Just Married (More than Friends) Page 8

  “I’ll let her know.” Mira winced. She’d send the text and then turn off her phone and deal with the fallout tomorrow.

  “I’m to see you inside the apartment safely, Mrs. Kerr.” The driver pulled up the rolling door on the garage-sized freight elevator. Probably meant for hauling grand pianos like the one in Bridie’s living room.

  “Cal’s orders? Like this whole ‘Mrs. Kerr’ business? I’ll be sure to get to the bottom of that before my next trip.” She held out her hand for the rolling bag. He spun it and gave her the handle.

  “Thank you.”

  “If you need anything, even takeout tonight or coffee in the morning, please call. The staff is in the building around the clock. We’ll take care of whatever you need.”

  “He has a whole team of you. I shouldn’t be surprised.” She shook her head and stepped onto the metal floor of the freight elevator. She found the panel on the side and grinned because instead of the pretentious “P” for penthouse, it had an unassuming “30.”

  The driver smiled and pulled the door shut.

  As the car ascended reality crept back in. How heavy was that door? Heavier than she should be lifting? As she looked around she realized this box would fit one of those obnoxiously large double strollers with ease.

  When the elevator finally made it to the top floor Mira pursed her lips and stared at the door handle. Surely it wouldn’t be too heavy. Plenty of women in New York got pregnant while living in studio apartments with the exact same setup. The door lifted with less effort than she’d feared. Trailing her bag behind her she stepped into the storage ghost town that held decades of furniture the Kerrs’ interior designers had cast off.

  “Callum?” A voice squeaked and Mira jumped back, nearly tripping over her case.

  Bridie Kerr pushed an antique rocking chair into the walkway. Or someone with Bridie’s face. This incarnation had her pale hair tied back with a black scarf and wore a black velour track suit. Like Fifth Avenue Bridie went to Brooklyn.

  “Oh, Miranda.” She lowered her voice, the disappointment thick. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Mira closed the door to give herself a breather before turning back toward her newly minted mother-in-law. She had the urge to cover her belly, but considering she didn’t have a problem buttoning her jeans yet, she knew the odds of Bridie guessing her dream had come true were slim.

  “Where is Callum?” Bridie asked, brushing dust off her pants.

  “Checking distribution channels in Belarus, I think. I’m never sure.” She eyed the long march to the freedom of the laundry room and the empty apartment. “Doing a little late-night redecorating?”

  “Oh.” Bridie ran her hand along the back of the ornately carved rocking chair. “I wanted to show Callum this piece. He used to love it, so I hoped it might help change his mind about having a baby.”

  This time she couldn’t help the way her hand drifted to her middle, as if she could protect the babies from hearing that truth. “It is lovely.”

  “Isn’t it? See how it has the Kerr crest right here?” She ran her thin hand across the symbol and smiled brighter than Mira had ever seen. “Maybe you could use it in your room.”

  “My room?”

  “He had the exercise room cleared so you could have a space of your own. He wasn’t sure if you’d want a dressing room or an office. He even mentioned a library.” The older woman’s personality seemed to have rolled back in time to when Bridie had been eager to please and damn near nice.

  “He didn’t mention anything.” Her heart squeezed, wondering if he’d allow a nursery. She knew he wouldn’t turn his back on the situation entirely, but would he invite them in? Or would he prefer she keep everything at a safe emotional distance, all the way across the country?

  “Callum is like Hamish that way. Everything is an offhand comment you have to jump on in order to catch.” She sighed, then straightened as if she remembered herself. The rigid posture returned, as had the poker face Mira had always attributed to Botox. “Is he coming back tomorrow?”

  Mira nodded, suddenly realizing that Bridie had blocked the penthouse elevator so she could wait in the storage space to ambush her. “Sometime in the late afternoon.”

  “I see. How long are you staying?”

  “I fly back Sunday.” There was no love lost between the women, yet Mira found herself wanting the softer Bridie back. She was likely to be the only other person happy about this pregnancy. “I think the chair will be useful in my room. I can rock and decide what I’ll do with the space.”

  A smile flashed across Bridie’s schooled features. She picked up the chair as if it were hollow and carried it toward the double doors open to the laundry room. Mira shook her head and followed her out of this Twilight Zone.

  Cal’s penthouse was the polar opposite of his mother’s carefully decorated one. He’d had thick carpet installed over the inlaid wood flooring, and much to her chagrin, most of his furniture was dark leather. The masculine minimalist decor was a tangible example of his rebellion.

  The bulky chair didn’t slow Bridie. She’d already set it in front of the corner windows by the time Mira got to the room.

  “This was going to be Callum’s nursery,” Bridie spoke to the windows. “But we switched spaces with Hamish’s parents before he was born since the other penthouse is twice the size. We should do that soon.”

  “Or not. I don’t think the storage could hold all the furniture Cal would want removed.” She made her way to the windows, taking in the beautiful summer view of Central Park.

  “Setting up a nursery would make room. I have two of everything because I duplicated his room at the Southampton house.”

  Two. Of everything. “And you saved it all this time?”

  “I always thought there would be more children.” Sorrow slashed across her features. “Of course now it’s dated and probably not your style.”

  Wanting to comfort a woman you’d thought didn’t possess feelings was a strange predicament indeed. Mira cleared her throat and ran her hand along the soft worn wood arm of the rocking chair. “Do you have two of these as well?”

  “Sadly, no. Hamish found this at Kentigern and had it shipped back and restored.”

  “Like Cal’s bed.” She wanted the words back the second they left her mouth. She didn’t care to discuss the bedroom or what went on in there.

  A dreamy smile changed Bridie’s entire face, reminding Mira she wasn’t even sixty. “Cal calls it treasure hunting. He’s found some amazing things in that relic. Every time we had him convinced to let the project go he’d find something else that had him pouring more money into the castle.” She shook her head. “Hamish used to say Callum was Peter Pan and Kentigern was his Neverland.”

  “I can see that.” Except she’d be canceling his perpetual adolescence tomorrow when she told him she was pregnant.

  “And you’ve been his Wendy, allowing him to do as he pleases.” Her tone resigned, not accusatory. “I knew he’d never settle down as long as he had you. I just never realized there was more going on than friendship.”

  “We preferred it that way.”

  “I would have treated you differently, had I known. We might even have been friends, allies.” Her pale eyes shone with regret.

  “Really?” Mira chuckled. “You wouldn’t have tried to push Cal into marriage and demanded grandbabies at the wedding?”

  “You’re warming to the idea of having a baby. I can tell.”

  “Or maybe I’ve learned arguing the point with you is a fruitless endeavor.” She grinned and decided she’d tell Bridie tomorrow before she left. Someone ought to be over the moon with happiness about these babies. The woman might have her own agenda, but learning grandchildren where in her future would be a sight to behold. Might even be the antidote for Cal’s reaction.

  “Most people do see things my way eventually.” Bridie put her hands on her slim hips. “Do you need anything? Something to eat or some champagne?”

  Guilt
kicked her hard whenever champagne was mentioned. She said a silent prayer she hadn’t hurt the babies as she shook her head. “I’m wiped out. I planned on being asleep by now.”

  “I won’t keep you then.” Bridie started for the door, but paused. “Good luck with Callum tomorrow.” She cast a knowing grin before leaving. Mira shook her head, trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean. It wasn’t until she started to walk that she realized she held a protective hand across her still toned belly.

  Had Bridie guessed her secret already?

  Callum pushed open the door to his penthouse, intent on shouting “Honey, I’m home” for the first time in his life. Only the sight of Mira doing some kind of standing split yoga in his living room left him speechless. And hard as a rock.

  “You’re early.” She spoke from her upside-down position, as if it were perfectly natural to have your head by your ankle with the other leg reached to the ceiling. Leggings clung to her from ankle to hip, while her loose pink tank had slipped to expose her lean belly and the bottom of her purple bra.

  “No, I’m late. I should have been here yesterday watching you twist yourself around.” He dropped his bags and toed off his loafers.

  “True.” She brought her other leg down before he got to her, which ruined his plan of carrying her to the bedroom that way.

  “Hello, wife.” He caught her before she could turn around, wrapping his arms around her middle and slipping his hands beneath her tank. Her warm skin was soft beneath his palms.

  She tilted her head back to look at him. “I missed you too, Cal.”

  “Yeah? Show me.” He leaned into her, her lips parting when they met his. He kissed her slow and deep, until her fingertips grazed the front of his thighs. White-hot need blinded his control. He slid his hands from her belly and under the waistband of her tight leggings.

  She broke the kiss and stilled his hands with her own. “Hold on. We need to talk.”

  He rubbed his cheek against her silken hair, captured completely in a French braid. “We’re not that married.”

  “We really are.” She tried to turn, but he held her tighter, pressing his rock-hard cock into the curve of her perfect ass.

  “I know what ‘we need to talk’ means. And right now I need to be inside you more than I need to know what’s on your mind. We can talk after.”

  This time he let her spin to face him. Cal frowned. She really wasn’t going to let this go. He could tell by the furrowed brow and worried look in eyes. He framed her face in his hands, all smooth skin and hazel eyes.

  She shook her head. “It can’t wait.”

  “Why? Is the problem going somewhere?”

  She released the barest sigh. “No, it’s here to stay.”

  “Then let’s talk in twenty-four hours.”

  She shook her head. “I leave in less than thirty.”

  He smoothed his thumbs along her cheekbones. “I’ve missed you more than you need to talk.”

  She parted her lips to protest, so he leaned in, silencing her argument with a kiss deep enough to remind her it had been five long weeks since they’d been together. He released her face and grabbed her thick braid, pulling her head back as his mouth tasted her lips, the line of her jaw, and that spot below her earlobe that made her slump against him.

  He gripped her tight ass with both hands, lifting her off her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs across his back. She climbed him like a vine while he carried her to the bedroom.

  He didn’t want to talk about anything troubling, now or ever. He only wanted Mira, hot and willing in his bed, warm and welcoming in his life. They had so little time together, the rest of it was a waste. So long as he kept them naked, and her floating on a sea of orgasmic bliss, the only hard thing they’d have to deal with this weekend was his cock.

  Cal ran his fingers through the wild mess of her hair, probably trying to wake her. But Mira had been up for a while, pulling the warm scent of him into her lungs, his steady heartbeat against her ear, and the crisp hair of his chest on her cheek. She hadn’t noticed a single pregnancy craving until Cal had come home yesterday and wrapped his arms around her. He’d always smelled good, but now he was intoxicating.

  It had certainly impaired her judgment. She’d spent an entire day indulging in the pleasure of his body when she should have been explaining their new situation. He was so blissfully happy, so different from the last time she’d been here, when grief had paralyzed him. He deserved this moment of heaven, and she wanted him to think of their marriage like this. She needed it too. Everyone deserved a honeymoon.

  After he learned about the babies, his anger and disappointment would cloud everything for a while. Maybe forever. And if her sushi habit and wedding-night champagne binge had harmed the babies, there wouldn’t be enough forgiveness to get them through it.

  “Doll,” Cal whispered before kissing the top of her head. “We should shower.”

  “Maybe later.” She opened her eyes, bright sunlight spilling through the windows.

  “Brunch is in forty-five minutes.”

  “What brunch?” She pushed against his chest until she caught his dark, sleepy gaze. His short hair mussed, his jaw dark with stubble, he looked positively edible.

  “I rescheduled Friday dinner to Sunday brunch.”

  “And you’re springing this on me now?” Not that she didn’t have a secret of her own, big enough to bring them both down.

  “It’s at my mother’s. We’ve barely been out of bed since I came home. The pizza we ordered from Emilio’s is long gone and the only thing here to eat is scones and biscuits. I can’t live on that.”

  “Then you’ll be useless in a zombie apocalypse.” She sat up with a sigh, pulling the sheet to cover her breasts.

  His rich laugh wrapped around her like a hug. She rested her hand on the center of his chest, not wanting their weekend to be snatched away by responsibility just yet.

  “You should come back to Seattle with me.” It would be so much easier to tell him there, on her own turf.

  “Don’t tempt me.” He took her hand from his chest and kissed it before sitting up and swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. “I’ve been out of the country for two weeks, so I have to bring things back to order.”

  “Will you have time for our weekend in September?” It was only three weeks away; waiting to tell him might be best for everyone. She still wasn’t used to the idea and she’d known for a week.

  “We’ll work something out.” He stood and stretched, so comfortable and confident in his body she had to smile. “See something you like?”

  “Always.” She shed the sheet and rose up beside him. She spent time every day examining herself for signs of pregnancy, worried she’d start to show before she could explain and terrified her lack of symptoms meant there was something wrong with the babies.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we should shower separately.”

  She placed a hand on her hip. “Really?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “If I take you in there, we’ll be late.”

  “Not if you apply yourself.” She reached out and wrapped her hand around his cock. It rose from half-mast to full sail almost instantly. “I can multitask. Can you?”

  He groaned in response. Her pulse skipped ahead, always giddy at how she could bring him here, where he lost his ability to reason. It leveled the playing field, since he could do it to her with a glance.

  Keeping her fingers tight around his cock, she walked toward the shower, leading him straight into temptation.

  9

  Miranda let out a deep breath and stretched her neck from one side to the other as she stared out her rain-splattered office window. Giving up coffee had a serious effect on her afternoon productivity. She’d spent the first few days back writing it off as jet lag, and the rest of the week as caffeine withdrawal. Maybe if she slept away the long Labor Day weekend she’d be
back to normal by Tuesday.

  Unless the babies were making her tired. Then she’d be stuck with it until she could mainline maple lattes again. And the time line for that depended on so many factors she shook her head to dispel the random bits of pregnancy knowledge. She almost wished she’d told Cal last weekend so that she could tell her girlfriends and glean from their experiences what actually mattered. But then, she would have ruined their moment of happy matrimony. The only one they were likely to ever have.

  She glanced to the wall of white bookshelves lining one side of her office and smiled as her gaze caught on the wedding photos she’d recently framed. She loved the shot of her and Cal as they turned from the altar, her bouquet in the air and Elvis striking a pose. She’d liked it so much that she had one here and at home. Smaller prints of her and the girls all rubbing Molly’s belly for luck, shoving a whipped cream–covered waffle in Cal’s face, and a candid shot of Cal whispering something in her ear. It all looked so romantic, so fitting with the rest of her collection of happy memories and beautiful places. The vibrant frames kept the modern space from seeming so stark.

  Mira stood and walked to the window, staring out at Puget Sound through the thin veil of drizzle. She straightened her plum dress, which had started to cling to her middle, and decided she’d pack a bag and catch the ferry out to Whidbey Island for the long weekend. She used her aunt’s house as a vacation rental, but thanks to a last-minute cancellation it was available. And since she’d turned her condo into a library of all things baby, she could use the clear space to figure out how to break the news without breaking her marriage.

  She’d honestly rather these babies not know Cal at all than know he didn’t want them. Miranda had felt like a burden the moment her aunt had arrived at her parents’ apartment after their death. It had weighed heavy on her, though she’d tried her level best to be as easy on her aunt as possible. There had to be a way to tell Cal without the risk of him saying something she’d never unhear.