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“Not some men,” Seth said bitterly. “Some men can be who they wanna be and still have kids.”
“Not me,” Michael admitted. “I travel too much.”
“Tell me about it. I spent all those years going to school, and then making a name for myself. Engineering’s all I know how to do.”
Surprised at Seth’s tone, Michael tried to concentrate a little harder. “You unhappy in your job?”
“Hell, no,” Seth said so boisterously a couple of guys shooting pool looked over at them. “I love what I do.”
“So where’s the problem?”
“I do what I do, that’s the problem.”
The answer made no sense to him where Seth was concerned, but it summed up almost perfectly what was troubling Michael.
AFTER A BOUT of throwing up so hard her ribs hurt, Susan crawled back into the spare bedroom, determined to give some serious thought to making it into a nursery. Michael had been in town for three days and she hadn’t heard another word from him. She had to quit thinking about him, quit hoping he’d call, and get on with having his babies.
As soon as she answered the door, she told herself when the bell rang.
Of course, it would be Michael, just when she was looking her absolute worst. He didn’t even know she’d kept his old T-shirt from the intramural basketball team he’d played on in college. It was old and stained, and ripped on one shoulder. And to make matters worse, she was wearing the baggiest pair of sweats she owned and looked like a big grey elephant.
“What’s the matter?” he asked once she’d managed to pull open the door.
“Nothing...” she started to assure him, but ruined the effect by bolting for the bathroom again.
“THIS is WHAT it’s like for you?” Michael was sitting on the floor by the bathroom, waiting, when Susan finally came out. He was shocked by how much she was suffering.
“Not always.”
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks.” Susan slid down the wall to the floor across from him.
He swore when he saw the tears that sprang to her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that, Sus, you just look like you feel horrible.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Still insisting things are easier than they really are, huh?”
“I don’t,” she said, pouting so much he wanted to haul her into his arms. “I like to be positive. It accomplishes more.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “And what are you accomplishing tonight?”
“Decorating the nursery.”
He couldn’t believe even she was attempting a project that huge, feeling as awful as she obviously did. Getting to his feet, Michael went down the hall to take a peek.
“Funny, a nursery looks a lot like a spare bedroom.”
Following him, Susan gave a weak grin. “I’m still in the thinking stages.”
“Want some help?” He didn’t know why he was offering, why he was even there. He just knew he couldn’t be in town and not see her.
“I don’t want your pity, Michael.” Her voice was stronger. “Or your misplaced sense of responsibility. This is my life, a challenge of my own choosing. I can handle it.”
“No one said you couldn’t.”
“I never intended you to be involved—”
