Healing you maple grove, p.27
Healing You (Maple Grove), page 27
Pushing off the wall, Lydia turned and reached for the bathroom door just as it swung open. A broad-shouldered man in a plain white T-shirt and perfectly fitted jeans barreled toward her. He didn't look up as he shook his hands of water. Defined muscles pushed against the shirt in the most delicious way, and she stood frozen to the floor as he collided with her. Her ankles wobbled over the pencil thin heels she wore, and she yelped, stumbling backwards as a strong hand darted out, steadying her just in time.
She began an apology as he said at the same time, “I'm so sorry.” His voice boomed over hers, and her mouth went dry at his tone—one hundred percent masculine and utterly delicious. She could dip that voice in chocolate and eat it for dessert.
He smiled. A genuine smile from a stranger in New York was not a common thing. Two dimples formed on either side of his mouth. Heat raced across her body, and Lydia's skin tightened under his gaze as it swept her face.
His chest was heavy with each breath and she watched as his expression shifted into something more melancholy, reminding her of where she'd just come from. She placed a palm on her purse, remembering the pamphlet.
“My fault,” he said as he dropped his hand from her elbow. She'd barely noticed he had still been touching her—it felt that comfortable, like his hands were simply meant to be on her body.
A heaviness sat in her belly as a thought hit her hard like a bucket of ice water. Dating—meeting men... it would never be that easy, flirty thing again. Sooner or later, if things got serious, she'd need to have the infertility conversation. She was suddenly very thankful that his hand was nowhere on her anymore.
Shrugging, she gave him a small smile. But even as she lifted the corners of her lips, she could feel the quivering sob forming in her chest. Like a striking match, it started small, but given the circumstance could quickly form into a roaring fire.
His jaw tightened as he swallowed and creases settled across his sun-weathered face. “You can do this,” he said, almost as though he knew; as though he understood.
Her fake smile sagged, and for the first time all day, Lydia allowed herself to feel the full weight—the full sadness of her loss. She didn't bother brushing off the runaway tear.
The man stepped to the side. Slowly, she reached for the doorknob, pausing just before she opened it. “Thank you,” she answered, looking up into his bright blue eyes once more. She smiled, warmed by the kindness of this stranger, before closing the door behind her.
After splashing some cold water on her cheeks and taking a moment to collect herself, she exited the bathroom and moved to the end of the long line. Somehow, the crowd was comforting. And even though there wasn't a single friend in the coffee shop, Lydia felt far less alone in the presence of strangers.
Two people ahead of her, she saw the man from the bathroom. Just as she looked up and caught his eye, he turned his head back toward the menu board. Lydia exhaled a silent breath. Of course he wasn't interested in her, not in that way. No man wanted to date a crying woman.
“Mommy! Mommy! I want a blueberry muffin!”
The child's voice came from directly behind her and cut right through to her heart. With a stiff spine, she turned to find a little girl with light brown hair, ruddy cheeks, and light eyes. Heat flushed across Lydia's face, and her chest expanded with a held breath that felt like a bubble lodged just to the right of her heart.
“Is that how you ask for things?” the mother asked, her voice razor sharp.
The little girl groaned, and the next thing Lydia knew, the kid was stomping and thrashing her limbs around. Her screams pierced through the low, chattering hum of the café.
The mother gave a weary sigh and somehow managed to talk over the screams. “You have until three. One—two—”
Lydia shifted, looking to the board uncomfortably. What do you do in this situation? Pretend like it wasn't happening? Ignore the tantrum? Hardly any of Lydia's friends had kids yet—she could count on one hand the number of times she’d held a baby. The noise abruptly stopped.
“Now apologize to Mommy.”
Mommy. Mom. Mother. Mama. Lydia clamped her eyes shut, squeezing as hard as she could as though this subtle movement could completely eradicate any thoughts of children or motherhood from her mind.
“Kids,” the man in front of her murmured with a snort. “Who needs 'em, right?”
Lydia's eyes snapped open, excitement pulsing in her brain. Was bathroom guy talking to her again? But instead, she was met with the gaze of a different man directly in front of her. He was handsome in a much different way than the guy from earlier. Kids, who needs 'em. Was he kidding? She scanned his body—he was in great shape, even if a little pretentious in the way his shirt was rolled just perfectly to the elbow.
Lydia gave a polite smile. “Right. Who needs them,” she answered. She could barely read her own inflection. Was that sarcasm? Hesitancy? Hell if she knew her own thoughts anymore. And she suddenly felt exhausted.
“No, I'm serious.” He spun to face her. His gaze flicked down to the child before meeting Lydia's once more. “The planet is far too populated as it is.”
Lydia swallowed hard, her throat burning. She considered that statement for a moment. She supposed he wasn't wrong about that.
His eyebrows lifted. “Don't get me wrong. Kids are cute and fun for like, an hour. But I love my life. I'm fulfilled by my job, my friends, romance... I don't need a kid to satisfy some weird biological clock.”
Up until an hour ago at the doctor's office, Lydia had been pretty pleased with her life, too. She didn't love her new gig freelancing for trashy magazines specifically, but she loved photographing and reporting. She loved her friends and the freedom to date as she pleased. Maybe this would be okay. Lydia's breath became heavy, and she examined the men in front of her. Both offered her exactly what she needed to hear in a moment that she needed clarity more than anything. Two very different sets of advice... advice they hadn't even realized they were giving. “Thank you,” she whispered before she could stop herself. There were plenty of men who didn't want children. She didn't have to be destitute of love and relationships just because she couldn't have kids.
He gave her an odd look, confusion marring his handsome features.
“Sorry, Mommy,” the little voice whimpered. “May I please have a blueberry muffin?”
There was a rustle as the woman peeked beyond Lydia at the glass case. At least seven people were ahead of Lydia, and there was only one muffin left. Lydia hoped she was gone before the next tantrum started.
“I swear,” the guy said, “there should be an area where kids are strictly not allowed.”
Lydia felt a small smile flick at the corners of her mouth. “There is. It's called a bar.”
Ahead of them, she heard the quiet snort of a laugh from the bathroom guy.
The man in front of her grinned, his gaze traveling the length of her body. “I'd drink to that.” He slipped a hand into his front pocket as the line lurched forward. “I'm Jason.”
“Lydia.” Brushing her hand to her clavicle, and rolling her neck to each side, she tried to ignore the noise as the little girl's whining behind her grew louder once more. To be fair, the line was taking forever.
The line moved again, and they were nearly to the front. From his back pocket, he pulled out a business card and handed it to Lydia. His smile softened, crinkling around striking eyes. “Lydia, I hope I'm not being too forward... but I'd love to take you out to dinner. Call me sometime.”
He didn't wait for her answer before turning to one of the open baristas. The man from the bathroom finished paying and crossed toward Lydia. His bright blue gaze met hers and for a moment, everything stood still. She swallowed, taking the final opportunity to memorize the way his dark hair curled around his ears; it looked like he had been running his hands through it all day. Angled features and stubble dusted along his chiseled jaw. A grin lifted his face, and those damn dimples flanked another breathtaking smile.
And he was headed directly for her.
He paused at Lydia's shoulder, so close that she could smell the traces of cedar and smokiness on him—like a campfire. Something heavy buzzed between them as he held her gaze. Warmth seethed through her body and despite this heat, she shivered.
Blinking, he brushed by her, crouching in front of the little girl, holding out the last blueberry muffin. He grinned wider, looking up at her mother. “Here ya go.” He dropped it into her hand with a wink. “Blueberry muffins are my little girl's favorite, too.”
Lydia's stomach knotted as smile lines creased his face. Though he looked tired, he also had a peace to him that she didn't find very often in Manhattan residents. “Be a good girl for your mommy, okay?” He pushed off his knees, standing once more as the mother thanked him.
With a final look at Lydia, he left the coffee shop. Without saying another word to her. Heat and embarrassment rose like high tide from her belly. But for what exactly? She hadn't done anything wrong. She gulped. Or had she?
Stepping up to the counter, Lydia ordered her tall, sugar-free, soy vanilla latte as memories of her mom and her shitty childhood consumed her thoughts. Looking on the bright side, at least now she wouldn't end up pregnant with a baby she didn't want like her own mother had. She couldn't do that to any child. And maybe she didn't want one. Maybe that parental gene was absent in her family. And this was nature's way of taking care of the decision for her.
Lydia sipped her latte, savoring the warm flavor. Its comforting steam billowed around her mouth, and she sighed. This was okay—she was okay. She didn't know the first thing about kids or babies. And if she changed her mind... well, just like Dr. Seaver said, she had options. In the meantime, she needed to find a way to pay for these medical bills.
Through the window, she watched as the man walked confidently down the street, sipping out of his to-go cup.
She lifted a chin and reached into her purse for the pamphlet, dropping it into the trash along with the referral for a therapist. This was a good thing, Lydia thought as she rested a hand to the door.
“I love you, Mommy.”
Lydia's belly tightened, and her grip froze on the handle. You can do this, she repeated to herself, grabbing her cell phone and dialing.
“Yes, hi, Mara? This is Lydia Ryder. I would like to formally accept your offer with the City Star. I can start next Monday.”
Also, be sure to check out the Maple Grove Christmas book, Holiday Intercepted!
Katana Collins, Healing You (Maple Grove)
