by K. Ryan
"I should probably get going," he was saying now as he stood up from the table. "I think we've all probably said everything we needed to say today anyway. Thank you for inviting me over. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that."
Isabelle stood to walk him out the door and I scrambled out of my chair to trail after them. We followed him out the door, walking with him down our little walkway towards where his car was parked in our driveway. Isabelle waved a little to her dad and he shot her a quick, grateful smile and even though it had stung, even though the whole thing had been pretty painful for me, if it made her happy, if it helped her stay relaxed and calm, I couldn't really complain.
Just as long as her dad didn't make a habit of stopping by our house whenever he felt like it.
As we turned back to head inside the house, I wrapped my arms around her, despite the fact that she was probably madder than all hell at me right now and let my hands drift from her stomach to her back and all the way up to her hair once I knew her dad was out of sight and down the street.
"We need to talk," she muttered harshly into my ear.
"I know."
"You should've told me about all that insurance stuff before my dad came over."
"I know."
"You can't keep making decisions like this without talking to me first. That's a really shitty habit."
"I know."
"Will you stop saying I know? It's really pissing me off."
Just as I was about to say I know, I caught myself and changed tactics. "I'm sorry, Iz."
"Yeah, well, sorry isn't really good enough right now. Look, I get what you're saying about the insurance. I understand why you don't want my dad paying for anything for the baby. I really do. But I just...I just can't believe you just..."
I sighed and tugged a hand through my hair as I pulled her against my chest with the other. "You weren't gonna talk me out of it. And, honestly, I just didn't want to upset you. I knew you'd be mad at me about this before and after we talked to your dad and I just wanted to try to minimize that as much as I could. You're havin' my kid, Iz. The only person who should be footin' that bill is me."
She shot me a wary look, but still leaned against my shoulder. "I guess I see your point. But babies are expensive, Caleb. I don't think either one of us really gets that right now. And we have the house. I'm trying to plan the wedding. Maybe we should—"
"Iz, I'm gonna stop you right there. You're not staying on your dad's insurance until we get married. I don't need any charity."
My wife. My kid. My family. My responsibility.
She gripped the front of my T-shirt and pulled me down to her level a little more. "The next time something like this comes up you need to talk to me about it first. I understand why you did what you did, but we need to make these kind of decisions together."
Fair enough.
She had a point, but I knew mine was pretty damn valid too.
"I will. This was the last time, okay? I promise. You know I just wanna take care of you, right? I just wanna make sure both of you have everything you need."
Her resolve to be pissed at me crumbled a little and her entire body seemed to soften under my hands. "I know. You're lucky you're so cute, you know? Man, if you were ugly..."
"You wouldn't be living in my house, having my kid, and wearing my ring and my ink."
She smacked me on the shoulder and I knew we were back on track now. She was on board with this, even if she wouldn't admit it just yet.
"I love you," I whispered into her hair. "All this is for you. You know that, right?"
"I know," she relented and buried her face in my chest. "I love you too."
"That's all I needed to hear, Iz."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Recon
Isabelle
I clicked to the next page on the website and ran a hand over my face. The lace, the beading, the silk, the organza—I wanted them all. It really wasn't fair. Staring at something I couldn't have was a waste of time.
But they were just so pretty.
So, because I was a glutton for punishment, I let my eyes roam all the way down to the bottom of the page and then everything blurred around me. That was it. That was the one...if I would ever be able to have it.
The airy skirt had just a touch of fullness, a beautiful, intricate sheer lace overlay from the shoulders down to the wrists, some crystals around the silk belt around the waist. Classy. Different. Unexpected. It was definitely not something I would've thought I wanted, but the second I saw it, I knew it was the one.
A pair of hands ghosted over my shoulders and I shivered a little under his touch.
"That's pretty," Caleb murmured in my ear, resting his chin on my shoulder as we stared back at the picture of the wedding dress together.
"Yeah, it is."
"Is that the one you're gonna get?"
"Probably not," I sighed.
"Why? I can totally see you in that dress. You should at least go try it on or something."
I glanced up at him warily. He had good intentions. He really did. But he could be such a guy sometimes. With a little wave of my hand, I gestured down towards my stomach.
"Well, let's just say that by the time we get married, that dress won't exactly come in my size, you know?"
His hand drifted down to rest over my stomach, which was just looking a little swollen now. All my jeans were getting too tight, so I'd resorted to wearing yoga pants until it was time to break down and start buying some maternity clothes. Right now, stretchy was good.
He leaned in more to press a gentle kiss into my neck. "Well, maybe they have something like that in, uh, your size. Did you check yet?"
Just to humor him, I clicked over to the maternity tab and scrolled down so he could see all the options.
"Jesus, that chick kinda looks like a whale in that dress," his eyes widened when he realized he'd said that out loud and shot me a quick look. "Uh, I mean, you wouldn't look like that, Iz. You'd rock that dress."
I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Nice try."
"Sorry."
I just shook my head and clicked on another tab I had open in my browser. While I had him here, I figured I might as well show him everything I'd found. "So, in between feeling all depressed about wedding dresses, I was looking through some sites for reception halls and I found this one on a farm outside of town. Lots of gardens and wooded areas. It kinda has a rustic feel to it, you know?"
He lifted his chin off my shoulder so he could lean in to get a better look at my screen. "That looks nice, babe. It's all outside?"
"Yeah, we could have the ceremony outside if the weather's okay. They have big tents and everything for the reception."
"Okay," he nodded. "Let's go take a look at it."
Another sigh pushed from my lungs and I just couldn't help it. "We could look at it, but they're booked solid pretty much through the end of the year."
He frowned down at me. "So...?"
"That means if we waited until November or early December, I'll be..." I gestured out about a foot in from of my stomach to illustrate just how pregnant I would be by then. "I just don't know if I want to be that pregnant at our wedding."
"Why did you show this to me then?"
That was a good question. I was wallowing a little in this pity party. That's what it was. Hormones. I was just going to blame it all on hormones right now.
"I don't know," I sighed and leaned forward to rest my chin into my hand. "This is just a headache, you know? Everything...the catering, the flowers, the dress, the reception, getting everything booked in enough time before the baby comes. Can't we just go get married at City Hall or something? I'm sick of this already and I just started."
Caleb brushed his lips against my cheek and reached forward to shut the laptop we'd borrowed from Eli. "Let's do it."
My mouth dropped open a little in surprise. "What?"
"Yeah," he shrugged and rested his hands over my shoulders again so he could knead the tight muscles t
here. "We go to City Hall, get married, have a little party at the clubhouse and then, maybe a couple months or so after our kid gets here, we do it the way you wanted to."
It was such an easy solution I almost couldn't believe he was the one who thought of it. But then again, I'd been learning a lot about him ever since the impending parenthood bomb dropped. He was pragmatic and logical about these kinds of things in a way I never would've expected from him...buying our house, all that business about the insurance, and now this. As much as his tendency to make these decisions without talking to me first drove me up the wall, he'd been right about pretty much everything. To be fair, it was almost a little too easy. There had to be some sort of catch.
"Everybody wins," Caleb went on, a broad smile spreading across his face. "I get to make you my wife like tomorrow. You get to have the wedding you always wanted. Compromise, Iz. That's what this is."
I shifted in my chair and arched an eyebrow at him. "If you're really promising to give me everything I want for our wedding, that's going to cost you a lot of money."
He just shot that crooked grin at me and shrugged. "I got it. Don't worry about the money."
I narrowed my eyes. "Tomorrow?"
"Okay," he laughed. "Maybe not tomorrow. Next weekend?"
"Hmm," I needed to chew on this for a little while.
It was pretty damned impulsive, but then again, two ceremonies and two celebrations, albeit on different scales, actually seemed like a pretty good idea the more I thought about it. And, most importantly, we'd be able to get married without all the stress and all the drama as soon as possible.
After that, I'd have as much time as I wanted to plan our all-out celebration, let alone lose the baby weight, without nearly as much pressure...which was probably all part of Caleb's master plan. Was he always this smart and I just never knew it?
It was strange to feel nervous about something like this, when I had no doubts about whether or not I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, but a major life event deserved at least a little thought and a little planning.
"Well," I bit down on my bottom lip. "My semester showcase is in three weeks. I think I should focus on that first, get it out of the way and then yeah, after that, let's get married."
He stalked around my chair and practically tugged me off it so he could wrap his arms around me.
"One month, babe," Caleb murmured against my neck. "The weekend after your kick-ass showcase, you're gonna be my wife."
"Yeah," I laughed. "I can't believe we set a date. I kinda thought we'd disagree a little more about it, but this is good. This is really good."
"You bet your sweet ass it is," he grinned down at me and then lowered his head to kiss me. "I feel like we're married already. We should make it official, you know?"
I nodded. "I know how you feel."
Caleb smiled that crooked, sexy grin that always landed right on its target and I slipped a hand underneath his T-shirt so my fingers could skim across the hard planes of his abdomen.
His muscles rippled a little under my feather-light touch and then he was reaching around to tug my tank top up over my head. By the time I sent his T-shirt floating to the floor, his hands closed around the backs of my thighs to set me down on top of our table. And just as my hands started working his belt buckle, the door bell tore us out of this heat-fueled haze.
"Shit," Caleb muttered against my neck. "That's probably the prospect. I gotta get to church soon."
"It's okay. We'll just finish this when you get back."
"Hell no," his eyes glinted at me hungrily with that devilish glimmer I knew well and I didn't even bother protesting as he dug his phone out of his pocket. After he flipped it open, he pounded out a quick text, snapped the phone shut, and tossed it onto the table behind me.
"Ten minutes, Iz," he whispered as his mouth descended on mine.
I just laughed and then my yoga pants slid down my legs right along with my panties. He sure didn't waste any time. And after that, I let him carry me away. The heat of his body against me, his skin melting into mine, his lips sealing over as many inches of me as he could get...there was nothing better than this.
Every touch set my body on fire until I was practically whimpering for that sweet release, that desperate free-fall with his name on my lips.
His hips were torture. They knew just what to do, how to tilt, how long to linger, how quickly to pull back. Every rock of skin against skin carried me further and further away until stars were all I could see, his breath was all I could hear, and his strong arms wrapped around me was all I could feel.
. . .
My paintbrush twirled around the canvas, hugging the sides and sweeping back towards the middle. I blew out a breath and leaned back, my head tilted to the side as I surveyed my work. Well, it definitely wasn't my best work, but that was probably because I was trying to recreate something long gone. Dr. Jacobs, although sympathetic to the situation, still expected the ten pieces I was required to submit for the showcase and had explicitly instructed me not to attempt recreation of any kind. So, basically what I was doing right now.
"Art is meant to be felt in the moment, Isabelle," she'd told me in that pleasant French accent. "You cannot recreate a moment. You cannot recreate a feeling. You must create new moments, new feelings."
Luckily, I'd had three finished paintings for the showcase already in storage at school when the break-in happened and the one I'd since finished that I'd dropped when I found Diego Padilla in my house, but that still meant I owed Dr. Jacobs six more paintings in three weeks.
My heart ached at the thought of everything we'd had to throw away.
Hours of work. Hours of meticulous work. Hours of thoughtful work. I'd only cried after I knew they were all tossed out with the trash. At least I'd been smart enough not to watch the prospects carry them all out of my house and right to the side of the road. There was no way I would've survived seeing them all lined up like that, one after the other, just waiting for incineration.
You never plan on disaster. You focus on how things are supposed to unfold, what you assume will happen and you don't even think about the alternative because no one wants to walk around with a cloud of doom hanging over their head.
I was going to drive myself insane trying to recreate those paintings I'd lost. Whatever I'd felt in those moments, whatever force had pushed my paintbrush around the canvas, it was gone now.
Damn, they were good though. Probably some of the best work I've ever done, too.
Maybe I just needed to take a break. With that thought, I pushed off my stool and headed for the hallway. Seth, the prospect Caleb had left behind in his absence, dutifully sat on the floor in the living room watching the Braves get their asses handed to them by the Cardinals. He shifted on the floor and waved to me when he saw me.
Just as I'd gotten out the paint and laid down some plastic tarp on the carpet so I could get to work on the baby's mural, the doorbell rang. The TV in the living room went on mute almost instantly and I heard some shuffling towards the door as Seth moved to answer it. When I stuck my head out of the nursery to see what was up, I found Becca standing in my doorway with her hands stuffed into her pockets and apology written in her dark eyes.
What she was sorry for still remained to be seen.
"It's okay," I told Seth and waved Becca inside the house. "This is my friend, Becca. It's fine."
Becca stepped inside tentatively, looking around like this was the first time she'd ever been here. I wanted to believe it was more about her uneasiness over the break-in and about the oddity of seeing my living room all but empty, save for a coffee table resting awkwardly in the middle of the carpet.
Now Becca was watching Seth anxiously in a way that had me fighting the urge to narrow my eyes at her.
"Do you think we could...?" she gestured with her head towards the kitchen and then glanced back at Seth again.
"Yeah, sure," I shrugged and headed towards the kitchen, calling over my shoulder, "
We're fine, Seth. You can go back to the game."
I half-expected Becca to plop herself down at the table, but instead, she propped a hip against the counter and folded her arms around herself. I hadn't seen or heard from her since the last time we'd stood right here, when she'd put me in the middle of something I still didn't understand. Now her sudden appearance at my house unannounced less than an hour after Caleb left was suspicious, to say the least.
I hated that I was looking at her like this now, watching every nervous tick, the way she kept her eyes trained on the floor, the way one hand wrapped around her body like she was shielding herself and the other hand clenched the strap of her purse in a white-knuckled grip. She was supposed to be my best friend. We were supposed to be able to tell each other anything.
There were only five feet between us right now, but it felt cavernous. Wide and reaching into a darkness I knew I wouldn't be able to save her from. If she leapt into that darkness, I wouldn't be able to jump in after her. I just couldn't.
"I tried calling you," I started quietly, taking my place on the other side of the kitchen. It was fitting that we were here, each on our own separate sides, each having made a decision the other didn't agree with. "You never called me back."
Becca sawed on her bottom lip for a few moments before finally lifting her eyes from the floor. "I'm sorry. I got your message. I wanted to call. I guess I..."
She trailed off, fiddling with her earring as her eyes fell back down to the floor. We stood there for at least a good 30 seconds, with her boring holes into my kitchen floor and me nervously twirling my engagement ring around my finger.
"You know, it's crazy," Becca laughed a little and for the first time since she showed up, a faint smile touched her lips. "The last time I saw you, you didn't look pregnant at all. Now, a frickin' week later and you've got this little curve in your stomach. It's super tiny, but it's totally there."
"So, basically you're telling me I just look like I need to workout a little more?" I threw out lightly and hoped this would be enough to shift the mood.