He imagined her face, calm and
questioning. What if she were there? He took a deep breath, pulled open
the front door, and walked in. No Francesca. Good--one problem put off
for another time.
He chose a table at the far end of the diner and sat facing the wall.
Jennifer made herself comfortable and surveyed the crowd.
"I like it here," she said. "I don't know why I don't come here more
often."
"Good place," Oliver said. Jennifer ordered a fruit bowl with granola
and yogurt. He asked for bacon and eggs, homefries with green peppers
and onions, and Texas toast. "Cruise all day on this," he said when the
waitress delivered. He took a bite of bacon. They couldn't put off the
conversation forever. "So--my baby, huh?"
Jennifer smiled. "Your baby. You're the man."
"I'll be damned." He found himself grinning.
"You don't look unhappy--to be a daddy." It was a question.
"Well, I'm not." He was getting used to the idea, feeling a bit proud.
"I like this fruit," she said.
"What do you think we should do?" As the words came out of his mouth,
Oliver knew that he had crossed a line. The line had been crossed
already--she was going to have his, their, baby--but he hadn't admitted
it.
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