Page 30 of Baby Maker

Keegan reaches up, his thumb warm against my cheek as he wipes away the tears with gentle strokes. "My mother always said that crying is the body's way of healing itself. Perhaps you can't hold it in anymore. Perhaps you shouldn't try."

I roll my shoulders, releasing a long sigh. "My friends all try to be supportive, but they figure it's been almost two years, and I should get back out into the world. And I want to, which is an improvement because six months ago, I didn't want to leave my bed. But, it's hard because I had this tremendous love, and I'm not willing to settle for anything less. That's why I'll likely wind up alone with seven cats for company."

"And a baby. Can't forget that."

"If it works. It didn't work those three times, and I have to wonder how many more times I miscarried without knowing it. Maybe the universe was trying to tell me something, but I didn’t want to listen."

"It was. It was telling you to come and find me."

It's as if the breath is stolen from my lungs with his words. I swing my gaze to meet his, my body trembling. Deep down, that's precisely what I'm feeling toward the comely doctor. That he spoke the words aloud makes my heart race with anticipation. A serendipitous match. “You think the universe set it up for us to meet?"

Keegan shrugs, averting his eyes. "I do. I am the Baby Maker, after all."

My high smashes onto the pub floor, as the intention behind his statement rings clear. "Of course. Quite right. Time for you to get busy and do your job." I grab my purse, pulling out my wallet. "I think I've had enough whiskey for one night. I have a sunrise yoga class tomorrow, and I will probably be a lovely shade of green for my students."

Keegan places his hand over mine, giving it a squeeze. "I got the tab. It's the least I can do after such a crap date."

"Thanks." What is wrong with me? I know he's unattainable, so why is my heart seizing at his laid-back disposition? I wanted him to be my friend. This is what friends do. "I'll owe you one."

"No worries, Calli. I'm happy to be of service."

We stroll out in the night, and I huddle deeper into my jacket, warding off the chill. The early spring day from the other week? She left for parts unknown, leaving winter in her stead.

"I walked here, so I'm off. Thank you for sharing a drink with me. Listening to my sob story."

"I'll drive you home. Come on, I'm parked right over here."

He presses a button on his key fob and the headlights on a Jeep Wrangler blink. Surprising. I would have expected a luxury vehicle—a sleek BMW or Mercedes—not a lifted Jeep with mud on the tires.

"I must say that I never pictured you driving a Jeep."

"Be nice to her. I love Bessie."

"You named your truck?"

"First, she's a Jeep, not a truck. Second, of course, I named her. Everyone names their Jeep. It's a requirement."

"Is that unofficial Jeep code?"

Keegan chuckles, opening my door for me. "Something like that."

I pull myself into the seat, acutely aware of his hand's proximity to my ass. "I only live a few blocks from here. I really could have walked."

Keegan slides into the driver's seat, Led Zeppelin filling the interior when he turns the key. Another surprise.

The man is apparently full of them.

"I really wasn't going to let you, so I'm glad you agreed to let me drop you off. Otherwise, I would have had to force your hand, and the passenger seat is more comfortable than the hood."

"Strapping me to the hood of your Jeep. What a pal."

Keegan chuckles, pulling onto Main Street. "I have my moments."

You have many of them, Keegan.

"I feel bad. I spent the evening talking your ear off, and I still know nothing about you. The next time, I won't say a word. You'll do all the talking."

"I'm not that interesting, Calli."

---