She got to know Mrs. Garber next door. The older woman was so pleased to see that Connor had “found someone special” at last.
“And you really have to start calling me Janine,” she added. “Mrs. Garber sounds like someone you barely know.”
“Janine it is,” Aly promised.
“Tell that young man of yours, too.”
“I will, absolutely.”
Two times running, Connor took her to Sunday dinner with the Bravos. They treated her like one of the family. She had a great time with his sisters.
It was already the middle of August before she realized she might have a whole new kind of problem.
It happened on a Monday morning. Connor was downstairs fixing breakfast. She stood in the spare bathroom, which she’d been using as her own.
She’d run a brush through her hair and was about to take her birth control pill. It was her second day on a new pill pack. She stared down at it, frowning. A new pack...
Last week was her placebo week.
And her period had never come. Usually, it showed up around the third day of the sugar pill week.
She set down the almost full pack and stared at herself in the bathroom mirror.
No.
Couldn’t be.
She grabbed the pack again and gazed blankly at it, trying to remember...
Okay, she’d missed two pills—the day after the accident and then the day after that, which was the day they’d discharged her from Memorial. She’d been such a mess, her whole body hurting, out of her mind over Connor, so sure the two of them were still together in spite of what everyone around her said. The last thing on her mind had been keeping up with her contraceptive pills.
Marco had gone to pick up her suitcases from the totaled rental car. When she got home to her parents’ house, her things were waiting in the room that had been hers when she was growing up. It was the second day she’d skipped a pill, but she hadn’t realized it then.
The next morning, the third day, she was still frantic for her supposed husband to come to her, still certain that her family was lying to her for no reason she could comprehend. But that day, she had remembered to take her pill. She’d pulled out that pack with the day of the week clearly marked above each pill and realized she’d missed two doses.
Luckily, her phone had survived the accident. She’d auto-dialed her doctor’s office in New York and asked what to do. The nurse had said to take two pills that day and two the next and she would be covered.
Had she gotten the nurse’s instructions wrong?
Right then and there, she Googled the big question.
And the answer was the same as the one the nurse had given her four weeks ago. Two pills for two days and she was supposed to be protected.
She’d better be protected. Because the pill was the only contraception she and Connor had been using since that first time, when they fell asleep and the condom slipped partway off.
Aly popped out the day’s pill, stuck it in her mouth and shoved the pack back in the bathroom drawer.
Enough with the worrying.
She was protected. Her periods were light, anyway, since she’d been on the pill. And she’d certainly been under stress. It just couldn’t be all that out of the ordinary that she hadn’t had a period that month.
Her phone dinged with a text from the superhot guy in the kitchen downstairs. Your coffee’s getting cold.
She scooped up the phone and ran down the stairs, coming up behind him at the stove, where he was frying their eggs.
Wrapping her arms around his waist, she went on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder. “Yum. Looks good.”
He dropped a quick kiss at her temple. “Set the table?”
“I’m on it.”
* * *
For the next couple days, she tried to forget that her period hadn’t come.
Then, Wednesday afternoon, on the way to Connor’s from her mom’s house, she bought two pregnancy tests—the highest-rated ones that promised an accurate early result.
But by the time she got home, she decided not to go there yet. She stuck the tests in the back of a drawer in the guest room.
Because she just didn’t need to know right now. She’d always wanted kids someday and the years were going by. If she was pregnant, she would be having that baby.
Yeah, there would be a lot to deal with if the result window gave her two pink lines. But for right now, she had nine weeks left in Valentine Bay and she intended to live them to the fullest.
Unfortunately, instructing herself not to think about pregnancy only made her think about it more.
She started wondering about the effects of the pill on her unborn baby—if there even was a baby. Should she continue to take the pill while suspecting she might be pregnant? Would that be bad for the baby?
More Googling ensued. All the usual medical sites said there was no evidence that birth control pills hurt the baby.
Still. It bothered her. If it turned out there would be a baby, it felt wrong to keep bombarding an innocent embryo with unnecessary hormones.
Her solution to that problem wasn’t perfect. It entailed lying to Connor about why she suddenly wanted to use condoms again.
Aly despised liars.
But at this point, she really didn’t want to go on taking the pill. And purposely going without contraception wasn’t any kind of option. That would be much worse than telling a lie in order to get Connor to use a condom.
Wouldn’t it?
Sweet God in heaven. This was one ethically twisted situation.
That night, after Connor carried Maurice back to Janine’s house, Aly took his hand and led him upstairs.
“Got condoms?” She pushed him down on the bed and straddled his lap.
“Yeah.” He licked the side of her throat. “You taste so good—and why do I need a condom all of a sudden?”
Then came the lie. She stretched her neck back to give him better access. “I didn’t pack enough pills. I’m out.”
He nibbled along her collarbone. She waited for him to suggest she call her doctor and get more, or to ask why she hadn’t mentioned earlier that she was running low.
“Condoms it is,” he said, and claimed her mouth in a bone-melting kiss.
Apparently, the man totally trusted her. He certainly didn’t seem the least suspicious.
Despicable. Oh, yes, she was.
She caught his head between her hands, tipped his mouth up to her again and took those amazing lips of his in another long, deep, thorough kiss. That led to more kisses and a lot of delicious caresses. It was a stellar ending to a nerve-racking day.
And from then on, they used condoms.
* * *
August faded into September. Her period didn’t come.
Cat, settled in comfortably at home, made it to thirty-five weeks without another emergency trip to Memorial. The day before she hit the thirty-six week mark was a Saturday.
Aly decided they ought to celebrate. She baked a four-layer chocolate cake with chocolate cream cheese frosting. She covered the whole thing with chocolate chips and a dark-chocolate drizzle. Her dad made his famous chicken with mustard mascarpone marsala sauce and all the Santangelos showed up for dinner, including Sandy and Lisa and the kids. Connor came, too.
There was wine. Lots of it. Most of the adults got at least a little buzzed—not Cat, of course. And nobody seemed to notice that Aly didn’t finish the one glass of Prosecco her dad had poured for her. They were all too happy that Cat and the baby were doing so well to pay much attention to who was drinking and who wasn’t.
At a little after eight, Cat thanked them for the party, kissed them all good-night and returned to her comfy bed. Around nine, a couple of Marco’s friends showed up to take him to a bonfire down at Valentine Beach. Sandy and Lisa were eager to get the littl
e ones home and to bed, but Pascal and Tony wanted to keep celebrating.
Aly wasn’t sure who had the bright idea that Connor, Pascal, Tony and Dante ought to head over to the Sea Breeze bar. A Valentine Bay landmark, the Sea Breeze had first opened its doors shortly after prohibition ended. Last year, it had been bought and remodeled by a local celebrity named Ingrid Ostergard.
Pascal announced, “Aly, who is way too sober, can be our designated driver, and Sandy and Lisa can take the kids on home.”
Apparently, her unfinished Prosecco had not gone unnoticed, after all. “As usual, the women get to do all the work,” she muttered, faking a scowl.
Pascal granted her an imperious glance. “Are you in or out?”
“Fine. I’ll drive.”
Dante asked Connor, “What do you say?”
There was a moment. Connor and Dante locked eyes across the family table. Decades of shared history passed in that look. Aly’s throat kind of clutched at the sight.
“I’m in.” Connor turned to Aly. “You sure you’re willing to ferry us around?”
She leaned close to him and brushed a kiss against his freshly shaved cheek. “You know I am.”
The kids and their moms went on home. Aly, her brothers and Connor piled into Connor’s Land Rover. Ernesto stood at the wide-open front door, shouting warnings at Aly to drive carefully and at the men to behave themselves, as if they were all a bunch of crazy teenagers again. Aly backed and turned the big vehicle and off they went to the Sea Breeze.
The parking lot was packed. She dropped the guys off at the door and drove around for a while, looking for a space. When she finally went inside, she couldn’t believe the change in the place since the last time she’d been there—with Connor—eight or nine years ago.
The Sea Breeze had undergone a major face-lift. The bar itself was gorgeous, long and gracefully curving, the top tiled in a sea glass mosaic. The remodel had even included one of those roll-up doors so popular in Pacific Northwest bars. The door was up tonight, letting in the faint sound of the waves and the moist scent of the air, framing a view of the ocean. Over in one corner, a guy with a guitar played the blues.
Connor’s youngest sister, Grace, was tending bar along with the Sea Breeze’s new owner, Ingrid Ostergard. Ingrid, who had once been a bona fide rock star with a band called Pomegranate Dream, also happened to be Daniel Bravo’s first wife’s aunt—and his second wife’s mother.
“Hey, Aly!” Grace leaned across the bar to give her a hug. “The guys are over there.” She pointed out the two pushed-together tables Connor and Aly’s brothers had managed to claim.
“Gracie, the place looks amazing.”
“I know. And business is booming, as you can see.”
Aly explained, “Tonight, I’m the designated driver. How about a cranberry juice and soda, with lime?”
Grace grinned. “Connor already ordered one for you. It’s waiting at the table.”
Aly worked her way through the crowd and took the chair Connor had saved for her. They all laughed and joked around together. It was easy and fun. No tension. Kind of like the good old days, back when she and Connor were married and Conn was as much a part of the Santangelo family as the rest of them.
Dante sat on Connor’s other side. The two men leaned their heads together. Aly had no clue what they said to each other and she didn’t really care. It made her feel all warm and fuzzy, to imagine that Dante and Connor were healing their friendship for the second time. She could just picture the two of them, through the years to come, having each other’s backs the way best friends should.
The guy with the guitar took a break and a DJ in a booth above the bar took over. Beyond the roll-up door, out on the concrete patio under the stars, people were dancing.
Connor leaned close to her. “It’s been a long time since we danced.”
She met those cloudy-day eyes and her heart swooned a little. “Too long.”
“Come on.” He got up and took her hand.
A slow song began just as they reached the cleared space beyond the door. He pulled her close and she swayed in his arms, her mind full of memories of dancing with Connor—at some sports bar in Eugene when they were still in college, and at someone else’s wedding in Portland a year or so later.
And at their own wedding, nine years ago now.
For seven long years, she’d thought it was over forever. That the two of them would never again dance together. And yet here they were, with their arms around each other beneath the crescent moon.
When they returned to the table, Dante’s chair was empty. Tony said he was getting them another pitcher, and then went back to talking football with Pascal.
Aly glanced toward the bar as she took her seat next to Connor. She spotted Dante deep in conversation with Grace. Both of them leaned in close. Grace laughed at something Dante said. And the way Dante looked at her...
Connor noticed, too. He swore under his breath.
Aly put her hand over his, leaned his way and whispered in his ear, “Don’t you dare.”
“He’s thirty-one and divorced,” Connor muttered out of the side of his mouth. “He has two little girls in Portland he hardly ever sees.”
“So? You’re divorced, too, in case you’ve forgotten. And yeah, Dante might annoy the hell out of me most of the time, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a great dad. As for the twins, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Dante has shared custody. His girls are here in Valentine Bay most weekends and for the better part of the summer. He does the best he can and that’s pretty darn good, if you ask me.”
Conn granted her a fulminating glance. “Gracie’s too young for him.”
“You don’t even know what’s really going on over there. The way I remember it, Dante and Grace have always gotten along—and you need to stop living in the past. Grace is all grown up now, old enough to make her own choices.”
“He should know better. She’s my baby sister.”
“Don’t you even.” Aly pinned him with her hardest stare. “After all we went through to get Dante past the whole don’t-mess-with-my-sister ridiculousness, now it’s your turn to play that game?”
“Your brother is not looking for anything serious.”
“Just like a lot of people—until they find the right person. And how can you be so sure that Gracie is dreaming of a ring on her finger, anyway? She’s at that age when a girl wants a good time. Maybe Dante’s the one in danger of getting hurt.”
“Very funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“I don’t want Dante to—”
“It isn’t about what you want,” she said, cutting him off again. “Whatever’s going on over there at the bar, you need to stay out of it.”
Connor just shook his head. Aly longed to give him a bigger piece of her mind on the subject, but she’d pretty much made her point, so she left it alone.
She was glad she had. When Dante returned to the table, Connor didn’t say a word about whatever had just happened with Grace at the bar. For the rest of the evening, he was maybe a little withdrawn. But he kept his big-brother idiocy to himself.
* * *
Later that night, in bed with the lights out, he tipped her chin up and captured her gaze through the shadows. “Okay. You were right about Dante and Grace. Whatever that was, it’s between them.”
“I am so glad to hear you say that.” She cuddled closer to him, slipping one leg over his hip to draw him in, tucking her head under his chin.
She was almost asleep when he asked, “You worried about your mom?”
“No more than usual—why?”
He rolled to his back and she readjusted her position to stay close. Resting her head against his hard, warm chest, she listened to the beating of his heart.
“It’s a scary situation,” he said. “But Cat looked good tonig
ht.”
“Yeah.”
“Is work on your mind, then?”
“Work is fine.” She’d gotten into a routine of video-chatting with the team at SI a couple times a week. “They’re not laying a lot of demands on me and it’s kind of fun, brainstorming and strategizing without having to do all the grueling follow-through. While I’m here, on family leave, I’m doing them a favor. That means I’m not the one on the line to produce an outcome the client loves.”
He guided a hank of hair back behind her ear. “Sometimes you seem kind of preoccupied.”
The man was too perceptive by half. I love you and we might be having a baby and I was lying to you about why we needed condoms.
She should just tell him.
But she didn’t. “I don’t know. The time is kind of flying by, I guess. My nieces and nephews are back in school. My mom’s actual due date is only four weeks away, and in six weeks I’m expected back at work.”
He pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “You want to talk about that? About the future?”
“Not yet.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
A thrill shivered through her, to hear him say outright that he wanted what she wanted—well, mostly. She loved her job at Strategic Image and she doubted he would be eager to move across the country. But that he wanted to be with her into the future? She could totally get behind that. “So then, do you see yourself living in Manhattan?”
“I don’t, no. But I’m working on it.”
She chuckled. It was a humorless sound. “It’s always the same problem for you and me.”
He skated his palm down her arm and then trailed his fingers back up to her shoulder again. It felt so good, so exactly right every time he touched her. “Whatever happens, I’m glad, Aly. So damn glad. That you showed up at my door asking to stay with me. I’m grateful that you’re here with me, right now.”
A Husband She Couldn't Forget Page 13