“I told you I forgot to check my messages, Pace. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
She sighed and in it he heard all the ways he’d let her down. “I guess hearing I’m pregnant hasn’t thrown you for a loop the way it has me.”
“Why do you think I left my briefcase in the cab? You’d just dropped the little bomb and I couldn’t even think straight.” He rubbed the now throbbing pulse in his temple. He needed to calm down. This wasn’t her fault. It was nobody’s fault and getting mad at her wouldn’t do anything but make him feel guilty. “Look, I know a baby is not a little bomb and it’s not a disaster. You’re right—it’s a blessing. Hell, it’s a damn miracle, but I need to concentrate on business right now so I can get home and we can deal with this, okay? I’m not saying it hasn’t hit me, but I’m trying to keep it at bay so I can do my job and get back.”
After a long pause where he knew she reined in her rare show of temper, she said, “I don’t want to fight about this, Jason. I just want you to come home.”
“I do too. I already changed my flight to Friday. I’ll be home by dinner.”
Chapter 3
Tori pulled her car into Caroline Prenzy’s drive and marveled at the beauty of their estate as the sun fought its way through the soaring trees that surrounded the old Tudor mansion. The Prenzys lived directly behind the Whitfields, hidden from sight by towering hedges and the creek that ran between their properties. Those barriers had never stopped Pace from wading across and roughhousing with the Prenzys’ two Airedale terriers. Caroline’s girls were older and much prissier than Pace. They never gave her much attention, but the dogs eagerly played when Caroline’s youngest, Graham, wasn’t around. Tori couldn’t count the number of times Pace had come home covered in mud with a mile-wide grin after hours playing fetch. Tori would scold her, of course, because she would have invariably ruined another school uniform or designer outfit, but Pace loved those dogs too much to let the threat of punishment stop her. Tori would never forget the way Pace carried on when the old dogs died within weeks of each other.
Mary Beth, Caroline’s long-time housekeeper, greeted Tori at the door and ushered her to the kitchen where Caroline set a tray of sandwiches on the table next to a tureen of soup and a pitcher of her famous peach iced tea. “I thought we were going out?”
Caroline wiped her hands together and raised her palms in the air. “I didn’t feel like dealing with a crowd and you know you love Mary Beth’s chicken salad.”
Tori plopped her purse on the counter and took a seat at the large farmhouse table. She slipped her shoes off and burrowed her feet into the almost threadbare rug beneath. There was nowhere she felt more at home than Caroline’s kitchen. She looked around the cozy space, with its white cabinets and robin’s egg blue counter and shades lighter walls. Caroline had set the perfect table, with cloth napkins and her sunflower plates. They always made her food seem so happy. “There are only two places set. Isn’t Ginny joining us?”
Caroline sat at the end of the table, flopped her elbows down, and steepled her hands. “I asked her not to come.”
Ginny and Caroline had been friends for years, good friends. Her asking Ginny not to come couldn’t be good. “Why would you do that?”
“I wanted to talk to you alone. Just the two of us.”
Tori’s stomach clenched and her hand froze in mid-air where she’d reached for her glass. Play it light, she told herself. This didn’t have to mean what she thought it did. “Well, I guess I should be relieved there won’t be an audience for whatever you’ve got up your sleeve.” She glanced at Caroline and saw the deep furrow between her brows. “But somehow I’m not.” She folded her hands in her lap so Caroline couldn’t see them shake. “What’s this about, Caro?”
The feel of Caroline’s hand on her arm caused her to jerk.
“I think you already know.”
Tori dropped her head and let out the breath she’d held. “I suspected.” She looked up into her friend’s pitying eyes. “Who told you?”
“Edward saw them a few nights ago. He said it could have been innocent, but after I talked to you the other day I had a feeling things weren’t going so well.”
“Am I that transparent?”
“To those who love you…” Caroline squeezed her arm before letting go, “…yes, I guess you are.”
Tori twisted the napkin in her lap. It was the same color as the walls. “It’s my fault. I arranged a trainer at the club, a male, and an effeminate one at that. I should have known Colin wouldn’t stand to be bossed around by a girlie-man. He switched to one of those blonde mannequins that pose as motivators.” She hated to ask and, really, what difference did it make? But the words were out before she could snatch them back. “Do you know which one it is?”
Caroline reached for her arm again. “First of all, I don’t ever want to hear you say it’s your fault. It’s his fault and no one else’s.” She pulled away and sat up in her seat. Tori watched the steam rise from the soup bowl between them. “Secondly, she’s not blonde and she’s not a trainer.”
And Tori thought it couldn’t get any worse. From the look on Caro’s face she could tell that it would. “Who?”
“Paulina Hathaway’s daughter.”
Tori’s mind raced. Paulina Hathaway’s daughter worked as an intern for Colin. Paulina had called Tori herself just a few months ago and asked if she could pull a few strings and get Heather’s resume in front of Colin. She’d asked him to consider taking her on while Heather took some time off from school. “But she’s…twenty? Twenty-one?” She snorted at the absurdity of it. Their own daughter was thirty-five. “That can’t be right.”
“They were having dinner at The Palm last Wednesday. Ed saw them leave the restaurant and get on the elevator. It was going up.” Caroline averted her eyes. “He saw them embrace before the elevator doors closed.”
“So much for innocent.”
“Tori…” Caro had her arm again, this time in both her hands. “I hate telling you this.”
“Then I guess we’re even because I hate hearing it.” She pushed back from the table and stood up. The walls, the pretty blue against the white cabinets that had always reminded her of the sky with puffy clouds, closed in on her now.
“I didn’t want you hearing from someone else, from someone who didn’t know you, who wouldn’t have your best interest at heart.”
Tori spun around to face her. “Who else knows?”
Caroline dropped her head and shrugged. “Ed wasn’t alone. He was with Dick Hensley and a few other guys from the club.”
Tori thought of the group she’d mentioned, a pack of alpha males, most of whom probably had mistresses of their own. She doubted they’d run off at the mouth about Colin, but Ed did come home and tell Caro…
“What are you going to do?” Caroline asked.
Tori surprised herself by laughing. Somehow, some way, in the face of all the madness, she laughed. “Do? What does one do when she discovers her husband is bedding a twenty-year-old?” She circled the island. “Get a face lift?”
Caroline stood, her beautiful butcher-block island between them. “I’m serious, Tori. I can’t watch you go through this again.”
“Then you’d better shut your eyes, Caro, because it looks like I’ve got very little choice.”
Mary Beth walked into the kitchen as Caroline and Tori faced off over the island. She coughed, hung her head, and backed out of the door.
“You have a choice,” Caro said. “You’ve always had a choice.”
Her comment ignited Tori’s temper. It was irrational, the anger she felt toward her best friend and her seemingly flippant advice. Easy for her to say, Tori thought, when Ed had never once looked at another woman. “That may be what it looks like from the outside, Caro, but from where I’m standing, things aren’t so black and white.”
“I’m not suggesting you up and leave him. At least not right away.” Caroline gripped the edges of the island. “But damn it,
Tori, you’ve got to deal with this. He can’t get away with treating you like this.”
Judgment, even from a best friend, still stung. “Why not? It’s not the first time.”
“It could be the last.” Caroline slumped her shoulders and leaned heavily on the island. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
Tori said the only thing that came to mind. “He could leave me.”
Caroline pushed the bowl of tomatoes out of the way and reached for Tori’s hand. “Not if you leave him first.”
* * *
By Friday night when Jason walked through the door, Pace was in a complete frenzy. She’d had all week to obsess about the baby and tried not to be upset that Jason hadn’t. She immediately noticed his signs of stress, the finger tracks through his hair and the way his shoulders slumped from exhaustion. The boys jumped on him like a piece of gym equipment. Once he had a chance to disentangle himself from them and the puppy, who’d left a happy-pee puddle by the front door, he walked into Pace’s arms and kissed her in a way that told her he’d been thinking about the pregnancy as much as she had. In a split second, all of her anger evaporated.
Jason always had the ability to calm her with a look or a touch. Pace often wondered what she gave him in return, other than anxiety and stress. It never ceased to amaze her that he chose to spend his life with her, someone so full of neuroses, thanks in large part to her upbringing. He’d said he didn’t know who she was when they met and was glad for it. If he knew then what he knew now, Pace wondered if he’d have turned and walked away that first night. God knew her mother would have been happy if he had, but Pace wouldn’t ever have found the peace his love brought her and the family they’d made together. Tori called it suburban hell, their simple life of domestic bliss. This from a woman who’d rather plan and host a party for two hundred strangers than babysit her grandsons.
“Hi.” She could smell the hint of aftershave he’d used hours ago and the scent he often carried when he came in from traveling. Airport smells.
“Hi.” They stared at one another with a look of wonder. What had they done, his look said to Pace. His eyes, the kelly green of his name, could say more than words at times. His eyes had drawn her to him the night they’d met, as he stood in a corner of the fraternity house nursing a drink and using those eyes to track her movements. She’d had too much to drink, not the keg beer he sipped that she later tasted on his tongue, but some vodka concoction her roommate had made up before the night began. Pace had seen him staring at her and didn’t know if he was interested in her or if the alcohol had given her the singular sensation it still did when she drank. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to stop staring, Pace, emboldened by liquor, sauntered up to face him.
“You’re staring at me.” She’d hoped her words didn’t slur.
He shrugged and took another sip, eyed her coolly over the lip of the cup. They faced each other silently before she began to feel stupid for trying to engage him in conversation. Now that she’d stepped closer, she could see he wasn’t just cute, with his long hair and dare-me-to-care clothes, so out of place at the frat house. He was gorgeous.
“Why?” She finally asked, unable to help herself.
His eyes dropped to her chest. She’d never forget the feel of the blush that crept, or more aptly ran, up her face. She’d been called pretty before, in a Sally Field-as-Gidget sort of way, but it certainly hadn’t been because of her less than stellar chest. He’d laughed and the dimple she had to kiss while they made love appeared out of nowhere. He reached out to finger the cashmere collar of her red sweater.
“In a room full of black, she wears red.” Pace had been too drunk to be impressed with his third person reference and she felt her brow furrow in question. Later, he’d confess he’d almost walked away, almost written her off as another dumb sorority girl.
“What’s wrong with red?” Pace thought she’d missed some joke. She never gave much thought to clothes other than to cover her appropriately for the weather. The fact that she’d had on a black sweater earlier and tossed it aside right before leaving ran through her mind.
He dropped his hand. “Nothing.”
“Then why are you staring at me?”
“I’m taking an art appreciation class.” That was all he’d said, as if that explained anything.
“I’ve had too much to drink to assimilate any meaning from that vague answer.” Her use of the word assimilate, he’d later admit, had kept him interested.
“The eye is drawn to certain elements in…paintings, pictures, sculptures. Colors have meaning beyond just the clothing or item they represent. Red’s the color of passion, emotion, anger. A woman who wears it wants to be noticed.”
Years later, when they’d scraped enough money together to buy a fixer-upper townhome, they painted the kitchen red. He’d said it made him hungry to see the color, but not as hungry as seeing it on Pace that night. It was the first room they made love in besides the bedroom.
Pace sighed into his chest and snuggled closer. “I’ve missed you.” She wished the boys and the dog wouldn’t complain if they slipped off to the bedroom for an hour. She physically ached for his touch.
“You have no idea, Pace.” His mouth found hers and on his tongue she tasted his desire. If she had to choose right that second whether to be pregnant and make love to him that night or not be pregnant, but not have him, she’d choose pregnancy every time.
The boys thundered back and peeled them apart. Mitchell dragged his blanket that, since Jason started traveling so much, had become a permanent appendage to his body. Pace would have thrown the tattered blanket away if she didn’t think it would crush him. Dillon tried not to act too excited to see him, but his smile gave him away.
As Jason’s fingers untangled from her hair, Pace felt the spell burst from around them and resumed cooking dinner in the kitchen. The kids squealed in the den as Jason pulled gifts he’d bought at the airport from his bag. The puppy danced in a circle and barked. The noise that only yesterday would have set her teeth on edge made her laugh. Everything she’d worried about in the last week floated off her shoulders. Now that Jason was home, she knew they’d be okay.
* * *
Pace came in the bedroom after checking on the boys as Jason tossed his shirt and suit pants into the dry cleaning hamper.
“They’re out like a light.” She kicked his dirty socks from the bed to the floor and smiled at him in a way that stirred his blood. He was exhausted, but since they hadn’t had sex in weeks, he couldn’t beg off as being too tired. He ran his hands over her hair, the same tawny color it had been since childhood, and pulled her to him. Her baby pictures had only hinted at the beauty she’d grow to become. Mitchell, the baby, well…for now, he had her hair.
After they made love, Jason lifted the silk of her gown—she never slept naked since the boys came along. “What if they come in the room and I’m naked?” she always said when he’d beg her to leave it off. He missed sleeping skin to skin like they used to. He kissed her smooth belly, still as flat as the first time he ever touched it, and kissed the spot where he assumed their third child now grew. Maybe this time it would be a girl. “Hi in there.” When her muscles tensed, Jason realized she was crying.
“Pace? Baby, what’s wrong?” God, she was pregnant. She’d gone through the roller coaster of emotion the first two times; she’d go from laughing to crying in less than a second and he never knew what to do. Pace wiped away the tears and shook her head, snuggling against him.
“Nothing.”
Since she’d told him about the baby, all he’d done was think about how it would affect his job, his plans to quit, how much longer he’d have to work to get this kid through college. He hadn’t considered how a baby would change her life and her plans to work from home. God knew they could use the money.
“I’ve been an asshole about this.”
“I know.” She leaned up to face him and they laughed. She always managed to pull him out of e
ven the worst funk. Her smile faded and she studied him for a long time, her clear brown eyes on his face. “Can you believe this?”
“Honestly, no. I can’t believe we’re having another baby.”
“I messed up your meeting, didn’t I?”
Jason kissed her nose. “It threw me, but we’ll either get or lose the account on the merits of the proposal.” He’d thought this repeatedly on the plane ride home. “I know you weren’t trying to sabotage my career.”
“Aw, Jas. A baby.” She shook her head. “I’m too old to have another baby.”
“Apparently not.” He shifted to move the pillows behind his head and hoped she didn’t hear the disappointment in his voice. He could barely keep his eyes open. “I’ll call the urologist on Monday.” He yawned and turned on his side. “I hope I don’t have to have the whole thing done over again.” Actually, he wouldn’t put himself through that again and even as tired as he felt, he knew bringing it up for discussion now wouldn’t be the wisest move.
“If it failed once, it may fail again,” she said, turned out the light, and wrapped herself around him.
In this position, their arms and legs intertwined as if each one were a part of the other, he felt an inkling of her optimism. He’d get through the shock and get excited. Pace would turn the whole thing around to where he’d have to try to remember they didn’t plan to have a third child in the first place. Having another baby wasn’t the end of the world.
“If it comes to that, I can have my tubes tied after…” she rubbed her face against his shoulder, “…well, after the baby’s born.”
Monday, on his way to work, Jason called Dr. German’s office. When he explained to the nurse what had happened, she managed to squeeze him in that afternoon. He didn’t really have time to go over to the doctor’s office, especially considering he had another eight months to worry about it, but scheduled the appointment anyway. It seemed like the only constructive thing he could do.
As he sat in the waiting room, he looked around. The place had been recently updated, with contemporary furniture and carpet that still carried the new smell. Business must have been good. He decided he wasn’t paying for the visit since the vasectomy didn’t work the first time. He wanted to say something to the men sitting around him. They weren’t all at the office for vasectomies, but he felt like issuing a warning anyway. “Hey guys,” he imagined saying. “Don’t count on this working one hundred percent of the time.”
Misconception Page 3
