Chapter 13
MILES
“What are all these boxes?” Chelsea asked the next morning at breakfast.
Miles looked up. He hadn’t realized it had gotten so late — normally he left for work before she got up in the morning, so they didn’t see one another until evening.
He had been uncommonly slow getting out the door today.
“My dad had all these things sent over,” he said.
“They arrived about an hour ago. I guess I lost track of time looking through them.”
“But what are they?” She helped herself to a plate of sliced fruit at the far end of the dining table, where a veritable feast had been spread out.
A tureen of scrambled eggs sat between dishes of toast and bacon.
That kind of breakfast had never been part of Miles’s morning routine.
It was clear that the staff were already adjusting to Chelsea’s needs.
The thought made him smile slightly. He liked knowing that she was well cared for, that she was getting the best his staff could give.
“Are you going to eat anything else?” he asked, gesturing at the food.
She glanced over at it. “I’m not sure.” Her cheeks colored. “I’ve told them they don’t have to do all that every morning, that I’ll let them know if there’s something I want…” She sighed. “I hate to see food get wasted.”
“I’m sure it’s not getting wasted,” Miles said. “The staff will eat whatever you don’t finish.”
Her mouth pulled to one side as she frowned. “You think?”
“Definitely,” he said, though he made a mental note to find out for her what happened to the excess food. Maybe there was a shelter it could be donated to. He had a feeling Chelsea would be pleased if he could come back and tell her he’d done something like that.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since last night.
The way she had looked on top of the Ferris wheel, the wind blowing loose strands of her blonde hair around her face, her green eyes brighter than the stars…
If the situation had been different, if she hadn’t been carrying his child, it would have been the perfect moment for a kiss.
I can’t be kissing Chelsea, though. We have to keep this professional. All we need is to drag a bunch of personal drama into this situation!
“So,” she said. “The boxes?”
“Right. Well, it’s a lot of my old baby stuff. I guess Dad thought I’d want to have these things, now that I’m about to have a kid of my own.”
“Yeah?” She leaned over eagerly. “What kind of stuff is in there?”
Miles pulled out a onesie with ducks on it and held it up. “Old clothes, mostly.”
“That’s cute!” She reached out and took it from him. “We can definitely dress the baby in this. It’ll be adorable.”
“You really want to put our kid in these old things?” he asked. “I figured we would just get new stuff.”
“We can do that too. But I bet it’ll be special to your dad to see his grandchild wearing the same things his son used to wear. That would probably mean a lot to him.” She moved to one of the boxes and reached in. “Look at these little booties! I can’t believe these used to be yours.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Miles reached over and took the shoes from her with a grimace. “I was adorable, I know.”
“Were you? What did you look like as a baby?” she asked. “I’d love to know that, because I’m sure our baby will look more like you than me.”
He snorted. “Not if we’re lucky.”
She blushed. “I meant… blonde hair is recessive.”
“Right.” He couldn’t make eye contact with her. The true meaning of his words had been so obvious. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. It had just slipped out. I might as well just tell her outright how beautiful I think she is.
It was the first time he had framed that thought so explicitly, even in his own mind. It was true, of course. She was gorgeous. And while Miles had never disliked his own appearance, he very much hoped his child would inherit her good looks.
He cleared his throat, trying to break the tension, and reached into the box in front of him. “Here you go,” he said, pulling out a book and handing it to her.
“What’s this?”
“Old photo album. There should be baby pictures in here.”
She put it down on the table and flipped it open. “Oh, wow — is this your mother?”
Miles nodded, a lump rising to his throat. How long had it been since he’d looked at a picture of her? He usually tried to avoid doing that, because it made him so emotional.
She was young in the photo, sitting in a rocking chair with baby Miles in her arms. You couldn’t really see Miles at all in the picture. He just looked like a bundle of blankets. “My dad must have taken this one,” he said.
“She’s beautiful, Miles,” Chelsea said reverently. “And look how happy she looks to have you.” She sighed. “I wish I could have met her.”
“I wish you could too,” Miles admitted, though he was surprised by it.
Why should he want Chelsea to meet his mother?
She would be out of his life soon enough.
Or rather, she would still be around, but only in a functional capacity, co-raising their baby.
She wouldn’t be someone who had a personal stake in his life, and that was the kind of person he’d have wanted to introduce to his mother.
These old baby things are making me sentimental. That’s all it is.
Chelsea flipped to the next page in the album. “Oh, here you are!” she exclaimed. “You’re such a cute baby, Miles, look at you. Look at those long eyelashes!”
Miles glanced at the picture and snorted. “I look ridiculous.”
“No, you look so sweet,” she argued. “I’ll be thrilled if our baby is as cute as you were.” She turned another page. “Oh, teddy bear.”
Miles glanced over. “I used to carry that thing everywhere.”
“That’s adorable. What was his name?”
“Bear.”
Chelsea raised her eyebrows. “Your bear’s name was Bear?”
He laughed. “I was a very literal little kid,” he said. “One time someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I said, ‘A grown-up.’”
“Well, mission accomplished on that score, I guess,” Chelsea chuckled. “Whatever happened to Bear? Is he in one of these boxes, you think?”
“Oh, maybe. I haven’t thought about Bear in ages,” Miles said.
“He might be in here.” He felt a sudden pang of longing, thinking about the old creature.
It was too bad he had to go in to the office today — and how long had it been since he’d had a desire to stay home from work?
He wanted to go through all these boxes in their entirety now, to see whether Bear was in here somewhere.
“If we find him, can we give him to the baby?” Chelsea asked.
“It’ll be up to you, I guess,” Miles said. “You’ll have to look at the thing and see whether you think it’s appropriate to give to our kid. It’s kind of ratty. Maybe you’d rather have a new toy.”
“We can have both,” Chelsea said. “You know… your dad didn’t send all these old things over because he didn’t think you could afford to buy new ones. He knows you can. He thought you might have some nostalgia for them, that’s all.”
She flipped another page in the album. “Wow. Look at this.”
Miles looked. It was a picture of his father holding him. “That’s funny.”
“What’s funny about it?”
“He didn’t spend a lot of time with me at that age,” Miles explained. “He was always so busy. Always off at work. I wouldn’t have thought there would be any pictures of the two of us together. I don’t remember spending much time with him as a kid, that’s for sure.”
“Well, it must have happened,” Chelsea said. “Look at him. He looks so thrilled here. He looks like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.” She hesitated. “This is how he looks at you now, you know.”
“He must have had a few drinks.”
Chelsea swatted Miles’s arm gently. “He adored you, Miles,” she said.
“And he still does. You can see that. Just look at him. And trust me when I say, this is the same look I see in his eyes every time the three of us are together. He was watching you like this when we were at the fair. He’s incredibly proud to have you as his son.
It’s obvious. And he was feeling that same pride here. ”
Miles went quiet, studying the picture. Was it possible Chelsea was right? Had his dad been looking at him with admiration?
One thing was sure: Miles had always looked up to his father.
He had always thought his father was the most amazing man in the world.
When he was a boy, his father had been his hero — tall, strong, wonderfully clever, with people who listened to everything he had to say and followed his orders without question.
Miles had known exactly who he’d wanted to be when he grew up.
And it had happened. Looking at this picture, the resemblance between his father and himself was impossible to deny. They were the image of one another, with their dark eyes and dark hair, their neatly tailored suits and expensive haircuts. He’d turned into exactly the man his father was.
Except that he didn’t have to contract with a surrogate to have a baby for him. He was able to do it with a woman he really loved.
Miles’s stomach twisted at the thought of what his father would say if he found out about what he was doing.
He sure wouldn’t have that expression of pride on his face if he knew this wasn’t a pregnancy born of love, and that Chelsea wasn’t his real girlfriend.
He wouldn’t be angry — he would still welcome the baby. But he would be disappointed.
Well, it doesn’t matter, Miles told himself firmly. He isn’t going to find out, so what difference does it make? None.
But as he thought about how much he had looked up to his father in his youth, he found himself hoping powerfully that his child would feel the same way toward him.
He thought back to the times when he had gazed up at his father with wonder and admiration.
I want to be my kid’s hero too, just like Dad was mine. Just like he still is.
Chelsea flipped the page again. The next spread was full of pictures of Miles by himself, engaged in the various activities of babyhood. His parents were no longer featured. But the image of his father, young and strong and looking with pride at his newborn son, stayed with Miles.
That’s going to be me soon. My God, I hope I’m ready for it. I hope I can be as good a father to my kid as Dad was to me.
But for the first time, real doubt about what he was doing had crept in. Miles had no idea how to be a father, and he knew it. How was he going to handle all the challenges that lay ahead?