A Promise for the Baby. Jennifer Lohmann
gaze followed her pointing finger to the looming red building with green owls perched on the corners.
“The library.”
“Can we go in and get some books?”
“Didn’t like the ones I picked out for you last night?”
She rolled her eyes, and he suppressed a smile. “For someone who was, quote, ‘beat’ you read almost half the book.”
“I’ve always enjoyed history.” She stopped at the doors. “I don’t know anything about being pregnant, and I’d like to at least know what questions to ask the doctor.”
After seeing three people he knew at Macy’s, Karl was pleasantly surprised not to run in to anyone he knew while looking through pregnancy books. He hadn’t yet figured out how to inform people that he was married and expecting a child. Or, more accurately, he hadn’t figured out how to deal with the constant questions that would follow “I’m married and expecting a child” and still manage to get work done.
They had checked out several pregnancy books and Vivian was browsing the popular library when Karl heard his name. He turned to find his brother-in-law, Miles, and Miles’s daughter, Sarah, standing there.
“A little light reading?” Miles nodded his head to the book Karl had slipped into the department store bag—apparently too slowly, because Miles had seen what it was.
“Enjoying a trip downtown?” Karl ignored the question and gesture. With Sarah around, Miles wouldn’t press.
“We went to the Art Institute and then lunch,” Sarah explained. She either hadn’t seen the book or didn’t recognize it on sight.
“Go pick out some movies for us to watch tonight,” Miles told his daughter.
Stupid of Karl to think Miles would let this slide.
“You could just tell me to get lost,” Sarah said.
“Get lost.”
“I’m going to pick out something you’ll hate,” Sarah said with a flounce.
Miles waited until she was out of earshot before gesturing to the bag again. “The cover of that book hasn’t changed that much since my ex bought a copy seventeen years ago.”
Karl wasn’t in the habit of lying. When he didn’t want to admit to anything, he just didn’t acknowledge the conversation. “Is Renia working at a wedding today? Mom said her photography business has been in high demand for weddings lately.”
“Don’t think I’m not going to tell your sister about this.”
Just what he needed—his family to know about Vivian and the baby before he was ready to tell them. “The book is for research.”
Miles laughed loudly enough for the staff to stare at him. “You’re a lawyer. Your research books are leather bound and cause seismic events when dropped.” He at least had the forethought to look around before asking, “Who’d you get pregnant?”
“Karl,” Vivian said from behind him, “I’ll need your library card to check out.”
Miles didn’t bother to hide that he was peeking over Karl’s shoulder to find the source of the voice. “I’m definitely telling your sister about this.”
Karl shifted his body to include Vivian in the conversation. He couldn’t dodge this forever. “Vivian, meet Miles. He’s my brother-in-law. His daughter, Sarah, is over there. Miles, meet Vivian, my wife.”
“Nice to meet you, Miles.”
Relieved when Miles was too shocked to even offer his hand in greeting, Karl put his hand on Vivian’s back and led her to the checkout.
CHAPTER THREE
KARL AVOIDED VIVIAN for the rest of the weekend. He made sure there was food in the house for her to eat, left his laptop out for her to use and otherwise stayed away.
Back at the library, when he’d put his hand on Vivian’s back, he let himself imagine their connection was more than just her pregnancy. In that moment, the certainty about Vivian he’d felt in Las Vegas had broken through reality, and the enjoyment he’d gotten from leading her away from Miles scared him. He hadn’t enjoyed silencing Miles—he’d enjoyed feeling Vivian’s shoulder blades shift when he put his hand on her coat.
Hopefully she’d find a job soon and move out.
Given the fight she’d put up over the stupid winter coat, he didn’t think she’d welcome being set up in her own apartment like some kept woman. But if she had a job, she might not turn down an offer of help to finance her own place.
Of course, if she were actually a kept woman, he would be able to sweep her hair aside and kiss the nape of her neck....
At work on Monday, Greta came into his office with some paperwork and his plans to keep Vivian a secret from his employees died.
“Does your mother know you’re married?” She used the papers to gesture to the marriage license sitting in plain sight on his desk.
Karl looked from the benefits application on his computer to his overly maternal assistant. She was one of the few people who could outwait his ploy of ignoring a question, but he held out his hand for the papers and tried anyway.
She folded them against her chest. “When did you get married?”
“The papers, Greta.” His hand stayed outstretched in supplication.
“You can’t not tell me. What do I do if she calls?”
“She won’t call.” Or not again. Vivian had health insurance and a roof over her head. What more could she want right now?
“So you are married. No one in the office is going to believe this.” The papers crinkled in her hands as she clenched her fists in excitement.
“No one in the office is going to know.”
“Was she the woman calling the office on Friday?”
He waggled his fingers at her and she finally gave him the papers, along with a gust of cigarette fumes that had been lingering on her clothing.
“She was—oh, and I was so short with her.” Greta didn’t leave the office. She’d handed over the paperwork, but she remained standing with her eyebrows raised at him, hoping for more information.
Despite a tendency to mother, Greta was a great legal assistant. She’d been working in the city’s inspector general’s office longer than anyone else in the building, and Karl was fairly certain that she’d be working here long after his tenure was up. He threw her a bone. “I met her in Las Vegas. But,” he added, before she had a chance to beam and I-told-you-so, “don’t think you can take credit or tell anyone about this.”
“No more information?” The quickness with which her eyebrows collapsed amplified the ridiculousness of this entire situation.
“No.”
“You should still tell your mother.”
“What makes you think I haven’t?”
“You don’t lie outright, so if you won’t tell me that you have told her, I can only assume you haven’t. She’ll want to know.” Having said her piece, Greta left his office.
Since he hadn’t gotten a phone call from his mother, it would seem Miles and Renia hadn’t told her yet, either. Maybe he could put off telling his mother for another eight months and present her with a daughter-in-law and a grandchild at the same time. She might be so overwhelmed at the grandchild that she’d overlook the surprise daughter-in-law.
“You’re married?”
Karl looked up from his computer again to see the director of investigations staring at him from the doorway. Malcolm’s dark black