Caroselli's Christmas Baby. Michelle Celmer

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      “Sorry I’m late,” he said with that crooked grin he flashed when he was trying to get out of trouble. Fat snowflakes peppered the shoulders of his wool coat and dotted his hair, and his cheeks were rosy from the cold, meaning he’d walked the two blocks from the world headquarters of Caroselli Chocolate. “Work was crazy today.”

      “I’ve only been here a few minutes,” she said, even though it had actually been more like twenty. Long enough to have downed two glasses of the champagne they were supposed to be toasting with.

      He leaned in to brush a kiss across her cheek, the rasp of his evening stubble rough against her skin. She breathed in the whisper of his sandalwood soap—a birthday gift from her—combined with the sweet scent of chocolate that clung to him every time he spent the day in the company test kitchen.

      “Still snowing?” she asked.

      “It’s practically a blizzard out there.” Nick shrugged out of his coat, then stuck his scarf and leather gloves in the sleeve—a habit he’d developed when they were kids, after misplacing endless sets of mittens and scarves—then hung it on the hook behind their booth. “At this rate, we may actually get a white Christmas this year.”

      “That would be nice.” Having spent the first nine years of her life in New Mexico, she’d never even seen snow until she’d moved to Chicago. To this day, she still loved it. Of course, having a home business meant no snowy commute, so she was biased.

      “I ordered our usual,” she said as Nick slid into his seat.

      He loosened his tie, and gestured to the champagne bottle. “Are we celebrating something?”

      “You could say that.”

      He plucked his napkin from the table and draped it across his lap. “What’s up?”

      “First,” she said, “you’ll be happy to know that I broke up with Blake.”

      Nick beamed. “Well, damn, that is a reason to celebrate!”

      Nick had never liked her most recent boyfriend—the latest in a long and depressing string of failed relationships. He didn’t think Blake had what it took to make Terri happy. Turned out he was right. Even if it did take her four months to see it.

      But last week Blake had mentioned offhandedly that his lease was almost up, and it seemed silly that they should both be paying rent when he spent most of his time at her place, anyway. Despite being more than ready to get married and start a family, when she imagined doing it with him, she’d felt … well, not much of anything, actually. Which was definitely not a good way to feel about a potential husband and father of her children. It was proof that, as Nick had warned her, she was settling again.

      Nick poured himself a glass of champagne and took a sip. “So, what did he say when you dumped him?”

      “That I’ll never find anyone else like him.”

      Nick laughed. “Well, yeah, isn’t that the point? He was about as interesting as a paper clip. With half the personality.”

      She wouldn’t deny that he’d been a little, well … bland. His idea of a good time was sitting at the computer, with it’s twenty-seven-inch high-def monitor, for hours on end playing World of Warcraft while she watched television or read. The truth is, he would probably miss her computer more than her.

      “He’s an okay guy. He just isn’t the guy for me,” she told Nick. One day he would meet the game addict of his dreams and they would live a long happy life in cyberspace together.

      Their waitress appeared to deliver their meal. A double pepperoni deep-dish pizza and cheesy bread. When she was gone, Nick said, “He’s out there, you know. The one for you. You’ll find him.”

      She used to think so, too. But here she was almost thirty with not a single prospect anywhere in her near future. Her life plan had her married with a couple kids already. Which is why she had decided to take matters into her own hands.

      “There’s something else we’re celebrating,” she told Nick. “I’m going to have a baby.”

      He bolted upright and set down his glass so hard she was surprised it didn’t shatter against the tiled tabletop.

      “What? When? Is it Blake’s?”

      “God, no!” She could just imagine that. The kid would probably be born with a game remote fused to its hands.

      Nick leaned forward and hissed under his breath, “Whoever it is, he damn well better be planning to do right by you and the baby.”

      Always looking out for her, she thought with a shot of affection so intense it burned. When he wasn’t getting her into trouble, that is. Although it was usually the other way around. It was typically her making rash decisions, and Nick talking sense into her. This time was different. This time she knew exactly what she was doing.

      “There is no who,” she told him, dishing them each out a slice of pizza. “I’m not actually pregnant. Yet.”

      Nick frowned. “Then why did you say you’re having a baby?”

      “Because I will be, hopefully within the next year. I’m going to be a single mom.”

      He sat back in his seat, looking stunned. “How? I mean, who’s going to be the father?”

      “I’m going to use a donor.”

      “A donor?” His dark brows pulled together. “You’re not serious.”

      She shoved down the deep sting of disappointment. She had hoped he would understand, that he would be happy for her. Clearly, he wasn’t. “Completely serious. I’m ready. I’m financially sound, and since I work at home, I won’t have to put the baby in day care. The timing is perfect.”

      “Wouldn’t it be better if you were married?”

      “I’ve pretty much struck out finding Mr. Right. I always said that I wanted to have my first baby by the time I’m thirty, and I’m almost there. And you know that I’ve always wanted a family of my own. Since my aunt died, I’ve got no one.”

      “You’ve got me,” he said, his expression so earnest her heart melted.

      Yes, she had him, not to mention his entire crazy family, but it wasn’t the same. When the chips were down, she was still an outsider.

      “This doesn’t mean we aren’t going to be friends still,” she said. “In fact, I’ll probably need you more than ever. You’ll be the baby’s only other family. Uncle Nicky.”

      The sentiment did nothing to erase the disenchantment from his expression. He pushed away his plate, as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite, and said, “You deserve better than a sperm donor.”

      “I don’t exactly have the best luck with men.”

      “But what about the baby?” Nick said, sounding testier by the second. “Doesn’t it deserve to have two parents?”

      “As you well know, having two parents doesn’t necessarily make for a happy childhood.”

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