A Hickey for Harriet & a Cradle for Caroline

by Nancy Warren

By Thursday, she wondered whether she should call him.

  She was to meet Tess and Harriet at the sports bar after Harriet’s cheerleading practice. It would be a great opportunity to figure out how to handle the Jon fiasco.

  But when she arrived at Ted’s, she discovered it wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought to have a powwow. Jon was already there, sitting in a cozy corner at a table for two with one of Harriet’s teammates, Linda Lou, former runner-up for Miss Georgia Peach.

  Caro left before either party saw her, glad she’d been the first to arrive. She waited until she was several blocks away to phone Tess and plead a headache. No way was she going to admit that the husband she’d planned to forgive was unforgivable. She’d decided not to ask Andre, her old modeling buddy, to be her date for the wedding after all, but Jon’s latest antics had her punching Andre’s number into the phone before the red haze had cleared from before her eyes.

  “HE SAYS he’ll do it,” Caro said to Tess in an excited whisper while she helped Tess pick out lingerie for her honeymoon.

  “I can’t believe you talked that hunky model into being your date. What about his wife? Doesn’t she mind?”

  “I introduced them. Besides, Donna’s pregnant. She’ll be a couple of weeks from her due date when you get married, so she’s sending the other two kids with Andre so she can get some rest.”

  “Are the kids coming on your date, too?” Tess asked sweetly as she tried to decide between a peach bra and panty set and an ice-blue one.

  “The blue,” Caro said. “And of course the boys aren’t coming to the wedding. Andre’s bringing the nanny with him. They’ll be upstairs in the hotel the whole time. Jon will never know they’re there.”

  Her friend shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “It was your idea,” Caro reminded Tess.

  “I’m not sure it was one of my better ones.”

  “Trust me.”

  Tess squinted at her over a scarlet thong. “Do you want him back?”

  She flinched inside, as though she’d swallowed a sliver of glass, then numbed the pain with anger. “I haven’t decided.”

  “Because there’s still time to ditch the hunk and spend the evening with Jon. Well, two evenings. The rehearsal dinner is the night before the wedding.”

  “Oh, my gosh. That’s right. The rehearsal dinner. Can I bring Andre?”

  Tess shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”

  The day of the rehearsal, Caro spent longer fussing with her appearance than she had in years. Her hair refused to cooperate. It didn’t even feel like her hair. Nothing in her closet fit properly. She couldn’t understand how she ate so little and seemed to be gaining weight. Must be the misery she was carrying around.

  When Andre arrived to pick her up, which he’d insisted he do, she was trying to jam her feet into her pumps. Even they didn’t fit. She stomped to the door with a scowl, one mauve pump on her foot, the other in her hand.

  But the minute she saw her date on the other side of her doorway she began to feel better. He was so stunningly gorgeous he always took her breath away. Andre was also a good friend. She threw herself at him for a hug. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “Hey, what are friends for?”

  He wore a pale gray designer suit and silk shirt. The way he wore it kept the designer in business, she was certain.

  “Come on in.”

  She then spent a couple of minutes hopping on one foot while she tried to shove her stubborn foot into her shoe.

  Andre chuckled. “You look like one of the ugly stepsisters trying to get into Cinderella’s slipper.”

  “I feel as though an alien pod person has taken over my body,” she complained. “Nothing fits, not even my shoes.” She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and scowled. “An alien pod person having a bad hair day.”

  He laughed. “You look beautiful. You always look beautiful. Sit down and give me your foot.”

  She did and he grunted with effort until he got the shoe on. “Don’t you know it’s bad for your feet to wear shoes that are too small?”

  “They’re not doing my temper any good, either,” she groaned. “My feet decided to have a growth spurt at thirty. What’s that about?”

  “Everything about you women is beyond me. Try living with a pregnant woman through her third. You’ll have to put sandals on or something.”

  “But these shoes match my dress,” she complained, hobbling toward her bedroom. “Can I show you my bridesmaid’s dress? I picked it up yesterday. They were supposed to alter it, but I think they must have forgotten.”

  “Sure.”

  “Fix yourself a drink while I go put it on.”

  “Okay. Want your usual white wine?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t feel much like wine. I’ll have a soft drink.”

  He shot her a peculiar glance, but didn’t say anything.

  She squeezed into her dress, cursing the dressmaker who’d obviously forgotten to make the alterations and emerged to find Andre sprawled at his ease on the couch, an open copy of the Star and a beer and her drink on the table in front of him.

  “What do you think?” she asked, feeling self-conscious about the ill-fitting dress.

  His eyes widened slightly as he looked her up and down. “Did you get a boob job?”

  “Of course not. I’ve put on a little weight, that’s all.”

  There was an odd expression in his eyes as he studied her more closely. He was probably trying to find a tactful way to tell her the dress was not working. “You look kind of pale. Are you feeling all right?” he asked casually.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve been under the weather off and on since Jon and I split up. Stress, I guess.”

  He rose and stepped toward her, placing a big square hand on her belly. In another man, the gesture would be erotic, but Andre’s hand felt more like a doctor’s.

  He removed it and his eyes twinkled as though he were laughing at her.

  “All right, so I’ve gained a few pounds. Everyone said I was too skinny.”

  “For a smart woman you can be awfully clueless.”

  “What do you—”

  “Honey, I think you’re pregnant.”

  She sat. That is, her legs trembled so badly they wouldn’t hold her and as she dropped, Andre grabbed her and stuffed her into a chair.

  “I can’t be,” she said in a blank voice. “According to modern science I can’t be pregnant. The fertility expert we saw said my chances were practically nil.”

  “Well, you sure look knocked up to me.” She’d never even considered the possibility she was pregnant, but what if Andre was right and a semimiracle had happened. That would explain a lot of things.

  “Have you been getting your…” He made a helpless gesture.

  When she caught his meaning, she blushed. “It’s never been very regular.” She shook her head. “I assumed it was stress.”

  If she’d thought about it at all she’d have said the turmoil with her marital mess had thrown her system off course. Feeling an incredible sense of joy begin to creep through her system, she shook her head. Ever since she left Jon, she hadn’t given it much thought.

  His eyes were still twinkling with delight.

  “Your breasts are bigger. Tender, too, right?” She nodded.

  “Clothes aren’t fitting.” He pointed to her feet. “Shoes aren’t fitting. You’re off the booze. Any nausea?”

  “No.” Well, hardly any. “And I don’t crave pickles and ice cream, either.”

  He laughed. “Donna never gets cravings, but she can’t stand cabbage when she’s pregnant.”

  “Fish.”

  “Pardon?”

  “For me it’s fish. I usually love seafood, but the past few weeks…Oh, my gosh.” Tears filled her eyes as she realized how utterly blind she’d been. After a year of trying and negative test results, it had never crossed her mind that one spontaneous act outside her peak fertility zone could have d
one the trick. She touched her belly. “How could I be such an idiot. Do you really think it’s possible?”

  “Want me to run to the pharmacy and get you one of those tests?”

  She shook her head. “No.” She’d pick up one later. She still wasn’t convinced her symptoms weren’t stress related.

  “Maybe you should stay home tonight and rest.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s the rehearsal dinner.”

  He sat across from her, a slight frown marring his exquisitely handsome face. “Maybe I should stay home then. Making your husband jealous doesn’t sound like such a good idea now he’s going to be a daddy.”

  “We don’t know that for sure. Besides, I want you with me.”

  “Look. Call me old-fashioned, but if you’re pregnant, Jon and you need to get back together.”

  The tears that had filled her eyes when she’d first accepted that Andre’s guess was likely correct now spilled over. “I’ll take him back for one reason, and one reason only. Because he loves me. Not because I’m pregnant with his child.”

  “Caro, he has a right to know.”

  “I know that. But nothing’s confirmed yet.” She sniffed. “Promise me you won’t say a word to anyone until I’m certain.”

  “I’ll tell you what I’ll promise,” he said, looking as fierce as a Viking warrior.

  “What?” she asked with misgiving.

  “I promise to bust his chops, that’s what.” He brandished the splendid muscles that had appeared oiled and bulging in many a woman’s magazine. “A man with you for a wife is crazy to look at anyone else.”

  “Please,” she begged him, “don’t cause any trouble. This is Tess’s wedding.”

  “Humph. I’m glad I never met him. He sounds like a turkey.”

  A small, wistful part of her wanted to jump in and defend Jonathon from such accusations. Except that, unfortunately, she agreed.

  And with Andre acting so hawkish, she had a bad feeling more than feathers would soon be flying.

  “Promise me you won’t do anything to embarrass Tess. Or me.”

  “I won’t.” He grinned suddenly. “But I am going to put on an Academy Award performance as your new boy-toy.”

  “Date,” she corrected on a laugh.

  He stuck out his sculpted lower lip. “Just once in my life I want to be somebody’s boy-toy.”

  “Not going to happen. You’ve got the looks for it, but not the personality.”

  “Yeah. I know. Donna never even let me be her boy-toy. Not for a second. Oh, well. Stuff yourself back into that purple number and let’s go.”

  “What about this?” She indicated her too-tight bridesmaid dress.

  “Can you wear something else?”

  “No. Tess and I chose it specially. It matches the other bridesmaids’ outfits.”

  “Hmm. Oh, I know. I brought Martha, the boys’ nanny, with me. She sews her own clothes. I bet she could let it out for you.”

  She fingered the seam. “There’s not much room left. The dressmaker warned me she could only let it out once.”

  He took it from her and also inspected the seams. “It’ll be tight, but the seam only has to hold one night. Martha will have to do the best she can.”

  She smiled at him, thankful he was one of the few men in the world who understood fashion in the intimate way she did.

  After she changed, they dropped off the dress with Martha, who was happy to have something to do while the boys were sleeping, and then they were off to the church for the rehearsal.

  Their stop at the hotel where Andre and the boys were staying, and where tomorrow’s reception would be held, had slowed them down, so they were not late exactly, but the last ones to arrive.

  Andre pulled open the heavy door of the church and Caro entered to find the bridal party sitting in the first two pews.

  All heads turned at their entrance, but her gaze immediately searched for, and found, but one face.

  And oh, boy, was it a mad one.

  The instant he spotted her, Jon’s eyes had lit up just as they had when they were first married. Then, when Andre followed behind her, Jon’s gaze narrowed then turned arctic.

  She blinked, forcing down the first instinctive impulse to rush forward and explain that her date wasn’t really a date. Except that she wanted Jon to get the wrong impression. That was the whole point.

  So, instead of following her first instinct, she grabbed her date’s arm and together they made their way to the front of the church.

  Since Jon was now facing forward, only his rigid back giving away his emotions, she had attention to spare for the rest of the wedding party. The women—Tess, Tess’s mother, Harriet and Cherise—all gaped at the hunk hanging off her arm. But Andre was so accustomed to that reaction from women he barely noticed. Caro couldn’t help a tiny thrill of pride that this outrageous hunk was her date, even if he was only a loaner.

  Jon rehearsed his role as best man smoothly, giving Mike a pat on the back at the part where he practiced offering the rings. He had a big smile and warm words for Tess, as well. For Caro, Jon couldn’t even manage eye contact.

  Fine. She told herself. Fine! Let him feel what it was like to imagine your spouse with someone else and swallow a healthy swig of his own medicine.

  With a glib explanation he excused himself from the rehearsal dinner and left without a backward glance. Caro knew because she watched him walk all the way out of the church.

  10

  CARO KNEW SHE’D never forget the day of Tess and Mike’s wedding for it was the day she discovered she was going to be a mother. She’d taken the test first thing in the morning and the stick hadn’t just turned blue, it had practically sung a lullaby. She danced around, inspecting it under every light, including sunlight, but that magical little stick stayed as blue as her husband’s eyes.

  Her own eyes filled with tears repeatedly during the ceremony as she watched her best friend commit to her own marriage, and they filled when she caught sight of Jon, her baby’s father, and imagined what their child would be like. Jon was formal with her, but she could tell he was affected by the beauty of the ceremony and the words Tess and Mike spoke that were so like their own vows.

  Their friends’ wedding followed a typical pattern—photos, banquet, speeches and toasts—but it was one of the most wonderful weddings Caro ever remembered attending. Partly because Mike and Tess were two of her favorite people, but also because she was having her own private celebration.

  Andre was stuck at the head table beside her and didn’t seem to mind. But then he was accustomed to being on display.

  Before she knew it, dinner was cleared and the dancing started and she was able to escape from the table. She couldn’t escape Andre’s third degree, however, which he’d been giving her since he’d badgered the truth out of her.

  “When are you going to tell Jonathon? You should tell him tonight, Caro,” he said for about the fiftieth time.

  As though he’d heard his name from across the room, Jon glanced over and she automatically sucked in her stomach under the twice-let-out green silk. It irked her that he should see her like this at Tess’s wedding. Less than perfect. Although she supposed that was still better than his guessing the truth about her changing body before she was ready to tell him.

  Of course, as a strategy, concealment was not going to be easy, or permanent, Andre reminded her, watching her antics.

  “What are you going to do a few months from now when he asks, ‘What happened to you, Caro?’”

  He was right, and she knew it, but she felt flip-pant, partly because Jon had all but ignored her since he’d first seen Andre. They’d performed their part in the marriage ceremony like two strangers and the minute they were free, he’d left her side. If she hadn’t seen him cozied up to a cheerleader, she’d feel really bad. But she had. She sniffed and stared at her belly. “I’ll say I took a deep breath in the library and sucked in the globe.”

  Andre’s eyes twinkled as
he gazed at her. This couldn’t be a lot of fun for him since he didn’t know anyone, but he was being a dream date to her as he’d promised. “Hmm. The scholarly approach.”

  “Too sophisticated? Well, I am in fashion. I could always say it’s the newest trend. A reverse bustle.”

  “Or go with the food angle.” He patted his own rock-hard belly. “Maybe I should have sliced that watermelon before I ate it.”

  She chuckled. It was a stupid game, but it eased her pain. “Or the pharmaceutical approach. ‘You mean a medicine ball’s not a pill?’ No, wait. It’s the newest trend in personal boating safety.” She tugged on an imaginary string near her rib cage. “Pull cord to inflate.”

  She was laughing but there was an edge of hysteria in her tone, especially since she felt Jon’s gaze all but glued to her. How much more of this could she take?

  For all her joking she knew she had to tell him he was about to be a father.

  And soon.

  From across the room, Jon watched his wife, his bow tie almost strangling him as he saw her giggle and lean against her beefcake date. Since when had she gone for pretty boys with capped teeth and saline-implant pecs? And God never gave any man hair that color, with strands of wheat and brown and who knew what fancy shades. Jon stifled the impulse to pop the implants with his fists and knock out the pearly whites currently looking ready to take a bite out of his wife.

  Well, it looked as though she’d made her choice. And if that’s what she wanted…

  Couldn’t be. A voice inside him insisted that the woman who married him wouldn’t be interested in that sissy boy.

  Would she?

  He sighed. Unable to bear the thought of standing there glowering at his ex like a chump, he forced a smile to his own lips and went to dance with the bride.

  He led Tess to the floor as a waltz began to play.

  “Jon,” Tess complained, a minute or so later, “I’m getting dizzy.”

  “Huh?” He’d almost forgotten he was even dancing.

  “You’re so busy keeping Caro in your sights you’re spinning me like a top. With all this fabric, I’m likely to catch an updraft and float away like a frilly white hot-air balloon.

  He chuckled with reluctant amusement, forcing his attention back to the woman in his arms. “Sorry. You look beautiful, by the way.”