“Yes. A little boy. Wow.”

“It’s highly unusual for my family.”

“I’d have been happy either way,” he said softly.

“Me, too.”

They idled awhile longer.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Tom offered.

“It’s okay. It’s not far.”

“I’m in no rush,” he said, passing her the photo of the scan.

“I’ll get you a copy of it.”

“Thanks. My parents would love to see it.”

“Are they well?”

“Yes. They’re loving England, but not the weather. They said to say hi.”

She smiled. “That’s nice. Please say hi back from me.”

They walked toward the parking lot, their footsteps sounding louder than usual. When Tom’s shoulder accidentally brushed against hers, a tingle of electricity ran through her. From the look on Tom’s face, she thought he might have felt it, too.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Sorry,” she said back.

“Not sure what that was. Maybe some static.”

Carla nodded. “Yes, probably.”

They both stopped walking and turned to look at each other. What if? Carla thought. What if Tom hadn’t gone to America? What if she hadn’t gone to see a fortune teller with her family? What if she hadn’t retraced her exes?

But she had to accept these things had happened and she couldn’t change them. She and Tom had to deal with the future, however it might look. And Carla didn’t want to face it by using fortunes or statistics. She was happy to live her life with her family around her and was ready to give fate a chance.

She no longer wanted to ask what if? She was going to ask what next?

“Sorry things haven’t worked out between us,” Tom said, emotion catching in his voice. “We’ll work hard to be the best parents that we can be.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry, too.” Carla choked back a sob, hoping he didn’t hear or see it.

Tom leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek and Carla felt the strange sensation again. A tingle. A zap. Like the touch of an electric eel.

“Bye, Carla,” he said, turning to walk away.

Carla lowered her head, blinking back the tears blooming in her eyes. “Bye, Tom,” she whispered under her breath.

Back in the car, she crumpled into her dad’s arms.

Thirty-Seven

Match

Three months later

Although Carla was a matchmaker, she’d never been sure of the best way to wait for a date to arrive. Did you look at your phone and feign surprise when you sensed their presence, or did you vanish into the bathroom and twiddle your thumbs to kill time? Did you gaze out of the window to wait for them to arrive, so you could stand up to greet them?

She arrived at the bar twenty minutes early and looked around for a seat. Should she sit in the corner, so she could see the whole area? Or take a seat in the center of the room?

Each time she heard the door opening, her stomach jittered, causing the baby to give a little wriggle. She was now over seven months pregnant, and her bump was glorious and obvious in her blue jersey dress.

Carla decided she wasn’t going to play it cool and took a seat in the window so she could look through the glass and also see the door. She left her phone in her pocket so she wasn’t tempted to play with it.

When her date arrived, he was two minutes early and greeted her with a small smile and a wave. He’d bought her a small bouquet of pink roses and white tulips, the kind where the stems sit in a bulb of water so they don’t dry out.

Practical and thoughtful, she noted to herself. A good start. “Thanks, they’re beautiful,” she said, bowing her head to smell them.

“Sorry if I’m a bit late,” he said.

“You were on time and I was early,” she replied with a smile.

“I’ll get us some drinks. What would you like?”

Carla looked over his shoulder at the selection behind the bar. “Maybe a pint of nonalcoholic cider.”

He looked a little surprised. “Good choice.”

Carla surveyed him as he waited at the bar. He had a strong back and shoulders, and he dressed smartly. She liked that. There was a flash of a gold watch on his wrist, which neither attracted her nor put her off.

“Cheers,” he said, when he sat back down, clinking his glass of red wine against her cider. “So, do you come here often?”

His cheesy comment broke the ice and they both laughed.

“Not as often as I’d like to, these days.” She stroked her bump.

It didn’t seem to faze him. “So,” he said. “Tell me something about yourself.”

Carla sipped her drink, peering at him over the top of her glass. He was good-looking but not overly confident about it. His collar was askew and she found she wanted to adjust it, so she could touch his neck—a good sign. “What would you like to know?”

“Let’s start at the very beginning. What’s your favorite color?”

She was surprised he hadn’t asked about her job or where she lived, first. “Probably yellow,” she said. “It reminds me of sunshine and daffodils, but I’m fond of orange, too.”

“Cool,” he said. “I also like those colors.”