“I know. I was just waiting for this nausea to pass so I could get up and get ready.”
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “I’m sorry you don’t feel well, but it’s a sign of a healthy pregnancy. It means your hormones are climbing.”
“How in the world would you know something like that?”
He shrugs. “Seems I remember my mum saying something like that when Emma was pregnant. Want to try a few crackers to see if it’ll help?”
“I guess you remember Margaret saying that was a remedy too?”
“No. Everyone knows it is.”
I scoot up in bed. “Yeah. I’ll try one or two.”
He returns a few minutes later with crackers and a fizzy drink. “Mrs. Porcelli sent ginger ale. She said it might help.”
“You told her I was pregnant?” I ask. He better say he didn’t or I’m going to be pissed off.
“No—only that you weren’t feeling well.”
“What are we going to do about telling people?”
“I would tell the world if it were up to me, so I guess it comes down to what you want.” I don’t think he’s kidding. I wouldn’t put it past him to run an ad in the paper.
But I’m not ready for anyone to know. “I don’t want to tell anyone yet.”
“Because you want to wait until the miscarriage risk has passed?”
“Yes.” No. That’s not the reason at all. “No. I don’t want to announce my pregnancy and then have it overshadowed by the announcement of you having a two-year-old son with another woman.” I know this hurts him but it’s how I feel. “Can we just agree to get through today, see what the results are next week, and then go from there?”
“I’ll do anything you want. You have all the say-so.”
I bite into the cracker and roll it around in my mouth. I don’t have a clue how eating can make my nausea better because the simple thought of swallowing my own saliva right now makes me want to yack. “I gotta spit this out.” I come up from the bed and run toward the bathroom when I realize there’ll be stomach contents following the cracker.
Jack Henry is instantly by my side helping to pull my hair away from my face and placing a cool washcloth on the back of my neck. “I’m so sorry you’re sick, love.”
“A normal part of it all, I’m afraid.”
“I’d take it from you if I could.”
“Yeah, I know you would.” I have no doubt about his sincerity because that’s how much he loves me.
We arrive ten minutes late for his appointment because of me. I had at least three more dry heaving episodes before we made it out the door. I told him to go ahead without me but he wouldn’t.
He’s scared shitless. I see it in his eyes. And I think I detect nervous trembling in his hands as he flips through a parenting magazine. “Do you feel better?”
“No. I’m still really nauseated. I think I could lie down on this floor and happily die right now.”
“Would you think less of me as a man if I did the same?” I’m actually amused for the first time in days. We’re a sight—two adults sitting in this pediatrician’s office more terrified than any of the kids surrounding us.
“Jack McLachlan.” He’s called back and we’re led into an exam room by a short, round nurse. “You’re here to submit a DNA sample for a paternity test regarding Ashton Rosenthal.”
“That’s correct.”
Holy shit. I’ve not heard his name until now. I think I’ve been pretending he didn’t have one, that he didn’t really exist, but hearing it makes it all too real. “I’m going to throw up.”
The nurse scrambles to grab an emesis basin from the cabinet and hands it off to me just in time. More dry heaving—of course it is. I have nothing in my stomach.
“Looks like you may need to see the doctor while you’re here.” She wets a paper towel and passes it to me.
“A pediatrician isn’t going to help what’s wrong with me.”
“My wife’s pregnant. It’s morning sickness.” He sounds so proud.
“Oh, well, congratulations.” An awkward silence ensues and I’m sure it’s because she’s remembering why we’re here in the first place. I feel the pounding heat of humiliation rising in my cheeks. I shield my face. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”
I look at Jack Henry. “See. That’s why I don’t want to tell people yet.”
He sighs. “I get it, babe, but please try to understand my side. I’m excited about our baby. It felt good to tell someone my wife is pregnant. It makes me proud.”
“You can’t always do something because it feels good! That’s why we’re sitting here in a doctor’s office for a fucking paternity test.” I’m irritable, on edge, and I could burst into tears at any moment. I have no right to say these hurtful things to him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m being such a bitch. I don’t wanna be.”
“It’s the pregnancy, love, and this situation isn’t helping.” He puts his arms around me. “Just a few more days and hopefully this will be over for good so we can get back to being us.”
Being us. There’s nothing I want more, but it seems these bitches from his past won’t allow it.
The physician comes into the exam room with his nurse. He’s polite—not the best bedside manner in the world—but I assume he’s used to dealing with children. He collects a swab of the inside of Jack Henry’s cheek and places his patient label around it. He holds it up for Jack Henry to verify. “All of that looks correct to you?”
“Yes, sir. That’s me.”
“Good. The lab will send the results to us and we’ll notify you by letter.”
“I prefer to be called,” he requests. “Mail will take at least two days longer and I’m anxious to know the results.”
“Okay, but I’m sure you’ll want something in writing as well. I’ll have the office call so you can come by for the lab report.”
So, that’s it. Now, we wait.
We leave the exam room and wait at reception to check out. “Did you like the doctor?”
That’s sort of a weird question. “Not really. Why do you ask?”
“We’ll be needing a pediatrician.”
“Well, it won’t be him.” Not only was his bedside manner lacking, I wouldn’t want to be remembered as the wife who accompanied her husband for a paternity test. “I want a female doctor.”
“What if our baby is a boy?” he asks. “Don’t you think that would be awkward for him to let a female pediatrician look at his doodle?”
I slam on my mental brakes. “His doodle?”
“Yeah.” Really? That’s what Jack Henry’s going to call our son’s penis?
“I don’t think it would be any more awkward than a male pediatrician looking at our daughter’s tutu.”
“Her tutu? That’s what you’ll call it?”
We look at one another and laugh. “Is this an example of what our vocabulary will be reduced to? Doodle and tutu?”
“I’m pretty sure it is. Three kids in and Evan only speaks fluent buffoon now.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” I turn at the venomous sound of a woman’s voice but I already know it’s her—Jenna Rosenthal. She has her son on her hip and looks none too pleased about my presence. “You’re pretty cheery for a woman whose husband just submitted proof that he’s this little boy’s father.” She points at Jack Henry. “Look at him, Ashton. That’s your daddy and you look just like him.”
This woman is delusional. That child looks nothing like Jack Henry.
“Don’t,” Jack Henry grits through his teeth and then looks at the boy and softens his voice. “Don’t tell him that.”
“The test will prove it. You’ll see.”
“And if it does, you’ll introduce me into his life appropriately, not standing in the hallway of a doctor’s office.”
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“Next,” the receptionist calls out and we step to the counter to pay for the visit.
Jack Henry folds the receipt and shoves it into his jacket pocket. “Don’t look back, even if she says something. Just walk out of here.”
“Okay.” He puts his arm through mine and leads me out.
“Ashton, tell your daddy and the wicked step-monster bye-bye.”
He feels me twist in his arms so I can turn to respond, to let that bitch have it good. “Don’t do it, L. It’ll reflect poorly on you if you physically or verbally attack her while she has a child in her arms. It’s what she wants.”
He’s right but it’s hard as hell to let that one go. “I’m fine.” I straighten and hold my head high. “I’m good. Really.”
He releases my arm and I wait until we’re in the car to have my come-apart. “Why you always gotta fuck the crazy ones?” He looks at me but doesn’t answer. “Damn, McLachlan. First Audrey and now her. Two of the twelve are nutjobs—three of thirteen, if you include Lana. That isn’t a great statistic. What do you do to these women to drive them to the point of insanity?”
“Can we not talk about the others or what I did to them?”
“Sure. I don’t really want to know, anyway.” The topic of his former lovers is beyond old for me and I’m quickly developing the same feelings about this paternity test issue.
“I only want to concentrate on you and our marriage.” He puts his hand on my stomach. “And our little one.”
I place my hand on top of his. “We haven’t celebrated this baby yet.”
He leans over to me in the passenger seat and grasps the back of my neck with his free hand. He pulls me closer until our foreheads are pressed against one another. “Oh God, L. Things have felt so delicate between us this week. I was afraid to try for fear I would make you angrier.”
“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” I embrace his face with my palms. “I’ve been selfish, wallowing in self-pity. I haven’t allowed you to express happiness about the baby because I was punishing you. I’ve been unfair and I see that now. I’m sorry.” I lean in and kiss his mouth. “Let’s go home.”
“Anything you say.”
I’m thinking of all the ways I want to show Jack Henry how much I love him, but they seem awkward knowing our housekeeper will be roaming the house. “Would you want to call Mrs. Porcelli and give her the rest of the day off?”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary for what I have in mind.” He reaches for his phone and makes a call. “Hi, it’s Jack. I have a favor to ask. Would you prepare a picnic for me and Laurelyn?” He gives me a crooked grin, showcasing only one of his beautiful dimples. “Thank you very much. We’ll be home in about fifteen minutes.”
He ends the call and makes another. “Harold, I’m taking the rest of the day off.” He gives me the same crooked grin. “No, everything’s fine. I just want to spend time with my wife so I think it’s fine for you to knock off as well. We’ll pick up tomorrow morning.”
He pulls into the garage and leans over to kiss my mouth. “Stay here while I grab the basket.”
“Okay.”
I wait in the car and he finally returns. He’s carrying two armloads of stuff, including the comforter from the guest bedroom. “Need help there?”
“Nah.” He walks over to the ATV and unloads everything onto the backseat. He gestures toward the passenger seat. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”
“What are you up to, Mr. McLachlan?”
“All in good time, Mrs. McLachlan.”
I join my husband on my chariot and he drives us out to the vineyard. I open my mouth to ask where we’re going but shut it because he isn’t going to tell me. He means for this to be a surprise but I put the pieces together before we get to where we’re going. He’s taking me to the wine cave.
The realization flips a switch to my groin, setting me on ready, and I recall the first time Jack Henry brought me here. I had not yet agreed to his crazy, indecent proposal but he was so determined I would. He used some rather unorthodox moves in order for it to happen. It’s also the day he told me he’d never marry or have children. My, what a difference a year has made. Give us another and we’ll be parents of a … four-month-old.
He parks by the entrance to the wine cave. “You figured it out half a mile back, didn’t you?”
“No.” He looks at me skeptically. “Yeah. But it only gave me time to think about what we’re going to do when we get in there.”
“I recognized your squirm.”
What does that mean? “My squirm?”
“You’re fidgety and restless when you’re turned on but have to wait on me to give it to you.”
This isn’t news to me but I didn’t realize it was so blatantly recognizable to him. “Do you know all my secrets?”
“I doubt it.”
He unlocks the entrance and we enter the dark cave. He flips the switch for the lanterns and our path is illuminated. “I love this place so much.”
“I do too. I’m sorry I haven’t made time to bring you back sooner, but Harold stalks this place, constantly checking to make sure everything is as it should be. He does a top-notch job when it comes to my vineyard but he throws a wrench in me being a caveman.”
That needs to change because it’s been far too long since we were here last. “Then you should give him more time off so we can sneak down here more often.”
“I might just have to do that.”
We walk the corridor and I wrap my arms around myself. The cave is drafty. “Cold?” he asks. I nod and he pulls me into his warm side.
We stop at the entrance to the room where our reception was held. “I still haven’t forgiven you for smearing wedding cake across my face.”
“It was cute.”
I didn’t find a thing cute about it. “It was not. Addison worked on my makeup forever to get it perfect. Do you know what it was like to have her in my face for that long?”
“L, you still looked perfect after I kissed it off.”
We move into the room where he brought me on our first day at Avalon. Fond memories rush back. “I was spread across that table the first time you made me come. Then our wedding guests sat there and ate cake on it.”
“I’m pretty sure your dad sat at the table in the exact spot where I hoisted you up and went down on you.” He enjoys taking a stab at my parents any chance he can. He does it because he hates the way they’ve wronged me, so I’m okay with that.
He spreads a thick quilt on the flagstone-covered cave floor and then the comforter from the guest bedroom so it’s nice and soft. He kicks off his shoes and sits on the linens before he holds his hand out. “Sit with me.”
I step out of my sandals and kneel before lowering myself to sit next to him. He takes a bottle of wine from the basket and removes the top. He pours and passes a glass to me.
“I can’t drink this.”
“It’s just sparkling grape juice.” I take it from him and he pours a second glass for himself. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to drink wine so I wanted to have something else on hand when we found out you were pregnant.” He pats the floor between his legs. “Come sit here.” I scoot over and back until he’s able to cocoon me in his arms. My back is against his chest and he brings his glass to mine. “This toast is to you, my wife and the mother of my son or daughter. You’ve filled my life with so much love and joy this year. It’s something I never thought I’d have. I love you, L, far more than I think you know, and I swear I’m going to do better so I can be the kind of husband you deserve. I’m becoming a better man because of you and this baby.”
Omigod, he is so amazing.
I put my glass down and turn in his arms. “That was so beautiful, I don’t even know how to respond.” There’s only one way I can think of, and it’s not with words.
He puts his g
lass down when I move to my knees so I can pull my dress over my head. He reaches out and pulls me to him, gently kneading one of my breasts. “Are you sore here?”
“A little.” He unfastens my bra and takes my already hard nipple into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around the tip and the sensitivity echoes in my groin, causing me to tremble. “But that feels good.” He moves to my other breast and mimics the same movement before flipping us so I’m lying on my back.
He plants a kiss over my heart and then moves down the center of my body. He stops when he gets to my belly and places his fingertips against it, rubbing in a circular motion. “You’re already so much more than just a child in my head. You’re a miracle growing right here inside your mum.” He places his hands on my hipbones and presses his lips below my navel for a kiss. “You’re already loved more than you know.”
He moves lower and I lift my hips so he can get my panties off. When they’re discarded, I begin working on the top button of his shirt. “You’re overdressed. Help me.”
He yanks at the waist of his pants and I recognize the sound of his zipper sliding down. I hook my toes in the waistband of both and help him push them to his feet and then off. We’re bare and pressed against one another. His erection is right there, ready to dive in, yet he waits. “This won’t hurt you or the baby?”
“No. He’s in a safe little cocoon.” I bend my knees and part them further before shifting my hips upward to push his tip inside.
I know he’s dying to. I am too. We’ve never gone so long without making love except when we were separated, but I see the hesitation on his face. “We’re fine.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “You’ll tell me if something hurts or doesn’t feel right?”
“Yes.”
He enters me slow and easy, then stops. It’s frustrating as hell. “I didn’t suddenly become breakable because I’m pregnant.”
“I know. I’m just being gentle.”
I can’t take this. “I’m taking control so get on your back. I’m topping.” He pulls out of me slowly and does as I tell him. I climb over and sink down until he fills me completely. “Mmm … see? Doesn’t that feel much more satisfying?”