Finding Her Prince. Robyn Donald

muted movie on TV as he took a bite of the sandwich identical to hers. To his credit, he didn’t choke or spit it out. Also to his credit, he’d put apple slices and baby carrot sticks on each plate.

      Cindy stared at her food. “Do you always eat like this?”

      “Like what?” He took another bite.

      “Peanut butter and banana. Healthy and nutritious.”

      “Never had this before. It’s pretty good,” he admitted.

      Suddenly she was really curious about his usual habits. “What’s a normal dinner for you?”

      “I grab takeout on the way home from the hospital. If forced to cook, it’s a steak on the barbecue.”

      “So you’re doing this for me,” she said, indicating the fresh fruit and veggies.

      “Yeah.” He crunched on a carrot. “It’s the right thing to do.”

      To some men “the right thing” in this situation would be marriage, but he’d never brought it up. Maybe because his wife had died. Was that why he didn’t believe in love? Because it hurt when you lost that special person?

      At least he was honest, and that was refreshing after the jerk who’d done nothing but lie to her. And Nathan was a nice man. It was incredibly difficult to work up a heart-healthy amount of resistance to him when he was nice.

      “What are you watching?” He took a sip from the long-neck bottle of beer.

      “I was channel surfing.” She wasn’t sure why, but she felt the need to explain stumbling onto this old movie. “Came across this Steve McQueen, Natalie Wood picture. Love with the Proper Stranger.”

      “What’s it about?”

      She took a big bite of her sandwich and savored the flavors mixing together. But the truth was that peanut butter did stick to the roof of your mouth and it took her a minute before she could answer the question. Long enough for the parallel between her life imitating movie art to become clear.

      “It’s a chick flick.” That should put an end to his curiosity.

      “Steve McQueen usually plays a tough guy. Guns and car chases. Why is he standing in the middle of a crowd holding bells and a banjo with a sign around his neck that says, ‘Better wed than dead’?”

      “You don’t really want to know.”

      “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.”

      “Okay.” She looked at the happy ending silently playing out on seventy-five inches of screen. “They had a one-night stand and she got pregnant.”

      “Really?” His expression said that he got the parallel.

      “He’s not the marrying kind but asks her anyway because it’s the right thing. And in the olden days it was quite the stigma for a woman to be unmarried and pregnant.”

      “I actually know that.”

      “She turns down the proposal. Stuff happens and when he gets to know her, he discovers that he can’t live without her, but he’s blown it big time. The bells, banjo and sign are very public, his grand gesture to prove he really wants to be with her. That he loves her. Very romantic.”

      “I guess.” He set his empty plate on the coffee table. “If you believe in that sort of thing.”

      “Someone must because romance is a moneymaker at the movies.”

      “Oh?”

      “Yeah. Titanic was the highest grossing movie ever. Until recently.”

      “The boat sinks. So what’s your point?”

      “Exactly that. Everyone knows the boat sinks. The only reason that movie was so successful is because there was a love story at the heart of it. No pun intended.”

      “Is it possible that the special effects pulled in the public?”

      “Some,” she admitted. “Did you see it?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Why do you suppose Rose as an old woman threw that expensive necklace in the ocean?”

      “Dementia brought on by advancing age.”

      She laughed. “That works. I just kept thinking if she didn’t want it, she should give it to me. I could really use the money.”

      “But if romance is the heart of the movie, that scene is symbolic. One could deduce that love makes no sense.”

      “If you don’t believe in love, far be it from me to try and convince you otherwise. It’s not worth the argument.”

      “Good. Do you mind if I put on a ball game?”

      “It’s your TV.”

      And house. Love had no place in his life. She was grateful for the reminder because hanging out with him was fun but a bad idea. After what felt like an eternity of digging herself out of debt by herself, leaning on him would be too easy. It would also leave her vulnerable and with nowhere to hide.

      However, since their one-night stand he hadn’t made a single move on her. Maybe because she was pregnant, but more likely because he was so over her. That meant the attraction getting stronger for her was one-sided and made the obsession to fortify her heart just silly.

      His lack of attention proved she’d been right about him losing interest when he got what he wanted.

      Sometimes she hated being right.

      Cindy sat in Nathan’s family room with her feet up and looked at two of her three best friends, Harlow Marcelli and Mary Frances Bird. Whitney Davenport, a medical technician at the hospital, had to work because the lab was short-staffed. She was counting on her friends to fill her in on what the heck was going on.

      The two who were present hadn’t told her that, but Cindy knew. The four of them had met at the hospital’s new-hire orientation. Though they all worked in completely different departments, the click of friendship had been instant. Since then, the other three women had pulled Cindy through heartbreak and the financial fiasco that followed. She’d been there for the others during crises of dating, declining parent health and anything else they needed. Now she had to explain to them the unexplainable—how she’d gotten pregnant and why she’d kept it to herself.

      This morning Mary Frances had called Cindy’s cell and demanded to know why she hadn’t been at work. She and Harlow had gone to her house, which, of course, was empty. They were worried. Cindy had given her Nathan’s address and invited them over for in-person details. This wasn’t a quick, cell-call kind of conversation. Nathan was at work and Shirley had gone to a candle-making class at the astrology store.

      The time had come to confess all.

      Cindy sat in the corner of the big, L-shaped sofa with her friends on either side of her. “So, how have you guys been? What’s new?”

      “That’s what I’d like to know.” Mary Frances was a petite, auburn-haired Labor and Delivery nurse at the hospital. She and Cindy were the same size, and the fundraiser dress had been borrowed from her.

      “Okay. Before we start, anyone want water, soda, juice or coffee? You guys hungry?”

      “Yeah. For information. What is going on? Whose house is this? And when can I move in, too?” Mary Frances’s blue eyes held equal parts of humor and confusion.

      Harlow tucked a shoulder-length strand of shiny brown hair behind her ear. Green eyes that missed nothing were narrowed. “I think I can answer the who question. But the why is still a mystery.”

      Mary Frances slid forward. The seat of the couch was so deep, if she scooted back, her legs stuck straight out in front of her. She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “Someone please start filling in the blanks because I’m clueless here.”

      “This