Kat Cantrell - The Pregnancy Project

Wow. Harper craned her neck as the housekeeper breezed past the triple set of French doors overlooking the pool. Cerulean water rippled in the sunlight, and beyond the bougainvillea and palmetto palms camouflaging the wrought-iron fence around Dante’s property, Los Angeles unfurled at the base of the hills, urban and busy, but stunning despite the layer of smog.

Dr. Gates had done very well for himself.

Heavy exposed beams stained the color of triple-strength espresso held up the high ceiling in the breezeway to the back of the house. The housekeeper opened one of the doors and stepped back. Harper blinked at the lavish sitting area off to one side, complete with a flat-screen TV. A large mission-style bed had been placed opposite the sitting area. What a beautiful room.

“The bathroom is through those doors,” the housekeeper pointed with a polite smile. “You need anything, you let me know. I’m Mrs. Ortiz, and my daughter, Ana Sophia, cooks for Mr. Dante. No request too small or too big. We live in the old coach house near the gate, and Juan, my husband, keeps the grounds.”

“Oh, okay.” Dante had servants. More than one. Had any of them overheard the conversation in the foyer earlier? Harper shut her eyes for a beat. Too late now. Would have been nice for Dante to warn her that they weren’t necessarily alone as she went around blabbing about personal stuff.

But then, he’d apparently decided to make blindsiding her a habit. She didn’t especially care for it.

“Thanks, Mrs. Ortiz,” Harper said as graciously as she could. It wasn’t this nice lady’s fault her boss had gone slightly off the deep end.

The housekeeper nodded and closed the door behind her as she left. Harper spent a few minutes unpacking but it didn’t take nearly long enough to settle her trembling insides.

After that fiasco of a kiss had forced her to drop the pregnancy bomb, Dante had melted away, presumably to give her time to settle in, but probably more to give them both breathing room. Or was she the only who’d needed it?

Before she’d gotten on a plane to LA, her relationship with Dante had made sense. Her feelings for him were uncomplicated, easy and eternal, unlike what would inevitably happen in a romantic relationship. That was why she’d never entertained the slightest notion of having one with any man, let alone one she liked as much as Dante. Friendship had so much to recommend itself.

Until Dante had flipped everything upside down by kissing her.

What could she do to get back to the place where she had her friend by her side, holding her hand through this new adventure?

Because she needed him. Badly.

Pregnancy was freaking her out.

She was scared she’d made the wrong decision. Scared that she’d picked the wrong time, given that her career might be in the toilet. Scared that she’d failed to cross some T when dealing with the legal aspects of using a donor. She’d never second-guessed a decision like this and the only thing she wanted to do was crawl under a blanket, let Dante stroke her hair and tell her everything was going to be okay.

That was all wrong. She’d wanted pregnancy to be a happy experience. One that would create a new bond with Alex and Cass, who were also new mothers or soon-to-be, and strengthen the bond she had with Dante because of course he would be her baby’s favorite…uncle-like person.

She hoped.

The look on his face when she’d said, I’m pregnant…she never wanted to see that again. But the shock coloring his expression replayed in her mind on an endless loop. Apparently she’d miscalculated how he’d feel about it, but she couldn’t figure out if he was upset because she hadn’t consulted him or because he still had residual bitterness over losing the Nobel Prize. Or both.

There was every possibility that despite claiming he’d be there for her, Dante might change his mind. He might end up not wanting anything to do with her baby. That would be devastating.

Angst was killing her. What had happened to her usual logic and reason? Poof. Add a baby and suddenly she was a mess.

She changed out of her plane suit and slipped on an unstructured sundress with spaghetti straps that she’d bought in anticipation of an expanding waistline. Wishful thinking, since she hadn’t confirmed her pregnancy until this morning.

None of this heated introspection would resolve the open issue—how to get back to normal. Harper worked best with absolutes and only Dante could give her those.

Get the data, formulate the problem and then solve it.

Her relationship with Dante was going to be the same today as it was yesterday, or she’d die trying to keep it that way. She refused to let either the baby or the kiss put a wedge between them, not when so many other things were out of her control. The FDA rejection being exhibit A.

Determined, she wandered through the open floor plan toward the kitchen in hopes of finding Dante and a cup of hot tea, and not necessarily in that order.

“Called it in one,” she murmured as she caught sight of his dark head bent over something.

She walked in and skirted the island. Dante glanced up.

His gaze softened behind his lenses, instantly turning his gorgeous eyes the color of melted chocolate. If he looked at other women like that, it was no wonder they were tripping over themselves to get to him.

Which was a totally uncomfortable thought, all at once. Did he look at other women like that, with that same blend of concern and affection? And why would she care? She didn’t. Dante was her friend and he could look at a woman any way he chose.

Except her. Definitely he could not look at her like that.

“I was just about to make a pot of tea,” he said as if nothing had changed.

Nothing had changed, she reminded herself sternly. He’d kissed her in some sort of misguided notion that there was something between them. She’d disabused him of that notion, and it was over. “That would be great.”

She cleared the squawk from her throat and wished the tension could be so easily dispelled.

Tea was one of their shared passions, one she cherished. When Dante came to Dallas, he always picked up a fresh bag of Gyokuro Imperial Green Tea—her favorite—from the Teavana shop at DFW airport and they drank it on the patio of her condo, which overlooked Victory Park. She loved their ritual more for the conversation and easiness than the tea, though it only took the barest whiff of the scent to make her mouth water.

He handed her a press pot and nodded to the loose-leaf tea in a container printed with Chinese symbols, which sat on the counter near his elbow. “I’ll boil the water if you scoop the tea.”

The familiar rhythm soothed her, and she moved around both the kitchen and the man with more ease than she would have expected. Maybe the weirdness was all on her. If she acted like everything was cool, it would be.

Tea made, they took their mugs onto the lanai that overlooked the lush pool and outdoor kitchen. Dante settled onto a cozy love seat and patted the next cushion, which she gratefully sank onto.

“Your house is beautiful,” she commented. “Why did it take me so long to visit?”

“A fair question.” He nodded once. “And the answer is?”

“Busy.” Her gaze drifted back to the landscape as she searched for the truth. “Fyra’s been a mess lately and Cass and Alex have had personal things going on. Leaves me and Trinity to hold the seams together.”

Regardless, Dante had always made time to come visit her. She’d written it off as a function of his insane travel schedule; of course it was easier for him to pop into Dallas. It was one of the major US airport hubs.

In that moment, with every nook and cranny of their relationship under a microscope, it felt…wrong. Unbalanced.