He began humming in the bathroom, and the thought crossed my mind that he would be reemerging soon, which ultimately sent me into action. In vain I searched for the end of the tape, but when I couldn’t find it, I resorted to pulling at the center. Using every ounce of strength in my hand, I jerked against that duct tape, making deep red marks across my palms.
When the bathroom door creaked open, I decided it best to act nonchalant, so I crossed my legs on the edge of the bed and sort of leaned against that pillow, placing my elbow on my knee and my chin in my hand. He raked his hand through his damp hair and shook it out a bit, before tightening the towel around his waist and folding his arms across the muscles in his chest.
I tried really hard not to look at him.
Well, I half-heartedly tried not to look at him.
Okay, okay - I gawked at him. I couldn’t help myself.
“You realize I can’t un-see this?” he asked matter-of-factly.
“It is a painful realization,” I muttered, eliciting a smile from his lips.
“Are you really that worried about your clumsiness?”
“Huh?”
“What, did you trip today or something? I’m assuming you’re trying to protect the baby with that pillow strapped across your stomach.”
Protect the baby. Why didn’t I think of that? It’s fairly brilliant.
“That is actually a really good idea,” I said guiltily, “but no. I was just…practicing. Seeing what I would look like, really. You know, when I’m…”
At that point, the laughing commenced. Hysterical, nearly doubled over laughing. Obviously, he had been trying to be kind because he thought I was trying to protect his offspring from my idiocy, but now that he knew my appearance was just a physical expression of my crazy tendencies, he was allowed to think it was hilarious.
“Will you stop laughing and help me, please?” I mumbled, feeling defeated. Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, he walked over and cupped my chin, forcing me to look up at him.
“Help you with what, marshmallow lady?”
“You’re very clever, naturally. The tape is stuck. It somehow melded together and turned into titanium or something.” His hand slid around the side of my waist, fingers lighting on my skin and sending goose bumps across my arms. I bit my lip as he looked into my eyes, smiling sweetly right before he managed to find the end of that tape and jerk it across my back with a force that made me wonder if he ripped the skin from my body. Instinctively my back arched forward and a gasp escaped from my lips, while the pillow slumped toward my knees.
“Ouch,” I moaned quietly.
“That didn’t feel good, did it?” He was teasing me with that mind-melting come-hither grin, and I did my best to ignore him. “You know, I think my dad was right yesterday.”
“About what?”
“About us not trying hard enough.”
Somehow I allowed myself to laugh through the searing pain across my back, rolling my eyes at him for good measure. “Oh, whatever. In case you don’t remember, that’s already been handled.”
“Has it?” he wanted to know, pressing toward me mischievously. “I keep having to tell people otherwise. We have to keep up pretenses, you know, if you’re intent on keeping secrets.”
“What, are you going to give your dad a full report or something?” I giggled, causing him to wrinkle his nose. “You better just plan on keeping up pretenses, because I am very, very good at keeping secrets.” He leaned down and kissed me, knocking me back to my elbows on the bed, and I nearly forgot what we were even talking about. When he raised himself up, he smiled in a way that assured me he knew the effect he was having.
“Really? You’re good at keeping secrets, huh? Tell that to the bag of clothes under the bed.”
Chapter Four
The Fourth of July came, with fireworks at the county fairground and endless sparklers burned by Charlotte. Sara had been to the doctor and found out her due date was January 30th. Rachel had been to the doctor the following day and discovered her due date was February 11th. I scheduled my first appointment for July 16th and waited in thinly veiled secretive jealousy.
I had done enough incognito home-based research to know that the culprit for my “anytime” sickness was likely a surge in hormones, but the websites all said it was a good thing, so I tried to embrace it as a promising sign. Still, when Sara told me she had only felt slightly nauseated a couple of times, and Rachel told me she felt absolutely wonderful, it didn’t seem very fair.
Also, when I had to pretend that I received a bad corndog before the fireworks display, in order to justify the sudden necessity of a nearby trash can that I hung my head over for a couple minutes, some innocent passersby felt the need to abandon their own samples of meats on a stick. One was a little boy whose mother insisted he toss it, and I experienced a bit of guilt over the incident.
As far as Cole was concerned, he was becoming increasingly agitated with my insistence on allowing Sara and Rachel to have the spotlight on them for a change. He was so wonderfully excited about the prospect of becoming a father that he told me before the county fireworks show that I was quenching his spirit. Seriously – those were his exact words. “I just can’t enjoy fireworks this year, because you’re quenching my spirit.”
And I was supposed to be the dramatic one!
Rita tagged along with Cole’s aunt Rosalie for the fireworks, and she sat relatively close to me, but she didn’t say much. I was pretty sure I hurt her feelings that day at the café, when I told her I wouldn’t be going to Philadelphia with her, but I couldn’t say that I actually felt remorseful about it. She had made her own mess, after all, and it wasn’t my job to clean it up. Still, with me not agreeing to go along, that meant she could take her trip sooner than expected. In normal Camdyn fashion, I made the mistake of bringing it up.
“So, Rita, have you decided when you’re going to Philadelphia?” She shifted nervously in her fold-out chair and gave me a quick glance, wringing her hands in front of her.
“In a while,” was her short answer, before she focused her gaze at the ground.
“Rita and I have actually been toying around with the idea of starting a catering business,” Rosalie informed me, seeming almost protective of Rita.
“I told you to do that a long time ago, remember?” I grinned over at Rosalie, who gave me a little wink. She was still the most motherly person I had ever known, aside from the grandma who raised me, and all I had were fond memories of the time we spent together at her bed and breakfast, like our own little family unit.
“Oh, I remember,” she said. “Like I told you before – I don’t have time for that, on my own. With Rita helping me, though, I think we could manage. She can really cook, too, after all those culinary lessons she took in Italy.”
“Rita can cook?” I interjected rather stupidly, almost as though she wasn’t sitting next to me. “I mean, I wouldn’t have expected that, with the servants and all.”
“It helped to pass the time,” she said simply. Rather than reply, I just let the silence encompass us.
“You should come by in the afternoons, Camdyn,” Rosalie broke the quiet, leaning up so she could look at me. “Maybe it would help you learn to cook if Rita and I sort of tag-teamed.”
Hmm… That doesn’t sound very tempting.
“Sure, one of these days,” I muttered, hoping Rosalie would understand my reluctance.
“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean tomorrow,” Rosalie answered quickly. “Wait until you feel better, at least. I know how that morning sickness can be. Give it a couple months.”
I felt my cheeks grow crimson, and I glanced to my right where Cole was standing next to Jeff and Tony, animatedly telling them some baseball story.
“Cole!” I exclaimed, watching him flinch as his arms fell and he slowly turned toward me. “You told Rosalie?!”
“What?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. “No, I didn’t tell her.”
“Who told her then? Jake?” I was g
iving him an accusatory stare, but he wasn’t having any of it.
“Oh, no,” he insisted with a shake of his head. “You’re the one who told Jake, not me. I’m not taking the blame for that.”
“I didn’t tell Jake,” I retorted, rising from my chair.
“You didn’t not tell him,” he threw back at me.
“That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“Whatever,” he muttered. “I didn’t tell Aunt Rosalie, and go ahead and get angry with me. You’re adorable when you’re mad. If you wouldn’t mind to stomp your foot and pout a bit - that really gets me going.” He gave me a daring look with those dark eyes of his, and I bit my lip to keep myself from responding as he moved closer to me.
“Didn’t tell Aunt Rosalie what?” Rachel dared to ask.
“Camdyn’s having a baby,” Cole blurted bluntly, raising his eyebrows as his hand gently clamped around my arm.
“Cole!”
“Yell at me again,” he whispered as he slid his hand into the back of my hair, pausing about two inches from my lips.
“You realize I threw up not too long ago,” I made sure he remembered.
“You brushed your teeth - I saw you pull the toothbrush from your purse.”
“I should be mad at you.”
“And yet you’re not, strangely,” he sighed, his breath warm against my cheek. When he kissed me, I nearly forgot there was anyone else in our presence, until Jeff loudly made a vomiting sound of his own.
“Camdyn’s pregnant?” Rachel wondered aloud. “So it wasn’t a bad corndog?”
“I can’t believe you blamed an innocent culinary delight for your morning sickness,” our friend Tony added in mocked astonishment. “Just think of all the beautiful corndogs that wound up in the trash because of you.”
“It’s an Independence Day tragedy,” Jeff agreed.
“You should apologize to corndogs everywhere,” Tony informed me, his blue-tipped mohawk directly obstructing my line of view to the red and white stripes of the flag, momentarily making me want to make a snarky comment. Unfortunately, time didn’t offer me the opportunity.
“Enough about corndogs,” Tony’s wife Sara commanded, stepping into the middle of our party. “Do y’all know what this means? You two are going to have a baby before you have even known each other a year. You’re flat insane.”
I considered making an argument, but I wasn’t feeling very sane at that moment, so I kept my mouth shut.
“No, what this means is verbal confirmation that I am definitely not jealous of Jeff,” Cole stated matter-of-factly. “Never have been, never will be.”
“So, who told you, Aunt Rosalie?” Rachel interjected.
“Nobody told me – I just figured that was the case, the way Camdyn kept turning green and disappearing.” Rosalie gave me an apologetic smile, and I let out a sigh.
“Now we can go baby shopping with you after all!” Rachel exclaimed. “Oh, I can’t wait.”
“Me either,” I said haltingly. “Where do you go shopping? Memphis? Belly Scene?”
“Belly Scene?!” Sara huffed. “As if! Only rich, pretentious people shop there. We couldn’t even afford their socks, I bet.”
“Yeah, totally pretentious,” I muttered.
Somebody could have warned me about this a few days ago…
“Oh my gosh, it’s perfect, though, isn’t it?” Rachel wrapped her arm around me protectively, hugging me to her side. “The three of us pregnant together – our kids are going to grow up best friends, I just know it.”
“And Cole’s kid will be better than ours at everything,” Tony piped up, giving an exaggerated eye roll.
“Naturally,” Cole agreed.
“What?” Liz asked, suddenly coming into our midst. “Who’s pregnant with you, Rachel?”
“Camdyn.”
“Oh, no she’s not,” Liz protested with a slight giggle, waving us off as though we were being funny.
“Why do you think she got sick on TV, Mom?” Cole asked. “And the other day during lunch, when she ran from the room? Tonight, with the corndog…”
“Camdyn, are you really?” Liz turned to me, a bright expression on her face.
“Yes,” I admitted slowly.
“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed. “Cole and Camdyn are going to have a baby, Ted! Muriel, we’re having two grandbabies! Grace, two grandbabies! Oh, I’m so excited!”
“Your mom is going to tell the entire planet,” I muttered to my husband. Chuckling, he simply wrapped his arms around me.
“Your well-laid plans have been thwarted, Mrs. Parker. And, surprisingly enough, it wasn’t my fault.”
“Partially your fault.”
“Partially my fault,” he agreed. “You can thank me later.”
-§-
After the firework ashes rained down on me during the Independence Day celebration, I felt a shower was necessary. Besides, I was rather worn down from the endless chatter about all things baby. It was a bit of a relief to have it out in the open so I didn’t have to create scenarios wherein my disappearances made perfect sense, but I was still strangely uncomfortable, for some reason. Maybe it was because Rachel and Sara had eons to consider the ramifications of having a child, and I had months…or more realistically, weeks. Stepping out of the shower, I needed something comforting and familiar, so I snuggled into that black Poison t-shirt that I had pilfered from Cole back in the early days.
The early days, as in a couple months ago. Sara is right – this is totally, certifiably crazy.
Shivering, I tried to shake off my apprehension. It wasn’t that I had any doubts about Cole – he was a rock, and he would protect me no matter what life presented. If I had any reservations, they were all about me. Shrugging away from them for the moment, I went downstairs and made myself a hot cup of tea, listening to Cole plunking away at one of his guitars. I gave him a moment before I meandered toward the rock and roll workout library (or as Cole called it, the den).
Standing in the doorway, I studied him for a moment, head bent over his guitar, watching his fingers move. I almost felt like an intruder, eavesdropping on an intimate moment, just him and his guitar. The wood was leaned against his chest as he sat there wearing his blue plaid pajama pants, bare feet against the hardwood floor. Leaning against the doorframe, I let a smile grace my lips as I simply took him in. He hummed a couple of notes, and then glanced up momentarily.
Offering me a fairly perfect grin, he straightened above the guitar. “There she is.”
“Here I am,” I agreed, wrapping my hands around the warm mug.
“I have something for you,” he said, giving me that million dollar smile. “You want to sit?”
“What is it?” I asked hesitantly, lowering myself across from him.
“Bublé.”
He could have said he was giving me the moon, and my heart probably wouldn’t have pounded as hard. I had been begging and begging him to learn a Michael Bublé song, and he kept insisting that he didn’t want to try, because he knew it wouldn’t live up to my expectations. Grinning at him, I nervously placed my fingers against my lips.
“’You Don’t Know Me,’” I suggested, but he shook his head.
“No, that doesn’t suit you,” he answered easily, beginning to play. It only took me a minute to recognize that he was playing “Crazy Love,” and I took a deep breath to try to keep my emotion in check. The longer he sang, just sitting there smiling at me, knowing it was for no other reason than to make me happy… The utter perfection of the moment was just overwhelming, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. Our love was crazy, I suppose, but in a beautiful, miraculous sort of way. I couldn’t have imagined a more ideal way of capturing it than Cole was exhibiting at that moment, completely melting my heart.
When he was finished, he just gave me a small smile and shrugged. “I hope I didn’t totally ruin that song for you.”
“Oh, you did,” I insisted as I sniffed, swiping at my nose. “The Bublé version, anyway. He
could never do it justice compared to what you just did.” Rather than making a move toward me, he simply sat in place training those chocolate-brown eyes on me from a few feet away.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry about spilling the beans about the baby tonight. I hope you’re not too mad at me.”
“Hmm…” I paused, pretending to be thinking, “I would have to say that, of all the days we have spent together…well, all the days of my whole life, actually…I have never felt more loved or been more content than I am at this moment. You, Mr. Parker, make me completely happy.”
“Then we’re a perfect pair,” he said, smiling over his guitar, “because I feel exactly the same way.”
Chapter Five
The day of my first doctor’s appointment finally arrived, and Cole and I were ready to go together when Jake called relaying news of some sort of leak emergency, a room flooding, and blah, blah, blah. All I heard was, “I’m so sorry, babe, but I’ll make the next one, okay?”
It definitely wasn’t okay, but I felt unable to complain about it. With the amount of complaining I had been doing lately about the morning sickness, I figured I should keep it cool on all other fronts. When Cole tried to convince me to drag his mother along, I assured him that I would be fine alone.
If the atmosphere in Dr. McCavin’s waiting room was any indication, I thought right away that he must be a wonderful doctor. Most waiting rooms seemed hectic, with nurses scurrying in and out and kids crying, but not Dr. McCavin’s. The only person I encountered was the receptionist sitting tranquilly behind a big mahogany desk, with flowering plants on the left and music playing quietly overhead. When I heard the familiar dulcet tones of one Mr. Bublé, I knew I was definitely in the right place. She directed me around the corner to my right, where a private sitting area awaited, complete with a mini-waterfall and more plants.
Two other women were already waiting – one reading a book and the other flipping through magazines on a nearby table. It was easy to discern that both were farther along than me; in fact, the book lady looked ready to pop at any moment. I sat quietly in one of the leather armchairs and watched the woman flipping through the magazines. She finally settled on one and glanced over at me with a smile.
For No Reason (The Camdyn Series Book 4) Page 5