The Single Dad's New Twins (Billionaire Cowboy Romance) Page 9

  Garrett and I wait anxiously while Dr. Rothschild walks over to a monitor that is mounted on one of the little room’s walls. There’s a keyboard jutting out of the wall, and she begins tapping on it.

  “Well, I have bad news and good news,” she says. “The bad news, Karla, is that you might experience more cramping, similar to the feeling that you experienced today. Like I said, that’s your uterus expanding. You’re going to feel it more than the average pregnant woman, due to the fact that you’re not only making room for one fetus. Your body has to make room for two babies.”

  She taps the keyboard, and a grainy, black-and-white image appears on the computer monitor. I see the outline of my womb and two shapes within it. “You’re having twins!” she says, turning to beam at me and then at Garrett. “That’s the good news, of course. Congratulations!”

  I gasp.

  My hand flies up to my mouth.

  I feel tears well up in my eyes.

  Twins?

  Twins! I’m carrying not one, but two little miracles inside of me.

  My hand is trembling. I try to make it stop, but it’s impossible. The tears in my eyes multiply, until they spill over my lids. I feel wetness stain my cheeks.

  The thought of having one child has pretty much turned my world upside down. Now I have to wrap my mind around having two!

  I’m ecstatic about the news. I feel joy welling up in my heart just as the tears welled up my eyes. At the same time, fear creeps into my gut.

  Managing one child as a single mother was going to be challenging enough. How in the world am I going to manage two?

  “Two…” I say aloud. “Really?”

  “Really,” Dr. Rothschild says. “We did that second set of pictures just to be sure.” She clicks the keyboard a few more times, and another perspective of the twins pops up on the screen.

  “There they are,” she says. “Healthy, happy, and ready to grow. Every test we did on you today indicates that you’re right on track to have an excellent pregnancy, Karla.”

  “Two…” I breathe. My vision is blurry due to my tears, but despite this I can make out the two ghostly gray forms on the computer monitor. They are healthy. They are happy. “Thank God,” I whisper, with my eyes squeezed shut.

  I hear Garrett stand, and then, suddenly, I feel his warm hand on top of mine, which is on my lap. His fingers curl around the edge of my palm. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. I open my eyes and see him at my side. He looks down at me, and I note with surprise that his eyes are glistening with tears, too.

  “Twins,” he says, his voice hushed. Then, as if remembering himself—or maybe remembering the awful email that Christy sent in error—he pulls his hand away.

  I nod and take in a jagged breath. His hand on mine felt comforting. His grip was strong and sure.

  He stuffs both hands into his back pockets. “What else do we have to do here?” he asks Dr. Rothschild.

  She shakes her head. “Nothing else,” she says. “I’m going to have James bring in your dispatch paperwork. We’ll forward these test results over to your primary caregiver, Karla. I’m sure you put that information on your intake forms?”

  I nod, still too overwhelmed to speak.

  “Great!” she says. “I’m sure you two are eager to be on your way. It’s been a long day for you all here. Let’s get you on your way. Karla, you can go ahead and get dressed. James will be by in a few minutes to show you out. It’s been a pleasure meeting you both.”

  The nice doctor shakes my hand, and then Garrett’s.

  Garrett thanks her, something I was still too stunned to do.

  Fifteen minutes later, we emerge from the hospital and make our way back to the truck. I feel so distracted as Garrett drives us home. All I can think about is two of everything: two deliveries. Two cribs. Two stroller seats. Two crying mouths to feed. Two little first day of school backpacks. Two graduation gowns. Two college educations.

  I barely notice as Garrett pulls into a drive-through restaurant in downtown Willow Creek and orders a sandwich for me.

  I eat it, absentmindedly, but forget to thank Garrett for it until we reach his ranch again, and he’s helped me out of the truck.

  “Thank you for the sandwich,” I say. “I was hungrier than I realized.”

  He looks over his shoulder, toward his house. He must be thinking about Colt, already inside. He’s probably also thinking about getting some dinner for himself. The guy must be starving. The sun has set, and it’s dark out here in the driveway. It must be a little after seven, seeing as it was around six when we left Barry.

  “Thank you for the ride, too,” I add. “I know that probably wasn’t how you expected to spend your day.”

  “It wasn’t,” he says. He looks over to the house again, but I see that his eyes have a distant, vacant look in them, like he’s looking at the sprawling ranch house, but looking right past it at the same time. Without looking at me, he says, “How’d you find this place, anyway? Did you hire a private detective or something? I don’t even talk about this place to the media. It’s supposed to be my private getaway.”

  “Hire a detective?” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “Now why would I do that?”

  “To get dirt on me,” he says. “You seem pretty intent on lawyering up, so you can get the most out of this little situation we find ourselves in.” He still won’t meet my eye.

  I feel my temper flare up. “You think this is a ‘little situation’?” I repeat. “I have news for you, Garrett. This is not a little situation. This is life-altering. Nothing is going to be the same after this.”

  “Sure,” he says coolly. “You’ll probably get twenty million out of me instead of ten, seeing as it’s twins you’re carrying. I bet you’re thrilled.”

  I realize, suddenly, that he’s referring to the absurd dollar amount that Christy wrote about in her email. I wave of guilt passes through me. Here I am, so busy imagining life with twins, while Garrett is still reeling from the email I sent.

  “Listen,” I say. “We have to talk about that email.”

  He shakes his head. “No. We’d better not. I want my lawyers present before we start negotiating.”

  “We don’t need lawyers around just to have a conversation,” I say. “Garrett, I didn’t write that email. I know it was signed by me, but you have to believe me… I didn’t write it.” My tone is emphatic, and I can see I’m getting through to him because he’s listening rather than trying to interrupt me.

  I continue before he can protest. “My friend Christy wrote it because she was worried about me. She has a bad impression of you, but that’s just because your bank is going to take her house from her. She was so upset… she wrote out that email, and I told her not to send it. She sent it by mistake. By the time I found out, it was too late to take it back.”

  I watch Garrett process this. His eyes move over the driveway and to his barn. He gazes at the barn instead of looking at me or acknowledging what I just said. “The horses must be hungry,” he says.

  “That’s what you have to say to me?” I say, throwing my hands up. “Garrett, I’m telling you that I didn’t send that email. You can’t still be upset at me. I drove all the way out here to tell you that. We have to talk. We have to have a conversation… and all you can say is that the horses need to be fed?”

  I’m upset, and it’s clear. My voice raises, cutting through the night.

  When he speaks, his tone is just as heated as mine. “I don’t know what to think!” he says. “First, you don’t return my call or my email, and then next thing I know I get a message that says you’re carrying my child!”

  He sounds truly shocked.

  I think about how it must have felt, finding out about my pregnancy like he did. When I speak again, my voice is softer. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” I say. “I’m sorry you found out like that. I never imagined that Christy would actually hit send. I wish I could have told you in another way. You must really hate me. You have every right to, afte
r reading a message like that. But I’m telling you… I didn’t send it. I would never have said any of those things. That’s not how I feel about this pregnancy.”

  “Then how…” He hesitates, takes a breath, and then continues. “How do you feel about all of this?”

  “It’s not how I imagined becoming a mother,” I say honestly. “I thought I’d be married, have a house… my career would be up and running, and I’d have a team of staff members who could take care of things while I went on maternity leave.” I give a half-hearted laugh, as I realize how far my plans were from the reality of what’s happening.

  We’re both quiet for a moment. Crickets, in the fields all around us, sing, filling the evening air with a high-pitched buzz. More stars come out above us. The lights are on in the ranch, and I see the movement of a silhouette in one of the windows. Maybe it’s Colt, or his babysitter.

  My voice is even softer as I continue. “Even though this is nothing like how I imagined it, I’m still happy. I have this feeling of joy inside of me that I’ve never had before—ever. It’s hard to explain…” My voice drifts off. I look up at the stars and take a few breaths.

  Then I say, “I know that this was a mistake. Neither of us was being careful that night. But now that it’s happening, I want to do what’s right.”

  Garrett reaches a hand up and runs it through his hair. “So you’re not here to demand money from me?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “I don’t care about money,” I say. “That’s not why I’m here. I drove out here because I hated the thought of you being upset about that message. I don’t want you to think I’m out to blackmail you. That’s not the kind of person I am.”

  “I’m not sure what you want from me,” Garrett says.

  I’m not sure, either, I think to myself. Aloud I say, “I just wanted to talk to you face-to-face. I wanted to clear the air between us. We don’t know each other that well, but now that this is happening, we’re going to have to work together.”

  “Work together how?” Garrett says.

  I sigh. “I haven’t gotten that far,” I admit. “I just know that I want what’s best for our babies.”

  “I do, too,” Garrett says.

  His words make me feel like I might cry again. It’s been a long, emotional day. I’m exhausted. It’s nearly impossible to control the waver in my voice, but I do my best as I say. “You do?”

  “Of course,” he says, his tone warmer and gentler than it’s been in hours.

  I nod and reach a hand up to my cheek. “That’s good to hear,” I say as I wipe away a tear before it can make it to my chin. “That’s really good to hear.” I sniff a few times, and then take a deep breath, willing myself to come back to center.

  I begin rooting around in my purse. Focusing on finding my keys helps me get my breathing under control. I feel the tears stop flowing, too. I find my keys, pull them out, and then wipe my cheek with the back of my hand.

  “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” I say. “It’s been a really long day. I’m not usually like this, I swear. Must have something to do with the pregnancy hormones, too.” I offer a self-deprecating laugh.

  “It’s all right,” he says. “It’s been an emotional day for both of us.”

  I nod. “It has. But I’m glad I came out here. I’m glad we talked. I feel like we can handle this like two adults. We’re both reasonable people. We both own businesses. We can make a plan that suits both of us.”

  He eyes my keys. “We’ll work something out,” he says. “You’re not driving back to Oklahoma City tonight, are you?”

  I shake my head. “No, just a hotel in Willow Creek. I’m exhausted. How about this… I can come by tomorrow, and we’ll have a meeting. We’ll get things sorted out, maybe write up some contracts if we both decide it’s necessary. Does that work for you?”

  I feel myself flipping into professional mode. Now that I’ve gotten past the initial hurdle of getting Garrett to listen to me, I mostly feel relief. We’re talking now. That’s a win! We can make this work. We can handle this like adults.

  I’m expecting him to say that a meeting sounds good, but instead he says, “A meeting would be fine, but I don’t like the idea of you driving to Willow Creek tonight… not with that tire the way it is.”

  I glance over at my little car, which is lilting sadly to the left, thanks to the front left tire which is now extremely flat.

  “Stay in my guest house,” Garrett offers.

  I’m too tired to refuse.

  I follow Garrett across the soft, grassy lawn, to a “guest house” that is bigger than any house I could ever hope of owning at this point in my life. After opening the door for me and flipping on a light in the entryway, he says, “I’m glad we talked. I’ll look forward to our meeting tomorrow.”

  Then, without another word, he slips into the shadows, heading for the main ranch house.

  I watch him for a moment and then step into the guest house. After a hot shower, I lie down in bed.

  My eyelids are heavy, and soon I’m in a state of half-sleep. My mind conjures up images of Garrett. He’s holding two little bundles: one in each arm. It’s two infants: one boy, wrapped in a blue blanket, and one girl, wrapped in pink. He’s looking down, singing softly to them. It’s a country song—one of the ones that played at the bar, on that night we first met.

  In my sleepy fantasy, we’re in a hospital room, and I’ve just given birth. Garrett is welcoming our children into the world.

  I know that it’s illogical to think that Garrett would be there when the twins are born. We’re going to have a meeting and decide on the “terms” of our arrangement. He may tell me that he doesn’t want to be involved at all, beyond offering some funds. In my dreamy, half-asleep state, I don’t care about reality. It feels much nicer to let myself fantasize about a future that will probably never come to be.

  Chapter 12

  Karla

  I wake up to tires crunching on the gravel outside of my window. I listen to the sound of a vehicle reversing and then driving away. It takes me a moment to remember where I am.

  The room is large, with cream-colored walls, and polished pine furniture. A picture of a horse hangs above a dresser that’s across from the bed. The bed is large and comfortable… much more comfortable than the air mattress I’ve been sleeping on lately.

  Ah yes, Garrett’s guest house.

  Today we’re going to meet, to go over the details of our arrangement.

  I’d better make myself presentable.

  I quickly shower, dress in a skirt and blouse that I pull from the little suitcase I brought in with me last night, and then brew a cup of coffee in the kitchen. The guest house is stocked with breakfast items, but I’m very picky about the ingredients I use so I pass over a loaf of white bread, over-processed peanut butter, and boxes of cereal with too much sugar.

  I’m hungry, but also a bit nauseated, so passing on breakfast is actually okay by me. Once I finish my small cup of coffee (I’m trying to go easy on the caffeine, given my condition), I walk over to the main ranch to see if Garrett is ready for our meeting.

  I step up to the front door and press on the doorbell off to the right. I wait five minutes, but no one comes to the door to let me in. Where is Garrett? The central panels that stretch from the top to bottom of the fancy doors are composed of cut, colored glass, and brass designs. It’s hard to see the interior of the house, but I lift my hand up to my forehead to cut the glare of the morning light and peer in. The entryway is empty.

  Recalling the sound of a vehicle that I heard this morning, I step off of the front stoop and walk over to the garage. Maybe that sound was Garrett, driving away. If his truck is gone, I’ll know that he is, too.

  The garage door is open, and I peek inside. There are five pick-up trucks inside, each one shinier and flashier than the last. Polished, waxed bodies, gleaming chrome rims, and tires half as tall as I am fill the garage, but I don’t see the particular truck that Garrett drove us to the
hospital in yesterday. He must be out.

  I back out of the garage and scan the driveway. What should I do while I wait for him? Usually, I work on Karla’s Kitchen tasks during my downtime. There are a few calls I need to make, one in particular to the warehouse I’m using to store my sauces, but I’ve been trying to use my phone since I arrived and have yet to find a place on the ranch that gets service.

  My gaze lands on my car, and I notice that it’s not as lopsided as it was the night before. In fact, the left front tire is looking very plump. I walk over to it to get a better look and see that it’s definitely been filled.

  Garrett must have put air in my tire this morning. That was thoughtful of him.

  I smile to myself as I examine the freshly pumped tire. He didn’t have to do that. It was a nice gesture.

  How can I thank him?

  My stomach growls, announcing that it’s ready to be fed. Now that my car is fixed, I can drive into Willow Creek and forage around for some food that’s up to my standards, like freshly baked bread made with organic flour, or unsalted, whipped butter.

  Aha! If I go to a grocery store in Willow Creek, I could also pick up ingredients to bake something for Garrett. That could be my way of saying thank you for his kind gesture of putting air in my tire! I know—I’ll make tiramisu! Mrs. Romano said that he always ordered it for dessert, so it must be one of his favorites. I have an excellent tiramisu recipe, which I inherited from my grandmother. Garrett will love it.

  Excited at the prospect of baking, I hurry back to the guest house and gather my purse. Then I make the drive into town and fill a cart with some of my favorite ingredients. I’m impressed that the little local store carries ladyfingers, the sweet, dry, sponge cookies that are one of the main ingredients in tiramisu. I also find an espresso that’s imported from Italy. It’s not the same brand that Gran used for her recipe, but it will have to do.

  By the time I get back to the guest house, I’m famished. I whip up some free-range eggs and cook myself a quick omelet. Then, I get to baking.