—

Claire’s shoe samples arrived from Italy the first week in April, and they were gorgeous. She screamed when she saw them and danced around the room while her mother laughed. And they had come just in time for the trade show in Las Vegas. She had hired an assistant to go with them, and work for them for a while in New York when they got back. And her roommates were continuing to be patient about the boxes and samples arriving at the apartment. With Sasha and Morgan’s permission, she had turned Abby’s bedroom into a storeroom, and she and her mother slept in her room. And there were more boxes in the living room. She hired a fit model for an afternoon, and checked the fit. The model said they felt great, and the high heels were at a good pitch. Claire was beside herself with excitement when they got on the plane to Las Vegas.

They stayed at the MGM Grand, and spent most of the day at the convention center, with her mother and Claudia, her new assistant. They set out all their samples in a good-looking display, and a number of retailers wandered by to check them out, including buyers from several big department store chains. They asked her questions about the styles, availability, their price point and delivery capabilities, and quantity, which was an issue for big stores. Claire could satisfy one store, but not ten branches, until they started producing on a bigger scale, and this would only be their first season. But the reaction to their designs was positive from everyone. The buyers loved them.

And on the second day, Claire got the ultimate satisfaction. She spotted Walter from across the room, and he sauntered over to them, trying to be nonchalant, while ogling the shoes on the table. Claire almost laughed and pointed him out to Claudia and her mother. And then he headed straight for her.

“Whose shoes are you selling now?” he said in a cantankerous tone, and she smiled at him and pointed at their sign, with the logo she had designed herself. The sign said clearly Claire Kelly Designs, and his mouth nearly fell open. “Where did you get them made?” he asked her, shocked.

“In Italy” was the only information she gave him and then turned to a buyer who was back for the second time, this time to place an order. And a minute later Walter slunk off.

By the end of the show, they had a stack of very respectable orders, enough to launch their business and support a season. Claire and her mother were beaming and high-fived each other and the young assistant. She had been very helpful during the show, and Claire had decided to keep her. The show had been a wonderful experience. Claire Kelly Designs was up and running, and in the fall would be in some of the best department stores in the country.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said as they packed up. “I can never thank you enough.” Sarah just smiled at her and gave her a hug. This was why she had come to New York. And she loved that they had started the business together, and so did Claire. She knew she would be forever grateful to her mother for the opportunity she’d given her.

—

At the beginning of May, Morgan was four months pregnant, and was having trouble concealing it. She still hadn’t told Claire or anyone else yet. Only Sasha knew, and her brother and his partner. And she was embarrassed to have Claire’s mother know. They all knew that she and Max had broken up, but she refused to discuss the details, or say why. She and Max hadn’t spoken in two months. He finally couldn’t stand it, and sat on the front steps of her building one morning, waiting for her to come out. He knew she would sooner or later. She came downstairs an hour after he got there, on the way to a Pilates class for pregnant women. She was looking good, fit, and in shape, and had gained very little weight, except her face was a little fuller.

She was startled when she saw him and tried to go back inside, and he stopped her.

“Morgan, this is insane. Talk to me,” he begged her. He looked like a madman as he stood there. He had thought of nothing and no one else for two months.

“Why? We have nothing to say to each other. It’s over.” She was ice cold.

“No, it’s just the beginning,” he said, pointing at her stomach. “It doesn’t have to be like this. I didn’t want you to get an abortion because I love you and wanted our child.”

“No, you didn’t love me. You told me you’d leave me if I didn’t keep it. You wanted a child. You can have visitation when it’s born. Leave me out of it.” She sounded strong and angry and very hurt. “You had no respect for what I wanted or for my right to make the decision.”

“I was upset. I wouldn’t really have left you.” He appeared deeply remorseful.

“You didn’t talk to me for three weeks, when I needed your support, and you threatened to abandon me.”

“I was wrong.” And then he asked her what he had been wondering for a month. “Why did you keep it?”

“It felt wrong not to. This was our mistake, not the baby’s. I decided to take my responsibilities.”

“Are you happy about it at all?” he asked sadly.

“No,” she answered honestly. She never lied to him. “Why would I be? I wanted you, not the baby. I was never confused about that. Now I’ve lost you, and I’m stuck with a child I never wanted.” But she would do right by it anyway. She was that kind of person. This wasn’t the baby’s fault. It was theirs.

“You haven’t lost me,” he said miserably. “You can’t lose me, even if you don’t want me anymore.” She didn’t answer, and he saw tears fill her eyes as she turned away, and he put his arms around her. “I’m sorry I screwed this up so badly.” And he realized now that he should probably have let her have the abortion. She had always told him she didn’t want children, and she hadn’t changed her mind, even pregnant. “I’m sorry. This has all been a terrible mistake. What can I do to make it better?” he said, obviously desperate.

“You can’t. It’s over for us, and we’re stuck with a kid no one wanted and shouldn’t have happened.”

“I suspect a lot of babies start out that way, and you fall in love with them later.”

“Maybe,” she said, but she hadn’t yet, and didn’t expect to. She would do her duty, but no one could force her to want it. He had tried, and it blew up in their faces. But she had made the decision on her own to keep it. She couldn’t blame him for that, and she knew it. “Thanks for coming by,” she said, and tried to walk past him down the steps, and he wouldn’t let her. He looked as stubborn as she did.

“I’m not leaving until you agree to at least try to make this work with me. Let’s give it a chance. If you hate me, I’ll go away.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said, tired and disappointed. “I don’t know what I feel anymore.”

“That’s a start,” he said, holding on to her. “Please, Morgan, please give me another chance.” She didn’t answer, she just stared at him, and then she felt a strange cramp in the depths of her belly, and she winced.

“What was that?” He had seen it.

“Nothing,” she lied to him, and then she had another cramp right after. She hadn’t had anything like it during the pregnancy so far. It felt like strong menstrual cramps.

“Is something wrong? Tell me the truth.” He held on to her, and she winced again and doubled over.

“I don’t know. I’m having bad cramps all of a sudden.”

“Like something you ate or the baby?”

“Maybe the baby.” She turned to go back upstairs, and he followed her, worried that he had upset her. They hiked up the stairs, and she went to the bathroom in the apartment and came out, looking ashen. “I’m bleeding,” she said in a scared voice.

“Let’s go to the hospital. I’m not leaving.” She didn’t want him to, and she didn’t argue with him. She thought she might be having a miscarriage, which would be a simple solution to their problems, but suddenly she didn’t want that to happen.

They walked down the stairs together to the street, and she stopped twice for cramps again and could feel dampness between her legs. He hailed a cab and helped her in, and he held her hand on the way to the hospital. Morgan called Sasha from the cab. She was on duty and told her where to go and said she’d meet her.

She was waiting for them when they got to the hospital, and took Morgan into an examining room, and asked her if she wanted someone else to examine her, and Morgan said she wanted her to do it. She trusted Sasha more than anyone else, and as Sasha gently examined her, Morgan started crying.

“This is happening because I didn’t want it,” Morgan said softly. “God is punishing me.”

“No, He’s not. These things happen.” Sasha could see that she was bleeding, but not heavily.

“Let’s get a sonogram and see what’s going on,” she said calmly as she peeled off the glove, and Morgan kept crying. She could feel the baby moving—it had started a few days before—and it felt weird, like real butterflies in her stomach.

Sasha put her in a wheelchair and rolled her down the hall, and Max followed them looking very worried.

“What’s happening?” he asked them.

“We don’t know yet,” Sasha told him.

They took her in for a sonogram right away, while Max waited outside. The technician ran the wand over Morgan’s firm belly. They could see the baby on the screen, and it was moving, and seemed peaceful, and then started to suck its thumb. And then the tech commented that it looked like there was a clot, but just a small one.

“That happens sometimes,” Sasha explained. “It can cause bleeding. It will probably resorb all by itself. The baby may have bumped it.”

“Is it something I did? I’ve been going to Pilates every day, to stay in shape,” Morgan asked, feeling guilty.

“You should cool that for a week or two and take it easy, and give the clot a chance to dissolve. This won’t hurt the baby.” Morgan closed her eyes then and started to sob.

“I thought I’d killed it because I didn’t want it.”

“And how do you feel now?” Sasha asked her gently.

“Scared. But I don’t want to lose it.” Sasha nodded with a smile.

“That sounds about right. Do you want Max to see it?” she asked cautiously. It had surprised her to see them together. Morgan nodded, and Sasha went to get him. They switched to the bigger, brighter screen in 3D so he could get a better look. The baby was still sucking its thumb when Max walked in. He took one glance at the screen and burst into tears, and leaned down to kiss Morgan.

“I love you so much. I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk.”

“Me too,” she said, smiling at him through her own tears. “I don’t want to lose the baby.” She felt as though she needed to tell everyone now, so it wouldn’t happen. And it still might, but Sasha didn’t seem worried.

“Do you want to know the sex?” she asked them both, and they nodded in unison and laughed as they held hands. Max had never seen anything so beautiful in his life as the woman he loved and the baby inside her. And as they looked, Sasha pointed at a spot on the screen and smiled. “It’s a boy.” Max grinned broadly and kissed Morgan again, and she smiled tenderly at him. They seemed like blissful parents, not two people who had broken up and not spoken for two months. And Sasha was pleased too, for them.

Morgan got dressed after that, and Sasha said she could go home, and should take it easy for a week, maybe two. “No Pilates for two weeks. And no make-up sex for two weeks, please, you two.” She handed them two copies of the photo of their baby, and they walked out of the hospital in a daze after thanking Sasha.

In a couple of hours, everything had changed and turned around. Max was back, and she had made peace with the trauma and disruption they’d been through. They spent the rest of the day together in the apartment, taking it easy, and then he thought of something.

“Will you come back to work at the restaurant? My books have been a mess since you left.” He was grinning and had an arm around her when he asked her, and she laughed.

“Is that all you really wanted?” she teased him.

“Yes, the baby is just a side attraction. I need you to help me with payroll and petty cash.”

She laughed at him then, and they kissed. Things were looking up, and then she pulled away from him with a serious expression. “I won’t marry you, though. That would ruin everything. We can have the baby, but I don’t want to get married.”

“You’re a damn difficult woman,” he said good-humoredly. “Can we live together?”

“Yes. But not married. That would kill the romance in our relationship.” To her, marriage was a nightmare, like her parents’.

“You’re a nut, but I love you. After the tenth kid, can we get married? I love big Irish families.”