Page 56 of Doctor's Baby: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

“How far along are you? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”

“No, not yet. I think the doctor said I’m at three and a half weeks. We’ll definitely let you know the second we find out.”

“Yes. Yes, please do that. Do you want to come in for some tea? It’s getting awful cold out.”

I look down the hall, cautiously looking for signs of movement.

“We probably should get going,” I say. “I don’t think Mother wants us overstaying our welcome.”

Pops waves a dismissive hand. “I pay the damn mortgage, I make the damn rules. You two are welcome anytime. Don’t even need to call.”

Eve giggles softly. “Thank you, Dr. Winthrop.”

“Please, just call me Phil. Or Pops. Or Grampy.”

I chuckle and place a hand on the small of Eve’s back. “We’ll get going, Pops. I’ll call you later. Sorry about Mother.”

“She’ll come around,” he says. He doesn’t look like he believes his own words, but I appreciate the sentiment.

After saying our goodbyes, Eve and I get back in the car. I start the engine to get the heaters going for her.

“Thank you,” she whispers to me.

“For what?”

“For standing up to your mother like that. Thank you.”

I reach across and stroke her cheek with the pad of my thumb. “I’m just sorry she can’t see how great you are.”

“Careful. You might inflate my ego.”

When Eve smiles at me, my resentment toward my mother dissipates in an instant. I can get lost in that pretty face of hers. I hope I get to be lost for a very long time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Eve

Seven months.

It’s been seven months since Nate decided to stay.

And I’ve never been happier.

As it turns out, Phil’s an even bigger real-estate investor than Nate is. Pops pretty much gifted us a three-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath house he owned on the other side of Haven. The neighborhood’s small and quiet, perfect for raising our little one. There’s a big backyard complete with an adorable vegetable garden in the far corner and a deck where Nate’s taken up grilling as a hobby.

The house is perfect. Everything’s ready for the little guy’s arrival. There’s a cement driveway out front where Nate’s already set up a mini-sized basketball hoop to teach our son to shoot free throws. The nursery’s painted a nice deep green like the forests surrounding Haven, little creature decals like birds, squirrels, and ladybugs covering nearly every inch of the walls.

The linen closet is stocked full of diapers thanks to A-Ma. The baby’s also got a ton of toys ready and waiting for him courtesy of my classmates at the Haven Ballet Academy and a few of Nate’s all-star athlete clients back in New York. Some of the gifts we’ve received now occupy the third bedroom, which we’re hoping to turn into a little dance studio where I can continue to practice—at a much more leisurely pace—while on maternity leave.

I still make a point to attend morning classes for barre and the lentament section. The sequences are slow and easy for me to follow, promoting flexibility and helping me to keep up my form. Miss Helen’s always so happy to see me. Every morning I walk in, and she tells me how much I’m apparently glowing. My classmates are also happy to see me. I get the sense that they’re inspired to work harder, seeing as how a heavily pregnant woman can still keep up with them for the most part.

I also make sure to drop in on the children’s ballet classes. Tom’s taken over my instruction while I’m away. For the most part, the kids adore him. But they always come flocking to me when I pay them a visit. It surprises me how big they’re all getting, and I’m glad they’re all still very much in love with ballet. Even little Alexander, though he’s quickly outgrowing the girls in his class.

And I’m happy. So happy. It’s stupid how happy I am.

I pull into the driveway and have to awkwardly slide out of the driver’s seat. Nate doesn’t like the idea of me walking everywhere or taking public transit in my state, so he ordered a new set of keys for me to take his car out whenever I want.

I know the baby’s due soon because moving’s beginning to feel like a chore. I have to waddle up the front steps of the house in order to make it inside.

When I step through the front door, I’m greeted by the dazzling glimmer of glitter and colorful streamers as people yell, “Surprise!”

My heart’s racing, but I’m not frightened in the least. The whole house smells of coffee cake and sandalwood. It’s warm, bright, and welcoming. Standing in the living room are my friends, Tom, Miss Helen, A-Ma, Pops, and Nate, all of them smiling widely.

“What’s going on?” I ask, laughing.

Nate comes over and lands a kiss on the top of my head. He holds an envelope out to me.

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