Surprise Delivery(39)

And I can say with absolute certainty that we don’t have that chemistry. I knew it the moment we ran into each other on the street. There was no sudden spark, no piquing of my curiosity. There was no rush of emotion or butterfly wings in my tummy. No, all that I felt when I saw Brad again that first time – more specifically, the look of absolute adoration on his face – was a sense of dread. Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh, but there certainly wasn’t a kindling of romantic feeling, that’s for sure.

Which means it’s time to put on my big girl panties, deal with Brad like an adult, and be honest with him. He’s always been a good guy and deserves at least that much respect.

Every time I open my mouth to tell him, though, no words come out. The thought of actually saying those words makes my stomach lurch and my throat run dry. I have no idea why, but to say “I’m pregnant” out loud terrifies me. I mean, I know that I am. It’s a fact. But somehow, saying the words out loud makes it all the more real – and only serves to highlight the position I’m in at the moment.

“So, what have you been doing the last couple of years, Lexi?”

I shrug. “Working. Getting by,” I answer briefly.

“Why did you leave the nursing program?” he asks. “You were always so passionate about it. It surprised me when you just stopped turning up for classes.”

I sigh and start fidgeting with the silverware on the table as we start treading into waters I figured would come up, but I don’t really enjoy delving into. But it is what it is. It’s part of my past, so I’m stuck with it. Intellectually, I know there’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s not like I left the program to start doing drugs or anything like that. But I still feel some small sense of shame. Like I failed.

“My mom got sick,” I say. “Cancer. I had to leave the program to care for her.”

Brad’s face falls and a frown pulls the corners of his mouth down. “I – I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t,” I say. “Nothing for you to be sorry for.”

He takes a quick drink of his water, then gently sets the glass back down. “Is she –”

“She passed away,” I interrupt, my stomach churning even harder. “And after that, I had trouble getting the funding I needed to get back into the program. So, I had to take a job just to pay the bills and I haven’t been able to get back to where I want to be. It’s life. Doesn’t always turn out the way we want it to.”

The waitress comes by and drops off our meals, interrupting the wave of awkwardness that’s building. She gives us a smile, makes sure we don’t need anything else, then departs. I kind of wish she’d stick around, just to take some of the tension out of the air. Brad is feeling bad for opening up old wounds, I’m feeling bad for having those wounds opened and this evening is going off the rails pretty quickly.

“Anyway. Tell me about your last few years since the program,” I say, just to change the subject.

He shrugs. “Nothing exciting, I’m sure,” he says. “After I graduated, I started working in a local pharmacy, just filling scripts and all. Kind of boring, really, not to mention that it wasn’t very challenging. It wasn’t long before I was promoted, though, and now I’m running the whole pharmacy. It’s been pretty great, honestly.”

“That’s terrific, Brad,” I say. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he says, beaming.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, the staggering lack of chemistry completely apparent. At least on my end. Every time I look up at him, he’s grinning at me like the Cheshire Cat. It’s more than obvious to me that for him, this has never been about just being friends or re-establishing a friendship. This is courtship to him, plain and simple.

I kind of figured it would be, but I was at least giving him a chance. One can’t have too many friends, right? But it appears that’s not going to be the case.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asks.

“Sure,” I nod.

“Why is it you’re not seeing anybody?” he asks. “I mean, I’m surprised, honestly.”

I shrug. “I just haven’t really had the time to date,” I answer, then quickly add, “or the interest, really.”

He nods as if he understands, though I’m hoping he gets my meaning.

“Yeah, I get that,” he says. I don’t think he really does. “It’s hard to meet somebody special. Somebody you really click with, you know?”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“This borough alone has almost two million people in it,” he says. “You’d think the odds would be pretty good.”

“Doesn’t always work out that way,” I reply. “I mean, we see so few people on a daily basis. Even with so many people around, running into that one person you really connect with is a crapshoot. At best.”

“I hear that,” he says.

Immediately, thoughts of Duncan fill my head. What were the odds of me being at that gala and meeting him? And I might not have if I hadn’t spilled my champagne on him – which only increases the odds of such a chance encounter. If we hadn’t literally bumped into each other, he very likely would have passed me by without a second glance. It’s only because I spilled my drink on him that we got to talking. I mean really, what are the odds of that happening in a city of two million people?