“No. I couldn’t be. I…”
“You sure? Because that’s what I said with my third.”
“No. I mean, yes. I’m sure.” But she wasn’t sure. And she leaned over the toilet again.
Chapter 13
THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, CLARE ventured to the teachers’ lounge to heat up her leftover pasta from the night before. Jess was coming Friday, and she was making a mental to-do list. The room was empty, but the smell was enough to have her holding her nose. What do these women eat? She frowned at the microwave. It would be tainted now.
She hadn’t been sick again after her last visit to the lounge and had breathed a sigh of relief over that. She’d also avoided the lounge like the plague, opting to bring a cold sack lunch the past three days instead. She pressed a hand against her stomach and the other over her mouth. God, the smell. That bitter taste filled her mouth, and she made it to the bathroom just in time.
She rinsed out her mouth at the sink and splashed cold water on her face. Four kids in her class were out with flu-like symptoms. Could be that. Was probably that.
But the fever never came, and she was sick two more times that week before she started counting days and dissecting her monthly cycle. She’d stopped taking the birth control and still hadn’t found time to look for a doctor, but she’d always been irregular.
When she threw up in her fresh, odor-free apartment Friday morning, her heart dropped. It can’t be. It just can’t. They’d used a condom, and she’d been on the pill then.
Clare bought a test on the way home, and in her small white bathroom, she peed on the little stick then set a timer on her phone. Heart pounding, she placed the life-changing stick of plastic on the counter where she couldn’t see it.
In exactly ninety-eight seconds, the whole thing would be a funny story. Jess would be there any minute, and she would tell her about her scare. They’d have a good laugh. They’d drink wine and eat chocolate and christen her apartment. Thirty-seven seconds.
She tried not to picture Deacon. Shit. Just shit. If she was going to take a pregnancy test, she should be married. At the very least should have a man who loved her, holding her hand while they waited excitedly for a plus sign.
Instead, she was anxious and terrified it wouldn’t be a minus sign. The thought made her sick to the very core of her being. She wanted kids. She didn’t want to feel sick about getting the news she was going to have one. Her eyes burned with tears. Six seconds.
On shaky legs, she stood, took a deep breath, and looked.
CLARE WAS STILL SITTING on the floor of her bathroom when the doorbell rang. On weak legs, she made her way to the door and greeted Jess with a tight hug.
“Aww, I missed you, too,” her friend said, holding on for a long minute. When they finally pulled back, Jess held up a bottle of red. “I got wine!”
Clare opened her mouth, and the words just fell out. “I got pregnant.”
Jess’s mouth dropped open, and there was a beat of complete and utter silence.
The silence didn’t last long, and Jess stepped into the apartment. “Mother Mary. How? When?”
“The usual way. Nothing like Mary. I—” She stared blindly at Jess’s hand wrapped around the tapered neck of the wine. “I just found out.”
“Like now?”
“Right now.”
“Okay.” Jess set the bottle down. “Where’s the test? I want to see it.”
“It’s in the bathroom, but I think I know how to read…”
Jess was already gone. Then she was back. “Holy shit. Adam?”
“No. The beach. The lady-moon.”
“Dr. Hottie? Oh, my—Shit. This is…shit.”
“I know. I know.” Clare slumped onto the couch. There were no tears. She was too shocked for tears.
Jess joined her. “Okay, we’re going to figure this out. But first off, how did this happen? You were on birth control before the wedding.”
“I know. And we used other protection.”
“Well, maybe you should take another test. Just to be sure.”
She shook her head slowly. “I’m sure. I’m sick. I’m tired. And now that I think about it, my breasts hurt.” She rubbed her hands over them just to remind herself then wrapped her arms around her stomach. “And I took the pill the morning of the wedding, but I threw up. And again when we went snorkeling. I got sea sick, so I guess I missed that dose, too, and—” She closed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter how I am. I am.”
“And no chance it could be Adam’s?”
“No.”
They sat a minute. “So, you went snorkeling? You and Dr. Hottie?”
“Don’t call him that, and yes.”
“Those were some of the details I was speaking of a couple of months ago.”
“I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“I noticed.” Jess put an arm around her. “Want to tell me why?”
Clare leaned back into the couch next to Jess and told her all the details. The beginning. The middle. And the end.
By the time she finished, she was crying. “Now I can’t even be a nun,” she sputtered through her tears.
“Did you want to be a nun?”
Crying and laughing at the same time, she lifted her head. “I don’t know. No. I guess not. Fasting is too hard.”
“Oh, Clare.” Jess laughed then wrapped her arms around her, which only made her cry harder. “It was a big deal, wasn’t it? I know you. Shit. This is why I hate men! What’s his name?”
“What?”
Jess stood abruptly. “What’s his name? I want to see the bastard.”
Clare shook her head. She knew Jen’s scorned-woman-on-a-mission look. “That’s not going to help.”
“Well, it’s not going to hurt. Don’t you want to find out the truth about him?”
“The truth? I think the truth is he changed his mind. Or got bored or—”
“Stop it. He’s a grade-A asshole, and he’ll be lucky if I don’t kill him. Oh, shit.” Jess’s blue eyes went wide. “Your brother will kill him.”
“Can we please not tell him?”
“I think he’ll notice, unless—” Jess looked back at her, a question in her eyes.
“No. I’ll definitely have the baby.” But Clare closed her burning eyes at the thought of telling her brother. She’d have to tell her parents, too—and disappoint them again.
“Okay, look,” Jess said, coming to sit beside her again. “You know you have to find out at least something about him. You’re pregnant with his kid. You’re going to have to talk to him eventually, right? And maybe something happened. Maybe he had an emergency. Maybe some rich-ass woman flew him back to save Fifi’s life.”
She’d thought of that but ruled it out. No note. No call to the hotel. But Clare felt a ray of hope.
“What’s his full name? We’ll start with Google. He’s a doctor. He has a business.”
“Deacon Montgomery.” The tiny kernel of hope grew.
Jess worked the computer for no more than a minute. “Voila! Deacon J. Montgomery, DVM. Holy shit, Clare! He’s hot.”
“I know.”
“I mean really hot.”
“I know.”
“There’s his practice. Bramlen, Ohio. Never heard of it. Looks like it’s just barely in Ohio. Close to Pittsburg.”
“I didn’t know that. We didn’t talk about life outside of vacation. My idea,” she added when Jess looked at her.
“Okay. Here’s something else. Looks like he was in the paper last week.” She clicked and waited. “Deacon Montgomery DMV, is working in conjunction with the local county shelter, blah, blah, blah. He spent the morning in Overton Park with his—shit.”
“What? Jess? What?”
Clare unfolded herself from the couch and walked to the kitchen table, where Jess sat at Clare’s laptop. She stared at the photo on the screen. A black and white of Deacon, kneeling beside a small dog. A little girl, maybe two, stood with her hand on his shoulder. A tall woman with a p
ixie-style haircut stood just behind them.
“Is that him?”
Clare read the text below the photo. “Deacon Montgomery in Overton Park. Daughter Margo and Wife Allison pictured right to left.”
Clare read it again. And again. She shivered against a sudden chill.
He has a daughter. He has a wife.
“Clare? Is that him?”
“Yes.” She fought for a breath. There’d been no promises between them. The sad reality was there’d been nothing between them at all.
HOURS LATER, THEY SAT on the couch in pajamas. Jess did indeed have a glass of wine in hand. Clare had the chocolate.
“Does it seem odd to you,” Jess asked, “that we’re sitting here surrounded by unopened wedding gifts because you didn’t get married but ended up pregnant?”
“Yes.” Clare nodded slowly. “Yes, it does.” Excitement about the baby combined with a sickness over the news of Deacon’s family had left her numb.
“Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe I forgot. I have something for you.” Jess went to her suitcase then returned, holding out a closed fist.
“What’s this?”
Jess opened her hand. “Your ring.”
Clare’s engagement ring lay in Jess’s palm. She’d given it to Jess to hold until after the wedding.
“You could sell it,” Jess suggested. “Could come in handy, especially now.”
Clare took the ring.
“You said Adam told you to keep it, sell it. Do whatever you wanted with it.”
“Yeah. He did. You know people thought Adam cheated,” Clare said, turning the ring, making it catch the light. “Whether he did or didn’t, I’m the one that came back from the honeymoon pregnant. How screwed up is that?” She let out a long, heavy sigh as her head fell back against the couch. She felt sick, and it had nothing to do with being pregnant. “My life is a mess.”
“No, it’s not.”
Clare gave her a look.
“Okay. It is. A little. I’m going to get more wine. I should probably drink for you since you can’t.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
Jess came back to the couch with her wine. “So when are you going to tell him?”
“I don’t know. I mean I will, for sure. Just maybe not now.” She had enough to think about. Finding a doctor was priority one. And what if he didn’t want her to have the baby? What if he was a psychopath who went around leading a double life? “I’ll tell him after I have the baby.”
Her throat felt too tight to swallow. She’d had sex with a married man. Did this make her the other woman? Before, she could almost pretend it was a dream. He’d been there, then he was gone, but the memories of the time in between were still bright and magical. Now it was all tainted, just a dirty, sleazy affair.
“Clare.”
“What? There’s no reason to tell him now. I’m having the baby, regardless of his opinion.”
“He should be helping you.”
“Helping me how? There’s not much he can do at this point.” And she didn’t want to see him. She laid a protective hand over her belly almost without thinking. It was just her and her little one. “I want to be settled, you know? I need a doctor and a nursery and a plan before I add all his”—she waved her hand around—“stuff to the mix.”
Jess opened her mouth, but Clare cut her off. “I will tell him. Just not now.”
Chapter 14
DEACON SAT AT HIS desk, taking twenty for lunch, his phone at his ear.
“Last name’s Smith? You gotta be kidding me.” The private investigator on the other end of the line chuckled. “Sorry, man. And it doesn’t matter anyway since she didn’t get married to this Smith guy. I’ll do what I can, but a first name is not a lot to go on.”
He didn’t look up at the sound of the door opening. The only person who would come in without a knock was Jax, because they shared the office. “If I had a lot to go on, I wouldn’t need you, now would I?”
The guy cleared his throat. “Point taken. I’ll get back to you when I have something.”
The call ended before Deacon could ask when that might be. Though he knew the answer would be less than definitive. He laid his cell on his desk and picked up a pen.
“How’s the Rotty?” he asked as Jax settled at his own desk on the other side of the room.
“Good. Resting comfortably. The cone of shame kind of took away his badassness.”
Deacon smiled. “Mafia. If ever a name suited a dog.” The Rottweiler weighed one hundred twenty pounds and even had a gold-plated tooth.
“No kidding. Who was on the phone? Didn’t sound like a business call.” Jax finished his notes and angled his chair toward Deacon, propping his boot-clad feet on the edge of his desk. “That’s fine,” Jax said when Deacon didn’t immediately answer. “You don’t have to tell me. But I’m hurt.”
Deacon stared at the pen rolling through his fingers. He’d been back three months now and still hadn’t told Jax about Clare. Since Deacon had become a father, their personal lives had taken different directions, and because of that, he hadn’t kept up with his friend’s life as much as he used to. He felt bad about that. “What’s up with the new girl—Raquel?”
“Rachella. Like Rachel with a little extra at the end.” Jax wiggled his eyebrows.
“Right.” Deacon pulled a pack of peanut butter crackers from a drawer. He opened it, took one, and passed the open pack to Jax. “And how’s that going?”
Jax shrugged. “I think I’ve gone as deep as I can. No pun intended.” He stuffed a cracker in his mouth, took another, then took one more before passing the pack back. “Interesting how you change the subject.”
Deacon frowned at the half-empty package. “Okay, I’ll tell you, because I need some advice, but don’t give me any shit.”
Jax grinned. “When do I ever?”
“I hired a private investigator.”
“Interesting. Who are we investigating?”
“Not investigating,” Deacon said. “I hired him to find someone.”
“Okay. Now I’m doubly interested. Who did we lose? Wait.” Jax slid his feet from the desk and let them drop to the floor. “Not Natalie. Please, God.”
“No.” He had no reason to ever want to find the twins’ mother, unless the day came when they asked him to. He just managed not to rub at the stab in his chest that thought caused. “I’m looking for a woman I met in the Dominican.”
Jackson brows shot up. “I asked you if there’d been someone. You said it was nothing.”
Yeah. Jax had asked over a cup of crappy hospital cafeteria coffee. Mostly just looking for something to say during that interminable night when Maci’s fever had spiked. “I lied.”
He looked up and found Jax’s somewhat-scary green eyes boring into his.
“I lied, okay? My daughter was in the hospital. I wasn’t there. Fucking father of the year, right?”
“You can’t plan for those things.”
Which is exactly why parents should be with their children every single second. Of course that wasn’t rational or practical or possible beyond a certain age. Just one more parental puzzle.
“So if it wasn’t nothing, what was it?”
Deacon sighed, dropped his head back against the leather, and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“You call her?”
“I called the hotel as soon as Maci was out of the woods. She’d already checked out.”
“And her cell?”
Deacon closed his eyes against the absurdity of his answer. “I don’t have it.”
“Right. Why call someone when they’re laying right next to you?”
Deacon pressed his lips together. That wasn’t exactly how he would’ve described it, but that was how it looked.
Without getting up, Jax reached down to the small refrigerator and grabbed a can of Dr Pepper. “So now what?”
Deacon took the can Jax held out to him. “I don’t know. I left a note at the front desk, but I have no idea if she got
it. I’ve called the hotel ten times, and they can’t or won’t tell me anything. The guy at the desk that morning isn’t even working there anymore.”
“So the PI,” Jax said, nodding. “Shouldn’t be too hard for him to find her.”
Deacon winced inwardly. “It is when you only have a first name.”
Jax paused with his own drink halfway his mouth.
“Don’t look like that. It’s complicated.”
Jackson was thoughtful. “And you need to find her why?”
So many reasons. Deacon took a long drink and set the can down on his desk next to two others. “For one, to apologize for the way I left. God, Jax. I left her in bed with plans for the day, for the night.”
“But she knew you had kids. Wouldn’t she assume there’d been an emergency?”
Deacon closed his eyes and hung his head, feeling even lower if that was possible. “She didn’t know about the girls.”
“Whoa. You didn’t tell her about M and M? Must have been very little talking going on.”
“We talked. Hell.” Deacon squeezed the back of his neck and stood. “I can’t explain it.” How could he explain to Jax what he couldn’t explain to himself? “At first, I wasn’t thinking it was going anywhere. Didn’t see how it could be.” But then it was. He wasn’t sure when exactly. When he’d held her in his arms on the dance floor while she crushed his toes? Or when he’d held her on the boat with her face pale and clammy? Or making love to her? The look in her eyes and the pounding in his heart when her fingers clenched around his as he slipped inside?
He walked to the window and looked out at the acre they had behind the office for exercising dogs and letting them do their business.
Deacon knew he’d been foolish not to ask more questions than he had. But he hadn’t wanted to answer hers. He hadn’t wanted to share the girls or to explain their mother and his mistake, even after Clare had shared so much of herself.
Jax’s chair creaked, and Deacon heard his friend’s boots hit the desk again. “Nothing wrong with taking a few days off from being Dad.”
His sister had said the same thing. Was that what he’d done? God knows he needed a break sometimes, but this was different. Clare was more than taking a break, damn it.
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