All We Knew

by Jamie Beck

  They always had been, anyway. As soon as she had a baby, she’d stop demanding things from him that she’d never needed before. He’d have his own family that he’d provide for, love, and hand this place over to, down the road.

  “Compatibility isn’t the point. The more invested you are here, the less invested you are at home. No one—not even the almighty you—can be in two places at once. Think about the money. You, your sisters, and your kids would be set for life.”

  How could his own father not understand Hunter’s motives?

  “It’s not about money. I’ve invested my heart and soul here. And even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t start my own tea or beverage company for a number of years if I’m stuck in a noncompete. Would you really expect me to be happy working for someone else at our company or going to work for some other company that I don’t care about?”

  His father laid one hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Maybe if you took a breath and looked around, you’d find some other purpose that excited you. Look at Colby. She changed careers and is happier than I’ve ever seen her.”

  “I’m happy here. I’ve always been happy here.” His whole body tensed in an effort to keep his voice from booming. “This has been my dream since you promised we’d run it together. How can that mean nothing now?”

  His father shook his head, voice lowering. “You’re making it personal, but it’s business, Hunter.”

  “It’s not just business to me.” Hunter’s hands hit his chest before stretching out from his sides. “It is personal.”

  Silence settled between them. They’d probably spent thousands of hours in this room during their work together. Most of the time it had been charged with productive energy. Right now, the atmosphere seemed more like a funeral parlor.

  “Let Pure Foods kick the tires and present a final offer before you get riled up. If it substantially lowers the valuation, or raises a bunch of nonsense, then this is a nonissue. If it makes a fair offer, then we all vote. Majority rules, so I can’t force this, son.”

  “We both know Gentry will vote with you and Jenna. She doesn’t have a shred of ambition, so she’ll happily take the money.”

  His dad bristled at Hunter’s criticism of his baby. “That’s up to her, I suppose. I don’t particularly care for your tone, though. She’s your sister.”

  “Just because she’s my sister doesn’t mean I have to respect the fact that she’s twenty-five and still hasn’t finished college or taken anything seriously.” Despite having spent his whole life proving himself to his dad, his dad had adored Gentry best since the day she drew her first breath.

  “She’s taken an interest in the PR work she’s doing for Colby. She’s coming around.”

  Hunter zipped his lip. He didn’t dislike his sister; he just didn’t understand her at all. And, he supposed if he were being totally honest, some part of him couldn’t quite separate Gentry from her mother. He hated Jenna, and Hunter didn’t use the word “hate” lightly. Gentry resembled Jenna physically and had a tendency toward sarcasm that matched her mother’s.

  “Sorry if I’m not overly impressed with Gentry’s efforts. Meanwhile, I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked and more. I would’ve hoped that meant something to you. Instead, you’re ready to walk away from it, and from your promise to me, just like you walked away from Mom, Colby, and me all those years ago. If you’re so determined to start another new chapter in your life, I wish you’d toss Jenna, too.”

  His father’s eyes widened, unprepared for that personal attack. Frankly, Hunter hadn’t planned the barb. It had slipped out almost subconsciously.

  “I understand your disappointment, but don’t talk about my wife that way.”

  “Yes, let’s be careful with Jenna’s and Gentry’s feelings. Clearly theirs take priority over mine.” He shook his head. “The only thing worse than you breaking your promise to me is the fact that you don’t even seem to give a shit.”

  Hunter turned and stormed out of the office without giving his dad a chance to respond.

  Anger sparked throughout his body, seeking release. In his mind, he was tossing staplers and turning over desks as he strode down the corridor to his office. Slamming his door closed helped only a little.

  He picked up the phone and called Bethany. “Hey, come to my office, please. We need to put our heads together and map out a preliminary plan to defend against a sale while I work out a plan B. It might be a late night.”

  Hunter pulled into his driveway at eight thirty. Between missing the appointment and coming home late, he knew he’d screwed up big-time. From the passenger seat, he lifted the bouquet of yellow-and-red gerbera daisies he’d bought at the local grocer. They’d hardly be enough to assuage Sara, but he hadn’t had time to plan something better. Gearing up for a dressing-down, he entered the dimly lit house through the mudroom and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Sara?”

  The scent of french-fried onions hung in the air, making his stomach growl. Only the light under the stove hood shone, casting a dim yellow glow across the gleaming marble counters. Everything had been cleaned and put away. He wandered down the hallway and noticed the dining room table made up. Two empty plates, burned-down candles, fancy napkins.

  She’d planned a surprise with one of his favorite meals, and he’d not only no-showed but hadn’t even called to warn her he’d be late. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten so caught up at work that he’d lost track of time. Suddenly, he felt about one foot tall.

  He climbed the stairs two at a time and approached the master suite. Soft music emanated from within. He pictured her inside the sumptuous space she’d decorated in rich cream, blue, and gray fabrics. Maybe she’d be soaking in the tub or brushing out her hair or lying on the bed thumbing through a magazine.

  When he entered the room, he found his wife curled up on the chaise beneath a blue-and-gray blanket and a circle of lamplight, reading a book. If he’d been on solid footing with her, he’d swoop in and join her or whisk her into bed. Even he knew neither of those options would fly at the moment.

  “Sorry I missed dinner. Smells delicious.” He presented her with the bouquet and kissed her cheek. “I’m happy about our good news.”

  “I wrapped your plate and set it in the refrigerator.” Her gaze went back to her book, dismissing him.

  He deserved that, he supposed. Twice today she’d gone to the effort of preparing his favorite meals, and had obviously hoped to celebrate the upcoming egg retrieval with him tonight. From her perspective—anyone’s perspective—all he’d done was abandon her.

  Hunter sat on the edge of the gray velvet chaise and stroked her thigh. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been with you today. My meeting was a waste of breath. My dad won’t—”

  “I’m about as interested in the ins and outs of that meeting as you were in showing up for the doctor’s appointment . . . or for dinner.”

  Ouch. Then again, who could blame her?

  He dropped his chin. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am. I never mean to hurt you, babe. It’s just horrible timing. I’m torn between two essential things right now.”

  Sara set her book in her lap. “I know. The problem is that it seems like when push comes to shove, CTC always takes priority.”

  “It doesn’t. I swear.”

  “So you say, but your actions prove otherwise.”

  “Come downstairs while I reheat dinner, and tell me exactly what the doctor had to say. And I’m sure you’ve got at least one good Gentry story.” He smiled and tugged at her hand, hoping to coax her into giving him a reprieve.

  She squeezed his hand but then withdrew. “You hurt me today, but I still planned a celebration for us. I know you didn’t know that part, but I’d wanted it to be a surprise. Lesson learned, especially since you didn’t call to say you’d be late.” She ran her finger down the spine of her book. “I’m not trying to punish you, but I don’t feel like pretending everything is fine just to make you feel better tonight. Sorry. I’d
rather relax and keep reading than force conversation.”

  Hunter nodded. Sara had always been calm and honest with him. He couldn’t begrudge her those feelings, and maybe stilted conversation wasn’t the best idea, anyway. “Okay. I’ll put these in water. Maybe we can talk a little later.”

  “Thank you.”

  He cupped the back of her head and kissed her forehead. “Enjoy the book.”

  Hunter padded back downstairs and arranged the flowers in the crystal vase he’d bought her for their third anniversary—when life had been perfect. Sara had received a promotion that year, and they’d celebrated with a weekend trip to Seattle. Back then, they’d routinely shared ideas and office politics. Sex without a thought to procreation had been as easy as breathing, and nearly as frequent. And they’d laughed often.

  Those things all happened less frequently these days. He missed it, and her, but had no idea how to get it all back.

  Setting the flowers on the kitchen island, he then reheated his dinner in the microwave. He stood there watching the plate spin, each rotation strangely stirring his sense of uneasiness. He loved his wife and he loved CTC. He planned to fight for them both, but if Vegas was taking bets, odds might be against him on both fronts.

  Chapter Five

  Sara let out a long, deep breath as she waited twenty-five minutes in absolute stillness following the embryo transfer.

  Hunter brought her hand to his lips. “Babe, the extraction went great on Wednesday, and we’ve just transferred three perfect embryos. Try to relax and have faith.”

  She wished she could be brave. Unfortunately, his kind of confidence about the future eluded her—a particular insecurity that had been reinforced every twenty-eight days (and many failed pregnancy tests) throughout the past two years. She’d stopped sharing her grief every time her period came because, instead of comforting her, he’d always made “Don’t worry” remarks. Maybe he meant them to be reassuring, but to her they felt dismissive.

  At the moment, it also didn’t help that she’d had to endure a full bladder and catheter this morning to implant the eggs. A quick glance at the clock told her it’d be another ten minutes before she could move, get dressed, and go home.

  No one but another woman in her shoes could ever comprehend what it felt like to be a human science experiment. To pop pills, take shots, insert suppositories, and closely monitor one’s behavior week after week. But all of it would be worth it if, two weeks from now, she’d get the news she’d been praying for.

  “Sara, look at me.” Hunter waited for her to focus on his face instead of her spinning thoughts. “Whatever happens, I love you. We’re in this together, and if this doesn’t work out the way we want, you are enough for me. More than enough.”

  Lovely, loving words, yet when unmatched by his daily actions, they didn’t ring quite true. Nor did they diminish her suspicion that her failure to give him biological kids would disappoint him more than he let on. After all, part of his obsession with CTC was the idea of it being a family legacy to pass down generation to generation.

  His confidence might not yet allow for the possibility that he wouldn’t have heirs. But if that became their reality, would she really be enough for him? How could that be true when she barely held his attention most days? And, aside from all that, it wouldn’t lessen her own disappointment that, unlike her sisters and friends, she wouldn’t be adding to the family tree.

  “Let’s not jinx this by talking about what happens if it fails.” She rubbed her chest as if that might ease the heartburn her mental gymnastics had caused.

  He grinned. “Again with the superstitions.”

  “Yes! Please. Only positive energy and positive thoughts for the next few weeks. When we get home, I’m going straight to bed, legs elevated, and not moving unless absolutely necessary.”

  Hunter’s eyes darkened with desire even though she didn’t feel the least bit attractive and hadn’t in quite some time. “How long until we’re allowed to finally have sex again?”

  Not easy for a man with Hunter’s sex drive. Hers used to match his, but recently it had gone into hiding. The emotional distance between them hadn’t helped. She missed sex in a vague sort of way but couldn’t rouse herself to do much about it.

  “Can’t come soon enough.” He leaned in, touching his nose to hers, and closed his eyes, whispering, “I miss my wife.”

  He could be so adorably handsome and tender when he left the office behind. Too bad that happened so rarely. “I miss you, too.”

  He’d been talking about sex, though, so she doubted he got her meaning.

  The doctor came in, gave them instructions, and wished them well. During the ride home, Sara panicked with each and every bump in the road. Never before had the town roads seemed like rutted backwoods byways. When Hunter took a corner too fast, she shot him a look. “Slow down! If we crash, it could ruin everything.”

  “Sorry.” He dutifully eased off the gas pedal. “I’ll get takeout for dinner. What do you want?”

  “Something from A CertainTea.” Colby’s restaurant had been open only a few months now, but its funky take on haute cuisine had caught on. Sara’s preference for Alec’s food revolved around the fact that it was locally grown and mostly organic, too.

  “Those portions leave me starving within thirty minutes,” Hunter grumbled.

  “Then order double, or get yourself a pizza. I want healthy, organic food, but nothing on my no-go list.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The list of things I shouldn’t eat if I’m pregnant.” She knew he’d been paying only half attention when she’d talked about it the other week. “I’ve printed it out at home.”

  “I have a bad feeling that, from now on, my only good meals will be when Colby meets me for a burger at Gab-n-Eat.” Hunter’s phone rang, so he hit the hands-free button on his steering wheel. “Hello?”

  “Hunter, it’s Bethany. I’ve pulled those market reports you asked for.”

  He fell silent. Although she couldn’t see his eyes because he was staring at the road, she knew he was dying to delve into a major discussion about CTC. Without glancing at Sara, he said, “E-mail them to me. I won’t be returning today, so I’ll take a look from home.”

  “Oh?” Bethany paused, probably shocked into silence. Sara was, too, but she didn’t react for fear of him changing his mind. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

  “I’ll call you if I need something.”

  “Okay, have a good afternoon.”

  Sara heard disappointment in Bethany’s voice. She remembered being an employee, eager to please the boss. Recalled the thrill of working on special projects, of contributing to something exciting.

  But Sara had heard something else in Bethany’s voice, too. A personal kind of disappointment from a woman who wanted to spend time with the man, not the boss. As far as Sara knew, Bethany had never done anything overt. Still, intuition—and Jed and Jenna’s history—warned her to pay attention to that woman’s “dedication” to Hunter.

  As they pulled into the garage, Sara asked, “Does Bethany have a personal life?”

  Hunter killed the engine, shrugging. “No idea.”

  After they exited the car, Sara walked into the house as if attempting to cross glass in her bare feet. She wouldn’t risk moving too quickly, tripping, or doing anything else that might “jar” her uterus. “How can you have worked with her for five years and have no idea about her personal life?”

  Hunter hung the keys on the key rack in the mudroom, brows drawn. “Why would I? We’re not friends. She works for me. We talk about work.”

  Sara patted his cheek, secretly relieved by his obliviousness to Bethany, who was, in fact, quite an attractive, if slightly older, woman. “Oh, honey, you really have a one-track mind.”

  In this one instance, it was a good thing for their marriage.

  “It gets the job done.” They started toward the stairs together until he playfully scooped her into his arms
and carried her up to their room. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “Oh?”

  He gently settled her on the bed and quickly fluffed a bunch of pillows for her behind her back and under her legs. He then went to his nightstand and withdrew a jewelry box.

  He sat beside her and handed her the gift. “I had this made because, no matter what happens, you’ll always be my everything.”

  Heart melt. These sentimental moments, however fleeting, kept her fighting for their marriage instead of giving up.

  “I didn’t get you anything.” She grimaced, turning the box over in her hands, feeling comparatively thoughtless for a change.

  “Why would you? I didn’t suffer everything you did to get to this point. My body is needle- and bruise-free.”

  Really, though, she suspected he was most concerned with the wounds to her heart. Her eyes got misty while she opened the package to find a silver heart-shaped pendant necklace engraved with the date March 3, 2004. It took her a second to register the date—the day they first met. Over the lump in her throat, she said, “It’s beautiful.” She leaned up to kiss him. “People would be shocked to know about your sentimental streak.”

  An uncharacteristically shy grin surfaced. “Turn it over.”

  She flipped it over in her palm to find latitude and longitude coordinates: 45.423965° N, 122.680543° W. “What are these?”

  “Home.” He kissed her.

  “Really? Our exact coordinates?” Her eyes widened.

  “So you’ll never lose your way back to me.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his face a few times. “Sometimes you take my breath away.”

  “I try.” He brushed some of her hair from her face and kissed her mouth before taking the necklace from her and fastening it around her neck.

  She sat amid the pillows, fingering her new bauble. “Thank you for this. It’s perfect.”

  He had no idea how badly she’d needed some sign from him that she and their life together mattered that much.

  “You’re welcome.” When her stomach growled a reply, he laughed. “So what can I bring you for lunch?”