Jennifer Greene – Society Wives: Secret Lives: The Rags-To-Riches Wife (страница 12)
She’d been a real trooper, he thought as he took the car out onto the interstate. He’d known she’d been nervous, that she’d had misgivings about marrying him. He’d had a few misgivings of his own, he admitted. As his father had pointed out, marriage was tough under ideal circumstances. Their circumstances were anything but ideal. The consensus was that people should marry for love. His parents had. So had a couple of his friends. He and Lily didn’t love one another.
But there was something there—chemistry, attraction, and … and something more. In the four days since he’d spotted her outside the counselor’s office at Eastwick Cares and learned she was pregnant with his child, that
She gasped.
Jack jerked his attention over to Lily. When he saw her rubbing her hand over her stomach, he felt his heart stop a moment. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
She looked over at him with those ghost-blue eyes. “Nothing’s wrong. And yes, it’s the baby. Our son or daughter is kicking again.”
Jack swallowed hard. He looked down at her belly and felt the full impact of her words. Their son or daughter. The life growing inside her was a real person. In four months’ time he would be holding his child in his arms. A tiny boy or girl whom he was responsible for. A tiny boy or girl who would call him Daddy. He looked up at Lily once more. “Does it hurt? The kicking, I mean.”
“I wouldn’t say it hurts. It’s more uncomfortable than anything. Although I have to admit, those kicks are getting harder as the baby gets bigger.”
He turned his attention back to the road. “Is there anything you can do for it?”
She laughed and Jack was struck at the lightness of the sound. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh, he realized. Even the night they’d spent together, she hadn’t laughed. There had been desire and passion and even some sadness he’d detected beneath her surface. But there had been no laughter. “Did I say something funny?” he asked, hoping to hear her laugh again.
“Being pregnant isn’t like the flu, Jack. The only cure is when the baby is born. But until then, ice cream seems to be the only thing that makes him or her settle down.”
“Ice cream? The baby likes ice cream?”
“I think so,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Or maybe it’s me. All I know is that when our little soccer player starts kicking, I haul out the carton of butter pecan ice cream and once I start shoveling it down, the kicking stops.”
Jack laughed. “So our kid likes butter pecan ice cream, huh?”
“Looks that way.”
“How does he or she feel about chocolate fudge?” he asked and flipped on his turning signal.
“I don’t know. Why?” she asked, sitting up straighter as he took the next exit.
“There’s this old-fashioned ice cream parlor not far from here. I thought we’d stop and let our little one decide if he or she is a butter pecan fan like Mom or a chocolate fudge fan like Dad.”
It turned out the baby liked butter pecan mixed with chocolate fudge. As far as he was concerned, the mixture was awful, Jack concluded as he turned onto the street leading to Lily’s apartment. Lily, on the other hand, had found the combination delicious. And he had felt as though he’d made it over a hurdle because she had been more relaxed with him. So he’d picked up a pint of each to take back to her apartment in the hope that the mood would continue. Once again, he thought of the ring in his pocket.
After pulling his car up to the curb of her apartment building and shutting off the engine, he went around and opened Lily’s door. He offered her his hand.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“No problem,” he told her as he shut her door. He retrieved the bag with the ice cream from the floor of the back seat.
“I’ll take that,” she said. “You don’t have to come upstairs with me.”
Ignoring her, Jack shut the door. “My mother and Grandmother Cartwright taught me always to show a lady to her door.”
For a moment, he thought she was going to argue, but then she decided against it, evidently realizing he had no intention of being swayed. Opening the door to the brick four-plex, she preceded him into the building and up the stairs to the second floor. He’d already expressed his concern about her climbing the stairs and she’d assured him the exercise was good for her and the baby.
When he reached the door of her apartment, she unlocked it, then turned to face him. “Thank you, Jack. I really did like your family.”
“And they liked you,” he told her because it was true.
“Well, then I guess I’ll talk to you later.”
He held up the bag of ice cream. “I think I’d better put this in the freezer.”
“That’s okay, I can take that—“
“Lily, I want to come inside.” She had yet to invite him inside her apartment, meeting him at the door each time he’d arrived. He knew she was uncomfortable. He didn’t blame her. But at some point, they had to get past the awkwardness.
“I really am tired, Jack.”
“I promise not to stay long.” When she hesitated, he told her, “This time next week, you’re going to be my wife.” He stroked her cheek with his fingers. “I’m not expecting anything from you. I just think it would be a good idea if we at least reached a point where we don’t feel uncomfortable with one another before we get married.”
“I know you’re right,” she said. “But it’s not like we’re strangers.”
“No, we’re not. We were drawn to each other for a reason that night and we made a child together. If this marriage is going to work, we’re going to have to learn to trust one another.”
“I do trust you, Jack. I’m just worried about whether or not we’re doing the right thing by getting married.”
“We are,” he assured her and held up the bag of ice cream. “But if I don’t get this in the freezer soon, we’re going to have a whole other set of problems.”
“The kitchen’s right through there,” she told him. “Excuse me for a minute.”
No doubt the bathroom was calling again, he decided. While she was gone, he took the opportunity to study her home. The place was small, smaller than he’d suspected, he realized as he made the short trek to the kitchen and put the ice cream in the freezer. It was neat, clean and colorful. Lily liked bright colors. He hadn’t known that about her. But given the orange print curtains and the dish towels on the counter, the lady surrounded herself with brightness.
She also liked fresh flowers, he noted, spying the arrangement of daisies on the kitchen table and the roses on the coffee table in the living room. Like the kitchen, the living room was small, but bright and cheery. There were lots of homey touches—an afghan on the end of the couch, shelves of books ranging from the latest Sandra Brown thriller to technical books on psychology. There were groupings of candlesticks and books on art and gardening. She liked the Impressionists, he decided, as he checked out two Monet prints. She’d made the place a home.
The only thing that he found missing were photographs. Unlike his and his parents’ homes, there were no photographs scattered about the apartment. There were no snapshots of a young Lily on Santa’s knee. None of her smiling and showing a gap where she’d lost her first tooth. No pictures of a teenaged Lily dressed for the prom. The absence of any family photos told him more about her than anything else he’d learned via background checks and talks with her. It also caused a tightening in his chest for the young Lily who had grown up without the one thing every child deserved—a family. And along with his aching for her, he couldn’t help but feel admiration.
“I’m sorry to take so long,” she said as she returned to the room.
Jack turned at the sound of her voice. “No problem,” he told her and had to keep himself from going to her and taking her in his arms. “I was just checking out your artwork. I see you like Monet.”
“Yes. Degas, too. Someday I’ve promised myself I’m going to make it to Paris and spend a week in the Louvre.”
“You don’t have to wait for someday. We can go after the wedding next week. We
“I … what about work? We can’t just take off.”
“I’ll clear my schedule and I’m sure you can get some time off from the agency. So, shall I book us some flights?”
“I don’t think so,” she said and tugged her fingers free. She walked across the room. “I wouldn’t be comfortable traveling now … not before the baby comes.”
“Then maybe we’ll go next spring. April in Paris is beautiful. And when it rains, you can smell the chestnut trees. How does that sound?”
“It sounds lovely,” she told him. “Would you like something to drink? I have water, iced tea and soda. I’m afraid I don’t have any wine.”
“Iced tea would be great.” When she disappeared into the kitchen, he slipped his hand into his pocket and fingered the ring box. She’d grown up without family, without having anyone she could rely on but herself. He didn’t ever want her to be alone again. He would be her family, he and their baby.