Page 6 of Tempted By the Handsome Doctor (Curvy Wives of Cedar Falls #3)

The café across from Cedar Falls General is called The Daily Grind, and it's the kind of place that thinks mismatched furniture and Edison bulbs are the height of charm. Still, they make decent tea, and it's close enough to the hospital that I won't lose my nerve walking there.

I'm not entirely sure why I invited Daniel to join me.

The words spilled out before I could stop them, like my body recognized the need for his presence before my brain caught up.

Maybe it's because we just acknowledged we're having a baby together.

Perhaps it's because he looked at me with those green eyes so full of sincerity that I almost believe he won't disappear again.

"I'd love to," he says, and the relief in his voice is palpable. "I just need to let Dr. Patel know I'm taking a short break."

"If you don't have time—"

"I have time," he says firmly, already typing a message on his phone. "There. All set."

The way he prioritizes this moment, this conversation, over whatever important doctor things he should be doing—it makes something flutter in my chest. Something I immediately try to squash. One gesture doesn't erase a month of silence.

We cross the street together, not quite close enough to touch.

The autumn air has a bite to it today, and I pull my cardigan around myself, suddenly aware that soon, very soon, my body will start to change.

The sweater won't close so easily. My balance will shift.

I'll become a vessel for someone else, someone who depends on me entirely.

The enormity of it makes me dizzy.

"Maya?" Daniel's voice breaks through my spiral. "Are you okay?"

I realize I've stopped walking in the middle of the crosswalk. "Sorry. Just... thinking."

His eyes soften with understanding. "It's a lot."

"Yeah."

The Daily Grind is half-full, mostly with hospital staff grabbing coffee between shifts.

A few heads turn when we enter—Daniel in his white coat beside me—and I immediately feel the weight of Cedar Falls' small-town scrutiny.

By dinner, half the town will know Dr. Morrison was seen with James Sullivan's daughter. By tomorrow, they'll have us engaged.

If they only knew.

We find a table in the back corner, away from the windows and curious eyes. Daniel insists on ordering for us, and I let him, sinking into a worn armchair that's trying too hard to be vintage.

"Chamomile okay?" he asks. "It's caffeine-free."

"I'm allowed up to 200 milligrams of caffeine a day," I say. I've been researching pregnancy guidelines obsessively for the last forty-eight hours. "But chamomile is fine."

He returns a few minutes later with two steaming mugs and a plate with a single chocolate chip cookie. "The barista said their cookies are baked fresh this morning. I thought you might..." He trails off, suddenly uncertain.

"Thanks." I take the cookie, touched by the small gesture. "I haven't had much of an appetite lately, but sweets still work."

Daniel sits across from me, his long legs bumping against mine under the small table. He immediately shifts them away, trying his best not to invade my space. "When did the symptoms start?"

"About a week ago." I break off a piece of cookie, not meeting his eyes. "At first I thought it was just stress. Or a stomach bug. But then I was late, and—" I stop myself. He doesn't need the play-by-play of my panic.

"I still can't believe it," Daniel says softly. "Not in a bad way. Just... the odds."

"Believe me, I've done the math." I finally look up at him. "Condoms are supposed to be 98% effective. We got really unlucky. Or lucky, depending on how you look at it."

His eyes search mine. "How are you looking at it?"

The question is gentle, but it hits like a freight train. I've been so busy cycling through shock, panic, and pragmatic planning that I haven't stopped to really examine how I feel about the actual baby.

"I don't know yet," I admit. "Part of me is terrified. Not ready. But another part..." I take a sip of tea, buying time. "I always wanted kids someday. Just not like this. Not with someone I barely know."

Daniel winces slightly, and I immediately regret my bluntness.

"Sorry, that came out wrong."

"No, it's the truth." He wraps his hands around his mug. "We don't know each other. One night and a couple of conversations don't make us anything close to ready for parenthood together."

"So what do we do about that?" I ask, the question that's been gnawing at me since I saw those two pink lines.

He looks thoughtful. "We get to know each other. Properly."

"Like dating?" The word feels absurd in our situation.

"Not exactly. More like... accelerated friendship." A small smile tugs at his lips. "With a very serious deadline."

Despite everything, I find myself smiling back. "That's one way to put it."

"I have Saturday off," he offers. "The whole day. We could... I don't know. Do something."

"Something?"

"Something normal. Not hospital cafeterias or pregnancy tests or late-night diner confessions." He leans forward slightly. "Something that would let us talk. Really talk."

I can’t help but notice his earnest expression, the way he's leaning toward me as if drawn by gravity, the hint of vulnerability beneath his doctor's confidence. He's trying. Really trying.

But I've been burned before, and not just by him. Life has a way of promising things and then snatching them away. Dad's cancer was supposed to be treatable. My career in the city was supposed to be fulfilling. Daniel was supposed to be just a one-night escape, not the father of my child.

"I'm not sure if I can trust you yet," I say finally, the words coming out softer than I intended.

He doesn't flinch from the honesty. "I know. I haven't earned it."

"But I want to try." The admission surprises even me. "For the baby's sake, if nothing else."

"For the baby," he agrees, though something flickers in his eyes that suggests he might be hoping for more.

I break off another piece of cookie, considering. "There's a fall festival at Riverbank Park on Saturday. Local artists, food trucks, that kind of thing. We could meet there around noon?"

"That sounds perfect." His smile is immediate and genuine, lighting up his tired face.

My phone chimes with a calendar reminder. "I should get back to the library," I say, reluctantly gathering my things. "We're doing a special reading for the preschool group today."

Daniel stands when I do, a reflexive old-fashioned courtesy that makes me wonder about the grandfather who raised him. "Can I walk you to your car?"

"I'm parked in the hospital lot." I hesitate, then add, "But you can walk me to the corner."

We exit the café together, and I know how we must look to passersby…The handsome doctor and the librarian, an unlikely pair on a weekday morning.

At the corner, we pause awkwardly. There should be a protocol for saying goodbye to the father of your unborn child whom you barely know, but no one has ever covered this particular situation.

"So, Saturday?" Daniel confirms. "Noon at the park entrance?"

"Saturday," I nod.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly debating something. Then, slowly, he reaches out and briefly squeezes my hand. "Take care of yourself, Maya."

The touch is fleeting but electric, sending a jolt up my arm that has nothing to do with pregnancy hormones and everything to do with the memory of his hands on other parts of me. I pull away first, flustered.

"You too," I manage. "Don't work too hard."

A wry smile twists his lips. "Doctor's orders?"

"Librarian's," I counter, and am rewarded with a genuine laugh.

We part ways at the corner, and I feel his eyes on my back as I walk toward the hospital parking lot. I don't turn around, though I want to. I need to maintain some distance, some perspective.

Because the truth is, I'm terrified of how easily I could fall for Daniel Morrison. How naturally we seem to fit together, even in these strange, strained circumstances. How much I want to believe that his promises of support and involvement are real.

But wanting something doesn't make it true. My father wanted to see me turn thirty, wanted to meet his grandchildren someday, wanted to grow old in the house he loved. Wanting didn't save him.

And Daniel might truly believe his own promises now, in the flush of shock and responsibility. But what happens when reality sets in? When my belly swells and midnight feedings loom, and his career demands more and more of his time? When the baby becomes real and not just a concept?

I can't afford to trust him completely. Not yet. But I can give him the chance to prove himself, step by careful step.

Starting with a fall festival on Saturday.