The Pregnancy Project. Kat Cantrell

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      “Why did you come this time?” he asked quietly, and it was the opening she’d been looking for.

      “I took my first pregnancy test this morning,” she admitted and forced herself to go on, no matter how uncomfortable the subject. Because regardless of what he’d said earlier, it still felt like an elephant in the room that they had to work through. “And then I took the next three.”

      Surprisingly, he flashed a smile. “Because four gives you better odds of getting an accurate result.”

      “You know me so well,” she joked automatically, but when his jaw tightened, she wished she hadn’t said it.

      “I’m hoping to learn more,” he returned cryptically. “How did it feel? When you saw that it was positive?”

      So many things had flooded her chest in that instant. How did she catalogue them for someone else—and a man at that? “The clearest sense of awe. Glee. Accomplishment.”

      She’d picked the right donor, clearly, since the procedure had worked the first time. Of course she had. She’d done extensive research into genetics, legalities, odds—and Dr. Tomas Cardoza had been the obvious choice. Tomas had two doctorates, impressive Spanish ancestry and dark skin that would hopefully guarantee her child wouldn’t have to slather on as much sunscreen as its Irish mother. He’d agreed to be her donor, including signing away any paternal rights, and that was that.

      Somehow, she didn’t think Dante would appreciate those details.

      “I hate this.” She set her mug down and swiveled to face him, one leg bent underneath her. “I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, like I have to watch what I say or it’ll start another fight.”

      He cocked his head. “Another fight? We’re not fighting. Are we?”

      “Well…yeah. Earlier. When I told you I was pregnant. That was a fight.” Wasn’t it? He’d been so angry and disappointed in her.

      “It was a conversation,” he corrected and set his own mug down in favor of taking her hand, holding it tight as he caught her gaze. “About something going on in your life. I didn’t handle it well. You surprised me, that’s all. But I care about you and want to know everything. It’s not СКАЧАТЬ