She took a gulp of what looked like soda, slid the baguette into the oven and slammed the door.
“Look, Kyn.” Chance poured some of the wine into his glass and swirled it around. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“I’m not mad.” She pushed a stray hair out of her face and leaned her hip against the oven door. “I’m just overemotional these days. Since the cave.”
So maybe she had experienced some post-traumatic stress. “That’s to be expected, don’t you think?” He took a sip of the Chianti, which would’ve earned a minus ten rating from Wine Spectator, and managed not to grimace. “I’ve had a few days like that myself. It has to do with facing mortality, I think.”
“Yeah, something like that.” Kyndal turned her back to him and started tossing the salad he’d forgotten.
Strange that she’d invited him here, yet was obviously uncomfortable by his presence. He moved to the end of the counter to attempt eye contact while he continued to probe. “Does moving back here mean you got the job?”
“Not yet, but I’m still in the running.”
Damn! No wonder she was depressed. “Sounds promising,” he said.
She scurried past him to place the salad on the table, then came back for the stack of plates, silverware and napkins.
“I do have a job, though. Starting Friday, I’m going to be taking shots of animals with Santa at that big pet store across from the mall.”
Chance’s heart sank for her, and he wasn’t sure which left a worse aftertaste—her news or the bad wine. He tried to force some enthusiasm into his voice. “Well, that should be…interesting.”
“It’ll get me through until I start at the magazine.”
That was the most chipper he’d heard her since he walked in, and it coaxed a genuine smile from him. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” He decided to keep up the small talk figuring eventually he’d hit on whatever it was that had put this bug up her ass.
“Jaci’s having me over.” She concentrated on pouring some olive oil into two dipping bowls and getting them safely to the table. “You can sit here,” she instructed, as if he’d forgotten the seat he’d occupied for two years in this kitchen.
Chance ignored her order and got the drinks, while she put the hot bread in a basket and brought it and the lasagna to the table.
When all was ready, he pulled out her chair and got her settled before he sat down. Raising his glass, he had to think fast to come up with something not-too-corny, yet appropriate. It came to him—the perfect toast for tonight. “To life.” He clinked his glass to hers and watched her bottom lip quiver so hard she caught it between her teeth. She sat her glass down without drinking and ran her hand over her face.
“What is it, Kyndal?” He leaned forward and brushed his fingertips across her hand that sat on the table now, visibly trembling. “Tell me.”
She locked her eyes with his and blew out a long breath. “I’m pregnant.”
The force of the word pushed him to the back of his chair. “Pregnant?” he repeated, as if it were a foreign word he wasn’t familiar with.
“Six weeks.”
He did the math. “The…the cave.”
She nodded.
“You told me you were on the Pill.” Her pained expression made him regret his accusing tone.
“I was, but I didn’t have them with me those four days. I didn’t think it would matter.” She shrugged. “It did.”
“Hell, yes, it did.” He drained his glass of wine, keeping the last bit in his mouth so he had a reason to not speak as he gave his brain time to adjust.
Oh, my God…a baby. As of that moment, his world changed forever, and she handed him the news with a pan of lasagna, a glass of wine and a freakin’ shrug? He remembered how she’d waltzed into his hospital room and presented him with a release. Hell! He was the attorney! Then she’d traipsed out of his room with a nonchalant, devil-may-care, to-hell-with-the-world ta-ta…or its damn equivalent. A blasé attitude seemed to be her modus operandi these days. Was she even ready to be a mother or he, a father? His world teetered.
“I’m sorry, Chan—”
“Sorry?” He fought the rising tide of panic in his chest. “You didn’t step on my toe or scratch my car. This is a baby we’re talking about. My baby.”
Kyndal lifted her chin. “It’s our baby. And I’m not sorry about the baby. I’m