Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Ani
“Who is he, Ani?” my mom asked.
She was rummaging through my fridge. I slid in front of her and closed the door before she could examine the contents in full detail. “Adam? Just a friend. His…his wife died. And he moved here to be nearer to his mom.”
“That’s sad.” She folded her arms. “Just a friend?”
“Just a friend,” I confirmed. But my insides told me otherwise.
My heart was pounding, and my lips were still tingling from his touch.
He’d touched me on the lips. And it was full-on erotic.
It had directed my mind away from the fact that I was losing it, upset with my mom, upset with Pottery Barn, and upset with myself for this predicament.
Adam was here, giving me his calm presence and his support. Again.
What did I do for him? I felt like he was always bailing me out, rescuing me.
Minutes earlier I’d been starving, but now it felt as if there was a roller coaster full of screaming riders with their hands high in the air, zipping around the circumference of my stomach.
“You’re flushed,” my mom said.
My hands flew to my cheeks. “I am not.”
Her lips turned up in her I-know-you-better-than-you-know-yourself smile.
“Okay, well, I know Daria is helping you.” She opened the fridge again and pulled out a jar of pickles.
“I wish you’d told me all of this.” She placed it in the sink.
“Instead of me having to find out at the hospital. You hate pickles.”
“They’re Mia’s from when we made grilled cheese. I left you a voicemail,” I said weakly. “You never called me back.”
The pickles went down the disposer with a harsh grinding noise. “The voicemail said, ‘Call me sometime,’ not ‘I’m adopting a baby and becoming a single mom.’”
“Okay, fine. I’m sorry, Mom. The truth is that I didn’t know how to tell you.”
She spun around. “Ani, I’m your mother. Why do you feel that you can’t tell me?”
All this remorse I had over not handling my relationships well—I had to fix this, starting with my mom. I didn’t know how to say things, important things that were difficult to say. This terrible flaw had led me to the altar with the wrong man, seconds away from a giant mistake.
I stood up straight. I’d made this scary decision, and now it was time to stick to my guns.
“I know how this looks, especially after what happened with the wedding. But Mom, I’ve never felt so sure of anything.
That tiny baby—so helpless.” I closed my eyes, feeling the tug even now.
“I just felt something. Something big. I—I can’t explain it otherwise. ”
Oh geez. I looked into my mom’s eyes, which were so much like my own. In them I saw something that she didn’t usually show—vulnerability.
I capitalized on the moment by grabbing her hand. “Mom. It’s been a hard year. I’m doing my best to start over and make up for the trouble—”
“You don’t need to make up for any trouble,” she said quietly, squeezing my hand. “I don’t know why you keep saying that.” She turned back into the fridge and pulled out a black banana, far past its prime, and pitched it into the trash.
I held my breath. There were reasons I kept apologizing, reasons I’d been afraid to bring up with my mom. And her sweeping everything away probably wasn’t going to help us get to the bottom of them.
My mother surveyed me with her gaze, so familiar to me. Often critical, but sometimes wise. I wished that we could arrive at some kind of equilibrium. Finally, she spoke, “I would think that simply calming down after everything instead of starting a completely different adventure would be wiser.”
Oh, my mother. She looked so great with a tan. Why on earth would she move back here to Wisconsin, to a place that had a four-month growing season?
That was the problem with us. We didn’t scrape the bottom of the ugly emotion bowl. If I was a conflict-avoider, I’d learned from the best.
I tried to lay it out as truthfully as possible. “I can’t explain this situation in any other way except that I know that this is right for me. I’m the one who is right for this baby. I want to be the one to love her and raise her and give her the best life ever.”
I drew in a deep breath. “I want you to be a part of that, Mom. But you have to let me show you that this is right for me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.
It’s been a whirlwind of a few days. It’s an unusual situation, and there are no guarantees.
A lot of people are waiting for babies. It may not even happen. ”
“Okay. All right. I believe you.” She threw up her hands and hugged me tightly. When she was done, her eyes were watery. “I can see you’re determined, and when you’re determined, you can do anything you set your mind to.”
She dug into the fridge once again, swiped at her eyes, and extracted my six-pack of hard seltzers, the final thing left, and examined them carefully. “Hmm. Are these any good? Because I’m taking them home.”
She put them on the counter next to her purse. “We certainly don’t want any liquor in your fridge for the visit tomorrow.” She gathered the seltzers and her purse. “I’m going to do a quick store run. I think it will look better if you have some real food in there.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She made a move toward the door and then stopped. “Also—I want to be involved with your life. I want to help. Let me, okay? I love you.”
“I’m going to name her Rosalie,” I said.
That stopped her in her tracks. The silence lasted so long I thought my mom didn’t hear me.
“Oh, Ani,” she finally said, breaking down crying. “Your grandma would be so honored.”
Then I was crying and nodding, and we were hugging. I had a sudden impulse to grab back my seltzers, but I refrained and focused on giving this conversation one final shot. “Mom, I love you too. I can face this challenge. And—I’d like your help.”
We stood there like that, together for a while. It wasn’t bad. Actually, it was kind of nice.
“Hmm,” she said a little later as she carried my seltzers out the door. “Seems like you might be facing two challenges. The baby and a very handsome and wildly concerned ER doctor.”
Adam
“I literally must be desperate for food if I agreed to change out of my sweats and pull this feat together in three hours that I’m not even sure is possible,” my sister Anita said.
I squeezed her shoulder as I pulled up in front of Ani’s house. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me. If anyone can do this, you can.”
“You’ve been telling me that my entire pregnancy.”
I had been telling her that. Among other things, like recommending that she tell her baby daddy, who was a doctor serving abroad in the army, that she was pregnant.
But she’d flat-out refused, even though she had just six more weeks to go.
She’d surely regret keeping that secret from him.
But she was from a long line of stubborn Lowensteins, and there was no changing her mind.
“And you’ve done it, haven’t you?” I said as I turned off my truck. “Your business is exploding.”
Anita heaved a sigh. “Yada yada. We eat first, and then I work, all right?”
“Totally,” I said with a grin, then ran around to help her out of the car.
I offered her a hand up. She reached forward, grabbed the carryout bag, and handed it to me. Then she took a big breath and heaved herself up, refusing my hand. “This woman must mean a lot to you if you’re going through all this trouble to help her.”
If she could be stubborn, so could I. “She’s a neighbor and a colleague.”
She scanned my face, reading me as only an older sister can. “Ri-ight.”
“I like Ani a lot, but I’m not getting involved a relationship. Especially one where a baby is concerned.”
She searched my face. “Just to be clear, you’re going to love my small child, right?”
“That’s different. Don’t even ask that.”
“I’m sure taking the step to love anyone again is scary. But a baby is just…a sweet innocent baby.” She poked me in the chest, proving that siblings never lose their annoyance quotient. “I fully expect you to go full-blown uncle mode on me. In fact, I’m counting on it.”
“I promise to be the best uncle ever.” And I would, because I’d do anything for my sister. “There’s nothing going on between us. Okay?”
“Okay, okay.” She eyed me with the wisdom of someone who knew me inside and out. “You have a savior complex. You can’t resist helping anyone you love. That’s the story I’m personally going with.”
I ignored that because she was my sister, and I could.
I closed the truck door and led us to the house.
I wish I could describe the look on Ani’s face when she saw my very pregnant sister standing there in jeans and a flannel shirt, her long hair up in a bun-thingy, looking like a pregnant version of Joanna Gaines.
“Ani, this is—”
My sister barged forward and held out her hand. “Anita. I’m his big sister, I’m eight months pregnant, and I have dinner.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ani said, a giant smile on her face as she opened the door. “Let’s eat.”
My sister walked right in and started scoping out the place. That was the thing I loved about Anita—she didn’t care who liked her, but nearly everyone did. “Did he tell you? I’m a house stager. I think I can get some furniture in here for you ASAP.”
“ASAP as in, today?” Ani asked.
“If I can eat first, it’s possible. And if we find some strapping guys to haul some couches.” Anita did pack away two pieces of lasagna—“One for me, one for the baby,” she’d said, but then she got right to work, walking around, taking photos, measuring things.
“Is your vibe ‘Grandma of the 90s’ or ‘mid-century chic?’” she asked Ani. “I think I can handle a complete furniture set with either of those vibes.”
“Hmmm,” Ani answered thoughtfully. “What’s Grandma of the 90s?”
“Checks, ducks, ruffles, mauve, that kind of thing.”
“Aw, that’s just like Grandma’s house,” Ani said to her mom.
“Ani likes traditional with a twist,” Julia said. “Cottagey. No mauve. And definitely no ducks.” She paused. “Did I get that right?”