He was still wrestling with his conflicting instincts when Chelsey dragged herself back to bed weakly. “You ok, baby?” he asked warily.
She sat up, grabbed her pillow, and beat him over the head with it several times. He glared at her back for several moments when she’d lain down again and put her back to him. After staring sullenly at the ceiling for several minutes, he got up and headed into the bathroom for a shower.
He had time in the shower to begin to feel like a total asshole.
She must have stopped taking the pills he’d gotten her for the nausea, he decided after a moment.
And he was supposed to know that, he thought, feeling some of his previous resentment surge forward the moment he thought of an excuse for himself!
He didn’t enjoy the self-righteous indignation that spawned long before it occurred to him that she’d probably quit taking them because she knew she was pregnant and she didn’t know the pills he’d given her were for pregnant women suffering from nausea.
His lies—those he’d told and those of omission—began to feel like a noose he’d placed around his neck.
Everything had seemed to be going smoothly to plan, though, damn it!
Had it all gone horribly wrong? Was it spinning out of his control? Or did it just feel that way because he’d begun to feel just a hint of doubt that he could actually pull it off?
He hadn’t planned not to tell her he was a doctor. He just hadn’t wanted her to think he was bragging or trying to entice her with the possibility of being a doctor’s wife, Jods damn it! Alright! So it had occurred to him that he was never going to know if she actually cared about him if he used it to convince her and he’d needed to know, but the only reason he still hadn’t gotten around to telling her was because it had finally occurred to him that he probably should have mentioned it a little earlier in their relationship.
She might not be exactly thrilled to learn it now—especially since it was bound to make her feel a lack of trust on his part.
And it really hadn’t been a lack of trust. He knew she wasn’t like that. It was his background that bothered him—the one the government had thought up for him when they’d sent him to scout Earth as a potential colony. She knew all the sordid details—most of them anyway—enough that she should’ve been leery of having anything at all to do with him. All he’d wanted was some assurance that it wasn’t his fancy new title that made him acceptable, that altered her perception of him so she could pretend he was good enough for her—when his own damned people had made him completely unacceptable as a mate to any Earth woman that might discover his cover story.
Because he was still what he’d always been—or at least what he’d convinced her he was.
He studied Chelsey’s face when he got out. She was lying with her eyes closed, but he didn’t think she’d gone back to sleep. Heading in to the kitchen, he grabbed a pack of crackers and a glass of ginger ale and took them to her as a peace offering, setting them on the nightstand beside her. She cracked an eyelid and peered at him. “Thank you, Garryk.”
Guilt smote him. He stared at her for a long moment, trying to think of something to say and finally moved around to the other side of the bed and climbed in, careful not to jar her. “I’m sorry as hell, baby,” he muttered against her temple.
She sighed, tilting her head to lean into his kiss. “I’m sorry for growling at you.”
“It was way better than puking on me.”
Chelsey reddened but uttered a snort of a laugh. “I was alright until near the last,” she murmured.
“Well, that’s a relief, anyway,” he said wryly, but he settled more comfortably. “I was beginning to think you didn’t enjoy any of it.”
“I guess I ate something that made me sick,” she said after a prolonged moment of silence.
Disappointment flickered through him, but, all things considered, he didn’t suppose he had any room to complain. “Eat your crackers. I have a couple of hours before I have to go. I’ll cook you something that’ll make you feel better.”
Leaving her with the crackers and ginger ale, he dressed and went to search the kitchen for something that would tempt her that wouldn’t be too hard on her digestion. It occurred to him as he was scanning the shelves that her kid was supposed to have come over the day before and he sent a sharp look down the hall toward the spare bedroom. Hesitating briefly, he headed that way to see if the kid was up and discovered the room was empty. He was mildly relieved since he’d been more than a little uneasy about how the kid was going to feel about him, but he doubted Chelsey was.
Maybe that accounted for her behavior the day before? He’d thought she was pissed off with him about the baby, but maybe he’d read her all wrong?
He moved back to their bedroom, wondering whether to bring it up or not. If he didn’t he was going to look like an insensitive asshole when she’d told him the kid was coming. He probably would if he did, for that matter, since she hadn’t said anything to him.
Should he go there or not?
“I thought your kid was supposed to spend the weekend with you?” he finally asked when he saw Chelsey was propped on the pillows and had noticed him.
She stared at the cracker in her hand. “I thought so, too,” she said neutrally. “I guess they went somewhere for the weekend.”
Garryk frowned, studying her expression. The very fact that she was so carefully expressionless was enough to make him certain she was anything but unmoved by it and it dawned on him abruptly that she hadn’t had the kid a single weekend since he’d moved in with her—damned near a month.
He supposed it should have occurred to him before and he should’ve realized that that had something to do with her occasional, but radical, mood swings, but he’d been too focused on his game plan—and working his ass off to pay for it—to think much about the broader picture. Turning on his heel, he headed back into the kitchen, but he was so furious by the time he got there he found it hard to focus on what he’d gone to do.
Her ex was grandstanding for attention and he resented the hell out of it. It was killing the bastard’s soul that she’d slipped through his fingers and if tormenting her was the only way he could retain any kind control and keep her attention, he was perfectly willing to do it.
It was hard to say what made him angrier—the fact that he was fucking with Chelsey or the fact that he seemed to be succeeding in keeping her attention firmly focused on him.
What about his baby? That’s what he’d fucking like to know!
He knew it was unreasonable, but he didn’t fucking care. They’d just found out she was carrying his baby. They should be celebrating, Jods damn it! At the very least, they should be working on settling things between them. She shouldn’t be in bed moping about her son—and she wouldn’t be if her bastard of an ex wasn’t such an asshole!
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected things to get a little rocky at this point. He had and he’d been prepared to do whatever it took to convince her that he was fine with the idea of getting married.
He didn’t want to make trouble for Chelsey, but it seemed to him that he was just going to have to have a little heart to heart with her ex.
* * * *
All Chelsey could think for a while was that it was a hell of a way to end a relationship—nearly puking on him in the middle of what should’ve been a ‘moment’. She sighed a little resentfully. She’d not only made every attempt to convince him morning sex didn’t especially appeal to her, but she’d been sick enough in the mornings he should’ve known it wasn’t a great idea to bounce on her so early!
Well! He couldn’t complain that he hadn’t gotten his cookie!
Not that it hadn’t been really nice to start with, but just about the time she was really getting wound up toward blast off, he’d changed his rhythm and that was all it took to shift from imminent climax to an impending explosion of the most horrible kind.
As he’d pointed out, it could’ve been worse, but not much!
She was surprised, actually, that he’d taken it as well he had.
Actually, she thought, she was surprised he hadn’t really questioned it.
Hadn’t it occurred to him that her persistent early morning distress pointed to pregnancy? Or was he just too unfamiliar with such things for it to set off warning bells?
And should she be relieved that he didn’t seem worried about it or distressed?
He’d been just as sweet and thoughtful as he could possibly be about the situation. She didn’t see how he could be that way and still be too callous to worry about her, but maybe it just didn’t seem like anything he needed to worry about?
She supposed he figured it was stomach flu since that was what she’d thought it was to start with.
Dismissing it after a few minutes, she nibbled her crackers and considered what to do about Lawrence. Wait until he made the next move? Or try to beat him to the punch?
She thought, even though she couldn’t really afford it, she needed to see if she could borrow the money from Marla and contact her lawyer. Maybe it would be better all the way around if she was the one complaining for a change instead of the one trying to defend herself?
It really sucked, though, that she was going to have to crawl back to Marla and apologize and then try to borrow money from her after she’d vented her righteous indignation over Garryk!
She toyed, briefly, with the idea of asking Garryk for a loan, but dismissed it almost immediately. She thought it would be much better all the way around if Garryk didn’t know anything about it. She didn’t think he would do anything that might get in him trouble, but she didn’t want to risk it when he might feel duty bound to beat the crap out of Lawrence for her just to establish squatter’s rights. He was a man, after all, and, considering the violence he’d known as a child, she couldn’t rule out the possibility that he’d figure that was the way to handle the situation.
Not that she would’ve been totally against it if there was no way Garryk could get hurt or end up in jail! There’d been a few times when she’d wanted to take a hammer to Lawrence herself.
* * * *
The pilgrimage to Marla for money wasn’t quite as bad as she’d thought it would be, but it sure as hell wasn’t fun and not the way she would’ve chosen to spend her afternoon. Marla had looked as if she was more inclined to slam the door in her face when she’d arrived unannounced than let her in—because she hadn’t wanted to risk pissing Marla off before she had the chance to explain—but she had let her in.
She actually didn’t want to apologize for defending Garryk and that was the big problem. Marla had made judgments about him that were not only not true but unforgivable—if she hadn’t been a beggar. Instead of launching into an apology she hadn’t felt the least sincere about, therefore, she’d gone straight for the jugular. “I wouldn’t bother you, but I need help.”
Speculation immediately flickered in Marla’s eyes—and then she looked complacent enough Chelsey wanted to slap her. “I told you!”
Chelsey bit her lip. “It’s Lawrence,” she said tightly. “I wanted to see if I could borrow enough money to hire the lawyer again. I paid you back the last loan. I’ll pay it back.”
Marla studied her. “Let me guess—he’s trying to use Diablo as an excuse to keep you away from Larry?”
Chelsey felt her face heat, but it was mostly from anger. “Garryk … and I don’t know. All I know is that he doesn’t even make excuses for not letting me pick Larry up anymore. He told Larry to inform me that he didn’t have to come anymore.”
“Diablo is the real problem, though,” Marla said pointedly. “You know that as well as I do. What other leverage could he think he had?”
“Garryk,” she said pointedly, “has his own place! That’s not a reasonable excuse and I don’t see why the judge would listen to that bullshit! I wanted to complain first. I think it might make my chances better if I petitioned the court and he had to defend his actions. He can’t arbitrarily ignore the court order!”
“If he can convince the judge that you’re exposing Larry to unwholesome behavior and/or a felon, it won’t matter whether you’re the one that files or not.”
Anger flooded Chelsey. “Exactly why is it that it’s ‘unwholesome’ for me to have a relationship and it’s ok for Larry to live with Lawrence and his girlfriend—who’s barely legal, I might add!”
“I don’t think she’s a stripper,” Marla said dryly. “And I think she’s in her mid twenties so the ‘barely legal’ thing won’t fly. As for the living together thing, they claim to be engaged from what I’ve heard.”
“So … really what you’re saying is that it’s a double standard?”
“If that surprises you, Chelly, then you’re more naïve than I thought!” She shrugged, heading for her purse and pulling her checkbook out. “I hope you win this one, Chelly. You’re long overdue for a break, but you should expect the worst. At least that way you won’t be disappointed.”
* * * *
Chelsey supposed she was just asking for trouble, but when Garryk suggested they go out to a nice restaurant and then take in a movie, she didn’t try to make an excuse to stay at home or suggest they just grab a bite at a fast food joint or some hole in the wall as she’d been in the habit of doing. Garryk only had two evenings off a week and Sunday was the only one that coincided with her days off.
Of course, he also got two evenings off from his other job, too—mostly—but those never coincided with his nights off from the club, or her off days, and that didn’t leave a very big window for going out on the town.
He looked surprised but pleased enough she felt guilty for not having had enough guts to stand up to Lawrence before. He had never come right out and accused her of being ashamed of being seen in public with him, but she knew it had crossed his mind—probably more than once.
And what good had it done to hurt his feelings? None! Lawrence had still found out she was seeing him and he’d still decided he could use it against her!
In any case, she felt the need to make it up to Garryk for almost puking on him that morning. He’d behaved ever since as if it was some sort of criticism of his performance, and it wasn’t as if she could say anything that would soothe the wound to his manhood!
As if it hadn’t mortally wounded her dignity!
If just figured that Garryk would pick Lawrence’s favorite haunt and Lawrence would be there! If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve suspected that Garryk knew and had taken her there with the hope of running into Lawrence—or that Lawrence had somehow found out about the reservation and followed them!
Oh, it was cozy, though! They were fortunate enough to get a table in direct view of Lawrence, his girlfriend, and her son—who pretended he didn’t know her. Actually, although all three looked up and stared at them as they were escorted to their table, they all pretended thereafter that they didn’t know them. It was a struggle to focus on Garryk—at first—but he took care of that by shifting his chair so that he was directly between her and the other table, cutting off her view.
She’d just begun to relax enough to begin to enjoy the outrageously expensive meal Garryk had paid for when Lawrence sauntered over the table. “Good evening, Chelsey,” he said with false joviality. “I thought I’d just be polite and speak … and perhaps introduce myself to … uh … Diablo, is it?”
Garryk shot out of his chair so fast Chelsey sucked in a sharp breath and choked on her own spit. Lawrence looked more than mildly alarmed if came to that as Garryk rose to his full height and looked down at him, a feral grin curling Garryk’s lips and exposing a lot more teeth than she was used to seeing. “Garryk Sinclair,” he growled, grasping Lawrence’s limp hand and trying to crush it as he pumped it a few times. “You must be Chelsey’s ex?”
Lawrence flexed his hand surreptitiously when he managed to reclaim it and pasted a false smile on his face. “And you’re her current.”
Garryk slid a glance at Chelsey. “And future if I’ve got
anything to say about it.”
Lawrence’s brows rose. He glanced at Chelsey and returned his attention to Garryk. “Is that a fact?”
Garryk’s smile vanished abruptly. “That’s a fact, Jack.”
They eyed one another like two bristling cur dogs. “Well! Congratulations are in order, I guess? Or am I being premature?”
“Not by much, I hope,” Garryk assured him with exquisite cordiality. “We’ll be sure to send you an invitation since you’re so interested.”
Lawrence’s face tightened. “I’m sure our son would appreciate that.”
“I wouldn’t think she’d need to send her son an invitation.”
They glared at one another assessingly for several moments. Lawrence looked away first, smiling at Chelsey a little tightly. “Nice seeing you, dear.” He sent Garryk a smug look at the endearment and strode back to his own table.
Chelsey hadn’t even realized everybody at every table around them had frozen to watch until they returned their attention to their dining partners. “I’m … not feeling very well,” she murmured through stiff lips when Garryk sat down again.
He sent her a hard, angry glance and then his expression abruptly softened as he shifted his focus from his encounter to her. He reached across the table for her hand. “Breathe slowly, Baby. Deep breath in—relax—exhale slowly. That’s my girl,” he murmured when she’d complied and taken several calming breaths as instructed. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Feeling a little better?”
She smiled with an effort. “A little.”
He seemed to wrestle with himself. “I upset you,” he said flatly.
Chelsey swallowed a little convulsively. “No, you didn’t.”
He seemed unconvinced, but he returned his attention to his meal. Chelsey tried to do justice to her own, but it was a struggle.
The Visitor: Alien Hunger Special Edition Page 17