Her Baby's Father. Anne Haven
between to adjust his internal clock. She’d caught him at the end of a night series, so he had a few days free.
They did their shopping and returned home. Ross picked up the meal preparations where he’d left off. Half an hour later he presented a meal of chicken, pasta and green beans.
As they ate they ranged over many subjects, but stayed away, as if by mutual consent, from anything that had to do with babies or sleazy brothers or family illnesses. In the security and ease of Ross’s house, Jennifer allowed herself to imagine, briefly, what it would be like to have had a child the traditional way. The way she’d always fantasized about. To be married and live in a nice house. To plan to conceive a baby and enjoy the act of making it. To share in the expectations and fears of pregnancy, to raise a child together in a house like this one…
Dreams. Just dreams. As Ross had said, reality was always different. She shouldn’t waste her time when her life was so unlike the fantasy, when she had a meeting with her baby’s father in less than two hours—the father who was married to someone else and expecting another baby.
So she let herself enjoy the rest of the meal and even Ross’s company. But she didn’t fool herself that the interlude was anything other than a temporary glimpse into another person’s life.
Nine years earlier
I’ve heard all about Ross Griffin by the time he gets home from college. Drew calls him Mr. Perfect because he always gets a four-point, does tons of community service, was student body president in high school, excels at sports, speaks two foreign languages, gets his car’s oil changed every three thousand miles without fail, and never, ever leaves dirty dishes in the kitchen sink. You can tell Drew kind of resents him for it, but you can tell he worships him, too. He tries to be like Ross. Like, he’s into this weird band called The Others that nobody in high school’s ever heard of, and three weeks ago when we went into Ross’s room to check out his vintage skateboard I saw an old concert ticket sitting on his desk.
Molly and Heather think Ross is gorgeous. But I’ve seen pictures of him all over the Griffin house and I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Sure, he could pass for that British actor, what’s-his-name, but so what? Drew’s better looking. Plus he’s laid-back and fun, while Ross is probably an uptight prig.
We’re sitting on the deck, Brian and Heather and Drew and I, when Ross gets home from a shopping trip with Mr. and Mrs. Griffin. He flew back from Cambridge a couple of days ago, but I haven’t run into him yet.
They come out onto the deck to say hello and I try to stand up because I’ve been sitting on Drew’s lap, which seems a little trashy in front of his family, especially when I see his mom’s gaze go to his arms around my waist. But Drew tightens his grasp, so I’m stuck there, embarrassed, when I meet his big brother.
Ross greets Brian and Heather and then turns his attention to me. “Jennifer, right? Nice to meet you.” He actually offers me his hand.
I don’t know if college kids go around shaking each other’s hands when they meet, but I’m not used to that, at least not from anyone under thirty. Which is probably why I get such a funny, off-balance feeling inside, as if I just miscalculated where the ground was when I stepped off a ladder.
His hand is big and warm, his grip firm. He doesn’t hold mine any longer than necessary or seem particularly stirred by the experience of meeting me.
“How are you?” I say, trying to look as comfortable as I can while I sit on his brother’s lap.
We all chat for a moment. I ask a few polite questions about his trip back from college and he asks where I lived before Portland, and then Mrs. Griffin reminds Drew to keep the screen door closed so insects don’t get into the house—he’d left it open this afternoon—and she and her husband go back inside.
Ross sits down on one of the dark-metal deck chairs his mom special-ordered from Europe last month. Drew and Brian start to talk about their new game systems and nobody’s talking to me anymore, so I just stare at Mr. Perfect, curious to see if he’s as arrogant as I had expected.
“So, how was your semester?” Heather asks him.
From her voice and expression it’s obvious she’s got a crush on the guy. I hope he’s too self-absorbed to notice, because otherwise I’m going to feel embarrassed for her.
Heather gushes at him and he answers all her questions about Cambridge and Harvard and what his dorm was like. He’s perfectly nice about it, but I start to get the feeling he thinks she’s a ditz. That’s not really fair. Heather may not be a super-brain, but she’s not stupid. Plus, she’s nice.
Finally I open my mouth to get into the conversation, just because I’m feeling left out. “What’s your major?”
Heather answers before he can. “He’s going to be a doctor,” she says, as though he’s already asked her to marry him or something.
Ross frowns, and I’m not really sure why. He’s hard to figure out. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed with Heather and me or just distracted.
A couple of minutes later he catches Drew’s attention. “Sorry to break this up, but we should be ready to go in about ten minutes.”
Drew gives him a blank stare.
“Grandma,” Ross prompts.
“Oh, man. I totally forgot.”
I give Drew a “huh?” look over my shoulder—I’m still sitting on his lap—and he says, “We have to go visit my grandma. Mom promised her we’d both come by this afternoon. I completely forgot about it.”
Ross says, “Can you be ready?” His gaze takes in Drew’s swimming trunks and faded Martha’s Vineyard T-shirt with the black dog on it. He’s already dressed appropriately, of course, in gray pants and a crisp white shirt.
Drew grimaces. “I’ve got to run Jenny home.”
His brother doesn’t seem to like this, and now I feel as if he’s annoyed directly at me. I’m going to make him late for his visit to his grandmother.
“I could ride the bus,” I say, scooting off Drew when he lets go of me to check his watch. I stand up.
Drew looks relieved, but I’m a little bummed. It’s less than ten minutes to my apartment by car, but a lot longer than that on the bus, especially since the stop is several blocks away. But I don’t want him to get in trouble.
Ross shakes his head, sighing. “Drive her home,” he tells Drew. “It’s not that big a deal. I’ll just call Grandma and let her know we’ll be late.”
“Thanks,” I say. But I don’t feel he’s being all that nice and I can tell he really is annoyed with me. “I’m ready to go right now.”
Drew grabs his keys and we take off, walking out to the cars with Brian and Heather, and I’m happy to see the last of his brother for a while.
The present
DREW HAD A BAD FEELING as he drove from his home in Vancouver across the Columbia River, down I-5, across the Willamette and up to Ross’s house—a feeling this wasn’t going to be a social call.
He pulled into the driveway and parked behind a battered station wagon with California plates and a San Francisco neighborhood parking permit. It took him a second, then he remembered seeing it at Jennifer Burns’s apartment and wondering how anyone could drive such a hunk of junk.
Glancing in the windows, he saw what appeared to be all her worldly possessions. Jesus. Was she moving here or simply stopping by on her way somewhere else?
She’d better not be the reason for this little visit. He’d expected her to figure out their night together was a one-time thing. Not that he would object to a repeat, but that started to smack of complications. And he didn’t like complications.
He knocked on the door, realizing that if this was about her, it would hardly be about starting up a relationship. Ross wasn’t