Read Online Lullaby and Goodnight by Wendy Corsi Staub - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Wendy Corsi Staub
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me guess: your fiancé was a total son of a bitch. Am I right?”
Peyton shrugs, not in the mood to ask which fiancé? She must have mentioned one of her broken engagements to Allison in the flurry of confidences they’ve exchanged these past few weeks—not that she recalls doing so. She’s pretty forgetful these days, though. And she must have brought up Scott or Jeff at one point, because Allison is now regarding her with a knowing look, obviously convinced that one of them turned her into a man-hater.
Again, Peyton regrets blabbing her personal business. It isn’t like her. There’s just something about candid, easygoing Allison that tempts Peyton to open up more than she usually would. And something about being pregnant that has her reaching out to other women in a way she never has.
Oh well. No harm done , she assures herself.
She just isn’t eager to discuss Scott or Jeff or the reasons neither of them became her husband.
She says simply, “I’m going to do this on my own.”
Allison’s expression isn’t exactly disapproving, yet she shrugs and asks with a touch less warmth than usual, “What are you going to do with the baby once your maternity leave is over?”
“Hire a nanny,” she says, hating that it comes out sounding like a confession and wondering what the heck Allison thinks she’s going to do. “Or maybe I’ll use day care. I don’t know.”
“Have you started looking?”
“Not yet. There’s plenty of—”
“You’d better start looking now,” Allison cuts in. “This is New York. People put fetuses on waiting lists for private high schools.”
Peyton laughs.
Allison shakes her head soberly. “I’m not kidding.”
Her smile fading, Peyton wants to tell her friend to stop trying to spook her. It’s not as though she’s assuming this will be a cakewalk. But neither is she willing to focus on the challenges ahead without mustering every shred of optimism she possesses.
Don’t let her scare you off. You’ll make it. You’ll be a terrific mother, and you’ll raise a terrific kid.
“Look,” Allison says earnestly, “I’m not trying to be the prophet of doom. But I feel like you think you know what to expect and you’re positive you can handle it on your own, when in reality, parenthood is full of surprises. I don’t want to see you with your hands full, wishing you had waited until you were married.”
“ You’re not married.”
“Not this time, no. But I have a support system under my roof. You’re all alone.”
“Which is my choice,” Peyton insists. “And it’s a good one, for me. This didn’t happen by accident, remember? I chose this. I want this. More than anything.” Her voice breaks, and she looks down, needing to steel her wayward emotions.
“Just don’t rule anything out, okay? You might change your mind.”
“About getting married?”
“That, and working so many hours in such a demanding field.”
Peyton laughs. “You don’t know me very well, Allison. I rarely change my mind about anything.”
“All right, Ms. Obstinado . We’ll just see about that.”
“Hey, don’t call me that!” Peyton protests, though it isn’t the first time somebody has done so.
“What?”
“Bullheaded.”
“I didn’t realize you spoke Spanish.”
“Only what I learned in high school.”
“Well, if the zapato fits . . .” Allison smiles. “Listen, all I mean is that becoming a mother is going to change everything. You can’t know in advance how much, so keep your options open. You might wake up a year from now and decide you want a husband or a three-day workweek or a nice cushy job share like I have.”
A job share. Even if that kind of thing weren’t frowned upon at the agency, it’s out of the realm of possibility for Peyton. She couldn’t afford the salary cut now, let alone with another mouth to feed.
Allison has the luxury of living with her parents.
Luxury, or misfortune, depending on how you look at it.
Peyton would never
Peyton shrugs, not in the mood to ask which fiancé? She must have mentioned one of her broken engagements to Allison in the flurry of confidences they’ve exchanged these past few weeks—not that she recalls doing so. She’s pretty forgetful these days, though. And she must have brought up Scott or Jeff at one point, because Allison is now regarding her with a knowing look, obviously convinced that one of them turned her into a man-hater.
Again, Peyton regrets blabbing her personal business. It isn’t like her. There’s just something about candid, easygoing Allison that tempts Peyton to open up more than she usually would. And something about being pregnant that has her reaching out to other women in a way she never has.
Oh well. No harm done , she assures herself.
She just isn’t eager to discuss Scott or Jeff or the reasons neither of them became her husband.
She says simply, “I’m going to do this on my own.”
Allison’s expression isn’t exactly disapproving, yet she shrugs and asks with a touch less warmth than usual, “What are you going to do with the baby once your maternity leave is over?”
“Hire a nanny,” she says, hating that it comes out sounding like a confession and wondering what the heck Allison thinks she’s going to do. “Or maybe I’ll use day care. I don’t know.”
“Have you started looking?”
“Not yet. There’s plenty of—”
“You’d better start looking now,” Allison cuts in. “This is New York. People put fetuses on waiting lists for private high schools.”
Peyton laughs.
Allison shakes her head soberly. “I’m not kidding.”
Her smile fading, Peyton wants to tell her friend to stop trying to spook her. It’s not as though she’s assuming this will be a cakewalk. But neither is she willing to focus on the challenges ahead without mustering every shred of optimism she possesses.
Don’t let her scare you off. You’ll make it. You’ll be a terrific mother, and you’ll raise a terrific kid.
“Look,” Allison says earnestly, “I’m not trying to be the prophet of doom. But I feel like you think you know what to expect and you’re positive you can handle it on your own, when in reality, parenthood is full of surprises. I don’t want to see you with your hands full, wishing you had waited until you were married.”
“ You’re not married.”
“Not this time, no. But I have a support system under my roof. You’re all alone.”
“Which is my choice,” Peyton insists. “And it’s a good one, for me. This didn’t happen by accident, remember? I chose this. I want this. More than anything.” Her voice breaks, and she looks down, needing to steel her wayward emotions.
“Just don’t rule anything out, okay? You might change your mind.”
“About getting married?”
“That, and working so many hours in such a demanding field.”
Peyton laughs. “You don’t know me very well, Allison. I rarely change my mind about anything.”
“All right, Ms. Obstinado . We’ll just see about that.”
“Hey, don’t call me that!” Peyton protests, though it isn’t the first time somebody has done so.
“What?”
“Bullheaded.”
“I didn’t realize you spoke Spanish.”
“Only what I learned in high school.”
“Well, if the zapato fits . . .” Allison smiles. “Listen, all I mean is that becoming a mother is going to change everything. You can’t know in advance how much, so keep your options open. You might wake up a year from now and decide you want a husband or a three-day workweek or a nice cushy job share like I have.”
A job share. Even if that kind of thing weren’t frowned upon at the agency, it’s out of the realm of possibility for Peyton. She couldn’t afford the salary cut now, let alone with another mouth to feed.
Allison has the luxury of living with her parents.
Luxury, or misfortune, depending on how you look at it.
Peyton would never
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