Just Married (More than Friends) Page 13

  This should be a time of celebration for them, not of heartbreak. But the dream of building a life with Cal—of making memories of holiday vacations and spoiling their godchildren and sexy times on beaches . . . all of that evaporated when reality hit them like an atom bomb. Nothing looked the same, or felt the same; in fact, their plans were destroyed and they were starting over from ground zero. All because her oldest dream had come true—a family of her own.

  Here in Seattle, she had the resources to build a healthy, supported life for her and the boys. In a few months she’d be the one fussed over as Molly had been, the one in a happy panic, caught up in a comfortable swirl of support. If she gave in and went to New York to follow after Cal like some Stepford wife, she’d be alone. Probably taken to the hospital by a chauffeur. A chill sliced through her at the idea of having to go through labor with strangers. The process itself was scary enough, but to be so completely vulnerable and not have a support team in place? She couldn’t do it.

  There wasn’t much she actually thought impossible. She was a smart chick and figured out what she didn’t already know. She had the education and the means to do most anything. And she’d worked damned hard to get here. But to truly be a single parent? Not that she had much choice, even if her husband had the same address.

  A rapping at the door jolted her from her pity party. Her pulse leaped and she placed a hand on her chest to hold her heart in. The clock on her tablet showed it was past eleven, too late for anything normal. And that’s what happened this deep in suburbia. Normal.

  She shuffled to the door. Everything in the house was silent, so still she heard her own breathing. She was used to living alone, but in a secured building. This was just so out of her element she considered ignoring it all together.

  The knock returned and she winced. She didn’t want Anna to wake up. The little girl had the biggest day of her life tomorrow. Besides, the door had a deadbolt and a peephole. Plus the alarm panel she’d forgotten about had a square red alert button. Suburbia thought of everything.

  She forced a deep breath and checked the peephole, nearly choking as Cal stared back at her with a mocking grin. She undid the locks and pulled the door open.

  “You can take the girl out of the city,” he said as he walked past her. He kept going, all the way to the kitchen as if she’d been expecting him.

  “What are you doing here?” She secured the dead bolt and remembered to set the alarm this time. “I thought you’d be winging your way past the flyover states by now.”

  “Me too. I should be sound asleep and halfway home.” She noticed for the first time he had a paper bag and was unpacking tubs of ice cream. Premium ice cream. The kind he used to bribe her with during first year when he needed her notes.

  “Mechanical issues?” She kept the island between them, the devil on her shoulder tempting her with how good he must smell, and how disappointed she’d been that they hadn’t been intimate all weekend. But the pregnancy had slammed that door shut for Cal. He’d thrown their relationship in reverse, all the way back to before his innocent flirtation gave way to her awkward advances. His ice-cream bribes had melted into anything but vanilla once they’d started having sex.

  “Pistachio for your thoughts?” He held up a tub, that boyish grin thawing her resolve to leave her heart out of this.

  “Careful what you wish for.”

  “I can take it. I have mocha-almond fudge to soothe my ego.”

  “No rocky road?”

  “Too metaphoric.”

  “What else is in your arsenal?”

  He spun the containers to face her. “New York cheesecake.”

  “Cheater.”

  “Just using the assets available to me.” He tapped the remaining lid. “I evened things up with marionberry pie swirl, which I can’t get on the East Coast.”

  “And what is it we’re doing here?”

  “Ever since I’ve known you, when I have a problem we solve it with a bottle of wine, a sunset, and a bed. But it’s dark and you can’t drink, so I opted for ice cream.”

  “And you don’t want to share a bed.” The pain in her admission made the words hang in the air.

  He nodded. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

  Well if that didn’t deserve ice cream to assuage her hurt pride, nothing did. She pulled open the silverware drawer and grabbed a fistful of spoons. A night like this called for eating straight from the carton, so she took her pistachio to the couch. She really wanted the cheesecake, but that felt like admitting defeat.

  He toed off his shoes before joining her with his mocha-almond fudge. He motioned to the magazines. “What are you doing here?”

  “Learning to be a mother.” She spoke around a frozen mouthful.

  He swirled his spoon through the tub. “You’ll be a natural. None of this comes naturally to me.”

  Her instinct was to comfort him, tell him it would all be okay. But she wasn’t sure it would be. Instead she went for a subject change. “Aside from telling you to handle me, how did your mom take it?”

  His lips quirked in a grin. “Like she already knew.”

  “I think she suspected when I was there.” Her stomach tensed, waiting for him to remind her she should have told him then.

  He shrugged. “It might have been wishful thinking on her part.”

  “She put a rocking chair in the spare room, Cal. She said she has two cribs from when you were a baby. It felt like a baby ambush.”

  “She is the queen of the ambush. She wants a grandchild, so she planned to annoy us until she got one. Tenacity is her biggest asset.” He helped himself to a spoonful from her tub. “Don’t start feeling pressured by her now. You’ve always been able to hold your own with her.”

  “She never saw me as a threat to what she wanted.”

  “And now you’ll be delivering it to her, wrapped up in a blue blanket.” He shook his head. “Moving the rocking chair in was to get to me, not you. And the cribs, well, she keeps everything. It can’t clutter up her space, but she can’t part with it.”

  “I don’t know if the cribs would be a good idea.” She found the WHAT TO LOOK FOR IN A CRIB article and turned it toward him. “There are different safety concerns now. How far apart the slats should be and such.”

  He didn’t look. “There are professional baby-proofers. We can hire one and let them be the heavy.”

  “Good plan.” They ate their ice cream until her tongue went numb and her teeth started to ache. She set the half-empty tub on the stack of magazines on the ottoman. “So, you’re in Seattle.”

  “I am.” His empty carton joined hers.

  “For the baby?”

  “For you. I don’t understand any of this.” He waved his hand, motioning toward the baskets of toys and bassinet at the ready. “When you never plan on being a parent, you let all this pass by without taking notice. You think it’s important that I’m here to see a newborn, so I’ll give it a day.”

  “How big of you.” She collected the open magazines, wanting to smack him upside the head with one.

  “I’m trying, doll. You should make an attempt.”

  “To what?” She set the pile of magazines beside the others.

  “To compromise with me.”

  Like he’d ever done that in his life. “And what would a compromise look like to you? Split the difference and live in Chicago?”

  He laughed. “Can you imagine?”

  She refused to smile. “Nope.”

  “In order for me to live here, I’d have to relocate the headquarters of almost twenty companies. Think of how many families that would impact.”

  Oh, logistics. Kind of like logic, but not. “I’m not asking you to move here. In fact, I don’t think it’s a great idea.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” He stared blankly at her, as if he wasn’t the one to start all this.

  “We’re not the standard married couple. We’ve never lived together. Trying it now would be awkward
.”

  He leaned back against the couch like he planned to stay all night. “Awkward how?”

  Oh come on. “You haven’t touched me since you found out I was pregnant.”

  He didn’t even blink. “We were barely speaking. All weekend. Not exactly the kind of mood that calls for shagging.”

  “And then you canceled Portland.” Her pulse kicked up and she studied his features, which revealed nothing. He was good at that.

  “Because I’d skipped out on meetings to come here and I have to make up for it. Do you have any idea how many different businesses I’m running?”

  “Do you have any idea how little I care about any of that?” He didn’t get it. He just, well, he saw her as another one of those responsibilities, nothing more. After her parents died, she’d been forced to depend on others for everything. That sense of being a burden had never lifted, and she’d never put herself in a position to feel that way again.

  “How supportive of you.” He rose from the couch and shook his head. “Everything I am doing is to preserve the inheritance for the children.”

  “You don’t have to feed me the company line, Kerr. You were doing all of this before there were children to inherit. You took all this on because you think you should, not because you want to.”

  “But there are children now, and it is my duty to pass the estate onto them in better condition than I received it.”

  “Him. Only one of them, right?”

  He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze. “I’m working to remedy that.”

  “I’m sure there is more than enough to go around, if that is what the boys want. There are decades until inheritance becomes an issue. Maybe you’ll get lucky and we’ll have a poet and a musician who want nothing to do with international trade.”

  The shadow of a smile glanced his features. “I’ll find a way to make it fair.”

  “Fair. How is asking me to move to New York fair?”

  “That’s where I am, and I am their father.” He clenched his jaw, giving away his annoyance.

  “Your work schedule means you are rarely in one place for any length of time. I don’t want to be alone in New York. We’ll all be happier here, among friends, where they can be kids instead of the heir and the spare to an empire.”

  “You’ll make friends wherever you go. Almost every business I run is headquartered in New York.”

  “Which is why I’m not asking you to relocate. You married me because you didn’t want to be saddled with someone who depended on you, right? The benefits of marriage without the drawbacks. You’re changing the contract after it’s been signed. You never wanted me in New York before I was pregnant, so there is no reason for me to be there now.”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. “This is why you pull on your hair.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “When you’re frustrated.” He looked down at her. “I can see the appeal of pulling my hair out right now.”

  “It wouldn’t be a good look.”

  “Would you prefer Scotland to New York?”

  Now he was just being ridiculous. “Would you prefer to run Kerr Industries or Kerr Textiles?”

  “That’s neither here nor there. I have to handle them both. Just like I have to be a father to my children. Anything less would be unfair to you, and to them.”

  “I wish you would do what you wanted to do, instead of always doing what you think you’re supposed to.”

  “You know what I want, doll? My wife and my children in my home. That’s what I want. How do I make that happen?”

  She hated herself for being the person to hurt him, and she was. She could see it in the way his features hardened, the way his body went tall and rigid. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them tight, her lower belly hard against her thighs. The timing of her first pregnancy twinge wasn’t lost on her.

  “You think I’m going to be a bad father. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t—” Her throat closed, tight and sharp around wanting to say more. She pressed her lips together, her eyes growing achy and heavy. Of all the times to get hormonal.

  He sank down beside her on the sofa, letting his head rest back on the cushions. “You know what’s truly fucked up here?”

  They could write a list longer than the baby registry. Because the easy thing would be for her to pack up and go to New York. And be miserable alone. And raise the boys there, alone. After that terrifying night when the policeman had knocked on the apartment door with news her world had ended, she’d swore she’d never be abandoned in that city ever again. And eventually she’d be so broken she’d have to leave, and hate him for it. And wind up right back here anyway.

  “I married you because you are your own person. You don’t need me. And that is getting in my way right now.”

  “If I’m in your way, imagine being yoked with twin babies.” She forced a smile. How, she wasn’t sure. Because while she didn’t need him, would never allow herself to need anyone, she wanted him. Desperately. But she’d never let that be the reason to add her or the boys to his list of burdens. “You don’t have room for a wife and kids in your life. You knew that when you married me. Maybe we’ll rewrite the rules of family just like we did with marriage. Can you really see yourself as my labor coach? Or changing diapers and giving up your sleep because the boys are on a two-hour feeding schedule?”

  “So you can be a martyr, but I can’t be? What gives you the right to make that choice for all of us?”

  She reached for him then, moving closer until she could take his beautiful face in her hands. “Because it’s not a burden for me. I want to do this. I want to experience the highs and lows of motherhood. Hopefully more highs. And I want you to be happy, truly happy. I saw that when I was with you in New York last weekend. You were free of the expectations for the first time in your life, you were in control of where you wanted to go and what you wanted to be. All of that will change if the boys and I are there. Their schedule will dictate everything and you’ll never get that sense of freedom and control back again.”

  She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his, her heart breaking wide open. No wonder people were so afraid of love. It ripped away your ability to protect yourself.

  Cal shifted, taking her with him until she found herself on her back against the couch with him on top of her. She gasped instinctively, but instead of air she got Cal. Not the rough and needy pursuit she’d grown used to. This was simply a kiss. The kind they used to play with. A kiss, followed by another. Warm brushes of his firm mouth until she opened for more.

  She tangled her fingers in his hair and pressed closer, needing the strength of him. But he didn’t rush, just deepened the kiss with a teasing flick of his tongue, leaving her to chase as he withdrew. She knew how to tease as well as he did, and took her time exploring him, remembering when they didn’t race to the finish. Just enjoyed the bliss.

  She bent one leg to cradle his body closer, sensations dancing through her like gentle rain. Constant, steady, easing the flood of emotions. It was these kind of moments with Cal when she felt so at one with him any separation seemed impossible. Because she’d never tire of the deep masculine scent of him filling her lungs, or the way the bunching muscles of his shoulders filled her hands. She tugged at his shirt, wanting his skin on hers, wanting him.

  “Mommy?” A tiny voice crackled in the stillness.

  They both froze, not even breathing. It took a moment to remember where they were, and that Anna’s baby monitor sat atop the TV.

  “Mommy?” Anna’s tone grew worried and fretful.

  Cal jumped off her like he’d been stung by a thousand scorpions. He glanced about the room as if he were looking for ghosts.

  Mira couldn’t help the laugh as she pushed herself up. She pointed to the monitor, complete with a video display of Anna sitting in bed holding an empty sippy cup. “I’ll be right back.”

  Which she intended to be, only a toddler woken in the mi
ddle of the night wasn’t easy to settle. Instead of spending the night in her husband’s arms, she wound up curled beside a kicking child. Soon enough that would be their life. As disappointed as she was, it was probably best he learn the truth sooner rather than later.

  Hand trucks and packing boxes cluttered the freight elevator as Cal rode to the penthouse. He hadn’t slept in days and had meetings in an hour, so he didn’t have the patience for one of his mother’s projects. Only the mess got worse in the storage room. And by the time he made it into his own apartment, he was damned near homicidal.

  “What the hell is going on?” His words came out like a roar, but he was too exhausted to care. At least a dozen people were in his space, putting his things in boxes and moving aside his furniture.

  Everyone froze, as well they should. He dropped his bags at the door and pushed his hands through his hair and squeezed, the pull on his scalp just enough to keep him from exploding. His rugs had been rolled and propped in a corner, his art removed from the walls. He braced his hands on his hips.

  “Everything back as it was. Every goddamned thing.”

  No one moved, which would not do. He was in no mood.

  “Darling, you’re home.” His mother rushed in through the laundry room. She looked like she was organizing a charity brunch, not uprooting his life. “I told you, I’m having the apartments switched.”

  “And I told you no.” The words were louder than he’d like, but she was obviously hard of hearing. He turned back to the apartment. “Everything back where it was.”

  He strode through the living room, spying workers in every corner of his space. All he’d wanted was a shower and a quiet minute. The only room free of the chaos was next to his bedroom, in the room he’d cleared for Mira. His mother followed him there, closing the door behind them.

  “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

  “Really? Because I could have the police clear it up for you. I want my home back the way I left it. Immediately.”