Robyn Donald - Finding Her Prince

“Dementia brought on by advancing age.”

She laughed. “That works. I just kept thinking if she didn’t want it, she should give it to me. I could really use the money.”

“But if romance is the heart of the movie, that scene is symbolic. One could deduce that love makes no sense.”

“If you don’t believe in love, far be it from me to try and convince you otherwise. It’s not worth the argument.”

“Good. Do you mind if I put on a ball game?”

“It’s your TV.”

And house. Love had no place in his life. She was grateful for the reminder because hanging out with him was fun but a bad idea. After what felt like an eternity of digging herself out of debt by herself, leaning on him would be too easy. It would also leave her vulnerable and with nowhere to hide.

However, since their one-night stand he hadn’t made a single move on her. Maybe because she was pregnant, but more likely because he was so over her. That meant the attraction getting stronger for her was one-sided and made the obsession to fortify her heart just silly.

His lack of attention proved she’d been right about him losing interest when he got what he wanted.

Sometimes she hated being right.

Cindy sat in Nathan’s family room with her feet up and looked at two of her three best friends, Harlow Marcelli and Mary Frances Bird. Whitney Davenport, a medical technician at the hospital, had to work because the lab was short-staffed. She was counting on her friends to fill her in on what the heck was going on.

The two who were present hadn’t told her that, but Cindy knew. The four of them had met at the hospital’s new-hire orientation. Though they all worked in completely different departments, the click of friendship had been instant. Since then, the other three women had pulled Cindy through heartbreak and the financial fiasco that followed. She’d been there for the others during crises of dating, declining parent health and anything else they needed. Now she had to explain to them the unexplainable—how she’d gotten pregnant and why she’d kept it to herself.

This morning Mary Frances had called Cindy’s cell and demanded to know why she hadn’t been at work. She and Harlow had gone to her house, which, of course, was empty. They were worried. Cindy had given her Nathan’s address and invited them over for in-person details. This wasn’t a quick, cell-call kind of conversation. Nathan was at work and Shirley had gone to a candle-making class at the astrology store.

The time had come to confess all.

Cindy sat in the corner of the big, L-shaped sofa with her friends on either side of her. “So, how have you guys been? What’s new?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Mary Frances was a petite, auburn-haired Labor and Delivery nurse at the hospital. She and Cindy were the same size, and the fundraiser dress had been borrowed from her.

“Okay. Before we start, anyone want water, soda, juice or coffee? You guys hungry?”

“Yeah. For information. What is going on? Whose house is this? And when can I move in, too?” Mary Frances’s blue eyes held equal parts of humor and confusion.

Harlow tucked a shoulder-length strand of shiny brown hair behind her ear. Green eyes that missed nothing were narrowed. “I think I can answer the who question. But the why is still a mystery.”

Mary Frances slid forward. The seat of the couch was so deep, if she scooted back, her legs stuck straight out in front of her. She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “Someone please start filling in the blanks because I’m clueless here.”

“This is Dr. Steele’s house, isn’t it?” Harlow tapped her lip. “Oh, wait, he asked you to call him Nathan.”

“What? When did this happen? How come you know and I don’t?” Mary Frances glared at both of them. In spite of her small size, she looked fierce enough to do great bodily harm.

“Harlow knows because she was in the NICU working on a baby and picked up on some vibes,” Cindy explained.

“So, she’s right? This is Nathan Steele’s house? You didn’t win ten million dollars playing Megabucks?”

“No, I didn’t win money. Yes, it’s his house.”

“How come you didn’t tell me about this?”

Harlow shrugged at the accusing look. “You’ve been busy. I’ve been busy. And I didn’t know Cindy moved in with him. What’s up with that, anyway? I guess you finally gave him your phone number. Or went out with him. Or both.” She looked around the beautiful, spacious room that could be from a photo shoot in Decorator’s Digest . “I’d say he got both.”

“Please tell me her imagination is on crack and she’s gone to the bad place for no good reason.”

“I can’t.” Cindy glanced at both her friends. “I’m pregnant and he’s the father.”

Harlow didn’t shock easily, but she was now. “That’s a place my imagination didn’t even consider.”

“No way.” Mary Frances shook her head. “It’s a joke, right? You guys think I’m gullible, but I’m not falling for it. You know better than to do something like that.”

“I’m not kidding,” Cindy confirmed. “And you both are a little bit to blame.”

“Someone needs to learn how to take responsibility for her own actions.” Harlow tsk-tsked.

Mary Frances stared at her. “How do you figure this is our fault?”

“You guys did too good a job styling me for that dinner I won the raffle ticket for.”

“What?”

“Steele didn’t recognize her,” Harlow explained. “She made him guess where he’d seen her before, but he drew a blank. Then she ran out of the ball and he only caught up with her because the heel on my shoe broke.”

Mary Frances pointed at them. “Do either of you see the parallel here?”

“What are you talking about?” Harlow demanded.

“Fairy tales. Cinderella.” She nodded emphatically. “Am I right?”

“He’s a doctor, not Prince Charming,” Cindy said. “And he doesn’t believe in love, so that ball had nothing to do with him finding a wife.”

“But we digress.” Harlow looked at each of them to get their attention. “He bugged her for her phone number and I advised her to let him call but dodge everything else. Bob and weave until he got bored and turned his attention elsewhere. Clearly that didn’t happen. Which begs the question. How did you get from giving him your phone number to … You know.”

“Sex?” Cindy clarified.

“Yeah,” they both answered.

“It started with dinner at an Italian place—”

“Not Capriotti’s.” Mary Frances slid a knowing look to their friend.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Doesn’t matter. Go on.”

What did they know that she didn’t? Cindy wondered. Although it wasn’t really important because the final outcome was the same. “There was candlelight, flowers, wine and food.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” Harlow was their token skeptic.

“So you got swept away. I understand that. But what about birth control?” So spoke the Labor and Delivery nurse who every day saw the result of planned and unplanned pregnancies.

“The condom malfunctioned.” Cindy shrugged.

“That explains getting pregnant,” Harlow said. “But why are you here in his house?”

“I had cramps and some spotting. The obstetrician said stress can sometimes be a factor. She ordered me to stay off my feet for a few weeks.”

“You have a bed at your house,” Mary Frances reminded her.

“Nathan watched over me and refused to leave. He’s too big to throw out and there was no bed for him. So I agreed to move in here temporarily. It’s really sweet when you think about it.”

“Don’t go there,” Harlow warned. “I know that look.”