Wronged Desires
Page 12
I paused my tease, sweetly pecking his lips one last time before I purred, “We don’t want dinner to get cold. Remember baby steps.” Kem tightened his lids, clearly fighting his internal urges to overtake me. I lathered my body with champagne and strawberry scented body wash while he watched. I then stopped his torture once I rinsed and stepped out the shower, smacking him on the rump while flirtatiously winking.
The pattern of browns and reds blended perfectly with my skin tone as I tied the dress across my chest. Kem exited the clouded bathroom in nothing but a towel, his hair dripping down his face, and the evidence of a semi-firm bulge exuding from his towel giving a tingle. “Should I dress casual, my dear?”
“Yes, sir. Shorts and tank will do. Or no tank. Whatever you prefer my love.” I left him to dress while I tended to the food warming in the oven in gorgeous turquoise ceramic dishes. As soon as I sat, Kem entered with his hair combed to the side. His eyes enlarged at the sight before him. “Fried chicken, dirty rice, and salad. Looks great, Babygirl.” It didn’t take us long to fill our plates, enjoying the crispy Cajun flavor of the chicken and rice with the fresh coolness of the salad to accompany it.
“You prepared this wonderful meal, which I love, but you said you wanted to talk.”
My nerves started to get the best of me as I wiped my mouth with a cloth napkin. I dropped my head for a moment, gathering my words before I looked into his warm balls of green. “I want to tell you something that I’ve been keeping from you for some time now.” He sat forward, scooping my hands into his. “In the last year of our marriage, we both were on edge all the time and I was under a tremendous amount of stress. My doubts about us had been apparent for quite some time, but I wanted to do whatever I could to try and make myself happy with our relationship.” The back of my throat began to sting, knowing that I was about to deliver heavy information that would crush his world. “We had talked about children so many times, but we just didn’t have the time with you constantly traveling to put a valiant effort into creating a baby.”
“Wait a minute, you’re not going to tell me that you cheated, are you? Please don’t say that.”
My mouth dropped to the floor. “Kemington, you know me better than that.” He chuckled wiping the imaginary sweat from his brow.
“Seriously, I didn’t know what to do and I was desperate not to fail us like your parents wished for.” I swallowed deep not believing I was really going through with it. “About a year ago, right before I filed for divorce, I stopped taking my birth control. That night when you came home from your annual European family business trip, I had a chef come in and cook us an exquisite meal.”
“Yes I remember that night,” he interrupted. “That night we made love. The best love we shared in months.”
“That was the night I got pregnant,” I blurted. Kem squinted, trying to register what I had said.
“Wait, what?”
“I didn’t know I was pregnant until I miscarried the baby.” He stared off in a silence that I desperately wanted to shatter. His glistening eyes trailed back to my face when he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I hesitated, once again needing to choose my words carefully as to not destroy everything inside of him. “We were having problems. You were gone all the time. You even left two days after we made love. It was a depressing time for me.”
“Did anyone else know?” he asked. Against my better judgment, I nodded. “Let me guess—Sandra?” His grip loosened around my hands as he stood and stormed out of the kitchen. I quickly got up to follow him, detailing the dreadful past as I sought him out.
“I didn’t know I was pregnant. I didn’t know.”
“You could have told me when you lost the baby,” he shouted pacing the hallway.
“I’m sorry, Kem. I just blocked everything out afterward.” He turned to me, completely beet red in the face.
“But it was my baby. I wanted to know about my baby. How much is that to ask?”
“It was our baby, Kem. Our baby.”
“But you didn’t give me the chance to know or mourn our baby. You’re killing me, Victoria. Killing me!” he shouted behind the wall of bitter emotion.
I started shaking my head, beginning to canvas the floor myself as he watched on. “With the loss of a baby and a divorce, you wouldn’t have been able to handle it, Kemington.”
“That was my choice.”
“I know. I was wrong to make the choice for you. It all happened in a flash. I was struggling to keep us together, I wanted and prayed for a baby. Then one day, I was deathly ill, feverish, nauseous and as soon as it came it went away in days. I thought it was a bad bout of the flu…” I said, my words trailing off as I turned to face Kem. He slowly walked to me, staring at me with the same revelation that I was having. His hands hovered over my lower abdomen hesitantly like he was touching a flame of fire. “The flu,” he muttered before he stormed past me grabbing his keys from the key holder racing out the front door.
I collapsed to the ground fighting back the emotion of watching us crumble yet again, cracking our foundation a second time. Biting back the pain, I entered the kitchen to clean up the mess of our night while trying to keep my mind occupied. Kem was hurting and he needed space to think it all over. I filled the sink with every dish and platter, and then I turned off the lights and crawled into my bed, softly weeping in the darkness.
While lying on my back, I recalculated the possible missteps I not only took in the conversation with Kem, but also in my life, then, my thoughts fluttered to the similarities of my flu-like symptoms. Yes the comparison was very similar, but I figured it would be too early to show symptoms of a pregnancy. Kem and I had only started making love weeks ago. Even with pushing the hopeless thoughts out of my mind, I couldn’t help but linger my hand over the heat that radiated near my navel. I had yet to miss a menstrual cycle, but I had struggled with abnormal cycles since the miscarriage.
I heard the chiming of the alarm in the distance as I watched the hallway light shine through the crack at the base of the door. Since I sat in the darkness for close to an hour, the blinding white of the hall light gave me an instant migraine when he entered like a man on a mission. I was waiting for the pain to dissipate from my cranium when Kem threw back the comforter, snatching me out of the bed. As I got my bearings, he ushered me into the bathroom, slamming the small rectangular box on the countertop that read “Early Detection” in bold pink lettering. The room that seemed so big earlier while I teased him in the shower felt cold and suffocating when I heard the slam of the door behind me when he left.
It didn’t take me long to unearth the white stick and complete each step, sitting it back on top of the counter. I washed my hands, walking back into the bedroom to see him pacing in a fury running his fingers through his hair. “Four minutes,” I uttered mustering enough courage and mental energy to speak to the dead-end wall that was Kem. While I sat on the bed, I pulled my knees into my chest, watching him check his watch and collapse into the chair, watching me with sad eyes. The time ticked on, taking forever and a day to get over the four allotted minutes.
After three minutes of waiting, Kem stormed in the direction of the bathroom. “I can’t wait any longer,” he shouted as I jumped off the bed, racing him to the finish line. The blaring pink plus sign could be seen from the doorway. Holding on to my chest in anticipation to his reaction, I watched him pick up the stick, then the box. He looked at the result window, then the box again. He reached in the packaging pulling out the instructions when I shouted at the top of my lungs. “Kem, I’m pregnant. Damn.”
Like a fly stuck in molasses, he turned slowly to face me, and then he dropped to his knees right in front of me, undoing the knot on my wrap dress. There I stood wearing only purple lace panties, and my ex-husband’s ear to my womb listening to nothing in particular. I ran my fingers through his soft sandy locks causing him to run his gaze up my body while I looked down at him. “We’re going to have a baby?” he asked.
I tapped him on the shoulder, allowing him to stand while I grasped his fingers and led him to the bed. Sitting on the side of the bed, I raised the skull-dotted tank he was wearing enough so I could kiss his rib tattoo as he finished taking his shirt off, then I scooted back in the bed, lying on my back. Kem took his previous position of placing his cheek to my flesh, fondling my lower torso until we both fell asleep.
Chapter Nine
We spent Sunday relaxing in bed for a good part of the day. Television and Kem pampering me was the gist of my morning. Takeout barbecue was on the menu for dinner with me praying that I didn’t drop any sauce on my cream-colored comforter. Just like a boy, Kem had to watch Animation Domination, so I took that time to go over the five interviews I had scheduled for the morning. I slurped the remainder of the tangy barbecue sauce from my fingers, closing the Styrofoam box when Kem gave me a goofy smile.
“You’re going to make a gorgeous pregnant ball of juiciness,” he stated, tickling my side. I giggled from the sensation and closed my laptop. “Hey,” he uttered with his semi-serious face. “I want you to take it easy from now on. We see what stress and drama can do to your body, and now we have to think about our child.”
“Yeah, you’re right. No drama, no stress,” I chanted my recent mantra that had gotten me through some tough days of late.
“When are you planning your first prenatal visit?”
“I emailed my gynecologist and he put me on the schedule for Wednesday morning at eight.”
“Great. My meeting that morning should only last an hour, so I’ll meet you there. Are you going to work that day?”
“I’ll go after lunch. Hopefully I’ll have an assistant by then. I really don’t feel up to training someone, but knowing that Sandra is at home on bed rest makes it all worth it. I think I’ll give her a call on Friday to check up on her,” I admitted to Kem even though I knew he didn’t care too much for her.
“Are you going to tell her about the baby?”
I took a breath to think over the answer to his question. “Considering what happened last time, I want to wait until I get over the critical threshold of the first trimester before I start sending out baby-shower invites,” I joked. “What about your parents? I’m sure they’ll be thrilled not only that you’re having a child, but a child with your ex-wife.” My sarcasm bled through each word of my statement.
“I’ll tell my parents when the time is right. You know provisions will have to be made on my end in preparation for my first heir.” I nodded slowly, listening to the endless family business of being heirs and heiresses. “There is something else that we must discuss.”
“What’s that?” I started on my third glass of pink lemonade, easily the favorite beverage of my pregnancy.
“What about us?” He moved his finger between the two of us illustrating his point.
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” Pregnancy hormones had literally fried my thinking capabilities.
“Us. Our relationship. I think it’s safe to say that moving slow will no longer work in this situation.” Oddly enough I found myself panicking knowing that Kem was once again right to ask about our present and future.
“Do I really have to answer that question right now? We’re fine as we are. You’re right to say that going slow won’t work given the situation, but on the other hand I don’t want to rush into anything seeing that we’re still figuring out our past so we can have a stable future.” I faced him so he could trust in my pleading eyes. “Look, you’re the father of our child. Hell, you’re even my husband when it comes down to the bare essentials, but when it comes to my heart and soul, I still have worries. This time is crucial for me, because I want to bring this child into the best possible environment we can provide monetarily, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I need for you to put your faith in me and my love for you.”
He sighed, releasing the same tension that I had held on to during the entire conversation. “I will trust in not only you, Vic, but the both of us. We’ll make it through one day at a time, but know that I will forever be present to protect and provide for us all.” I ran my hand down the center of his bare chest knowing that I would fall in love with him all over again if I had to. Kem laid his palm to my stomach and said to the bundle of love that I held, “Our baby will be born in a house of love with support from all sides, and that is a fact.”
* * * *
My stride into work the next morning was filled with pride and joy. No drama, no stress, I chanted to myself with a smile so large my face ached. Kem had to leave around six o’clock to catch his jet to southern Texas for the day, so I left early to prepare myself for my interviews, which were scheduled throughout the morning. Knowing that maternity clothes would soon be a staple in my wardrobe, I decided to utilize the time I had left to break out the badass business attire. No matter how much I hated wearing the uncomfortable getups, I felt powerful and sexy in them. Interviewing potential subordinates was cause for a power suit. Today, the three-button navy jacket, cream-colored silk camisole, and straight-leg pants were up to bat. I had to fight with Kem to allow me to wear my stiletto-pointed ankle wrapped black pumps with the suit.
Walking past Sandra’s cleaned out desk was like viewing the deceased at a funeral, but I vowed to keep my optimism high. I even had a candidate that went to my alma mater, Texas A&M who graduated a year after Kem and I, so I was somewhat hopeful that good stock would grace my office.
Nine o’clock came around fast as the first applicant, a short-statured, fair-skinned woman, sat on the other side of my desk. She had a great disposition and wonderful résumé, however her timid personality would not be a good fit for Worshaw and Baines. The ten o’clock interview was much the same, great paperwork but not right for my needs. I scheduled a two-hour block to do a bit of work around the office and eat a light lunch.
At exactly 12:45 p.m., fifteen minutes before her appointed interview, a short-statured, milky-ginger woman sat in one of the chairs outside of my office door. Her tomato-red hair was cut into a cute pixie hairstyle that made her look like a fairytale character. I floated out to greet her, feeling in the best mood. “You may come in, Ms. Westfield,” I instructed.
“Thank you, Mrs. Sutter,” she stated taking her seat. She was wearing a navy-blue dress with a thin scarf tied around her neck.
“How are you doing today, Jessica?” I always loved to start my interviews with a little light conversation, because ultimately I had to be comfortable with the person I hired.
“I must admit that I’m doing extremely well today. I’m literally sitting across from Texas A&M royalty. Victoria Sutter. Do you know that professors would use some of your old research papers and projects as examples in a few of my marketing courses?” She was bouncing out of her seat with enthusiasm. I couldn’t help but blush, considering that this was the first time in history that I was remembered for my talents in the classroom versus Kem’s power on a tennis court.
“Wow, I never knew that. I must say, I’m a bit speechless and if this is a ploy to butter me up, it’s working,” I snickered, joking with her. “I see that you graduated with top honors at Texas A&M, and you had a very long working relationship with a prominent marketing group in Houston. What made you leave, and why an admin now? Why not an executive?”
“To be honest, Mrs. Sutter, my passion is fashion and design. I’ve been designing my own clothing since I was in junior high, but I decided against going to school for fashion instead taking the business route. After graduation, I lucked out and received a fabulous job, which I worked for several years while starting my fashion line at the same time. The line is now taking off in a few boutiques in Dallas, so I relocated. Being a marketing executive takes a lot of dedication as you well know, but my dedication of course is with my fashion line. However, th
e awful truth is, I must support my personal efforts, hence an admin job with one of my idols.” I chuckled again with her last statement.
“Idol is a strong word, but thank you for the compliment. There isn’t much to cover in this interview Jessica. Your numbers and past employer speaks volumes. I do appreciate you sharing a brief account of your history. You have my utmost respect for working toward your goals. I have two more interviews today, and I’ll let you know my decision by tomorrow morning.” We both stood and shook hands. As she let herself out, I relaxed in my chair awaiting my next applicant. Wow, she was awesome and a great story. I love great stories.
The next applicant was twenty minutes late making me turn her away at the door. One thing I could not tolerate was tardiness. My last interview of the day completely falsified the information on his résumé. After he was excused ten minutes into the interview, I decided to call it a day.
Fried chicken was on my taste buds but I opted for a grilled chicken cobb salad for dinner. Now that a new addition to the family was brewing in my oven the house didn’t seem so colossal and ostentatious as before. It was ready to be filled with energetic, cherubic faces running around destroying every room, which delighted me immensely.
Feeling the need to be out in the beautiful weather, I threw on some hot-pink cotton shorts and matching tank, then took my favorite seat by the koi pond to enjoy my salad and bottle of water. Soon my peace was interrupted with the ringing of my phone.
“Hey there, pregnant lady,” I said to Sandra.
“Spill about the interviews. I want every sordid detail.”
“How in the heck did you know I was conducting interviews?” I asked.