“I told you. Keith doesn’t like it anymore.”
“What about you? You’re the one who has to choose the other man.”
She rolled her lips together, closed her eyes a moment. “Please. Just do this for me. Just leave it alone. Okay?”
There was definitely something in her voice, a quaver. “Zoe, we can work this out.”
She laughed, choked it off, put her hand over her mouth again, then dropped it to say,” I’m married. You and I can’t work anything out.”
“So, your husband doesn’t make love to you, and he lets you have sex with other men, but he gets to choose? That isn’t right.”
Her eyes darted around the parking lot again as if someone might be lurking, overhearing. But he’d kept his voice low. And so did she. “Please.”
“Please what?” He took a chance and regained the step she’d put between them. “Do you want me to beg? Because I will.” He laid his heart open for her. “This means more to me than a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits arrangement. You mean more to me.”
Hand over her mouth, she shook her head, blinked rapidly so a tear wouldn’t fall. Because that’s what it was, a tear. His heart turned inside out. He didn’t want to cause her pain. But he couldn’t let her go like this.
“I’ll play it anyway you want to,” he said softly, so close now he could smell the shampoo on her hair. “You name the rules. Whatever you want.”
“It’s too late for that,” she whispered. “Because I didn’t play by the rules either.” She skirted him, starting running, heading off between two buildings, perhaps a short cut to a running path.
He stood there watching the spot where she’d disappeared. She didn’t want it to end. If she had, she would have told him to get lost. There was hope. She felt emotion about him. Should he exploit it? Like she said, she was married. He had nothing to lose; she could lose everything. He should give her up. It was the right thing to do. A true gentleman would walk away.
Spence had never claimed to be a gentleman.
Chapter Nineteen
Zoe headed home on the dot of five o’clock whereas usually she didn’t make it out before six. But the end of the day couldn’t come fast enough. She was so tired, she could barely keep her head up. It could have been pregnancy. Or it could have been all Spencer Benedict.
Did he know how hard it was not to throw herself into his arms and tell him everything? Did he know how she craved him when he said she meant something to him? She wanted whatever he was willing to give. He’d smelled so good, she’d wanted to rub her face all over him, like a cat nuzzling close. She could still smell him now, as if his scent had imprinted itself on her.
But she was going to have a baby. She’d purchased two more test kits. They said the same thing. She had an appointment with her doctor tomorrow, but she didn’t need anyone to tell her. She could feel subtle changes in her body, her breasts slightly tender, even a bit swollen, the sickness, the fatigue. She’d damn near slept away the weekend.
All she wanted to do now was roll right from her car into bed, but when she pulled into the driveway, Alison’s BMW was parked at the curb.
Oh, please, no, not now.
Keith was so happy about his daughter’s pregnancy, the first grandchild. Alison was ecstatic. Zoe simply couldn’t handle it tonight.
They were in the kitchen, a pot boiling on the stove, the scent of spinach ravioli permeating the air, strong enough to make her feel like gagging. The thought of eating the ravioli, which was one of her favorites, made her ill.
“Glad you’re home early,” Keith said. “Alison was starving, so I had to start dinner.”
“Oh my God, Zoe, come here.” Alison flapped her hand. She was a pretty blonde with her father’s eyes. She’d pulled a chair away from the dinner table and faced it toward the kitchen. “The baby’s kicking. You absolutely have to feel this.” Everything was a new wonder to her.
Zoe gritted her teeth. She was so tired. She simply couldn’t face it. But she pulled a chair away from the table and sat.
“Here. Right here.” Alison grabbed her hand, pressing Zoe’s palm to the side of her belly. “There. You feel it?”
Zoe furrowed a brow. Her stomach churned. “Well, no, not exactly.” It was a physical ache simply to touch the mound of Alison’s child. If things were different…
“Okay, okay, wait.” Alison moved Zoe’s hand around as if it were a sonogram wand. “You felt it, didn’t you, Dad?”
“Yes, sweetie, I felt it,” he said indulgently as he tore lettuce and tossed it into a salad bowl. Then he stopped, a leaf in his hand, and stared at Zoe. The look in his eyes made her stomach plunge, as if he could see what was going on inside her. But of course, he couldn’t.
“Ooh, there.” A smile nearly split Alison’s face in two. “You had to feel that.”
There was a ripple beneath Zoe’s hand. Then another. It wasn’t exactly a kick. “It feels like the Loch Ness monster’s swimming around in there.”
Alison laughed. “The baby’s turning. I don’t know if that’s his foot or his hand or maybe even his head. It’s been happening the last few days. I just had to come and show you.”
“Then she said she was starving,” Keith groused good-naturedly. Zoe told herself she’d imagined that assessing look a few moments earlier.
It occurred to her then to wonder why he was home. “Did you leave early?”
He shrugged, his back to them.
“It was my fault,” Alison said, a sparkle in her eye that belied any remorse. “I was so excited, I just wanted to come right over.”
Alison’s husband was a lawyer, and they’d decided she would be a stay-at-home mom. Her job right now was getting the baby’s room together, even though the little guy wouldn’t be showing his face until sometime around Halloween.
The timer dinged, and Keith dumped the ravioli into the strainer. Another wave of spinach and cheese rolled through the air. Zoe put her hand over her mouth.
“Are you okay?” Alison asked, touching Zoe’s shoulder.
“Just a headache. That’s why I came home early.”
“And here I am bouncing all over you. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry.” Zoe put her hand on Alison’s belly again. “Ooh, there, that was definitely a kick.” She infused her voice with excitement, but inside, it fell flat.
This would be her in a few months. She couldn’t imagine the excitement. She could only imagine Keith’s reaction. She wasn’t young and in love with her husband, buying baby things, scouring stores, planning, hoping.
“I’m really not hungry,” she told Keith. “I just don’t think I can eat.” She put her fingers to her temple, rubbing it. But it wasn’t her head that ached. It was her heart, her soul. “I’ll just take some aspirin and lie down.” She put her hand on Alison’s knee. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not.” She beamed. “All the more ravioli for me. God,” she groaned, “I’m never going to get this weight off.”
She was all baby. Zoe didn’t see an ounce of fat.
Keith gave her an unreadable look as she passed through the kitchen. “Do you want me to save some?”
“No. I’ll just have a piece of toast or something if I need it.”
She couldn’t eat the ravioli, couldn’t even stand smelling it. And she couldn’t sit at the dinner table listening to Alison’s happy chatter. She simply couldn’t.
What was she going to do? How was she supposed to tell Keith?
* * * * *
“Thanks for ruining dinner last night.” Keith slapped a hand on the clock, shutting off the alarm.
Zoe had been dreaming of a fire alarm going off, and she was so big with child that she couldn’t get out of bed. She was going to burn up, die of asphyxiation. Then she realized the pillow was over head.
And Keith was snarling at her.
“What?” she muttered.
“Dinner. Alison was disappointed. She came over with her big news
about the baby, and you walked out.” He threw the covers aside and sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to her.
Her stomach was rebelling. If she moved, she was afraid she’d throw up. “I touched the baby.” What more did he want? “But I had a headache.” She hadn’t gotten up again. She hadn’t even heard Keith come to bed.
“Would it have cost you so much just to have eaten with us, show some excitement?”
Where on earth was this coming from? She realized he’d been picking at her for a week. Since his lunch with Spence. Since their blow-up about it.
Oh yeah, she knew where it came from. “I’m sorry.”
He stood. She knew she should get up, too, but God, she was so tired, even after sleeping almost twelve hours. Besides, she didn’t want Keith to see her wince with the queasiness. Better to wait until he was in the bathroom.
So she closed her eyes, listened to the sounds until he turned on the water in the sink. Zoe finally managed to throw the covers aside. Standing, she made it halfway across the bedroom before her stomach started to twist. She put her hand over her belly, breathed deeply, willing away the sick feeling. She couldn’t feel anything in there, but when she was as far along as Alison, the baby would start to kick.
Despite the terror she’d felt since the moment she’d used the pregnancy test, there was also a sense of wonder, much like Alison’s. A baby. It was terrifying but still exhilarating, if she didn’t think about Keith or Spence or what would happen, if there was just the baby and her and nothing else to consider. She felt a flutter of sheer joy.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Her eyes snapped open, but the sudden move made her dizzy. She grabbed for the edge of the bureau.
Keith stood in the bathroom doorway, his toothbrush in one hand, an empty tube in the other.
Zoe swallowed back the nausea. “What do you mean?”
“What’s wrong with you?” He stared at her.
“Nothing. The headache.”
“You’ve still got it?” He didn’t look sympathetic.
This time she put her hand to her head. “Yeah.”
“You were acting like you felt sick.”
“You know I sometimes feel ill when I have a headache.” That was true, but it didn’t last until the next morning, especially when she’d slept through the night.
Why was he looking at her like that?
She felt queasy for a whole different reason. “Do you want to take your shower first or shall I?” They couldn’t run both showers at the same time and have enough water pressure.
“I have to shave first. But I need another tube of toothpaste.”
“There’s one under the cabinet.” She always stocked for him.
She left him then, padded into the bathroom, opened the shower door, and turned on the tap for the water to heat. Dumping her pajamas on the tile floor, she stepped beneath the spray. Her breasts were tender, and even the shower beating on them was too much. She put her back to the showerhead. Washing her hair, she closed her eyes against the soap. When she opened them again, Keith was watching her.
Her skin chilled despite the hot water.
His gaze traveled over her body through the steam and water on the glass door. He knew. He’d guessed. He was looking for signs.
She washed the conditioner out of her hair and shut the tap off. Opening the door, she held her hand out. “Could you pass me the towel?”
He did. She squeezed the water out of her hair, dried it, then ran the towel over her body. Goose bumps sprang up along her skin. She couldn’t breathe in the steam-scented air.
“Tell me what’s wrong with you?” he asked, his voice low and harsh.
She held the towel scrunched to her breasts and belly. She could lie and say nothing. But she would have to tell him eventually. Lying now was just delaying the inevitable. All it would do was give her more time to dread the confrontation.
“I think I’m pregnant.”
“Fuck.” He slammed his fist down on the countertop. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
She’d been thinking about doing his bidding, Spence coming in her, Keith licking it out of her. “Bareback was your idea. I was fine without that, but you wanted it.”
“Oh yeah, let’s just spread the blame around.” He slashed a hand through the air. “You were supposed to take the fucking pill.”
“I did take it. But I got that flu bug, if you’ll remember, and I think I threw it up.”
“Who the hell gets a flu bug in the summertime?” he snarled. “You did this on purpose.”
“I didn’t.” Her stomach was jumping, and her knees felt weak. She put a hand on the edge of the shower stall to keep herself up.
“I never let you have a child, then Alison gets pregnant. And all you can think about is having a baby.”
“That’s not true. I was fine without having a child. And I’m not jealous of Alison. This was an accident.”
He narrowed his eyes on her. “Fine. It was an accident. Then fix it.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending. This couldn’t be fixed.
“Get an abortion. You can’t be that far along.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“It’s your problem,” he said coldly. “Take care of it.” Then he walked out. A few moments later, she heard the shower on the other side of the wall.
Take care of it? Kill it? It was a solution that had never even occurred to her. But, of course, it would solve everything.
If she could actually do it.
* * * * *
Keith sat on the end of the bed, head in his hands. Zoe had long since left for work. He was going to be late. The traffic would be bad. He wondered why they didn’t drive together, but they never had. There were always errands to run on the way home or working late. But shouldn’t married couples drive together when their offices are close to each other?
It seemed like their marriage had been all wrong for years. It wasn’t just the fucking around. It had happened before that, perhaps as far back as when he’d blithely said that he already had a family and was too old to start another.
Christ, he’d fucked up badly, all the way along. She was right; he’d insisted on the other man fucking bareback. He’d insisted on everything, from the first moment he’d broached the subject of hotwifing. He’d had a vision of how sexy and hot it would be to have her arrive home bathed in another man’s come. He’d wanted her to have a boyfriend. The idea was so damn sexy.
He just hadn’t counted on reality. That she’d fall for the guy. That she’d get pregnant. That she might actually leave and he’d be on his own.
Keith stood, paced the room, trying to outrun the images in his head, the two of them licking the man’s come off her hand, sharing that kiss. He’d known it then, saw it for the mistake it was. It hit home in the video. It was all over by the time Spencer Benedict said he wanted to take her away for a romantic weekend.
His chest hurt, fucking ached. Was he having a heart attack? He pressed a palm to his heart as if that would stop the pain. But nothing would stop it. It was his heart, his mind, his soul. His pacing had taken him to the mirrored closet doors. And what did he see? An old man, gray-haired, tanned skin, wrinkles at his eyes, on his forehead, deep grooves slashing down the sides of his mouth. This was who she was married to. An old man who couldn’t get it up anymore. Of course she would fall for Spencer Benedict.
And she was going to have the man’s child.
He should never have issued that ultimatum. Get an abortion. It’s your problem. Just take care of it. So cold, so hard, so unequivocal. They were words he could never take back. They echoed in the silence of the house.
But what was he supposed to do? Raise the child as his own? Or admit publicly that it wasn’t his? He should have thought things through. God, yes, not just what he’d said this morning, but what he’d started three years ago.
He had to face the very real possibility that he might end up alon
e.
Chapter Twenty
She’d seen her doctor and would have the results in a couple of days. Even without it, both her doctor and Zoe were sure. She’d left armed with a shopping list of vitamins and instructions on what to eat, how much to rest, no stress, on and on. The doctor said she was at a critical stage. After all, she wasn’t a spring chicken. She could miscarry.
She didn’t tell the doctor that her husband would be very happy if she did. She hadn’t asked for advice on where to get an abortion. How did you even ask a doctor? So, like, where do I go to get an abortion, Doctor?
But if I miscarry—
Problem solved. No decision necessary.
She dumped the bags of groceries and vitamins on the counter. Keith wasn’t home. In the bedroom, the bed was still unmade. She’d walked out this morning without bothering.
She kicked off her high heels, rolled down her pantyhose, and shimmied out of her skirt and blouse. Donning a pair of leggings and an old crop top, she pushed her feet into worn flip-flops and padded back into the kitchen.
Her phone was on the counter. Spence hadn’t called. He hadn’t texted or left a message. She’d told him to go away and he had.
She clenched her teeth against a sudden sharp pang. Then she squeezed her eyes shut before she actually started crying. How could she miss a man she’d known just over a month? Somehow, the intimacy they’d shared had torn down all the barriers.
Some people could have casual sex. She’d had it with strangers in hotel rooms in far off cities. But she and Spence had stripped away anything casual between them. She’d believed that marriage was more than sex, and it was true, but marriage without sex also lacked an essential intimacy. She needed that intimacy. It was vital to her. Spence had taught her that.
Zoe put a hand to her stomach.
There was nothing casual about the baby growing inside her. There was nothing casual about her feelings for its father. God, her heart hurt. One hand on her belly, the other gripping the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles turned white, she stood for what seemed an eternity. Until she heard the rumble of the garage door opening.
The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) Page 17