Due to some events in my personal life,this chapter has taken a little longer to get ready than I had planned. II absolutely LOVE the reviews I've been receiving. I keep going back and reading over them with a big grin on my face. I'm so happy that this story is being so well received. Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it as well.

Pick Up on Aisle 10: Chapter 4

Once again, Frank found himself up early and heading out because of a certain blonde doctor. He had showered and studied himself in the mirror.

His hair was combed back and he had dressed in a neatly pressed pair of khakis and a long sleeved navy blue polo shirt. He smoothed down his mustache.

'Legendary mustache,' he reminded himself with a smile.

He tried to eat fairly healthy and get in some exercise a few days each week.

He thought he still looked pretty good for a man of his age. He had certainly not lacked for female companionship any time he wanted it, though no one had really gotten very close.

He wouldn't let them.

Mary had been his high school sweetheart and he had never even considered anything long term with another woman. Loneliness had led him to try a time or two, but he just couldn't allow himself to let anyone get that close.

Especially after finding himself used by a reporter.

What would that mean if he were to try to raise a child with Lucy? There would have to be some sort of relationship between them. And it would definitely be a long term thing.

Would he be willing to open himself up to her? To allow himself to really care for her? Trust her? Maybe even love her?

Did he have it in himself to do so?

The message on his phone that his detail driver was waiting made him decide that these questions would have to wait for another time.

He told his father he was leaving, grabbed his coat, and headed for the SUV. As he slid into the back seat, he checked the time and came to a decision.

"I need to make a quick stop," he told the driver.

"You know one of us goes with you, Sir," the man replied.

"I know. Nuciforo has reminded me many times."

Arriving at her house with 5 minutes to spare, he studied it, as he hadn't gotten a very good look at it that night. It was not as big as his, but still a good size and clearly well kept.

The sunny yellow paint still looked fresh, probably done within the last few years. The broad porch was a clean white, matching the long swing hanging from the ceiling and the neat picket fence surrounding the front yard.

As he passed through the gate and headed up the walk, the dark green door swung open and Lucy smiled in greeting. He climbed the steps, returning her smile as he gazed down at her.

She had on fuzzy pink slippers, well worn blue jeans that accentuated her curves, and a dark green wool sweater that matched her eyes.

Her hair was still damp from a shower, he presumed, and fell past her shoulders in loose waves. It was held back on either side by a pair of tortoise shell combs.

In the morning light, he could make out a few strands of silver among the gold. Her face was either free of makeup, or she wore it light enough to not be noticed. He leaned in, trying to determine which.

"Freckles!" he said.

Her eyes widened and she stepped back a bit.

"Yes, I have freckles. Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all," he hastened to assure her. "I just hadn't noticed before. They're very faint, but I like freckles. They're cute."

"So glad you approve," she said with a laugh, opening the door to invite him in.

"I'm not too early, am I?" he asked.

She shook her head as she closed and locked the door behind him "You're right on time. I've got everything ready to go, just waiting on you."

He held out the bag he had picked up on the way.

"This is for you."

"You didn't need to do that," she told him, reaching to take it.

"It just felt wrong to show up for a meal without bringing something," he told her with a shrug. "Usually, I'd take a bottle of wine, but that didn't seem appropriate for breakfast."

She reached into the bag, grinning, and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. Holding it up, she studied the label as one would a bottle of fine wine.

"Got it fresh squeezed at that farmer's market a few miles down the road," he told her.

"Excellent vintage," she told him. "Would you like to open it so it can breathe?"

"I will do that," he told her, taking the bottle from her and heading towards the kitchen. "There's something else in the bag."

"Really?"

Following him into the kitchen, she peered into the bag, looking confused when she pulled out the two bars of fine chocolate.

"Do you not like that brand?" he asked. "I made sure there wasn't any coconut in them.

"I love these kinds. I just… Why?"

"Because you said you like chocolate and I wanted to do something nice for you," he replied.

"Oh. Thank you," she whispered.

He wondered briefly how long it had been since someone had gotten her a gift just because.

"These okay?" he asked, pointing to the glasses that were sitting on the counter.

"Yeah," she told him. "I just hadn't gotten the table set yet."

"I can do that," he told her, picking up the dishes and taking them over to the small kitchen table. While he set the table, she heated the griddle and started the toast. A bowl of fruit, a bottle of syrup, and a container of powdered sugar were added as she brought the platter of toast to the table.

After saying grace, Lucy watched as Frank started eating. He chewed thoughtfully, then took another bite.

"You're right," he told her. "This is amazing."

By an unspoken agreement, they had decided to wait until after breakfast to discuss the elephant in the room.

Or the baby on board.

"What do you do at the outreach center?" he asked.

"Just basic stuff," she told him. "I do some screenings. Blood pressure. Glucose. Listen to hearts and lungs Occasionally send someone to the hospital if needed."

She paused to take a drink. "Wound care. Cleaning and bandaging. Living on the streets can be dirty and dangerous.

Vaccines. I write prescriptions for those who can get meds and will take them."

"What kinds of meds?" he asked.

"No controlled substances or strong pain medications," she assured him. "Just maintenance medications. Stuff for blood pressure. Cholesterol. Diabetes. Thyroid. The occasional antibiotic. That's it, as far as the church knows. Officially."

"And unofficially?"

"Birth control pills." She looked up at him. "These young women have it hard enough without ending up pregnant and living out on the streets."

She snorted softly and shook her head. "It's scary enough when you have a good job and a roof over your head."

He gave her a quick smile. "I'm sure."

"Mostly, I listen. Let them talk about their health concerns Physical and mental. About what's going on in their lives. Sometimes, that's all I can do."

"Sometimes, that's all that's needed, I'm sure."

After a short silence, she asked him about his work day and conversation resumed. When the meal was completed, he insisted on helping with cleanup and the two made short work of getting everything clean and in its proper place.

"This is a really nice kitchen," he told her. "You like to cook?"

She looked around the open, airy space. "I do. Though I really love baking. This place was a major fixer-upper when we bought it and the kitchen was the second priority, after the master suite. He was the 'chef' and I was the dessert maker. I tend to turn to baking when I'm stressed. Needless to say, I've done a lot of baking the last couple of weeks, so if you need any baked goods, I have a full freezer."

She led him into the living room. He stopped to look at the items on the mantle.

One picture was of a young Lucy in a knee length, lacy, white dress. She was gazing up adoringly at the handsome, dark haired young man in Marine corp dress blues. He smiled down at her, lifting her hand to kiss it. A shiny gold band glinted on her finger. Another photo was of the same couple, still gazing at each other, this time with him in an NYPD uniform and her in scrubs and a white coat, a stethoscope draped around her neck. A small photo of a tiny baby wrapped in a pink blanket was tucked into the corner. Between the photos was a shadow box containing medals and awards from both the Marines and the PD.

The final item brought a lump to his throat. A very familiar triangular shaped box, its glass front revealing white stars on a blue field. A small, gold plate bore the name 'Oscar David Makenna' and two dates.

Lucy watched as Frank bowed his head for a moment, then stepped back and saluted.

"Thank you," she said, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

He took a seat on one end of the sofa while she curled up at the opposite end, back against the arm so she could face him.

"You've known about this for 2 weeks?" he asked, also turning so that he could see her better.

"A little less. 10 days, actually."

"And you're sure?"

She went still.

"It's not just that you're late and suspect? You've actually seen a doctor and been tested?"

"Yes, I have. I wouldn't have bothered you if I wasn't sure," she told him, sounding a bit irritated.

He held up his hand.

"And yes, I'm sure it's yours. There hasn't been anyone else."

"I didn't ask that," he told her "And I wasn't going to."

"You weren't?"

"No, I wasn't. For some reason, my gut tells me to trust you."

"Oh."

He sighed. "But I probably shouldn't have asked the other question, either. I'm sorry if it sounded like I thought you were overreacting or something. I guess I'm just not sure what to say, and that's what came out."

Lucy shook her head. "No, I'm the one who should be apologizing. You're a cop. You're supposed to ask questions. Never make assumptions. It's kind of the same as when I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with a patient. Sometimes, they deliberately hide things from you, sometimes they just don't think it's important enough to say anything about."

She smiled slightly and met his eyes.

"Can I get away with blaming my overreaction on hormones?"

Frank smiled back at her. "I was told by a wise woman that a lady can always blame her hormones but a man had better not ever blame her hormones."

"You were taught well," she agreed. Taking another sip of her coffee, she continued.

"Honestly, I've never been really regular, so missing a period didn't set off any alarms for me. I was just feeling really tired all the time. I thought that it might be a virus or a vitamin deficiency of some sort or maybe even menopause. I had the lab do a complete work up. Imagine my shock when our head of pathology gave me the results."

"Gobsmacked?"

"Pretty much," she admitted. "I called my ob/gyn and set up an appointment with her for a couple of days later. She had the bloodwork done through another lab, but, oddly enough, came back with the exact same results."

She looked over at him. "I guess that's pretty definitive."

He nodded and leaned forward, watching her.

"How have you been feeling? My daughter in law, Eddie, is about 7 months along and she was miserable the whole first trimester. The morning sickness was bad, and all day long. She ended up on IV fluids a couple of times."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is she doing better now?"

"She is. Says if they have any more kids, she's going to start with the second trimester."

"I don't think that's an option," Lucy replied with a laugh.

"If anyone could, it would be Eddie. She's determined."

"Fortunately, I've been doing pretty good, physically. I seem to stay tired and sleep a lot, but I haven't really had to deal with much in the way of nausea."

"Not much, but some," he asked.

"Some," she admitted. "Mostly if I don't keep something in my stomach at all times. If I start to get a little queasy, I just grab a quick snack and that usually settles things. As long as I have something about every 4 hours or so, I'm okay. I keep crackers on my nightstand and grab a couple of those when I first wake up. Seems to help."

"That's good."

"And strong smells," she added. "I embarrassed myself badly last night. I had a patient who is diabetic and has had a history of ulcers on his feet, so I told him to take off his socks and shoes so I could check his feet."

Frank winced sympathetically. "You needn't say more. I dealt with plenty of homeless people during my time on the force."

"I threw up all over him," she confessed. "I was absolutely mortified. I've never had a problem with smells before. I'm usually the one in the ER who deals with all the really smelly issues like rotting infections and…"

He watched as she went pale, covering her mouth and closing her eyes, the very thought apparently bringing on a reaction.

"Slow, deep breath," he advised. "In through the nose, out through the mouth."

Lifting her coffee cup to her face, she followed his advice, inhaling the rich scent. After several breaths, she finally opened her eyes and smiled weakly.

He was pleased to note the color returning to her cheeks.

"At least he was finally convinced to take a shower and get some clean clothes from the donation closet," she said. "And his feet were clear."

"A good outcome then," he commented.

"I suppose," she agreed. "I just have to start keeping some vapor rub on hand when I'm working."

"Standard supply for my people, too," Frank told her. He cleared his throat. "What about otherwise?"

"Otherwise?"

"You said you're doing pretty well physically. How are you doing other than physically? Mentally? Emotionally?"

She considered for a moment. "I'd say it's a pretty mixed bag. I'm a bit scared. Terrified, actually. Confused. Excited, but too nervous to let myself get too excited. Overwhelmed. Hopeful, but trying not to be."

"You are definitely planning to have it?" he asked. "Keep it?"

"I am," she answered. "But you don't have to worry. Like I said, I can handle this."

"Okay. What's your plan?"

"I have a good job, a good income. I can afford to raise a child. I own the house and I have plenty of room here. It's a safe neighborhood, good schools. I can afford to hire a nanny full time if I need to. The hospital has a daycare on site that's open round the clock for employees, so I can have him or her there with me."

"You've forgotten something, though," he told her gently.

She looked puzzled, mentally running through her list again.

Finally, he told her.

"Me."

"You?"

"It's my child. I have certain responsibilities."

Lucy held up a hand, shaking her head angrily. "No, you don't. I completely absolve you of any obligation toward my child."

"Lucy"

"My parents told me so many times that they wished that I had never been born. That my mother getting pregnant with me ruined both their lives. That they couldn't do the things they had planned to do because of the obligations they had towards me. I never want my child to hear that. To feel that."

"And he won't. Having a responsibility toward someone isn't a bad thing, Lucy. I love being a father and a grandfather. I would give my life for any one of them without a moment's hesitation. But that doesn't negate a feeling of responsibility towards them."

"That's different, though," she protested. "Those are children that you planned, that you wanted. With a woman that you loved."

"Unplanned doesn't mean unwanted. Or unloved," he told her. "If someone had come to me and asked me if I wanted to start over with another baby at this point in my life, I would have given them a resounding 'no.' But it's not a question of 'if' anymore. It's a child. It exists. And I want to be a part of its life."

He leaned closer. "I know you said you don't want or need anything from me, but I want to contribute. I want to be there for the first steps and the first words I want to help him learn to ride a bike. To climb a tree. Take him fishing, to hockey games and baseball games. Go to his soccer games. Graduation. Read him stories. Tuck him into bed. Watch Bullit with him."

She listened, chewing her lip.

"And I want to be there for the other stuff, too. I want to change diapers. To be there for the skinned knees. The nightmares. I want to wipe away tears. To worry over the fevers that won't break To be doing laundry in the middle of the night because pajamas and sheets got thrown up on or sweated on or whatever.

You may not need me, but I need to be a part of this. I want to be a part of this. I want to know him. And I want him to know me. To know his family. His background. To be a part of it all."

She reached over and took his hand. "That's good. I want that, too. I want you to be a part of her life."

He looked confused. "Then why did you say that you didn't?"

"What I didn't want was for you to be involved because you felt that you had to. It wasn't my intention to keep you out if you wanted to be involved. I just didn't want you to feel pressured or forced or trapped," she explained.

"I don't," he told her. "I really want this. And that includes being involved with you, as well."

Now it was her turn to look confused.

"I think it's very important for him to have us both involved in his life and to work together for his best interest. Raising a child is challenging at the best of times and it's going to be even more challenging doing it in two separate households. There will be a lot of decisions and coordination required on both our parts to make it work, but I'm willing to do that, and I think it will be easier if we're at least friendly."

"Me, too," she agreed. "I want her to have the support and the love that she needs."

He gave a laugh.

"Though Pops thinks it would be a whole lot easier if we just got married," he told her.

"Married?"

Frank shrugged. "Used to be, that's what people did when they found themselves in this situation."

"True," she agreed, "But it's hardly a good reason."

"Isn't it?" he asked. "What constitutes a 'good' reason?"

"Love, maybe?"

"Ideally, yes. But I'm sure you've known plenty of people who've gotten married because they were madly in love only to end up in divorce court wishing each other dead."

"Yeah, I have."

"But I told him people don't necessarily do that anymore. That divorced parents and never married parents raise children together all the time these days and I'm sure we can manage to figure out how to do it, too."

"I'm sure we can," she agreed.

"We should probably have some sort of legal agreement in place. You know, custody. Support."

Lucy nodded. "Of course. I don't really need any support, but I suppose some sort of custodial agreement is a good idea, though I'm planning to be flexible. I do want her to know your family, since that's all the extended family she'll have."

"I want you to be a part of it, too," he told her. "The family."

"I'm sure they'll be thrilled about that."

He shrugged. "When Joe joined the family, we made every effort to include his mother, Paula, as well. No one seemed to have a problem with that. Except Paula, as it turned out."

"Very different situation," she reminded him. "Joe was the adult child of a beloved family member who is no longer with you, not the strange woman who had a one night stand with you and is now claiming to be pregnant with your child."

"I'm sure they won't be thinking that."

"Really?"

"They'll get over it. Eventually," he amended. "But I want you to know you have my support now, during the pregnancy as well."

"I appreciate that, but like I told you, I don't really want or need your money."

"There's more to support than just money, Lucy. I remember how difficult pregnancy can be on a woman. I want to be here for you, if you'll let me. I'll go to doctors appointments with you, if you want. I know those can be overwhelming and it can be hard to remember everything you want to ask or everything they tell you. I can help you set up the nursery, put furniture together. If you call me, I can run to the grocery store for those middle of the night cravings for you."

She laughed. "A middle of the night grocery store trip is what got us in this predicament in the first place," she reminded him.

"Yeah. Maybe a fast food run would be better," he amended.

"Probably so."

"And the birth itself," he continued. "Jamie and Eddie have been talking about their birth plan and looking at classes. I know it's a pretty personal thing and if you'd rather I not be there, I understand, but I'd be happy to be your coach. To be there with you, meet him together for the first time."

"Why, Frank?"

"Why what?"

"I understand wanting to be a part of your child's life, but why do you want to be involved with all the pregnancy stuff, too? Are you worried that I'll do something wrong and hurt her?"

"Not at all," he hurriedly assured her. "It's just that I don't want you to face all this alone, Lucy. I'm partially responsible for you being in this situation and I want to help make it easier on you."

He reached over and took her hand and continued.

"And…I like you." He studied her face to see her response.

"When I first saw you that night, I was struck by how attractive you were."

"Yeah, right. After a 14 hour shift, exhausted, no makeup, my hair coming loose." She rolled her eyes.

"Yes. And that cute, shy smile. Asking for help. Complimenting me. Flirting with me."

"I was not."

"You were. The comments about the smile. And the dimples. And the legendary mustache?"

She sighed. "Okay. Yeah. Maybe a little flirting. Which I was embarrassingly bad at. Not something I usually do, but I thought you were rather attractive, too. That's why I asked you for help and not the clerk. Besides, you flirted right back."

"I did," he admitted. "I even went looking for you to return the compliments. I already admitted I thought you were attractive and I was hoping to get your number. But…"

"All hell broke loose."

He nodded. "In all the craziness that followed, it just didn't seem like the right time to ask you out. Then we…"

He inclined his head in the direction of her bedroom.

"So, the sex was so bad you didn't want to see me again?" she asked, brow raised.

"That's not what I meant," he reassured her. "It was good. Really good. Great even."

He reached over to gently lift her chin so she would look him in the eyes.

"I was ashamed of myself," he told her. "I took advantage of you in a time when you were vulnerable and frightened."

She pulled away. "Is that what this is? Guilt? Because you have no reason to feel guilty. If anyone took advantage of the situation, it was me. I'm the one who kissed you."

He started to interrupt, but she continued.

"I was the one who started taking your clothes off. I'm the one who dragged you down the hall to my bedroom."

"Lucy. I'm over a foot taller and about a hundred pounds heavier than you are. You couldn't have dragged me anywhere I didn't want to go. In fact, I seem to remember even carrying you part of the way back there."

She blushed, remembering his arms sliding around her waist, lifting her off of her feet so she could wrap her legs around him as he worked the clasp on her bra.

"You asked me if you should stop," she reminded him. "When you set me down on the bed."

"And you asked me if I wanted to," he said.

"Neither of us did. That would be considered consent, right?"

"It would."

"So neither of us took advantage," she concluded.

"Agreed."

"And no feeling guilty about what happened? Because if any of what you said before was because of guilt, you are free to take it back right now."

Reaching out, he gently stroked her cheek.

"No. I don't want to take any of it back. I want this. I want our child in my life. I want his mother in my life."

Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears and her chin dropped.

"I just hope you get that chance."

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, concerned. "Is something wrong? Do you need to go to the hospital? Call your doctor?"

She shook her head as she reached for a tissue box.

"No. Not that I know of. I probably shouldn't have told you about this so early. It's just that all of this talk, this planning is getting my hopes up about it all and I should know better than to let that happen," she told him.

"Why not?"

"Because there's still so much that could go wrong. Because I never get to keep what I really want. The people that I want in my life. Oscar. Our daughter, Hannah. Even my parents, horrible as they were, were taken from me. It's like I'm cursed or something."

"That's why you said you didn't have family or friends," he replied. "You don't let people get close."

She nodded, grabbing a tissue to wipe her eyes. "And normally, I'm fine with that. But these damn hormones.."

Frank brought her a glass of water from the kitchen as she blew her nose and wiped her face. She nodded her thanks and took a long drink.

"I'm glad you told me," he told her. "Just like I don't want you to go through the pregnancy alone, I wouldn't want you to be alone if something went wrong, either."

"You're a good man, Frank Reagan," she said, studying him.

"I try."

After a few moments, he cleared his throat. "You keep referring to the baby as 'she' and 'her.' Has the doctor already told you that it's a girl?"

She shook her head. "I haven't had an ultrasound yet, but it's still too early to tell. I guess it's just a feeling I have. You, on the other hand, are using masculine pronouns."

"My feeling, I guess. Odds are in favor of a boy."

"Seems to me the odds would be 50/50," she told him, confused.

"Not if you look at the historical production of offspring of the Reagan men," he explained. "Pops was an only child. He had two children, both boys. I've produced four. Three boys and one girl. Joe had the one boy. Danny had two. Jamie is having a boy as well. Meaning, the last four generations of Reagan men have produced ten males and only one lone female."

"So, that just means it's time for a girl."

"Maybe, but I'm betting on a boy."

Lucy got quiet again, looking down into her water glass.

"Would you be disappointed? If it's a girl?"

He reached over to lift her chin again so that he could look her directly in the eyes.

"Absolutely not. I love my daughter and granddaughter just as much as I do the boys. I would be thrilled to add another little girl to the family. I honestly don't care one way or the other. I'm just hoping for a healthy baby."

"And if it's not healthy? Because with an older mother, there's a higher risk of genetic defects, or preterm birth and the myriad of complications from that."

"Regardless, I want to be there for my child."

She took another drink of her water while he sat and watched.

"Did you really mean what you said?" she finally asked.

"I'm pretty sure I did, but it would help to know which thing that I said that you're referring to," he told her.

"That you would be willing to go to my doctor's appointments with me?"

"Absolutely."

"Because I have one on Monday afternoon. I saw my doctor last week, but she referred me to another doctor in her practice who specializes in high risk pregnancies."

"High risk?" he questioned, looking concerned. "Because of the whole age thing, right?'

"After 35, it's considered a geriatric pregnancy." She gave him a hard stare. "And, just for the record, I am not a big fan of that particular term, so I'd appreciate keeping its usage to a minimum, if you don't mind."

"Copy that."

"Anyway. I am well past that age and also have the history of having lost a baby in utero. Add to that, I'm rh negative, she just figured it would be better to have me under the care of a doctor with more experience with high risk patients."

"Sounds like a good idea. What will happen at this appointment?"

She shrugged. "I'm not completely sure. They'll probably do some blood work. Check my hormone levels to make sure they're increasing like they should be. General health check to gauge the risk to me. Ultrasound to check if the pregnancy is actually viable. If the baby is developing as it should."

"What time on Monday?"

"It's at 4 o'clock. It's her last appointment of the day, so she will probably be running late," she told him.

"Where?"

"Her office is in the medical office building there at the hospital. I get off at 3:30, so I'll just head upstairs immediately after." She looked at him. "I know it's really short notice, so if you can't make it, I'll understand. Or if you just don't want to, you can always use the short notice as an excuse."

"No, I'll be there. I wouldn't miss a chance to see our kid for the first time," he promised with a smile, taking his phone out to make a note.

"Thank you," she said with a smile, moving a hand to rest lightly on her stomach.

"My pleasure."

"You're Catholic?" she asked.

"I am. Irish, Catholic cop. The whole bit. You?"

"Irish and Catholic, but not a cop," she replied. "My maiden name was Callahan. I was christened and confirmed at St. Peter's. Spent some time in St Anne's Catholic Children's Home. Usually attend masses at St Luke's now."

He nodded. "I guess you're okay with him…or her…being raised in the Catholic faith?"

"That is my plan. Where do you attend?"

"Reagans have been at St Michaels for generations. We were all christened there. Confirmation. First communion. Married. Those who've passed are buried there."

"That's the kind of family connection that I think is so important for her…or him…to have. A history, like I never had."

"Does that include the name?" he asked. "Will you want the baby to have the Reagan name?"

"I'm not sure. Would you be okay with that? Would your family be okay with that? I certainly don't want to honor my father by using his name, but Makenna was Oscar's name and this little one has no connection to him."

"Do you think his family would have a problem with you using it?"

She shook her head. "He didn't have any family either. We met at the children's home. Both only children, both orphaned. He had an uncle that kept him off and on, but he was an addict and died a couple of years after we got married."

"To answer your question, I would love for our child to carry my name, but I'm good with whatever you want to do."

"And your family?"

He paused. "They'll deal. It's your decision."

"Our decision."

"Which doesn't need to be made right now. We have several months to figure out that as well as the custody and child support matters." He saw her start to speak and continued. "And I do want to contribute financially, even if you don't really need it."

"As you said, we'll figure things out."

After that, conversation turned to other topics, the general 'getting to know' each other kind of things that usually happen during the early days of dating. They ended up back in the kitchen, putting together a simple lunch that they shared at the table.

When they had finished and cleaned up again, he looked at his watch and told her, reluctantly, that he would need to be leaving soon to dress for the christening. After asking about his and Henry's preferences about desserts, she pulled several bags or cookies out of her freezer and gave them to him.

"Since you're partly responsible for my recent baking frenzy, you need to help me get rid of the results," she told him, laughing.

"Happy to help," he replied, as they walked to the door.

On the porch, he dropped a soft kiss on her forehead, told her he would talk to her later, and headed to his waiting vehicle.

She watched him ride away again, relieved at the way the morning had gone and feeling a bit of hope that perhaps, this could actually work out.

Several hours later, her phone dinged with an incoming text. She opened it to find a picture of him at the ceremony, a tiny baby cradled in his arms.

'Getting in some practice time,' the caption read.

She smiled.

'Looks good,' she replied.

Her thoughts became a prayer.

'Please, dear Lord.'

I hope you liked this chapter. It was a little longer than I had thought if would be. The characters kind of took over and I didn't want to cut them short. Please let me know your thoughts on this.