Simon nodded. “Isabelle wondered if you knew.”
“You could’ve told me, Simon,” Vaughn said, not unkindly. “I get why you might not want Mom to know yet, but why not talk to me about it?”
Simon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I guess I didn’t think you’d understand.”
“I wouldn’t understand that you want to marry the woman who’s pregnant with your child? I think that’s a concept I can grasp.”
“See, that’s just it.” Simon gestured emphatically. “I knew that’s how you would see it. That I’m marrying Isabelle because I got her pregnant. And I don’t want you, or Mom, or anyone else to think about Isabelle that way—that she’s the woman I had to marry, because it was the right thing to do. Because the truth is, I knew I wanted to marry Isabelle on our second date. She invited me up to her apartment that night, and I saw that she had the entire James Bond collection on Blu-ray. Naturally, being the Bond aficionado that I am, I threw out a little test question for her: ‘Who’s the best Bond?’”
Vaughn scoffed. “Like there’s more than one possible answer to that.”
“Exactly. Sean Connery’s a no-brainer, right? But get this—she says Daniel Craig.” Simon caught Vaughn’s horrified expression. “I know, right? So I’m thinking the date is over because clearly she’s either crazy or has seriously questionable taste, but then she starts going on and on about how Casino Royale is the first movie where Bond is touchable and human, and then we get into this big debate that lasts for nearly an hour. And as I’m sitting there on her couch, I keep thinking that I don’t know a single other person who would relentlessly argue, for an hour, that Daniel Craig is a better Bond than Sean Connery. She pulled out the DVDs and showed me movie clips and everything.” He smiled, as if remembering the moment. “And somewhere in there, it hit me. I thought to myself, I’m going to marry this woman.”
Vaughn smiled, thinking he might have to work that into his best man speech. “Why haven’t you told me that story before?”
Simon paused, as if trying to decide how best to explain. “I don’t know . . . maybe because you and I don’t talk about those kinds of things. You’re the guy I talk to about a fun, random hookup. Or about some hot girl whose number I got while waiting in line at the deli on my lunch break. I guess I just didn’t think you’d understand something that’s not so, you know, shallow.”
Vaughn blinked. No offense taken.
Simon quickly backtracked. “I mean, not that I think you are shallow. Just that, well, lately, none of your relationships with women have had much substance, you know? And that’s cool; that’s your perspective—hey, I used to be in that place myself.”
“Before you left and went to the deeper place.” Vaughn pretended to think about that. “Question: can I still hang out with you, now that you’re in this deeper place? Obviously, I’m used to the shallower stuff, but maybe I can wear a pair of water wings, or hold onto one of those pool noodles or something.”
“I’m going to be getting shit for the ‘shallow’ comment for a while, aren’t I?”
Before Vaughn could answer, the ER doctor came around the corner with a woman in her early forties wearing blue scrubs and Crocs. “Mr. Roberts, this is Dr. Takacs from our obstetrics and gynecology department,” he said to Simon. “She’ll be taking over your fiancée’s case.”
After a brief hello, Dr. Takacs and the ER doctor stepped into Isabelle’s room. They waited expectantly in the doorway for Simon.
Simon looked uncertainly at Vaughn. “Um . . . are we okay?”
While the unfinished conversation still lingered in the air, Vaughn knew his brother had a lot more important things to worry about right then. “Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Go be with your fiancée.” Vaughn nodded in the direction of Isabelle’s room, with a smile that said everything was cool between them.
Simon grinned in relief. “Right.” He got up from the bench and hurried into the room.
When his brother was gone, Vaughn leaned forward on the bench and rested his elbows on his knees.
I didn’t think you’d understand something that’s not so shallow.
Well. That certainly was an interesting insight into his brother’s view of him. Sure, he took a casual approach to dating, and yes, he often was the guy talking about a hot hookup. But he hadn’t realized this was something that had created some kind of gulf between him and this new version of Simon, who suddenly was ready for marriage, the two-point-five kids, and the minivan in the suburbs.
Not sure what to make of all that, Vaughn ducked his head and briefly closed his eyes.
He heard the soft click of heels against the hospital’s tiled floor and opened his eyes to find a pair of gold strappy heels directly in his line of vision.
He looked up.
Sidney stared down at him, taking in his uncharacteristically serious demeanor. Vaughn braced himself for the inevitable quip or saucy comment.
Instead, she simply took a seat on the bench next to him.
“Some day,” she said.
Vaughn looked sideways at her, and then nodded.
Indeed it was.
Fifteen
PACING IN THE waiting room of the surgical floor, Sidney impatiently checked her watch again. “They said the surgery would take about an hour, right?”
Sitting in one of the chairs that bordered the path she had cut umpteen times since they’d wheeled Isabelle out of the emergency room on a gurney, Vaughn answered her with maddening calmness. “I don’t think that included all the prep and post-op time. That takes a while.”
What was he, a surgeon now? Of course he could remain calm. He didn’t have ovaries, let alone twisted ones—Sidney’s uterus cramped just imagining what that must’ve felt like. Nor did he have an eleven-week-old baby growing inside him.
Men. Clueless lummoxes, the whole lot of ’em.
“I can see your lips moving as you mutter about me, you know,” he said.
Figured. All the lummoxes in the world and she had to be trapped in this waiting room with the one who had superpowers of observation.
She looked over and saw him watching her with amusement, his long legs stretched out comfortably in front of him. Oh . . . whatever. Fine. So maybe her nervousness was making her a touch cranky right then. In her defense, that was her sister they’d wheeled out on that gurney, her younger sister, her only sibling, for whom she’d felt semi-responsible since they were kids. A sister who she could still remember as a sweet five-year-old, waiting on the front porch of their house on the day Sidney had returned from sleepaway camp the summer after their mother had died. She could picture the huge smile on Isabelle’s face as the car had pulled into the driveway, the way she’d bounded down the stairs and had hugged Sidney tight and declared that she was never, ever allowed to leave again for that long. Not like Mommy, she’d said.
And now Sidney was teary-eyed and sniffing.
Vaughn got to his feet, as if that settled it. “Okay, Sinclair. Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Out of this waiting room,” he declared. “You need a break. There’s a Starbucks in the lobby with a grande Frappucino with your name on it.”
She scoffed. “I can’t leave. What if they finish the surgery and Simon is looking for us?”
“Well, lucky for you, you’re traveling with an FBI agent. And I just so happen to be in possession of a cutting-edge device that allows a person to track anyone down, anywhere in this city.” Vaughn pulled something out of his pocket and held it up: his cell phone. He looked around furtively, and put his finger to his lips. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone. We’re talking supersecret FBI technology here.”
She threw him a look. “Are we through with the comedy routine now?”
He held out his hand to her, not saying anything further. He simply waited w
ith that infuriatingly confident look.
With a sigh—it wasn’t worth the argument—Sidney let him lead her out of the waiting room. They walked to the elevators and waited. She could see the satisfied gleam in Vaughn’s eyes, and she was about to comment when an elderly woman stepped out of the waiting room and joined them at the elevator bank.
The woman smiled at the two of them just as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. As the elevator doors closed, Sidney noticed that the woman kept looking at them.
“It’s okay, I’m a little emotional, too,” she said to Sidney, with a kind expression. “My husband is having his third heart surgery in two years. Sitting in those waiting rooms . . . it gets you thinking.” She gestured at Vaughn, smiling fondly. “I was watching you two. You remind me of my husband and me thirty years ago. Oh, the arguments we used to have. We could go back and forth, all day long.” She winked. “My husband called it foreplay.”
Alrighty, then. Nothing like a little too much information from a perfect stranger. But Sidney was distracted by something else the woman had said. She pointed between herself and Vaughn. Sure, maybe, for a split second she’d contemplated the idea of having meaningless sex with the guy, but a relationship? Hell to the no, sister. “Oh, we’re not a couple.”
“Definitely not a couple,” Vaughn added emphatically.
“He doesn’t do couples,” Sidney explained.
“She has a checklist,” Vaughn said. “With thirty-four things on it.”
The elderly woman eyed them carefully, as if she wasn’t buying it. “Uh-huh.”
“See, her sister is marrying my brother,” Vaughn continued. Like Sidney, he seemed to feel the need for further explanations.
“He’s the best man. I’m the maid of honor,” Sidney said. “And we keep getting stuck together because of this whole big wedding and secret baby drama with our siblings.”
“Probably, it’s not so much a ‘secret’ baby if you tell everyone about it,” Vaughn said under his breath.
“She doesn’t know us and it gives context to the story,” Sidney muttered back. Then she smiled at the elderly woman. “See? Clearly not a couple.”
The woman smiled as the elevator stopped at the third floor. “Well. Obviously, I was mistaken. Carry on as you were.” With a friendly nod in good-bye, she stepped out of the elevator.
Once she was gone, Sidney and Vaughn shared an incredulous look.
“Why does that keep happening to us?” Sidney asked.
“She’s just thinking about her husband,” Vaughn said. “She wants to see happy couples everywhere.”
The elevator doors sprung open at the first floor, and Vaughn put his hand on the door to keep it open for Sidney. She took a step forward and suddenly felt a tug of resistance. She looked down and then realized something.
She and Vaughn had been holding hands the entire time since he’d led her out of the waiting room.
Vaughn stared down at their joined hands, seemingly just catching on to this fact himself. Then he looked back up to meet her gaze.
They dropped hands instantly.
“You said something about coffee?” Sidney asked, a tad overbrightly.
“Yep, I think the Starbucks is right this way,” Vaughn said, his tone cheerfully nonchalant.
They scurried off, maintaining a good two feet of space between them.
• • •
ABOUT A HALF hour after Vaughn and Sidney returned from their coffee run, a relieved Simon came to the waiting room with the news that Isabelle was out of surgery and that both she and the baby were doing fine. He led them up to the fourteenth floor of the hospital, where Isabelle was recovering from the surgery in a private room.
Vaughn fought back a smile as Sidney fussed over Isabelle’s blanket and pillow, wanting to make sure she was comfortable. These brief glimpses into the softer side of the oft-prickly elder Sinclair sister were rather . . . cute.
“Did they say how long you’ll be in the hospital?” Sidney asked.
“Only twenty-four hours, since it was laparoscopic surgery,” Isabelle answered drowsily, obviously still feeling the effects of the anesthesia. “And then I need to take it easy for a week.”
“A week or two, depending on how quickly you recover,” Simon corrected her.
Isabelle frowned. “I’ll have to call all my clients and cancel their appointments this week. And then we have our tasting at the Lakeshore Club next Sunday. If we have to reschedule that, I’m not sure when we’ll be able to get it in. We’re running out of time.”
Sitting on the opposite side of the bed from Sidney, Simon stroked Isabelle’s forehead. “Don’t worry about the wedding stuff. I told you, all that will come together. For now, let’s just stay focused on getting you and the baby the rest you need.”
“Do you want me to call Dad?” Sidney asked.
Isabelle and Simon exchanged looks, as if they’d discussed exactly that. “We’d still like to keep the fact that I’m pregnant on the down-low, if we can. That is, if you two don’t mind keeping up the charade a little longer.” Isabelle looked tentatively at Vaughn, who sat a little farther from the bed, in the chair next to the window.
Vaughn was surprised she even had to ask. Yes, fine, maybe he wasn’t “the guy” people typically talked to about love and weddings and babies, but he hoped there at least wasn’t any doubt that he could keep his mouth shut. This was Simon and Isabelle’s business, and their news to share when they were ready. “I’m okay with that,” he assured Isabelle. “In fact, I volunteer if you ever again need someone to take a piece of shepherd’s pie off your hands. The last time, poor Simon here nearly broke out in a sweat trying to finish that thing.”
Isabelle and Sidney laughed as Simon shook his head good-naturedly. “I won’t lie, those last couple bites weren’t easy.” He nodded at Sidney. “Next time, I want to be the one who gets to drink the wine.”
“Next time, maybe someone should just get the condom on fast enough,” Isabelle said, with a cheeky smile.
“That wasn’t entirely my fault, sweetie.” Simon turned to Sidney and Vaughn. “See, what happened is—”
Both Sidney and Vaughn held up their hands.
“Don’t need to know,” Vaughn said.
“Yes, let’s just keep that one of life’s little mysteries,” Sidney concurred.
Isabelle’s chuckle morphed into a yawn, her eyes tiredly drooping closed.
“I think we should get going,” Sidney said quietly to Vaughn.
Realizing that he was Sidney’s ride home, he nodded and stood up. “Is there anything you need me to bring you?” he asked Simon, assuming his brother was spending the night.
“I’m good. The nurses said I could pick up toothpaste and stuff in the gift shop downstairs. My car is still parked in front of your place,” Simon said to Sidney. “Is it okay if I leave it there for now? I’ll cab over and pick it up in the morning.”
A half-asleep Isabelle mumbled something incoherent from the bed.
Vaughn, Sidney, and Simon all looked at each other cluelessly.
“I can’t be positive, but that sounded like ‘thank-you notes,’” Vaughn guessed.
Simon looked both amused and exasperated. “She was talking about that before her surgery. She asked me to bring her thank-you notes for the shower gifts, so she can write them in the hospital tomorrow during her ‘downtime.’ I keep telling her all that stuff can wait, but she has this timeline she says we need to stick to.” He held up his hand, his thumb and forefinger close to touching. “We’re just a tiny bit busy these days, planning for a wedding and a baby at the same time.”
Vaughn and Sidney exchanged looks. Hell, the thought of planning either one made Vaughn’s eye twitch, let alone both at the same time.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Sidney asked.
“Y
es.” Simon pointed at the two of them. “Go home. You two have been awesome today—thank you for everything.”
Sidney treaded softly on her way out, and Vaughn followed behind.
In the doorway, he looked back and saw Simon tenderly stroke Isabelle’s cheek. She opened her eyes for a moment and smiled, and the two of them shared a look so intimate that Vaughn felt like an intruder just standing there.
He had no idea what it felt like, having that deep of a connection with another person. But seeing his brother look so content in spite of all the chaos of the day, he suddenly found himself wondering.
“Everything okay?”
Vaughn turned back and saw Sidney waiting for him in the hallway. Shaking off the unsettled feeling that had crept over him, he nodded. “Yes.”
• • •
“DID SIMON SEEM a little stressed out to you?” Sidney asked, as they drove back to her place.
“I’d say more than a little,” Vaughn said.
“Isabelle, too. She hired a wedding planner to help out, but there’s still so much that she has to do on her own. I’m worried she’s going to push herself too hard after this surgery.” Her big-sister protective instincts were kicking in more than ever after today’s scare with Isabelle. “I’ll talk to her about delegating a few things to me.”
“Maybe I could help with some of the wedding stuff, too.”
Sidney laughed, then saw Vaughn frown. “Wait—you’re being serious?”
He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“No offense, but you don’t exactly exude a ‘wedding planning’ vibe.”
“And thank God for that. But I think I can manage a few tasks. How hard could it be to pick out a photographer? Or a band? Just ask them if they plan to play ‘Y.M.C.A.’ or that annoying Kool and the Gang song. If they say no, they’re hired.”
“A little more goes into planning a wedding than that,” Sidney said dryly. Then she bit her lip, not having meant to lead into that topic.
Vaughn glanced over, but said nothing further. They drove for a few moments in silence, and Sidney couldn’t help herself from sneaking a few peeks.