They talked about their children then, and inevitably their marriages to a minor extent. Although he was sorry that his marriage didn't work out, he didn't seem to have an ax to grind about his ex-wife, which was something of a relief. Paris was so tired of all the people who hated their ex-spouses, the energy they put into it ended up being draining for everyone else. And although she would always be sad about Peter, she wished him well. Whether she had wanted it that way or not, they had both moved on. It had seemed to take her forever, but she was there at last.
She had just poured him a cup of coffee, since he said he was going to be up most of the night after he went back to his writer, when her cell phone rang. It was sitting in the charger in the kitchen where they were eating, so she leaned over and picked it up. She was fairly certain it would be Meg. But it was an unfamiliar female voice, and in an instant she knew who it was. It was Amy, and she didn't sound like herself.
“Are you okay? Did something happen?” Paris asked, sounding motherly and concerned.
“I'm in the hospital,” Amy said, sounding uncomfortable.
“Already? How did that happen?”
“I don't know. I had a lot of things to do with my boys. And my sister came today to pick up my little girl.” Paris couldn't help wondering if she'd been upset, anyone would have been. She knew the sister lived in Oregon, and had been planning to come down and pick up the child. It was a loss to Amy, no matter how helpful it was. And maybe she was just ready to have the baby, now that she knew she had a home. The psyche did strange things to the body sometimes.
“What did the doctor say?”
“He says I'm in labor. I'm four centimeters dilated, and the contractions are about fifteen minutes apart. I think you still have time.”
“Wow. Where are you? What room?” Paris grabbed a pen and paper and jotted it down, and Amy was having a contraction when she hung up. And suddenly Paris realized what was happening. The baby was coming. In a few hours, no matter how long it took, she'd be a mom again. And as it occurred to her, she looked at Andrew Warren, who'd been watching her and listening with a degree of concern. “I'm having a baby!” she said, right out of the blue, as though he knew what she was talking about, but he didn't.
“Yes…no…I mean, we're in labor….” She wasso excited she was incoherent, and he looked utterly confused.
“Who was that?”
“The birth mother. Her name is Amy.” And then she realized she had to slow down, at least long enough to tell him why she had to leave. She wanted to get to the hospital right away. “I'm adopting a baby,” she said, and smiled at him, and he was struck by how beautiful she was, but it seemed an inappropriate time to say anything about it to her, or maybe even notice it. She was a lovely-looking woman, and he liked her too.
“You are? What an amazing thing to do.” He looked pleased for her as he sat back in his chair with a warm smile. “Good for you.”
“Thank you. It's a week early. It's a girl. Thank God, I bought everything I needed today.” She was definitely jangled but in a wonderful, joyous way. “I have to go to the hospital,” she explained to him, as he smiled at her. There was something very touching about the whole scene. She looked like an excited little kid on Christmas Eve, knowing that Santa was coming any minute.
“Where? What hospital?” he asked, with a look of concern.
“Alta Bates in Berkeley,” she said, looking around for her handbag, and stuffed the piece of paper with the room number into it.
“Are you driving?” he questioned her.
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you're not.” She was too distracted to be safe. “Let me drive you, Paris. We can take your car, and I'll take a cab home. I don't think you should be driving in the condition you're in. Besides, you're having a baby. You shouldn't be driving yourself,” he teased, and she was touched.
“Are you sure?” She had to admit she didn't feel up to driving herself, and she was grateful to him.
“Perfectly. I'd much rather help you deliver a baby than my crazy client deliver a script. This is a lot more fun.” He was excited for her, and pleased to be part of it. They left the house a few minutes later, and she chatted animatedly about the decision and how she had come to it. “That's kind of a radical position you've taken about dating, isn't it?” She had told him about that too.
“Believe me, after the blind dates I've had, you'd come to the same conclusion.” She told him about the sculptor from Santa Fe Sydney had introduced her to, and Andrew roared as they crossed the Bay Bridge.
