Robyn Donald - Finding Her Prince

“I think that’s about my son being overly cautious. Stay off your feet means don’t do the trampoline or go bungee jumping, not be an invalid.”

Cindy nodded. “I think so, too.”

“All right then. Follow me.” Shirley turned and started walking away. “This place has five bedrooms and a guest house. That’s where I stay.”

Interesting. Nathan didn’t really need her to be a buffer between him and his mom. There was plenty of space for the two to peacefully coexist. This house was big enough for its own zip code.

Cindy noted that the living and dining rooms were separated by the wide entryway and filled with dark cherry wood furniture and fabrics in earth tones. White plantation shutters covered the windows. The family room was right off the kitchen and had a fireplace on one wall. A huge leather corner group sat in front of a gigantic flat-screen TV.

“My whole house would fit in this room,” Cindy said, still in awe.

“The bedrooms are down this hall,” Shirley said.

She pointed out the master bedroom at the back of the house, and Cindy politely glanced through the doorway, although it felt like invading Nathan’s privacy. The room was huge, with a king-size bed across from a sunken conversation area and fireplace. A little twinge that could be jealousy told her it was best not to think about all the women who’d no doubt “conversed” in here with him.

Across the hall there were two more bedrooms connected by a bath. Her suitcases were visible in the first room.

“This is where you’ll stay.” Shirley walked through the bathroom into the connecting bedroom. “This gets the morning sun. And there’s that charming window seat. I think this would make a wonderful nursery.”

Cindy glanced at the L-shaped desk with the computer on top. There was an eight-foot couch and a wing chair in another corner. Clearly it was set up as an office.

“It would certainly work. But I’m not staying here permanently,” Cindy protested.

“But you and Nathan will share custody.”

It wasn’t a question except in Cindy’s mind. If she had to judge by her experience, Nathan wouldn’t be around long enough to share custody or anything else. But telling his mother that didn’t seem appropriate.

“I believe children should know both of their parents,” Cindy said diplomatically. “If at all possible.”

“I’m glad you feel that way because I’ve jotted down some ideas for a mural in here.” Shirley picked up a sketch pad from the desk. “Would you like to see?”

It felt a little weird, but, “Okay.” She looked at the drawings of cuddly zoo animals on the first page. “These are too cute.”

“Those are generic,” Shirley explained. “The next page is cars, fire trucks, airplanes. Boy stuff. Then there’s the sports-themed sketches. Followed by fairy tale characters and princess pictures. Nathan can make a decision when he finds out the sex of the baby.”

“These are really good.” Pretty amazing, really.

She flipped through the pages, each set of sketches more impressive than the last. Knowing whether the child was a boy or girl would narrow down themes, but they were all so adorable, making a decision wouldn’t be easy.

“You’re incredibly artistic,” she said.

“Not really. I just had lots of time to practice.” Shirley’s pleased expression instantly disappeared.

Cindy felt guilty because it was the first time the other woman had smiled and something she’d said had made the warmth dissolve. “You have a lot of natural talent. I don’t think practice alone would be enough to do this.”

“It is if you have the time. My husband left me.” She shrugged. “Because I wasn’t being a wife, I had a lot of time to work on other, creative endeavors.”

But you were a mother, Cindy wanted to say. If the marriage wasn’t working, why didn’t this woman’s time and energy get channeled into the young son who must have been hurt and confused about his deteriorating family? She’d never understood before how priceless her carefree childhood had been but kept the revelation to herself. In fact, she didn’t know what to say.

But not saying anything made this more awkward than watching Nathan explain their complicated association to his mother.

Shirley must have felt it, too. “I’ve kept you on your feet too long. You should rest.”

Alone, Cindy walked back into the room where she’d be staying. The bed was queen-size, covered with a floral quilt and a striped bed skirt in green and white. A tufted bench sat at the foot with her suitcases resting on top. There was an oak dresser with a mirror over it and matching nightstands. Very comfortable and should have been cheerful.

Cindy remembered what Nathan had said about being an unaccompanied minor. She’d assumed both of his parents had demanding careers, but that wasn’t the case. He was a handsome doctor, brilliant and wealthy. Yet she felt sorry for him. And that was stupid. It could potentially weaken the hard crust around her feelings. And that would be a disaster.

If she made it through this pregnancy and delivered a healthy baby, it would be in no small part because of Nathan’s support at this traumatic time. She would be forever grateful to him, but they were having a baby, not a relationship. That’s the only reason she was living in his house.

The emotional health of her heart depended on remembering that.

Cindy had always thought that leather belonged on animals, not furniture, but that was before she’d experienced Nathan’s decor. All afternoon she’d been relaxing on his family room corner group. The cushy feel of the soft leather had changed her opinion. And the TV wasn’t bad either. It had to be at least a seventy-five-inch screen. In her tiny house it would be too big, but this room accommodated it perfectly.

“So size does matter,” she said to herself.

She was watching an old chick flick starring Steve McQueen and Natalie Wood. The TV was so big and clear she could see practically every pore in the actress’s flawless face.

Glancing at her watch, she realized it was after seven. Shirley was out and Nathan hadn’t returned from the hospital. She was getting hungry and wondered whether to go digging into his provisions. Mi casa, su casa , he had said. Before she could decide, the front door opened and closed, then he walked in lugging plastic bags of groceries in both hands.

“Hi,” she said. “Need some help?”

“This is everything.” His eyes narrowed on her. “And you’re here because of questions like that. Your job right now is to carry nothing heavier than the TV remote.”

“Then you should be proud because today I totally rocked this remote control. It got an excellent workout.”

He carried the bags into the kitchen and set them on the granite-covered island in the center. While he unloaded them, he asked, “How do you feel?”

She muted the TV sound before answering. “Good. Normal. No more pains. Not even a hint of a cramp.”

“Excellent.”

“I’m thinking it’s okay to go back to work.”

He was putting a box into the pantry and turned to stare at her. “Your doctor advised you to rest for several weeks.”

“But I feel fine.”

“That’s great. And we want to keep it that way. So just relax and go with it.” He closed the cupboard door. “Where’s Shirley?”

“Astrology class. She was going to skip it and stay with me, but I talked her into going.” He didn’t respond and she added, “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’m not. Shirley keeps busy.”

“She showed me some sketches for a mural in the baby’s room.”

“Oh?” He put bananas in a cobalt blue pottery bowl on the island.