Married in Haste

by Christine Rimmer

  She was made for him, always had been. Though he’d never known it, for all those years…

  His own pulsing started. She cried out loud and collapsed on top of him as the pulsing went on and on. He wrapped his arms tight around her and he emptied himself into her.

  It was good.

  It was perfect.

  He held her close as the fire inside died to a contented glow. Yeah. It was good. For the moment, he felt so sweet and easy.

  For the moment, he felt at peace….

  Chapter Twelve

  Angie sighed and nuzzled Brett’s neck. He made a low, rough oh-so-masculine sound that sent a thrill zinging through her, made her clench her inner muscles around him as he slowly softened within her.

  He groaned then, and he caught a few strands of her tangled hair between his lips and tugged on them. “You’ll kill me.”

  She said what she always said, “But what a way to go…”

  He stroked a teasing finger down her bare arm. “I never even managed to get out of my clothes.”

  She chuckled. “Sorry. I had to have you. But now I’m somewhat satisfied.”

  He pressed a kiss against her temple. “Only somewhat?”

  “Let me put it this way. If you think I’m done with you, I’m not.”

  He stroked her hair, smoothing the tangles a little. “Give me a few minutes to recover, before you start making more demands on me.”

  “I’ll try to be patient.” She sighed some more and shut her eyes. A little nap, maybe, she thought. Right here, on the sofa, with Brett as her cushion…

  He said in a low rumble, “Guess what we forgot?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Contraception.”

  She snapped her head up and blinked at him. “Oh, God. You’re right….”

  He looked more amused than worried. “Chalk up another point for Mother Nature,” he said wryly.

  She realized she was chewing on her lower lip—and stopped. “I’m sure it’ll be all right….”

  “Mmm…” He tenderly guided her head back down to the firm pillow of his chest.

  “We’ll be more careful next time,” she vowed.

  “Yeah. Absolutely…” He eased his hand up under her hair and rubbed the back of her neck.

  She focused on his lovely, slow caresses and tried not to think about what she’d just realized.

  Late…

  She was late. And the past several days, she’d been suffering from nausea now and then, hadn’t she?

  But it couldn’t be.

  No.

  She’d been worried, that was all—stressed out over the problems between her and Brett. Over Glory moving away. Stress had made her just a little late.

  A voice in her head chided, Ten days late…

  Her mind skittered away from the scary number. No. Couldn’t be…

  But she’d been due on the fourth, right? And today was the fourteenth. It was simple subtraction and it came out to…

  Ten.

  Late, she told herself again. I’m just real late, that’s all….

  Her period would come—that night, or the next day.

  No problem. It would be fine…

  “Hey,” Brett said softly in her ear.

  She lifted her head again and they shared a quick kiss. “Umm?”

  “What’s for dinner?”

  She pushed all thoughts of a possible pregnancy from her mind and gave him a big smile. “Baked shells with mozzarella.”

  He touched the side of her cheek. “Can you hear my stomach growling?”

  “Be patient. I have to cook it first.” She started to slide off of him.

  He wrapped an arm around her and held her there. “Cook it naked.”

  She put on a stern expression. “Didn’t we already discuss the whole ‘eating dinner naked’ thing?”

  “Just while you’re cooking, okay? You can get dressed before we eat.”

  “I don’t know. A woman’s got to have standards about stuff like this. If I give in on the cooking thing, before you know it, you’ll have me at the table, nude.”

  “You can wear your apron. That frilly one. But nothing else.”

  “Brett. You have a very naughty mind.”

  “Yeah. I do. I’m a bad, bad man.”

  For the next few days, things were better between them. Easier.

  And definitely sexier. They made love often.

  No, they didn’t talk a lot. But Angie told herself to be happy with what she had: a wonderful, smart, sexy husband who loved her to distraction, as she loved him. Meaningful work. Altogether, a good life in a beautiful, light-filled house in her hometown.

  Her period didn’t come.

  She bought a home test when she went down to Grass Valley for groceries Monday, but she didn’t take it, though by then she was two weeks late. She stuck the test in the back of a drawer where Brett would never see it and decided to wait just a little bit longer.

  Monday night, Glory called.

  “Did you tell him you love him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And…”

  “He said he loved me, too—how’s New York?”

  “New York is just great. My nephew is almost as adorable as Johnny and I signed up for two classes. And don’t change the subject.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh, right. So, he said he loved you, too, and everything’s fine at last….”

  “It’s better.”

  Glory muttered a bad word. “Okay, so what now?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know. I miss the way we were, that’s all.”

  “It’s those intimacy issues of his, isn’t it?”

  “Thank you, Dr. Dellazola.”

  “Go ahead. Be sarcastic—and what else is wrong?”

  “What do you mean, what else?”

  “I can hear it in your voice. Something else is bothering you.”

  How did Glory know these things? And why weren’t they talking about her problems instead of Angie’s?

  After all, Glory was a single mom struggling to make a place for herself and her baby in the world. She hopelessly loved a violent alcoholic who had left her to sink or swim on her own. Shouldn’t she be crying on Angie’s shoulder—instead of the other way around?

  “Glory, you should tell me all about your new life. I want to hear everything. I want you to know you can always come to me, to talk, or for whatever you need.”

  “I do know. And you haven’t answered my question. What else is wrong?”

  So much for trying to change the subject. Angie gave in and said it out loud for the first time. “I think I’m pregnant.”

  Dead silence from the other end of the line.

  Finally, Angie prompted impatiently, “Hel-lo? You still there?”

  “I’m here. Just taking a moment to deal with that one. Since you don’t sound the least bit happy, I’m guessing that getting pregnant wasn’t in the plan?”

  “Of course, it’s in the plan. Eventually.”

  “But…not right now?”

  “Well. It’s only…we’re not ready yet.”

  “Who ever is?”

  “Well, I don’t know. But we’re not. I mean, we have it all. A nice house, good jobs, a lot in common, great sex. Except for the fact that my husband hates that he’s in love with me, everything’s perfect.”

  “Maybe he needs to get counseling.”

  “Maybe I need to get counseling. I need to learn how to be happy with what I’ve got—and anyway, we agreed to wait a year before we started trying. I went and got a diaphragm, but I don’t use it all the time. Sometimes we just get carried away.”

  “Hey. It happens.”

  “Then why do I feel like such a cheat?”

  “Wait a minute. How ’bout we take this one step at a time? You’re sure that you’re pregnant?”

  “Glory, I’m two weeks late.”

  “You took a test?”

  “I bought one—and then I stuck it in the back of a drawer.”<
br />
  “What good’s it gonna do you there?”

  “Oh, don’t start in on me.”

  “I’m not. I’m tryin’ to help. Is Brett there?”

  “He’s out on a call—why?” Angie asked the question before stopping to think that she didn’t really want to hear the answer.

  Too late. “Take the test.”

  “Oh, I don’t know….”

  “Yeah, you do. Take the test. It is one of those ones you can take any time of day, right?”

  Oh, she was so tempted to lie. “Yeah.”

  “Take it now. Call me back as soon as you get the results.”

  “But I…” Angie heard the click from the other end of the line. “Glory? Glory?” Silence, followed by the buzzing of the dial tone. “All right,” she grumbled as if Glory could hear her. “Fine. I will. I’ll take it right now.”

  Five minutes later, Angie dialed New York. Glory picked up on the first ring. “Well?”

  Angie’s throat locked up on her. The best she could manage was a desperate croaking sound. “Argh…Ung….”

  “Okay, then. So you are pregnant.”

  Angie set down the test wand with its telltale blue plus sign in the result window and gulped several times—until her throat loosened up enough that she could talk again. “Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

  “And isn’t it a relief—to know for sure?”

  “Uh…”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Now the next step is to tell your husband. Do it right away, as soon as he gets home tonight.”

  “When did you get so bossy? How did that happen?”

  “Angie, tell him. Tonight.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t even start. B.J. pulled that on Buck. She waited months to tell him, and all the time, he knew, anyway. Waiting didn’t do a thing for either of them—except to make it harder for them to get past all the garbage and get together, where they belong.”

  Angie tipped her chin high, though her sister wasn’t there to see her noble expression. “Look. All I said was—”

  “But,” Glory finished for her. “You said but. It was enough. More than enough. I knew exactly what was comin’ next. All about how it’s so early, all about how you really don’t need to talk to Brett about it yet. All about how you’ve got plenty of time.”

  Angie pulled the phone away from her ear long enough to scowl at it. Then she put it back and demanded, “How did you know that?”

  “I just told you, it’s what B.J. did to Buck. It didn’t work for her. And it’s not going to work for you, either.”

  Angie sank into a chair. “It’s not?” she asked weakly.

  “Think about it. You say you don’t feel close to him the way you used to, that he’s not open with you anymore.”

  “And it’s true. I don’t. He’s not.”

  “So you’re gonna get him to open up by hiding important information from him?”

  “No. I didn’t say that. You’re twisting what I said.”

  “Uh-uh, Angie. You’re the one who’s twisting things. You’re twisting the truth and wanting honesty and openness from your man.”

  With a sister like Glory, a girl couldn’t get away with anything. “You’re boxing me into a corner, you know that?”

  “I’m only saying you get what you give.”

  “All right. I’ll tell him.”

  “Tonight.”

  “Yeah. Tonight. I promise.”

  Angie was sitting in the great room with most of the lights on when Brett let himself in the door at eleven-thirty that night. Her heart in her throat, she waited while he hung his jacket on the coatrack and left the open entry area to join her.

  “You didn’t have to wait up….”

  “I wanted to.” She marked her place in the book she’d been trying to read and set the book on the side table by her chair. “There’s roast chicken….”

  He shook his head. “I grabbed a sandwich at the hospital.”

  She gazed up into his dear face. He looked tired—shadows of fatigue beneath his eyes, the faint lines around his mouth etched a little deeper than usual.

  Maybe now wasn’t the time. Maybe she should wait until he wasn’t quite so tired. Maybe…

  No. She cut the excuses off before she could come up with enough of them to convince herself to cop out. Glory was right. It was Brett’s baby, too. He should know now.

  Her heart knocked against her breastbone and her stomach had suddenly tied itself in a painful clump of knots. “Um, Brett…”

  His expression changed. He looked…wary. All of a sudden, there were shadows in his eyes as well as under them.

  As she watched his guard go up, she had that sense again, strongly. That he didn’t really trust her. That he felt he had to protect himself, somehow…protect himself from her.

  He tried evasion. “Listen, Angie.” He actually took a step back from her. “I’m beat. Whatever it is, can it wait until tomorrow?”

  Oh, she was doubly tempted then. He didn’t want to hear it—and she didn’t want to say it. What a pair they were, working so hard, both of them, to keep the things that needed saying from ever getting talked about.

  She knew she had to force the damn words out or he would convince her of what she wanted to believe: that they really didn’t need to talk about it now.

  “Uh. Nope. Sorry. Can’t wait. Really can’t. Because, um, well…” She swallowed, convulsively, and pushed the words out. “I’m…pregnant.”

  Pregnant.

  Oh, God. She had said it. She had told him.

  He fell back another step, and muttered numbly, “You’re…?”

  She made herself say it again. “I’m pregnant, Brett. I’m two weeks late. And tonight, I took a test. It was positive. We’re having a baby.”

  He ran a hand back over his hair. “Pregnant…” He didn’t look mad. But he didn’t look particularly happy about it, either.

  “I’m sorry.” She tugged on the hem of her snug knit shirt, straightening it, just to have something to do with her hands. “I, um, should have been more careful about using my diaphragm. I know you wanted to wait, not to start a family right away. We agreed. That we wouldn’t. And really, I wanted to wait, too. But I screwed up.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them as she miserably confessed, “Oh, this is awful. I feel like I roped you into this.”

  “You didn’t,” he said. She raised her head as he took another step back from her. He was nearly to the fireplace by then. “We’ll manage. It will be fine.”

  She stared at him, achingly aware of the distance he had just put between them—as he said all the right words, as he promised her that everything was going to be okay.

  He was being so understanding. So very kind. Not blaming her. Saying they’d be okay….

  But would they, really? How could they? When there was that strange and constant distance between them, when she never really knew what might be going through his mind.

  Ask him, she thought. And immediately, a giant wave of hopelessness washed over her. How many times had she asked him? How much good did asking him ever do?

  She tried, anyway. “Are you…angry at me? If you are, I’d rather you tell me. I’d rather have it out in the open, where we can talk about it.”

  “No. I’m not.” So calm. So reasonable. “You’re right. We haven’t been…as careful as we should have been. I’m just as much at fault for that as you are. It’s not the end of the world, not in the least. We wanted a family, and now we’re going to have one.”

  “Oh, Brett. You make it sound like a punishment.”

  His brows drew together. “I don’t mean it that way.”

  She shouldn’t be so mad at him.

  But she was. She was absolutely furious. Her heart beat a swift, angry tattoo and the knots in her stomach had bunched tighter than ever.

  She’d messed up and gotten pregnant way ahead of schedule. And now, he was taking it so well, so reasonably.

  So calmly and logi
cally—and that was a good thing.

  Wasn’t it?

  She knew that it was. And still, she was mad as hell at him. Oh, what was the matter with her?

  She strove to keep herself from blurting anything thoughtless, anything that would betray her distinctly unreasonable fury. “I don’t…I don’t know what you think anymore. I don’t know what you feel. It seems like it’s all…tangled up, between us—and Brett, that was the thing, you know? It was why I married you. Because we were so right with each other. We could tell each other anything, it was all wide open, between us.”

  “You can still tell me anything.” He looked at her dead-on. His eyes gave her nothing and his voice was flat.

  “But what about you, Brett?” She felt like a living, breathing definition of the word nag. And yet, somehow, she couldn’t stop. “Do you think you can tell me anything? Because if you do, I’m not getting it, you know? Except when you’re making love to me, I don’t feel the least bit close to you anymore.”

  He said nothing for several seconds that seemed like decades. Finally he muttered, “I’m sorry you’re upset.”

  A desperate voice in her head warned, You’ve told him you’re pregnant. Chalk one up for total honesty.

  And quit while you’re ahead.

  She did nothing of the kind. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you still think you can tell me anything?”

  Another long silence, then, “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He shook his head. Slowly. “This is going nowhere. Fast.”

  She had to agree with him. “I know. You’re right. In the past month and a half, it all goes nowhere, fast. I ask you, over and over, if something’s bothering you. You always say no. There’s nothing wrong—and yet, every day you feel farther away from me than the day before. So I…I work up my nerve. I tell you I love you. You say you love me, too. But you’re not happy about it. To you, loving me is the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

  “That is not what I said.”

  “But it is what you meant. Don’t try to deny it. You told me you loved me, too. And when I asked you why you never talked to me about anything that matters anymore, you said the state you were in wasn’t conducive to conversation—and that was all. You wouldn’t say any more about it. We made love. It was wonderful. Everything was just fine again. Except it wasn’t fine. It’s not fine. It’s not fine in the least. It’s…it’s empty, Brett. It’s going through the motions. That’s what we do. We go through the motions. Our life is just perfect. Everyone in town envies us. But we don’t have what we started out with—at least, I know I don’t. I had a best friend at the beginning, and I don’t anymore. And I want to know, Brett. What in hell have you done with my best friend?”