Married to the Mom-to-Be

by Helen Lacey

  Liam’s attention immediately shifted to his wife. Kayla wobbled and went to grab the back of the sofa, but he reached her within a microsecond.

  “Steady,” he said gently and grabbed her shoulders. “I’ve got you.”

  She sagged against him. “Oh...thank you.”

  His mother came forward and patted Kayla’s arm. “You look tired, dear. I should go and let you get some rest. But you should both come out to the house on the weekend.” She smiled gently. “I’m sure, in time, your father will come around, Liam. And hopefully so will your parents, Kayla.”

  Liam ensured Kayla was settled on the sofa and then walked his mother to the door. Guilt, raw and intense, wrapped around him and he had to stop the truth from pouring out. But with his wife feeling unwell, now wasn’t the time to lay the whole sordid situation at his mother’s feet. He watched her drive off and then returned to the living room, finding Kayla standing by the fireplace.

  “You should be resting.”

  “I’m fine. I was faking it,” she said bluntly.

  “What? Why?”

  “To stop you from doing something foolish.”

  Annoyance slid up his spine. “You had no right to—”

  “Telling your mom won’t change anything. It will only relieve your conscience for a moment. But I guarantee it will hurt her terribly, and you, once you see how much pain it causes her.”

  “She deserves to know the truth.”

  “Perhaps,” she replied, her chin tilted at a determined angle. “But it’s not your truth to tell, Liam. It’s your dad’s. When you get past being angry at your father, you’ll realize that.”

  “This isn’t about my father.”

  “No,” she said, hands on hips, looking completely at ease. “This is about you and how you see everything in black or white. But life isn’t like that. Life is sometimes gray. And messy. And complicated. Because people and feelings are messy and complicated.”

  “The truth isn’t gray,” he shot back. “The truth is simply the truth.”

  She took a long breath, shook her head a little and then smiled. “I get it, you know. Truth and honor...that’s how you live your life. You always tell the truth, and sometimes that’s construed as arrogance and a certain kind of coldness. And then there’s honor,” she said, relentless. “You expect the same in others and that makes you seem impatient and judgmental. But not everyone is stamped with that same code, Liam.”

  He shook his head. “You make me sound like some kind of narrow-minded despot.”

  “Of course you’re not,” she said and moved a few steps toward him. “But I know you were drafted into your job at the hotel without any real choice. I know that as the eldest son you were expected to take over the reins from your father and probably raise a son of your own to do the same one day. And I know that neither of your brothers had that same pressure put on them to stay in Cedar River and carry on the family name.”

  Her words sounded like a mix of insult and pity. “So, I’m the eldest of my siblings and I have responsibilities. Your point?”

  “Control,” she said quietly. “Absolute truth,” she said, echoing his mother’s words, “means absolute control. Over everything.”

  It was a direct hit. It wasn’t the first time she’d accused him of being a control freak. “Are you serious? I’ve felt nothing but out of control since the moment you crashed into my car in the hotel parking lot.”

  “Exactly my point,” she said, hands now on hips. “Isn’t that why you’ve been insisting I tell my parents about us for the past five months? So you can get back that control. And now, suddenly, everything is so out of control all you can think to do is try to tie it up in some neat little package you want to stamp as the truth.”

  The message behind her words niggled at him down deep, but he dismissed it, relying on what he knew was right, was resolute. “My mother deserves to know he cheated on her.”

  “Then allow your father to tell her.”

  “I gave him that chance this afternoon. He didn’t do it. He spoke to my mom...he had his window of opportunity.”

  “Maybe he’s trying to find the courage.”

  “He’s not a coward,” Liam said harshly. “He just doesn’t want to be caught in the biggest lie of his life. He had his chance to tell her today and he blew it.”

  She shook her head. “Dishing out ultimatums isn’t the answer. And maybe he finds it hard living up to the standards of someone whose principles are set so rigidly above his own.”

  Liam stared at her, saw the determined tilt of her chin, the way her hands were splayed on her hips and the query in her eyes. She was challenging his core beliefs...that the truth mattered above all else. Which was why he’d struggled with his promise to her to keep their relationship a secret for so many months. It was a lie and went against everything he believed in. All his life he’d lived to a strict moral compass. Don’t lie. Don’t cheat. And a man is only as good as his word. It was who he was. Who he’d always aspired to be. Listening to Kayla’s criticism made him realize how wide the divide was between their most basic values.

  “I can’t change who I am.”

  “Not even for the people you love, Liam?” she queried and walked across the room, stopping when she stood barely two feet from him. “I’ve always believed that we should do whatever we need to do for the people who are important to us...even if that means doing nothing at all.”

  Conflicted, Liam watched as she walked from the room, and realized that the divide between their values was also a rift that could pull their relationship apart. Maybe permanently.

  * * *

  Dinner was strained. But Kayla wasn’t going to back down. She believed he was wrong and had no intention of being compliant. So, they ate mostly in silence. And while she tried to make conversation, he was quiet and brooding and clearly in a bad mood.

  After dinner he offered to wash up and she didn’t protest. She headed upstairs to shower and when she returned half an hour later dressed in jeans and a soft green sweater, she found Liam on the couch, a laptop on his knees, clicking keys and deep in thought.

  “What are you doing?” she asked and sat beside him.

  “Finding my secret half brother.”

  She gasped. “Really?”

  He nodded and turned the laptop around. “Check it out for yourself.”

  Kayla stared at the screen and the newspaper article. There was a grainy picture of an incredibly good-looking man with dark brown hair and blue eyes. She read the article briefly. Jonah Rickard. Twenty-nine. Architect. A native of Portland. It went on to detail the illustrious award he’d been honored with as an achiever in his field.

  “He looks...” Her words trailed off for a moment. “Like you. And Sean.”

  She saw Liam scowl and then shrug. “If you say so.”

  “He didn’t take your father’s name,” she said, thinking about how the man in the picture was also her cousin. It was complicated stuff. “I wonder what he’s like.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “He’s your brother.”

  “Half brother,” Liam corrected. “And since he’s known about us all his life, he’s clearly not interested, either.”

  “It must have been difficult for him. I mean, knowing he had this extended family and not being able to make a connection without stirring up a whole lot of hurt for so many people.”

  “Maybe,” Liam acquiesced and shrugged and placed the laptop on the coffee table. He shifted in his seat and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers so intimately she was quickly short of breath. “So, are you staying tonight?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “I’m more interested in what you want,” he said.

  The thing was, Kayla didn’t know quite what she wanted
. They could go upstairs and make love. It would be easy to fall into his arms and forget the turmoil of the day. There would be heat and pleasure and raw, explosive passion. “Okay, let’s go to bed.”

  He didn’t move, didn’t do anything other than stroke her hand gently with his thumb. It was hypnotic and sexy and immediately hitched her libido up a few notches. Kayla saw his eyes darken and the tension emanating from him was palpable. There was desire in his gaze...and something else...something that was suddenly unfathomable.

  “What?” she asked softly.

  “Exactly,” he said. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

  “I thought—”

  “That making love would fix things?” he asked, cutting her off.

  “You said you wanted a do-over,” she reminded him. “So I thought we could—”

  “Use sex to block out everything else?” he asked, cutting her off again as he dropped her hand and abruptly got to his feet. “Like the fact that we have a fundamental difference of opinion about my mother and rest of my family knowing the truth?”

  Kayla stood and watched, helpless as he walked toward the windows, arms crossed, clearly experiencing a kind of ethical crisis. She longed to help him, but in her heart she knew there was nothing she could do to make him realize that sometimes the fallout from the truth wasn’t worth standing on such inflexible, moral high ground.

  “I’m going to bed,” she said quietly and then added, “if you want to join me.”

  But he didn’t.

  He slept on the couch or in one of the spare rooms downstairs. By the time she awoke the following morning around seven thirty, weary from staring at the ceiling most of the night, Kayla found a mug on the kitchen counter with a tea bag in it, and a note saying he’d left early for work and would call her later.

  She made the tea, ate some cereal and fruit, dressed in black trousers and a white shirt and was parking her car outside the museum at eight thirty. Since she’d forgotten to pack her lunch for the day, Kayla walked half a block to the Muffin Box. It was a popular café and she stood in a line five deep before it was her turn for service.

  “Kayla,” said Vera Mathieson, the fiftysomething proprietor of the Muffin Box, when she reached the counter. “Low fat, decaf, soy latte and a savory muffin?”

  Kayla grimaced inwardly, pondering when she’d become so predictable. “Great, thank you.”

  Vera nodded and smiled, then snatched a brief glance toward Kayla’s left hand. “So...no wedding band?”

  She stilled. “Sorry?”

  “It’s just that I heard about...you know...your recent marriage.”

  Recent marriage? Wedding band? Kayla felt as though she’d visibly paled. “I don’t know how—”

  “Dorothy Atkins mentioned something,” Vera supplied.

  Dorothy was her parents’ neighbor and her mom’s closest friend. And Vera’s sister-in-law. Obviously her mother had shared some details. And news, it seems, had certainly traveled fast. “Oh, I see. Well, we’re—”

  “You’re married?”

  Another voice, from behind this time. Kayla turned her head and saw an old school friend, Annie Jamison, staring at her, eyes bulging, mouth agape.

  “Married to who?” someone else asked.

  “Liam O’Sullivan,” Vera supplied in a kind of bloodcurdling whisper that silenced the café for all of five seconds. Then, the entire place erupted in a crazy mishmash of chatter that had her head reeling. Questions were fired in her direction and before she had a chance to reply, Vera began happily telling the other patrons about the Vegas wedding and her trip to the hospital the day before. When someone used the word pregnant, she bailed, grabbing her latte and muffin, paying the cashier before she slipped out of the café as discreetly as she could.

  By the time she opened the museum door she was out of breath and her knees were knocking. Right...so the whole town knew she was married to Liam and pregnant with his baby? Well, there was certainly no point in denying it. Which was exactly what she was faced with when Ash and Brooke came to visit her at nine thirty. She was puttering around in the gift shop, waiting for Shirley to arrive for her shift at eleven, when her friends came through the door.

  “Pregnant?” Ash asked, dropping into a viewing chair. “And married?”

  Brooke rested an elbow against the gift shop countertop. “To Liam? Um...did you marry him because you are pregnant?”

  “No,” she replied.

  “Then you’re...”

  “In love with him? Yes,” she said and took a breath, experiencing a heady kind of relief in finally being able to admit the truth to her friends. “I’m in love with Liam.”

  “Really?” Ash said, frowning. “I mean, I like Liam, but he’s so...so...well, of course he’s rich and good-looking and successful, but he’s—”

  “Kind, considerate, generous,” she said, cutting her friend off. “And really sweet.”

  Okay, so maybe sweet was a stretch. But she wasn’t about to stand by and allow him to be berated, not even by two of the people she cared about most.

  Brooke smiled. “I don’t think any of us saw this coming. I mean, I think we all knew you guys were in some kind of relationship...but marriage and a baby...wow,” she said. “And Tyler said he took off from their meeting yesterday like a man possessed.”

  She explained about passing out at work and the brief hospital stint. “And I feel fine now,” she added when she spotted their combined concern.

  “And you’re living with him?” Brooke, the more practical of the two, asked.

  Her mouth twisted. “Well, that’s where it gets complicated. At the moment I’m sharing time between my apartment and his house by the river.”

  “But if you’re married and you’re in love with him,” Brooke said, frowning a little, “shouldn’t you be living together full-time?”

  Yes. But she didn’t say it. The way they’d ended the evening together the night before wasn’t exactly a postcard for a normal marriage. “The situation with my parents makes it hard to—”

  “If they love you,” Ash said quietly, interrupting her, “they’ll understand.”

  Kayla stared at her friend. Ash knew about difficult parental relationships. She lived with her twice-divorced mother and had had a child when she was barely nineteen, fathered by a man who’d run out on her a few years later. As her friend, Kayla knew the story, and it was complicated stuff.

  “I think they need some time to adjust,” she said, deciding not to say anything about her aunt or Liam’s half brother. “I’m sure it will work out,” she said, not really believing her own words since her father’s silence and her mom’s tears the previous afternoon spoke volumes.

  Her friends both nodded supportively and Kayla quickly switched the conversation to something less personal, which was the upcoming benefit. The event was only two weeks away, and Kayla still had to finalize the catering and the guest artists that were attending. It was black tie, with canapés and drinks, followed by a presentation of local artists and then an opportunity for patrons to bid on the art pieces that were being showcased and donated for the event. She was sure it would be a success, and since Liam was essentially funding the evening, she knew they needed to talk about some last-minute details.

  Once her friends left, Kayla put in a call to Connie and asked to make an appointment to see him sometime that day.

  “Ah...you want an appointment?” his assistant said. “You can see Liam anytime you like.”

  Kayla wasn’t convinced. His curt note that morning wasn’t exactly reassuring. “Around one o’clock, if possible,” she said, remembering her doctor’s appointment at midday. She ended the call and was busy with a few tourists looking through the museum for the next hour. When Shirley arrived, Kayla headed to her office and called her mother. It wen
t directly to voice mail and she ended the call with a heavy heart. Building the bridge with her parents was not going to be easy. She was at her desk, sipping tea and finishing the last of her muffin when she heard a deep voice say her name. She looked up and spotted Liam standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one shoulder resting against the jamb. Her insides fluttered at how ridiculously handsome he looked in his suit. The red tie, knotted perfectly at his throat, the immaculate white shirt and charcoal jacket, which fitted him like a glove, amplified her attraction to him.

  “I believe you wanted to see me?”

  Kayla pushed her chair back and stood. “Yes. I need to go over a few things about the benefit. I thought I might speak to—”

  “You know,” he said and pushed himself off the frame, “you don’t need to make an appointment. If you need me, I’ll be here. Always.”

  Her knees wobbled. “Your note this morning was cryptic.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” he said quietly and walked toward her desk. “You were asleep and I didn’t want to disturb you. I said I’d call you this morning, which I was about to do when you called Connie. Who, incidentally, seems to think we’re in the middle of some sort of major crisis and probably would have told me off for being a jackass if I’d given her the opportunity.”

  “She’s a smart woman.”

  He shrugged fractionally. “I think the crisis is happening in spite of us.”

  “You slept on the couch last night,” she reminded him.

  Color slashed his cheekbones. “I had some demons to work out.”

  “Really? And here I was thinking that the couch was my punishment for daring to disagree with you.”

  His mouth twisted. “Am I that much of a controlling jerk?”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes. Goes with the territory of being in charge of everything and everyone, I suppose.”

  His eyes darkened. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure the punishment was all mine last night.”

  Kayla fought the urge to head straight for his arms. Instead, she concentrated on business. “I need to go over a few things about the benefit. It looks as though three of the four invited artists are going to be—”