Happy New Year--Baby!. Marie Ferrarella
in love with the idea of marrying a rich girl and not in love with Nicole.
The word blind seemed appropriate. He’d been a blind date, arranged by her roommate. She’d gone on the date reluctantly. Three dates later, Craig had deftly utilized her dissatisfaction with school to get her to drop out of college and run off with him.
A month after she’d met him, Nicole had become Mrs. Craig Logan, convinced that the rest of her life was going to be wonderful. Craig was exciting, a risk taker, someone who wasn’t afraid to live on the edge. He was everything her father was not, flamboyant, entertaining, attentive. Any way she looked at it, Craig Logan was just too good to be true.
That should have warned her from the start. But she had been too wrapped up in him and their life together to realize that.
Craig wanted to be a race car driver, setting his sights on becoming the next king of the raceways. The inheritance she’d gotten from her paternal grandmother helped fuel that dream for Craig. It had paid the bills as well as bought the car that he needed to race. She’d been frugal with the money and there was still some left. It was part of what she was living on now.
At first, life with Craig on the road had been very exciting. They went from town to town, following the circuit, making love in dozens of different hotel rooms. It was exhilarating. And so different from the life she had led as James Bailey’s rebellious daughter.
Cynicism curved Nicole’s mouth as she sipped her tea. Yes, it had been exciting. For about three years. And then it started getting old. Very old. The excitement eventually petered out. The very things that had made it all seem so spontaneous, so glamorous, began to tarnish it. She never had a place to call her home. Never felt settled.
But she tried to tough it out and kept her feelings to herself because Craig seemed so happy. He thrived on the circuit and he was good at racing. If he gambled a little too much, well, that was just his way of letting off steam, he had said.
But one day, sitting alone in a hotel room in Nevada, Nicole took a good look at her life and realized that she didn’t have one. Not one of her own at any rate. She had Craig’s life and that wasn’t enough. She needed something to do besides cheering him on, besides watching the racing groupies bat adoring eyes at him.
When she talked Craig into putting down roots, at least part of the time, near her old home, she had hoped that they had hit upon the perfect compromise.
Fool, she mused now.
But at the time it seemed all right. While Craig continued on the racing circuit, she had remained behind and gone back to college to get the degree she had abandoned for him. She went to classes and attempted to ignore the rumors that returned to her with unsettling regularity. Rumors of Craig and his women.
She’d done what she could to hang on. For a while, she’d even talked herself into believing that it was all hype and that Craig couldn’t help it if women threw themselves at him.
It was never the throwing she minded, Nicole thought now. Men like Craig always attracted women and it was to be expected. That went with the territory. It was the catching that bothered her.
It became clearer and clearer to her that Craig was doing his very best to catch every single pass thrown his way. And the money, there always seemed to be huge sums of money going out, more than she thought there should have been. More, she felt, than was coming in. It went to support his lavish lifestyle. She never saw any of it beyond the diamond ring on her hand. As time went on, Nicole became torn between attempting to ride it out and leaving him.
And then, one quarter away from graduating, she’d found out that she was pregnant. It would mean putting her life on hold again, but the thought of a baby excited her and calmed her at the same time. She was going to be a mother, someone’s mother. It meant the world to her.
When she told him, Craig had been far from elated about the prospect of becoming a father. That had hurt her more than she’d thought possible. But, with Marlene’s support, she had tried to bear it, secretly hoping that once the baby was actually part of their lives, Craig would settle down a little.
Nicole pressed her hand against the huge mound before her as fresh tears followed in the trail left by the others. All that was in the past. A spinout six weeks ago had made the rumors and their future together all moot. Craig was gone. The car had caught fire and there hadn’t even been anything to bury. She’d held a memorial service for him and gone on with her life.
She supposed, a lump growing to insurmountable proportions in her throat, that nothing had really changed. She was still here, in this apartment, where she has been during Craig’s times on the road. Her plans for her own future hadn’t changed. She still intended to be a teacher once the baby was born.
It was just that…
Just…
Oh God.
Nicole closed her eyes, unable to put into words why she felt as if her life were over. It wasn’t. She was twenty-six, with a college degree whose ink was barely dry, awaiting the birth of her first child. Life was good, the future was bright.
So why did she feel as if she’d gone skydiving into a bottomless abyss?
Nicole set her mug down on the table. She’d finished her tea without realizing it. Without really tasting it. As she looked down at the empty mug, the buzzing noise in the background registered.
Someone was ringing her doorbell.
Nicole remained sitting at the table. It was a little after eight-thirty. No one came around at this time of day. It was too early. She knew that Marlene was home with her baby. She wasn’t expecting anyone and there was no place she was supposed to be. She only worked four days a week at the art gallery. Friday was her day off.
The doorbell rang again, setting her teeth on edge. She wished whoever it was would go away. But that didn’t seem likely from the insistent buzz.
Placing her palms on the table, Nicole pushed herself up. Crossing to the door, she looked through the peephole. Nicole blinked to clear her vision. It was the man in 175. The one who had just moved in less than a week ago. What did he want?
“Just a minute.” Nicole stepped back and flipped open the locks that she had installed herself. She took a deep breath and hoped she didn’t look as awful as she felt. “Yes?”
Dennis had his speech all prepared, but the faint tear stains on Nicole’s cheeks stopped him cold.
“You’ve been crying.” Why? he wondered. She hadn’t gotten a call and no one had been by to visit. He watched a fresh tear careen down her cheek. “And you’re still crying.”
Embarrassed, Nicole rubbed the telltale streaks with the heel of her hand and sniffed.
“No, I’m not. I’m answering the door.” She blew out a breath slowly, trying to regain her composure. She knew the man by sight. Curious, she had gone so far as to read his name off the mailbox which was right next to hers, but they’d never exchanged any words. She wished that he hadn’t picked now to start. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Dennis hated tears. It reminded him of all those evenings when he’d heard his mother crying after she thought he and Moira were asleep. He’d never acquired an immunity to them.
Make use of every opportunity, he’d been taught. Sometimes it was harder to remember than others.
He smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in on something.”
Oh God, sympathy. She couldn’t handle sympathy. That would only make her cry more.
Nicole tossed her head, narrowing her eyes. “You didn’t.”
She felt like an idiot. Her nose was probably red. Nicole wished that he would say what he had to say and then leave.
“Crying jags are common for women in my condition. Look,” she said abruptly, cutting herself off, “you didn’t ring my bell because you wanted to take a survey on