WORTH WORKING FOR
CHAPTER SEVEN
NOVEMBER
When she was growing up, Kate's parents always went all out for her birthday. Since it falls just before the holiday season, she'd have her birthday parties the weekend before, leaving the day free. Both of her parents would take it off work, and they'd do whatever she wanted. Whether it would be a day at the park, or a football game, or one memorable year when her mom couldn't get out of a trial, so Kate and her dad sat in the courtroom and watched her rip a witness to shreds on the cross-examination.
Ten months after her mom was killed she turned twenty, and since both she and her dad were wrecked with grief, they barely acknowledged any holidays, their birthdays included.
Over the years, as their grief became more tolerable to live with, and they both pulled themselves from the destructive depths of addiction - her with her mom's case, her dad with alcohol - they've learned to celebrate again. Nothing elaborate, and Kate doesn't usually take the day off work, but she'll see her dad for a meal, or spend at least part of the day with him if their schedules align.
Holidays just aren't the same without her mom. They always come with the melancholic feeling that something - someone - is missing.
This year, she did conveniently take the day off, but not just to celebrate her birthday. She has a check-up in the afternoon, so she made arrangements to meet her dad for brunch before heading to the doctor.
Her dad is already in their usual booth when she rushes into the diner. "Sorry I'm late," she breathes when he stands for a brief hug. "Got a late start."
And she had; her morning sickness had been pretty mild for the first several weeks. But it decided to switch things up earlier that week, so she's now nauseous almost to the point of needing to lay down at random, unpredictable times of the day.
Her sensitivity to scents has changed, too. Last week, she could barely keep her lunch down after she smelled donuts. This morning, just the smell of the cream she poured in her coffee sent her rushing to the bathroom. She felt better once she put the cream away, but the unexpected delay cost her time.
Jim gives her a reassuring squeeze and motions to the coffee in front of her. "It's decaf, if your stomach cooperates."
Kate winces and pushes it aside. "Coffee itself is fine, but not so much the cream. I better not risk it," she explains.
"Your mom couldn't drink coffee her entire pregnancy," Jim mentions, curling his hands around his own mug. "Couldn't handle the smell, so I couldn't even make any at home." He chuckles and takes a long drink. "God, she was miserable. Made my life a living hell, too."
Kate smiles. "Like mother like daughter, huh?" she teases. She knows she takes after her mom more than her dad, and she's been soaking up every word that her dad has shared.
She grows quiet and shifts her gaze to the table in front of her. Since she's never put much thought into having children, she's also never dwelled on enduring a pregnancy without having her mother to talk to. As much as she loves hearing these experiences from her dad, she wishes her mom was around, too. She wishes she could text her to ask if she had the same food aversions, the same cravings, what various parts of the pregnancy feel like.
Her dad's hand covers hers, and she looks up to find his eyes shimmering with unshed tears and a tender look on his face. "She would have been thrilled," he says, his voice rough with emotion.
"What, that I got pregnant by a guy I didn't even know?"
"Who you then found and told, and if I understand correctly, is involved, right?" Jim smirks. "Which I'd be able to see for myself if I'd ever met the guy," he teases. "Honestly, Katie, I'm beginning to think he's not who you say he is."
Kate rolls her eyes, but she can't help but smile. Rick has mentioned several times that he wants to meet her dad. She met Martha almost three weeks ago, so he keeps insisting that meeting Jim is way past due. She agrees, but so far, their schedules haven't aligned.
She knows her dad's joking though; he also reads Rick's books, so she'd told him of Rick's identity shortly after she'd learned herself.
"You'll meet him on Thanksgiving," she reminds him.
Jim smirks, but any comeback he may have is interrupted by the waitress. Once they give their orders, he places a gift bag on the table and pushes it in her direction. "Happy Birthday, Katie."
She grins and reaches inside, surprised when she pulls out the tissue paper to see multiple items. "Dad, you didn't-" She pulls out a box containing several types of tea, all labeled with pregnancy-related purposes, and a mug. Tucked in the mug is a folded piece of paper, and she opens it to see a receipt for a body pillow.
"Shipping was delayed," he explains, "but I should get it in a few days. I'll bring it over when I do."
"Thanks, Dad."
As always, Rick is waiting outside when she gets to her doctor's office, and she grins as he opens the door for her.
"You don't always have to wait outside, you know," she teases when he follows her in. "What will you do when it snows?"
Rick chuckles, and she tries to ignore the warmth the sound sends rushing through her body.
"I'll wear a thicker coat," he jokes, answering the question that she already forgot she asked. "I feel weird going in without you, like I'm out of place." He shrugs when she glances at him. "I'm probably just self-conscious and overthinking, but I'd rather wait for you outside."
Kate smiles as she approaches the front desk to check in. He is overthinking, but she doesn't mind that he's the first person she sees when she arrives. It's cute.
He's cute.
They're called back almost immediately, and they take up their now-usual spots in the exam room. Rick takes out his trusty notebook, and she settles onto the exam chair.
"What are you up to after this?"
Kate looks up from her phone at Rick's question. "Huh? Oh, nothing." She shrugs. "Takeout and an early night, probably. I'm working a double tomorrow."
Rick nods, but before he can say anything else, there's a rap on the door, and the doctor steps in.
"You didn't tell me it's your birthday."
Kate glances back at Rick as they leave the doctor, and she shrugs. "It's not a big deal."
Rick shoves his hands in his pockets and steps in front of her, stopping her from walking away. "It is. It's your day, Kate, and you're going to spend it alone, with takeout?" He shakes his head. "I won't have it. Why don't you come over, I'll cook a nice dinner, whatever you want."
"Really, it's fine. I don't mind." She moves around him and turns towards the subway, and isn't surprised when he follows. She may not have known him for very long, but she has noticed that when they're together, he's always close. Not in a creepy way - he doesn't wait for her outside the bathroom or anything like that - but she gets the sense that he's always aware of where she is.
"It's not an imposition if that's what you're worried about," he continues as if she didn't say anything. "Or let me take you out. Anywhere you want to go."
She stops at the subway entrance and turns to face him and crosses her arms. "I said it's fine, Rick. I don't usually do anything special anyway, so it's not a big deal."
Rick shoves his hands in his coat pocket and shrugs his shoulders against the wind. "But it can be different now."
"Why do you care so much, Rick? It's just another day."
"No it isn't." He takes a step closer to her. "I care because you're special to me, and taking you out to dinner is one way I can show that to you. Especially on your birthday."
Kate sighs in frustration at his stubbornness, but his words still echo in her mind.
You're special to me.
She's sure it's because she's carrying his child, but she also wonders if there's more to his feelings than that. She's seen the way he looks at her, like she's the only person in the room, like he's blown away that she chooses to spend time with him.
If she's honest with herself, she can't believe her life either. Not just that she's having a kid, but that she's having it with him. His books helped drag her out of the bottomless pit of despair after her mom died, and over the years, she's followed him, found solace in his words, in his stories of good defeating evil.
He doesn't know yet just how much he's impacted her life.
She sighs. It doesn't seem like he'll let up, and really, the idea of spending more time with him isn't exactly unwelcome.
"Okay," she agrees. "I do have a double shift tomorrow, though, so I shouldn't be out too late."
Rick's face lights up with a grin that sends warmth through her chest.
God, his mood is contagious.
"Great." He offers her the crook of his elbow and pulls her in close when she takes it. "Lead the way, Detective."
True to his word, Rick doesn't make a spectacle of dinner. They go to an Italian restaurant a few blocks from her apartment, and he doesn't even tell them it's her birthday. She relaxes more with every passing minute, finds herself wondering if this is what it could always be like with Rick. He's attentive and considerate, asking the waiter for more water when her glass is barely half empty, giving her his unused napkin when she accidentally drops hers onto the floor.
Despite his relaxed nature, though, she feels awkward, catches herself tensing her shoulders throughout the dinner. There's no reason for it, she tells herself, no reason at all that she should be on edge. Even though she knows that Rick is interested in her - or at least looks at her like he is - he hasn't once pushed her for anything more than the budding friendship they have right now.
"Any dessert for you folks?" The waiter asks, appearing shortly after they both push aside their empty plates. "I can pack it to go, if you're too full right now."
Rick motions towards Kate. "I'm okay, but go ahead and get something if you'd like."
Kate pauses. She's tempted, but she also feels like she's done nothing lately but take advantage of Rick's generosity. He's always the one going out of his way, always the one being imposed on. He's accompanied her to her doctor appointments, hosted her for dinner, even gave her one of his freaking bedrooms. And what has she done?
Saddled him with a lifelong commitment that neither of them were planning, and essentially forcing herself into his life.
She shouldn't have told him. She should've left him alone, free to date people and live his life, instead of spending his time with her.
She pushes her chair back and stands, almost runs into the waiter as she moves around him. "Sorry, I have to-" She motions vaguely towards the back of the restaurant, where she knows the bathroom is, and she rushes back, barely noticing the familiar footsteps that follow.
She ignores the call of her name, just opens the bathroom door, grateful that it's empty. Rick is hot on her heels, and he shuts and locks the door behind him, leans against it as she grips the edge of the sink.
"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice shaky with barely controlled panic.
She looks at him through the mirror, sees the concern etched in his forehead, and she shakes her head. "It's not the baby," she assures him, then huffs out a sarcastic chuckle. "Not technically. I'm not usually this emotional though."
Rick takes a cautious step towards her. "Hormones."
"Why are you here, Rick?" she asks suddenly, turning to face him and leaning against the sink. "And I don't mean here, in the bathroom. I mean here at dinner, here in general."
"Well, it's your birthday-"
"That's not what I mean and you know it," she snaps. "I showed up at your bar and dropped this bombshell on you, when we know nothing about each other. Hell, I've read every one of your books and I didn't even recognize you until you told me your last name."
Rick takes another hesitant step forward. "To be fair, the corner by the pool table is pretty dim, and we were both a bit distracted." He lifts a hand as if to reach for her, then drops it back to his side.
"Still. I'm a complete stranger, I tell you I'm pregnant with your child, and you just believe me?"
"I'm sorry, I-" He shakes his head, obviously confused. "Do you want me to take a paternity test? Is that what this is about?"
"No-" She sighs and runs her hands through her hair. "I'm just overwhelmed," she admits after taking a deep breath. "You're just so generous. I'm not used to someone just changing their life for me."
Rick nods and moves closer until he's mere inches from her. This time when he lifts his hand, he doesn't drop it back down. Instead, he tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, freezes when she lets out a quiet, breathy sigh.
He trails his fingers along her jaw, until he lifts her chin and gazes into her eyes. "Get used to it," he whispers, his low husk sending shivers through her body. "As soon as you said those words, my world shifted, and my priorities changed. It's not just about me anymore, Kate. It's about you-"
Her breath catches in her throat when he moves his hand from her chin down to her belly, where he lightly brushes the back of his fingers.
"And it's about him. Or her," he adds with a quirk of his lips. "If that means following you into the restaurant bathroom to make sure you're okay, then that's what I'll do."
Kate's cheeks burn, and she drops her head forward. "Oh God, I'm sorry. Was it totally mortifying?"
His hands slide around her back, and she doesn't resist when he pulls her into his arms. It's a little weird, him hugging her like this - they haven't been very physical, aside from that first night - but still, she sinks into his embrace, wraps her arms around his waist.
God, he's a good hugger.
"They were more worried than anything," he says, his chest rumbling with every word.
Kate sighs and steps out of his arms. She doesn't want the hug to end, but they are hogging the only bathroom. Luckily, the restaurant isn't very busy, so hopefully, nobody's waiting to use it. "We should go back out," she tells him, disappointment sitting heavy in her chest at the thought of leaving their bubble.
Before she unlocks the door, his hands are cupping her jaw, and his bright, concerned eyes look deep into hers. "Are you okay?"
She offers him a small, reassuring smile. "I'm better."
The restaurant staff can't be nicer. She and Rick apologize profusely, with her reassuring them that their food had nothing to do with her rush to the bathroom. She isn't sick, she explains, it was just a personal thing. Rick pays the bill – leaving a very generous tip, she notices – and the waiter even gives them both free desserts.
Her apartment isn't far, but still she accepts Rick's offer to walk with her, not wanting him to leave just yet. Breakdown aside, her time with him has been more than pleasant. Being with him is calming, his quiet strength radiating from him, soothing her anxiety, making her forget her insecurities.
She doesn't want this night to end.
They walk in silence, but she's aware of him just inches from her, the bag with their desserts in one hand, his arm brushing against hers. As they reach her block, he nudges her arm and stops.
"Hang on a sec," he says before ducking into the corner store. He emerges a few minutes later with a large bouquet of flowers in his hand, and his cheeks flush as he holds them out.
She feels her own cheeks warm as she takes them. "What are these for?" she asks, lifting them to her nose so she can smell them.
He shrugs and curls his free hand around the back of his neck. "Least I could do since I didn't get you a present."
She chuckles. "You didn't know, and besides, you bought me dinner. You're off the hook for needing to wrap something," she teases.
His eyes darken, and she wonders if his mind went to the same place hers just did: not wrapping a present, but unwrapping something else. Specifically, her.
Rick clears his throat and jerks his head in the direction of her building. "Gotta get you home so you can rest up for work tomorrow," he says, his voice low, gravelly, and full of regret.
She can only nod. Her building's the next one over, so they're standing in front of it in no time at all. They turn to face each other, desire written all over his face, mirroring what she feels. She opens her mouth, an invitation upstairs on the tip of her tongue, when he speaks first.
"How are you feeling?"
She blinks a few times while her brain catches up. "Um, better." Kinda horny, but not on the verge of another breakdown.
He nods. "Good."
"Do you-"
"I should-"
They speak at the same time, and his cheeks flush as he gives her an embarrassed smile. "Sorry. I should get going."
Her heart plummets. So much for a potential romantic end to the evening.
"Okay," she manages. She almost asks him anyway, but then he's leaning forward, and he brushes his lips against her cheek for a brief moment before straightening back up.
"Good night, Kate," he husks, and if she hadn't just felt the sting of rejection to an unspoken invitation, she'd swear that regret laces his words. "Happy birthday."
She swallows around the sudden lump in her throat, and she can only stand and watch him walk away.
She doesn't realize until she's upstairs that he took the dessert with him, so she can't even drown her sorrows in cake.
Well, now she's thoroughly annoyed.
She almost throws out the flowers, but changes her mind and finds a vase instead. After all, they didn't do anything to incur her wrath, and they'll add some color to her apartment.
She kicks off her shoes and hangs her coat up, undresses on her way to the bedroom. Rick could be following her, his clothes could join hers on the floor, his body in her bed. But instead, he left.
He walked away from her.
God, she wishes she could have a fucking drink.
She catches her reflection in the corner of her eye, and she pauses to examine herself in the mirror. She runs her palms down her stomach, over the small bump; her doctor has told her that it may take several weeks to see a noticeable change. She can tell, especially when she isn't wearing a shirt, but her clothes still hide it.
Her breasts, on the other hand, are already swelling. They're more sensitive, too, and her breath catches in her throat when she brushes her palms across them
Dammit, Rick should be here.
Her gaze lands on the scar between her breasts, and she traces it with her fingers. She turns to the side, focuses on the jagged line on her side. Rick hasn't asked about her scars since that first night; she shut him down every time he did, so maybe he's respecting that she doesn't want to talk about them.
Or maybe they turn him off.
She hears her phone ring in the living room, and she sighs and grabs her robe. The call goes to voicemail just before she reaches it, and her heart skips a beat when she sees Rick's name.
She waits for the voicemail notification to appear, but instead, the screen lights up again with his name on another incoming call.
She takes a deep breath and answers.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Kate." He sounds breathless, like he just ran, and she can hear the unmistakable sound of the city in the background. "Listen, I want to apologize."
Kate blinks. "Apologize?" she echoes. "For what?"
The background noise disappears, and she hears the quiet ding of the elevator. Is he – he didn't come back, did he?
She moves to her door and presses her ear against it, trying to hear if the elevator arrives. Several seconds pass, longer than it takes to get to her floor, and she pushes away the disappointment when his elevator dings and she hears nothing outside.
Rick sighs, and she hears his door shut. "I should've stayed," he says. "I should've walked you upstairs, instead of running away like a coward."
She leans back against her door. "Yeah, you should have," she agrees. "I was going to invite you in."
"I know." He exhales, and she images him running his hand through his hair, a motion she often sees when he seems nervous.
"Why did you leave?"
"I want you, Kate," he blurts. "And I believe you want me now." He pauses, but continues before she can say anything. "I don't know if it's because of what happened at dinner, or because I bought you flowers, or just hormones. But I want you to want me for me, and not just because I was nice to you."
She's silent for a long time, taking in his words. She isn't surprised at his admission of his desire; she'd have to be blind not to see the way he looks at her. And she's never stopped being attracted to him, even when she didn't think she'd see him again.
But he's right about one thing: were it not for their afternoon and evening together, she wouldn't have even considered inviting him in. Leaving was probably the smart decision.
It's bad enough to have her heart broken because she's damaged and complicated. But to have that happen by the father of her child, who she'll have to see for the rest of her life?
She doesn't know what she'd do.
"Can I call you tomorrow?" he asks, breaking the silence.
She clears her throat. "I'd like that," she admits, barely more than a whisper.
"Great. Good night, Kate."