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So he did see them as adversaries. Would he listen to her suggestions or try to ride roughshod over them to get his own way?
She put on her jacket, a warm hat and gloves. She felt as nervous as if on a first date. She remembered the other walks they’d taken. One of the things they enjoyed together—long rambling walks around the city when the crowds were no longer there. It was even better this time of year when most tourists were gone.
But this was not another fun date. This was a serious discussion to determine the future for the child they had created.
“So where do we start?” she asked as they headed down the hill toward the Bay. The wind blew cold. She could see her breath. The exertion felt good.
“Maybe we start with custody,” Trace said.
She looked at him in surprise. “You mean you’d challenge my custody of my own baby?”
She couldn’t keep the astonishment out of her voice.
“Maybe. Remember, Cath, it’s not just your baby, it’s as much mine. I vote for shared custody.”
“And that would work how?” she asked.
It felt odd to discuss the baby as if it were a commodity. She wasn’t sure she was going to be able to treat it so cavalierly once it was born. It would be tiny, dependent on her for love and care and comfort. Could she share with Trace, no matter what legal documents said?
“We draw up papers, agree to the terms and once the baby is born, you have him, or her, several days a week, I get the baby the other days.”
“Why would you even consider doing such a thing?” she asked.
She hated the idea. He was approaching this like a business deal.
“I take it you haven’t thought it through,” he said.
“Not at all.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to give up any control of her baby. In only two months, she’d be in Brussels. A custody arrangement could derail that option.
“I have thought about it, a lot. There was an—”
He hesitated for a long moment “—incident when I was younger. Hell, more than that. Cath, I had a son. Then I didn’t. There was nothing I could do about that. This time I can and will do something. I’m not going through that pain again.”
“Oh, Trace, I’m so sorry! I never knew you had a child before. How sad to lose a baby.”
For a moment the knowledge almost brought her to tears. She knew how she’d grieve if she was unable to bring this baby to term. How much worse would a parent feel if he or she lost a baby to death once they’d held the precious child in their arms?
She reached out and covered his hand with hers.
“I am so sorry.”
“I don’t want a similar situation,” he said, his eyes hard, his expression fierce, as if pushing away any sentimentality.
Trace looked like the ruthless businessman he was reputed to be.
“I’m thinking about my parents, too. They loved Zach. They were as devastated as I when he left,” he said.
“Left?”
Was that the euphemism he used for death—to make it easier to deal with?
Trace studied her for a long moment. They paused at the light—when the signal changed, they began walking again, crossing the street.
“When I was finishing college, I met a girl, Cynthia. We clicked immediately and before I knew it, she was pregnant. We got married and had a baby boy—Zachary.”
For a moment Trace looked away, letting his gaze roam ahead of them. Whitecaps could be seen on the water in the distance. Sailboats dotted the expanse. Then he looked back at Cath.
