More than a Convenient Marriage?

by Dani Collins

“Maybe the zipper is just caught. Let me try.”

  “It’s not caught. I’m getting fat.” She stood still as he tried to draw the back panels of the silk together and work the zipper upward. Oh, hell. This wasn’t just a snagged zip, and now he’d done it: put himself in the position of having to acknowledge to his wife that she had gained a pound or two. Might as well go up to the roof and jump right now.

  “See?” she wailed when he kept trying to drag the zip upward.

  “Honestly, I don’t see any weight gain,” he insisted while privately acknowledging that spending as much time as he did caressing this body, a small and gradual gain would go completely unnoticed. “You’re probably just getting your period. Don’t women feel puffy then? You must be due for one.”

  Even as he said it, he was caught by the realization that she hadn’t had one since, well, it would have been before they’d become intimate in Greece. At least a month ago.

  He bristled with an unwelcome thought that he dismissed before it fully formed.

  While Adara stood very, very still, her color draining away in increments.

  Instinctively, Gideon took hold of her arm, aware of the way she tensed under his touch, as if she wanted to reject it.

  “I, um, never get back to normal right away after a miscarriage,” she summed up briskly, not looking at him while her brow furrowed. Her arm jerked to remove his touch as she shrugged into a self-hug. “You’re probably right. It’s just a particularly bad case of PMS bloating.”

  Except she’d also mentioned a few days ago that her breasts were sore because her bra was too tight.

  Or tender because of something else?

  He could see where her mind was going and it scared him because he really would lose her if she fell pregnant again.

  “I use a condom every time, Adara. Every time.” He’d been meaning to book a vasectomy, as permanent protection, but hadn’t been ready to take the necessary break from sex.

  “I know,” she said so quickly it was almost as though she was trying to shut down the conversation before the word could be said, but it was there, eating the color out of her so she was a bloodless ghost refusing to look at him.

  “So I don’t see how—”

  “I’m sure it’s impossible,” she cut in crisply. “And I’d only be a couple of weeks, not starting to put on weight, but I won’t be able to think straight until I’m sure.” Peeling the delicate straps of her gown off her shoulders, she let it fall to the floor and stepped out of the circle of midnight blue. Her strapless green bra didn’t match the yellow satin and lace across her buttocks, but it was a pretty sight anyway as she walked into the bathroom. “I think there’s a leftover test in the cupboard...”

  She closed him out, the quiet click of the door a punch in the heart. He rubbed his clammy hands on his thighs, insisting to himself it was impossible.

  Even though Adara thought it was possible.

  And she wasn’t happy about it.

  How could she be?

  Bracing his hands on the edges of the bathroom door, he listened for the flush and heard the sink run. Then, silence.

  He ground his teeth, waiting.

  Oh, to hell with it. He pushed in.

  She’d pulled on an ivory robe and stood at the sink, a plastic stick in her hand. It quivered in her shaking grip.

  He moved to look over her shoulder and saw the blue plus sign as clearly as she did. Positive.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE VOLUME OF emotions that detonated in Adara was more than she could cope with. Dark and huge as a mushroom cloud, the feelings scared her into falling back on old habits of trying to compress them back into the shallow grave of her heart.

  “The test is old, maybe. Faulty,” Gideon said behind her.

  “It was the second one in the box from when I tested myself a few months ago.” She threw the stick away and washed her hands, scrubbing them hard, then drying them roughly before she escaped the bathroom that was luxuriously cavernous, but way too small when her husband was in it with her.

  And she was pregnant.

  Again.

  Shock was giving way to those unidentified emotions putting pressure on her eyes and rib cage and heart. She didn’t want him watching as they took her over and she had to face that it was happening again.

  “You should go,” she said briskly, keeping her back to him. “Make my apologies. Tell people I came down with the flu or something.” She was distantly aware of the cold, slippery satin on her arms bunching under her fists, her whole being focused on listening for Gideon’s footsteps to leave the room the way she was silently pleading for him to do.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I’m not in the mood to go out right now,” she said sharply, grasping desperately for an even tone to hide how close she was to completely breaking down.

  “Adara, I’m—”

  “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry!” she whipped around to cry. Distantly she was aware of her control skidding out of reach, but the storm billowing to life inside her was beyond her ability to quell. “Maybe this is all the time we have with our children, but I won’t be sorry they exist!”

  Her closed fist came up against her trembling lips, trying to stem the flood that wanted to escape after her outburst.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said with quiet ferocity, moving toward her with what seemed like a wave of equally intense emotions swirling around him.

  Their two force fields crackled with condensed energy as they met, heightening the strain between them. Adara looked into his face, really looked, and saw such a ravaged expression, such brutally contained anguish, her insides cracked and crumbled.

  “Whatever happens, I’m staying right here.” He pointed at the floor between their feet. “I won’t leave you alone again. This is happening to us.”

  Emotion choked her then, overspilling the dam of denial to flood her with anguish and insecure hatred of this body that didn’t know how to hang on to babies. Futile hope combined with learned despair to make her shake all over. She couldn’t hold it back, had to say it.

  “I’m scared, Gideon.”

  He closed his eyes in a flinch of excruciation. “I know,” he choked out, and dragged her into his protective arms, locking her into the safety of a hard embrace. “I know, babe, I know.”

  It all came out in a swamping rush of jagged tears. She clung hard to him as the devastating sorrow she’d never shown him was finally allowed to pour out of her. Every hurt that had ever scarred her seemed to rise and open and bleed free, gushing until it ran out the toxins, gradually closing in a seal that might actually heal this time.

  As her senses came back to her, she realized he’d carried her to the bed where he’d sat down on the edge to cradle her in his lap. He gently rocked her, making comforting noises, stroking her soothingly.

  “Sorry,” she sniffed, wiping her sleeve across her soaked cheeks. “I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

  “Shh.” He eased the edges of his jacket around her, cuddling her into a pocket of warmth close to his chest. When she looked up at him, she saw his eyes were red and glassy, his mouth twisted in frustrated pain.

  “I wish—”

  “I know. Me too.” He steadied his lips in a flat line, the impact of his one sharp glance telling her he knew deeply and perfectly and exactly what she wished for.

  When his hand moved into the folds of her robe and settled low on her abdomen, she covered it with her own, willing their baby to know that Daddy was here too. Her heart stretched and ached.

  Gideon swallowed loudly and drew in a heavy breath, things she felt viscerally with him as she rested her head against his heart. This is love, she thought. The knowing without words. The sharing of both joy and pain.

  She sat
in stillness a long time, wondering if it was true. Were they both here in this bubble of dawning heart-to-heart connection, or just her? Did he love her? A little?

  Gideon swore softly and touched the pocket of his jacket. “Paul,” he explained. “I should tell him we’re not going. Is your phone in here?”

  “On the dock in the living room.”

  “Here. You need to warm up.” He dragged the covers back from the pillows before rising with her in his arms and neatly tucking her in.

  Listless after her storm of weeping, Adara turned her back on his departure and let her eyes close and her mind go blank. She couldn’t face that he’d walked out so dispassionately after holding her so tenderly.

  She must have dozed because she woke still alone in the bed, but the bedside light was on and someone was rustling in her room. She opened her eyes to see Gideon fitting a hanger into one of her gowns and carrying it into the closet. A tiny smile dawned on her mouth as she surreptitiously watched him housekeep for her. He’d changed out of his tuxedo, which was always a pity because he made one look so good, but pajama pants were fine too. Even when they were obviously crisp and new from a package. Had he ever worn pajamas before tonight? she wondered.

  His critical eye scanned the room for anything else out of place before he moved to the door.

  Her heart fell. He wasn’t going to join her. They were back to separate beds and separate lives.

  But no. She heard the distant beep of him setting the alarm, then his footsteps padded back to her. He gently lifted the covers and eased into bed behind her.

  She sighed and spooned herself into him.

  “Did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s okay. I won’t be able to sleep anyway. I’ve already started thinking about doctor’s appointments and taking vitamins and...” She sighed with heartfelt sadness. It seemed like such a futile effort to go through it all again. “...everything.”

  “I put in a call to Karen, letting her know we want an appointment tomorrow,” he said, referring to her ob-gyn.

  “Oh, um, thank you.” His thoughtfulness startled her. She wouldn’t have guessed that he even knew her doctor’s name. Snugging herself a little more securely into him, she nuzzled the bent elbow beneath her cheek. “One less thing to worry about.” Oddly, she found herself amused again. “Especially because you might actually get me an appointment tomorrow. I’d take whatever they offered, something next week if that’s all they had, but no one says no to you, do they?”

  “Not unless it’s the answer I want to hear.”

  She snickered and turned in his arms. “Why are you like that?” she asked with sudden curiosity. “What made you so bullish?”

  “Having nothing and hating it. You should get some sleep.” He rolled back to reach for the light switch.

  “Honestly, if I try to sleep, I’ll just lie here and worry. Tell me something to distract me. What were you like as a child? Before your mom died,” she prompted.

  “Scared,” he admitted, letting her glimpse the flash of angry honesty in his expression before he doused the light and drew her body into alignment with his. Her robe was bunched, her bra restrictive and the fabric of his pajama pants annoying when she wanted to stroke her bare leg on his.

  At the same time, she was caught by the single word that didn’t seem to fit with a mother he’d described as “maternal.”

  “Why were you scared?” she asked gently.

  Gideon sighed. “I really don’t like talking about it, Adara.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured in old acquiescence, then said into his chest, “But I told you about my childhood, unhappy as it was, and we’re closer for it. Aren’t we?”

  He sighed and rolled onto his back, arms loosening from his hold on her. “My story’s a hell of a lot uglier than yours. I don’t know much about my mother except what I told you before. I give her credit for somehow getting us into a rented room by the time she died, but before that, I can remember her leaving me in, literally, holes in the wall. Telling me to stay there until she came back. Can you imagine a woman—a child—trying to keep a baby alive while living on the street? I never felt safe.”

  “Oh, Gideon,” she whispered, reaching her hand onto his chest.

  He clasped her hand in his, taking care not to crush her fine bones, but was torn between rejecting her caress of comfort and clinging to it. He was sorry he’d started this, but part of him wanted to lay the groundwork. If his past ever came out, he wanted Adara to understand why he’d become who he was.

  “I hate remembering how powerless I felt. So when you ask me why I go after what I want however I have to, that’s why.”

  “How did she die?”

  The unforgettable image of his mother’s weary eyes staring lifelessly from her battered face flashed behind his closed eyes. He opened them to the streaks of moonlight on the bedroom ceiling, trying to dispel the memory.

  “She was beaten to death.” By a john, if he’d pieced things together in his mind correctly.

  “Oh, my God! What happened? Did the police find who did it? Where were you? Did you go into foster care after, or...?”

  “I didn’t stick around for police reports. I was so terrified, I just ran.” All the way onto a ship bound for America, barely old enough to be in school.

  “You saw her?”

  “I told you it was ugly.”

  Her breath came in on a shaken sob. “I’m so sorry, Gideon. And you saw that other man, too. Your mentor.”

  “Kristor,” he provided. Kristor Vozaras, but now wasn’t the time to explain how they’d come to have the same name. “I knew I couldn’t live like that, on the docks where crime is a career and a human life worth nothing. No matter what, I had to climb higher than carrying everything I owned in a bag on my shoulder. Whatever it took, I had to amass some wealth and take control of my destiny.”

  She moved her head on his chest, nodding in understanding perhaps. Her warm fingers stroked across his rib cage and she hugged herself tighter into him, the action warmly comforting despite his frozen core.

  “I’m glad you didn’t limit yourself,” she said. “I’ve always admired you for being a risk-taker. I’ve never had the nerve to step beyond my comfort zone.”

  “Oh, Adara,” he groaned, heart aching in his chest as he weaved his fingers into hers. “You’re the most courageous woman I know.” How else could she stare down the probability of another heartbreak with fierce love for their child brimming in her heart?

  Maybe he couldn’t control whether or not she kept this baby, but he was going to fight like hell to keep her. No matter what.

  * * *

  Adara woke in her old bed and thought for a second it was all a dream. She hadn’t gone to Greece, hadn’t found closeness with her husband...

  Then he padded into her room, half-naked, hair rumpled, expression sober as he indicated the phone in his hand. “Karen wants to know if we can get to her office before the rest of her patients start arriving.”

  It all came rushing back. Pregnant. Fear clutched her heart, but she ignored the familiar angst and sat up, nodding. “Of course. I’ll get dressed and we can leave right away.”

  “Um.” Gideon’s mouth twitched. “You might want to wash your face.”

  Adara went to the mirror and saw a goth nightmare staring back at her. “Right,” she said with appalled understatement.

  Gideon confirmed with Karen and left for his own room to dress.

  Their lighthearted start became somber as Gideon drove them to the clinic, neither of them speaking while he concentrated on the thickening traffic and the reality of their history with pregnancy closed in on them.

  Nevertheless, as urgently as Adara wanted to self-protect right now, she also really, really appreciated Gideon’s solid presence beside her. He warmed
her with a strong arm across her back as they walked up to Karen’s office and kept a supportive hold on her as they stood numbly waiting for the receptionist, still in her street jacket, to escort them into an exam room.

  Karen, efficient and caring as she was, was not pleased to learn Adara had miscarried two months ago without telling her.

  Adara drew in a defensive breath, but Gideon spoke before she could.

  “Let’s not dwell on that. Obviously there was no lasting damage or Adara wouldn’t be pregnant again. I’d like to focus on what we can do to help her with this pregnancy.”

  Karen was used to being the one in charge, but shook off her ruffled feathers as Gideon’s obvious concern shone through.

  “I’d like to say there was a magic formula for going to term. Mother Nature sometimes has other plans, but we hope for the best, right? Adara, you know the drill.” She handed her a plastic cup.

  A few minutes later, Adara was in a gown, sitting on the edge of the exam table while Karen confirmed her pregnancy. The frown puckering her brow brought a worried crinkle to Adara’s and Gideon’s foreheads as well.

  “What’s wrong?” Adara asked with dread.

  “Nothing. Just our tests are more sensitive than the over-the-counter ones and.... Do you mind? I won’t do an internal just yet, but can I palpate your abdomen?”

  Adara settled onto her back and Karen’s fingers pressed a few times before she set the cool flat of the stethoscope against her skin. “Tell me more about this miscarriage you had. When do you think you conceived that time?”

  “Um, late April?” Adara guessed. “I can look it up on my phone.”

  “So fourteen, maybe fifteen weeks ago?” The cool end of the stethoscope was covering a lot of real estate.

  “You’re not thinking I’m still pregnant from then,” Adara scoffed. “Karen, I know a miscarriage when I’m having one.”

  “I want you to have a scan. Let’s go down the hall.”

  Gideon’s face was as tight as Adara’s felt. He held her elbow, but she barely felt his touch, limbs going numb with dread. Something was wrong. Really wrong. Karen’s sobriety told her that.