“Take with you? You mean…” She sipped and nodded and her eyes told him to go on.
“I think I’m ready to leave, Pace. I think it’s time.”
In her face he saw everything. Excitement, a little fear, and the pride that had always been there, even before he ever deserved it.
“Whenever you’re ready. Baby, you know I’m behind you.” She reached over and put her hand on his leg. After a quick squeeze, he could feel her fingers drumming away through his pants. “I’ll help in any way I can. I can do your press kit and help design your new logo.”
“We’re going to pay out the ass for insurance until I can get my own policy in place.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of supporting you? Because you can’t.” He stilled her fingers by covering her hand in his. The nervous patter was getting to him, despite her encouraging words. “You’ve always wanted to be on your own. We’ll be fine, we’ll scale back on Christmas—you know my parents always go overboard anyway—and we’ll make due.”
“There’s been an offer on the farm, a decent one.” Her brows furrowed, but she listened intently. “I told Don to draw up a contract.”
She pulled herself upright and gripped the chair with her hands. “Jason, are you sure? I always thought you wanted to keep your grandfather’s place?”
“For what, Pace? We’re not moving back. I don’t even have relatives in Belton anymore.” That wasn’t exactly true. He had a few aunts and uncles, several cousins scattered around the county. Most of them, well…all of them really, he’d never claimed as kin. “It was an investment, pure and simple, and it’ll be a nice buffer for the first few years until the firm is up and running at a profit.”
“I just hate to see you let it go. It’s all you have left of your parents.”
He snorted and put his hand on her leg. When she reached for his hand, he pulled her closer. The bar was loud and he wanted her to lean toward him again so he could see every muscle flick in her face, feel every twinge from her fingers. Didn’t she know that she and the family they’d made were all he ever needed? “I never intended to keep it forever. Don said we should be able to close in a month, two max. That should put me on schedule for a spring grand opening.”
“I’m proud of you, Jason, and if your clients don’t follow you, they’re just plain stupid.”
He wound his fingers through hers. They sat so close he could feel her breath on his face, smell the whiskey as if he’d tasted it. He wished they were at home in bed so he could show her how grateful he felt for her support, how much he needed her. “I love you, Pace. We’re not going to see much of each other until I get the business up and running.”
She flashed a wicked grin and leaned in to whisper by his ear. “Then we’d better make the most of things now.”
They finished their drinks and waited while the bartender closed their tab. People vied for their seats and they got knocked by elbows and shoulders. Jason pocketed his credit card, they made their way through the crowd to the door, and, without talking about where they’d go, they headed to the Southern cuisine restaurant they both loved. Jason delivered another drink to Pace while they waited for a table. When he asked her about the doctor’s appointment, they got interrupted by Tate Jackson, an associate from Jason’s firm. Tate was young, fresh from architecture school, and a big ass kisser. Jason hadn’t made partner, mostly because he refused to kiss ass, but he’d been around long enough to qualify for some after-hours brownnosing. Thankfully the hostess arrived and saved them from Tate’s drunken chatter.
They enjoyed the biscuits the waiter brought to the table while they waited for their food and Jason asked again about Pace’s trip to the doctor. She stopped chewing and swallowed a piece of bread so big he could track its progress down her throat. He felt the fluffy biscuit turn to lead in his mouth as she stared wide-eyed at the table and gulped her water.
“It went fine,” she finally said. In the soft lighting, it appeared as though all the color had drained from her cheeks.
He felt a tingling along his spine. “Are you sure?”
She laughed and flipped the knife on the table over and over again like a kid who couldn’t sit still. “Yes, it was just a big misunderstanding. Apparently mistakes at the lab aren’t that uncommon.”
“That’s pretty scary.” He wondered if the doctor knew the hell they’d been through the last few days. “But you’re okay? I mean, everything’s normal?”
“Yep,” she said with a bright smile. He watched her fingers tap away on her glass before she lifted it to her mouth. “Good as new.”
As the waiter brought their food and Pace asked questions about the New York job, he couldn’t help but feel as if something was a little bit off. He couldn’t put his finger on it all through dinner as she chatted away about this and that. He forgot it completely when they got home and made love, but all weekend he couldn’t shake the feeling she wasn’t telling him something.
Chapter 7
Tori had had two drinks, one to calm her nerves and one for courage, before she picked up the phone to call Caroline. Even with a buzz, she felt sick about what she planned to do. She couldn’t drink Colin’s affair away or pretend it wasn’t happening. Hadn’t Caro said that all along? What did it say about her that she felt just as mad at Caroline for pressing her to act as she did at Colin for cheating? She blamed the alcohol as she dialed Caro’s number.
Ed answered and in his voice she heard sympathy. The way he ushered Caroline on the phone spoke to his need to distance himself from the whole situation. If only Tori could distance herself too. Caroline sounded tired when she said hello. Tori envisioned them sitting in their den on the old brown couch, reading books or the newspaper. She could hear a news show on in the background as Caroline’s earring banged against the receiver.
“Tori? What’s wrong?”
“I’m ready, Caro. I’m ready for proof.”
“What happened?”
She pictured Colin’s face in her mind, his forced smile, the nervous twitching of his eye. At least he had the decency to feel guilty while his skin probably still held the warmth from his lover’s touch. “Let’s just say I can’t ignore it any longer.”
“Let me talk to Ed. I’ll have a name for you by tomorrow.” In the pause that followed, she felt sure Caroline waited for her to say thank you, but between the alcohol and the ache in her heart, she couldn’t muster the words.
She heard Colin come in through the back door, talking to the maid, home early without Tori having to beg. Another admission of guilt.
“I’m proud of you, Tori,” Caroline said. “I know this won’t be easy, but you’re doing the right thing for you.”
If she were doing the right thing, gathering evidence, guilting her husband into coming home at a decent hour and thinking about her instead of his lover, then why did it feel so sickeningly wrong?
* * *
After the boys’ Saturday basketball games, the Kelly’s usually celebrated at the local pizza joint, dissecting each game, talking over every basket and missed opportunity, but this Saturday they decided to go home instead. Pace had the feeling Jason could tell she seemed troubled about something, even after she’d worked overtime trying to cover up her ping-pong emotions. She was suffering from an overwhelming sense of guilt at having lied to her husband, but at the same time and completely out of the blue, she felt a little down they wouldn’t be having another baby.
She’d exhausted so much energy convincing herself the pregnancy was a symbol of God’s faith in her and Jason’s love, that when she saw the blood on her panties her first reaction had been panic—even though it undeniably cleared her of having committed adultery. And as much as she understood Jason’s relief, she couldn’t help but feel stung by his obvious joy that the whole thing had been a mistake.
But the guilt weighed on her. She’d spent all day Friday wondering how she would break the news to him that the doctor had insisted she’d had a miscarriage and the original
blood sample had been destroyed. What she would say? How would she explain it? How would he react if she laughed it off? How would he react if she just blurted it out when she first saw him? Should she send him an email or phone him at work? As the minutes had stretched into hours, her indecision and confusion grew to become a hard fist of panic in her gut.
She’d decided not to mention it if he didn’t ask. Why did he have to ask? It wasn’t like his mind would ever wander to miscarriage. Hers hadn’t gone there and she’d been the one who’d freaked out when she’d had a little spotting when she’d been eight weeks pregnant with Mitchell. As Pace had come crying out of the bathroom, Jason had kissed her forehead and told her to call the doctor and reassured her that it was probably nothing. It turned out to be nothing, but it hadn’t even blipped on his radar. It wasn’t like he’d been waiting for Pace to confirm his worst fears.
When he’d grabbed her in the bar and kissed her like he hadn’t kissed her in so long and then confessed he’d gone crazy with the possibility she’d cheated, she knew she couldn’t tell him what the doctor had said. Pace knew telling him would only cause Jason pain and further his suspicion. There wasn’t any way to tell him the truth without Pace looking guilty and for both of their sakes, she had to lie. Pace never thought she’d lie to Jason about anything.
By Sunday, she felt desperate to put it all behind her and pretend it had never happened. Her guilt had started to recede and she figured that by the time he got back from New York, the whole nightmare would be a thing of the past. She knew he left in the morning, but beyond that she didn’t know his plans.
“How long will you be gone?” she asked as she cleaned up the kitchen and he flipped through the Sunday paper.
After a pause he said, “Two, maybe three days.”
“Will you be staying in the city?”
“They’re in a suburb.” He seemed absorbed in the sports page. Not a great time to engage him in conversation.
“You should try to see Adam while you’re there.”
“I doubt I’ll have time.”
“He’s your brother, Jason. You haven’t seen him or his kids in almost two years.”
He folded the paper and swallowed the last of his coffee. When he lifted his eyes to hers, she couldn’t tell what he was feeling. “I don’t know, Pace. He’s pretty bitter about the divorce. A visit from his happily married younger brother might not be a good thing.”
“He could use a little support right now. Family matters most when times are bad.”
“Not every family is as…involved as yours, Pace. We weren’t the Waltons and we sure as hell aren’t the Whitfields.” He kissed her lips and hinted around about a quick getaway to the driving range.
Before she could respond, Dillon burst inside with blood dripping from a scrape on his knee. When she came back into the kitchen after doctoring him up, Jason had left a note that said he’d gone to hit golf balls.
Pace was reading in bed late Sunday night when Jason came into the bedroom holding a piece of paper in his hand. She didn’t know what had gotten him so upset, but she could tell by the throbbing vein in his temple that he was furious even before he flicked the paper at her.
She carefully closed the book she was reading, a family saga that paled in comparison to whatever was going on with her husband, and reached for the paper with a sinking feeling in her gut. Her eyes widened with shock when she realized he’d printed the email her doctor sent late Friday afternoon after she’d insisted they forward her records. She should have deleted the darn thing, but it was too late now.
“What the hell is this?” Stupid question. Since he’d printed it out, he obviously read the nurse’s damning comments about the doctor’s insistence she’d had a miscarriage and that, despite her objections, the file would confirm his diagnosis. Pace didn’t know who she felt more upset with—herself, for not deleting the email or Jason, for snooping through her stuff to find it.
“I asked for my records.”
“Don’t lie to me, Pace. That email says you were pregnant.”
Shoot, shoot, shoot. “No, it says my records will reflect the doctor’s reliance on faulty lab results.”
“Bullshit. You said they admitted it was a misunderstanding.” He shocked her with his language and practically shook with anger.
“They can’t retest the original sample because the lab’s already destroyed it. Without a new test, he insists on referring to my period as a miscarriage.”
His eyes narrowed to absorb what she’d said, to figure out if she was lying to him again. “So we’re back to square one.”
“Jason…” She took a deep breath and wished she’d been more prepared for his assault. “I understand you’re confused about what happened, but so am I. If there was anything I could do to prove to you that I wasn’t pregnant, I would. But I can’t, so you’re just going to have to have a little faith in me, in our marriage, in the sacred vows we took, and try to get past this.”
Her voice sounded pleading and pathetic, which was pretty appropriate because she basically begged for his belief and forgiveness. Perhaps she’d reacted to the way he looked at her, his hands on his hips, his mouth drawn into a tight line so that his dimple flashed mockingly. He walked to Pace’s side of the bed and looked down at her in a way she’d only seen one other time, when she’d accidentally ran his car into the garage while talking on her cell.
“I’m sorry you’re upset, Pace. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get past the fact that you were pregnant with another man’s baby!” He screamed his last words so loud she swore the walls rattled. He’d so clearly embraced his anger, let it fester like a boil, and with nothing more than a gentle prod, it had exploded with a force neither one of them could have predicted.
She felt too shocked at his tone to return his anger. “You have got to be kidding me.” She deliberately kept her voice down. “What do you think I do all day, Jason? Troll for men while the kids are in school?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I never used to think so.” He grabbed his pillow and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
He slammed the door shut behind him. Pace heard him move into the guest room and flick on the light. She got halfway across the room when the crack of another slamming door halted her progress. He was too upset to reason with and with all the yelling and door slamming, she felt sure the kids knew they were fighting. Heck, the neighbors probably knew they were fighting.
He’ll cool off in New York, Pace told herself as she sat on the edge of the bed. He was angry, really angry, but once he got to New York and calmed down, he could think things through logically and he’d realize how ridiculous his accusations sounded. After an hour spent with her head tucked against her up-drawn knees, listening for any sign of movement next door, she finally reclined and slung her arm across his side of the bed. With her mind running a mile a minute, sleep seemed out of the question.
When the alarm rang at seven the next morning, the guest room was empty, his coffee mug sat empty on the counter, and his car wasn’t in the garage. Jason had left town without saying goodbye.
Chapter 8
“You can’t be serious,” Tori said to Pace as they argued yet again about Thanksgiving. “You know that’s out of the question. Why on earth would you even propose such a thing?”
Pace gave a dramatic sigh, as if she hadn’t just suggested breaking the family’s thirty-five year tradition. “Look, Mom, I just think it would be nice to have a small, casual Thanksgiving here at my house. Why is it so hard for you to understand that maybe I’d like to host Thanksgiving dinner? I am an adult.”
Than act like it, Tori wanted to scream. “I’ve already bought the turkeys, arranged the photographer, made provisions for the staff to work in shifts, and decorated the house. I can’t imagine going back and canceling everything now. It’s too late to change the plans.”
She could practically hear her daughter trying to figure out a way to change her mind
in the hesitation before she cleared her throat and started again. “We’re just so busy. Jason’s out of town on work all the time and I’m trying to do some work on my own. It would be really nice to have a low key Thanksgiving instead of making such a production out of it.”
Tori banked her mounting irritation. Didn’t anyone appreciate the work that went into creating their picture perfect Thanksgiving? “It sounds as though you don’t have the time or energy to host even the simplest meal. Thanksgiving at our house solves all your problems. You only have to show up.”
“Fine.” Pace, so accommodating and patient with everyone but Tori, hated not getting her way. “But it would be nice if, just this once, it wasn’t so formal. The boys hate dressing up and I think it would be fun to shake things up a little.”
Her naïve daughter had lived too long in the suburbs. “That would be perfectly fine if we didn’t take our family Christmas picture before dinner. Can you imagine the reaction if our card went out with us all around the fire in jeans?” She laughed at the image in her mind. Pace and Jason may as well bring along their disobedient dog to slobber at their feet.
“I think it would be lovely and much more real.”
“Reality has nothing to do with our image, Pace. For God’s sake, it’s like you’ve forgotten your upbringing.” She waved an acknowledgement at the maid who tried to interrupt. Couldn’t she see she was on the phone? “Now, what is this about you working?”
“I’m not, yet. I’m just feeling some things out.”
“Do you need money?”
“No, Mother, I don’t need money.” Even through the phone Tori could tell Pace gritted her teeth.
“If you’re bored, darling, the Junior League can always use your help. Sally Anderson was just asking about you the other day. She’s in charge of the annual auction. I think you’d make a splendid chairperson.”
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