my lip, hesitating before plunging ahead. “No... um, no bringing dates home. I think that would be awkward.”
A flash of something — annoyance? — crossed Charlie’s face before he nodded. “Agreed. This should be a comfortable space for both of us.”
“We should probably discuss chores too. I don’t want to feel like a guest in your home, so I’d like to help out where I can.”
He waved his hand, brushing it away. “I have a cleaner. She comes in twice a week. No chores necessary.”
“Oh.”
I still didn’t know how much money he made. The question was in my notebook, but I’d never utter it. He’d assured me hospital bills wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, he refused to let me even see the invoices. Beyond curiosity, I didn’t need nor want to know how much money he made.
His gaze dropped to my notepad. “What else do you have in there?”
“Enough to keep us talking for weeks,” I muttered, glancing down at my notes, scanning for the next important question. “Okay, here’s a big one. What kind of parent do you want to be? How do you feel about discipline?”
He leaned against the counter, his brow furrowed in thought. “I want to be involved, supportive. As for discipline, I believe in setting clear boundaries and consequences, but not in physical punishment. What about you?”
Something about the tense set of his jaw gave me pause. “Same here. No spanking or anything like that. Time-outs and talking things through seem more effective.”
“Agreed,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. I missed coffee. It hadn’t even been a week, and I craved it.
Charlie took another sip, and I found myself staring at his lips.
“What else?”
“Education.” I forced my attention back to my notepad and tapped my pen against it. “State or private school? How do you feel about extracurricular activities?”
Charlie took a sip of his coffee before answering. “Private. With my job….” He grimaced. “I’m not saying something would happen, but I do have a number of high-profile clients. I don’t think public school would be in ours or our kid’s best interest. As for extracurriculars?—”
“Hold up.” I held up a hand, something like fear arrowing through me. “Not in their best interests, how?”
Oh my god, did I let a man who could have a hit out on him get me pregnant? Panic surged through me.
“Nothing like that.” His eyes widened as he realised how his words had come across. “I just meant that being in the public eye can be tough on kids. Paparazzi can be relentless, and some of my clients have had issues with their children being harassed or photographed at school. Private schools tend to have better security and privacy measures in place.”
I took a deep breath, letting the relief sink in.
“I’m sorry, I should have explained that better. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. “There’s no danger, just potential annoyances that I’d rather our child not have to deal with.”
“Okay, that makes sense. But we should probably discuss security measures at some point, just to be safe.”
Charlie nodded. “Absolutely. We can go over all that when the time comes. But as I was saying, I think we should leave the extracurriculars discussion until they’re born and see what they take a liking to.”
He continued explaining his thoughts on after-school activities, but I was only half-listening. Some stranger sticking a camera in my child’s face had not been on my list of worries. Paparazzi, public scrutiny… it was a lot to take in.
I absently placed a hand on my stomach. This wasn’t just about me and Charlie anymore. We were responsible for a whole other person. The weight of it was both terrifying and exhilarating.
“If it’s a boy,” Charlie said, something about the excitement in his voice catching my attention. “And he wants to skate, I’ll teach him.”
“You skate?” I smiled at the thought of Charlie teaching our child to skate. It was such a normal, domestic image — one I hadn’t allowed myself to imagine until now.
“I’m Canadian, darling.” He chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. “I played hockey growing up. Made it to the junior leagues before I decided to pursue a career in entertainment instead.”
“Wow.” I jotted that tidbit down. “So you’re telling me our kid might end up being a hockey prodigy?”
“Could be.” He grinned. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Eat at least a bite before they go cold.”
He nudged the plate towards me and I obliged, picking up the fork and cutting off a piece from the stack. I tentatively popped it in my mouth and chewed. Every muscle in my body tensed while I waited for my stomach to flip the switch.
It didn’t happen, and I sagged in my seat with relief.
“What’s next on that list of yours?” Charlie asked, a note of satisfaction in his voice.
I glanced down at my notepad, scanning for another important question. “Alright, how about this: what’s your relationship with your parents like? And do you have any siblings?”
“I have a younger sister in Toronto.” His expression softened as he flipped another pancake. “She’s a lawyer. I don’t see her much, but we get along. So well, she sends me care packages from home.”
I laughed. “Why would you need a care package from Canada?”
“You’d be surprised.” He grinned, a nostalgic glint in his eye. “There are some things you just can’t get here. Ketchup chips, Coffee Crisp, proper maple syrup…”
“Proper maple syrup?” I raised a brow. “Are you saying the syrup here isn’t up to your Canadian standards?”
“Not even close.” He winced, shaking his head. “But your chocolate is far worse.”
I gasped. “What’s wrong with our chocolate?”
“Nothing. Unless you like some actual cocoa with your high fructose corn syrup.”
I laughed at Charlie’s disdain for American chocolate. “I’ll have you know our chocolate is perfectly fine. But I’ll humour you and try some of this supposedly superior Canadian chocolate sometime.”
“Deal.” He slid another pancake onto my plate.
I took a bite to appease him. “What about you parents?”
He sighed. “My relationship with my parents is... complicated. I don’t talk to my dad anymore, but I have an okay relationship with my mom. I go home for Christmas every year to see her and my sister.”
A twinge of envy slithered through me. “What about your extended family? Any aunts, uncles, cousins we should know about?”
Charlie shook his head. “Not really. My mom’s an only child, and my dad’s side... well, we don’t really keep in touch.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “Now, what about?—”
“Whoa, slow down there, detective.” Charlie pushed the plate closer to me again. “You need to eat. We’ve got months to learn everything about each other.”
I glanced at the stack of pancakes, my stomach growling in response. “Right, sorry. I guess I got carried away.”
And I really should take advantage of this surprise reprieve from morning sickness. Who knew when it would hit again.
As I took a bite, Charlie leaned against the counter with a satisfied glint in his hazel eyes. “My turn for a question. What about your family? Any traditions or holidays you want to incorporate?”
I swallowed hard, both from the pancake and the question. “Not really. It’s just me and my aunt, and we’re not close. No real traditions to speak of.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” His tone softened. “Well, maybe we can start some new traditions with our little one.”
Those words falling from his lips did funny things to my insides. It was a dangerous path to let my mind wander down, but I couldn’t help it.
“I’d like that,” I said softly, taking another bite of pancake.
Charlie smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “So, what else is on that mega list of yours?”
I glanced down at my notepad, but he shook his head.
“Actually, hold that thought. Eat a few more bites first. You need your strength.”
I rolled my eyes but complied, savouring the fluffy pancakes while I could. As I ate, Charlie puttered around the kitchen, keeping a close eye on me. The man seemed to be at total ease in the kitchen.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Charlie spoke again.
“Tell me about your childhood. Where did you grow up?”
I swallowed my bite, surprised by his interest. “New York, mostly. I was born in England, but my aunt moved me to the States after my parents died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. How old were you?”
“Nine.”
“What about your favourite subject in school?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Art, believe it or not. I loved drawing wedding dresses even back then.”
“Really?” His eyes lit up. “So you were always destined for the wedding business, eh?”
“I guess so.” I laughed. “What about you? What were you like in high school?”
Charlie grinned. “Hockey obsessed, of course. But I was also in the drama club. Bit of a theatre nerd, if I’m honest.”
“I can’t picture that at all.”
We continued exchanging questions and answers and I found myself relaxing more and more. His easy manner and genuine interest in my responses made me feel... seen. “Earth to Emma,” Charlie’s voice broke through my reverie. “You still with me?”
I blinked. He stared at me, his brow creased with concern. I’d been staring. Oops.
“Sorry. Just got lost in thought for a moment.”
He smiled, a softness in his eyes that made my heart skip. “No worries. I was just asking if you had any allergies.”
“Oh, um, no.” I shook my head. “You?”
“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “Lucky us, eh?”
I nodded, trying to regain my focus. “So, um, what’s your favourite season?”
As Charlie launched into an enthusiastic defence of winter — “The best season for hot chocolate and hockey, obviously” — a smile tugged at my lips. I placed a hand on my stomach, excitement and fear rushing through me. This man, with his easy charm and kind eyes, was going to be the father of my child, and the more I learned, the more I wondered if I could have made a better mistake.