Beauty From Love

by Georgia Cates

  I left Jack Henry at the hotel and now I don’t want to be alone. That’s why I’ve called Addie and begged her to come stay the night with me at Avalon. “Jack is staying in a hotel? Shit, I feel sorry for him and I don’t know what happened.”

  Addie knows about his past. She thinks it’s fucked up, and it is, but she’s the only person I have that I can talk to about this. “We were meeting at a hotel for dinner and I showed up dressed in a business suit like his former companions … wearing a blond wig. I propositioned him to be my companion for the night. No names. No commitments.”

  “Holy shit. Did he take you up on the offer thinking you were someone else? I’m gonna kill that fucker!”

  “No. That’s not what happened at all. I pulled off a phony Aussie accent and he didn’t know it was me at first. He turned me down cold—even said he was waiting for his wife.”

  “I’m really confused here, Laurie.”

  “I had this crazy idea to role-play—be someone else for him—so he could feel the excitement he used to get when he took a new companion.” Shit, that sounded so much better in my head than hearing it come out of my mouth.

  “That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever had!” Addison yells. “He loves you to death. Why would you even put the idea of him being with another woman in his head like that?”

  Yeah, hindsight is twenty-twenty. “I wish I hadn’t. It turned to shit so fast, Addie. Everything was good at first. We went up to the room and we were having fun but then something happened to him.” I remember what he said and chills come over me. “It’s like he became someone else and all I could think was that I came up to this room pretending to be someone else, so this must be what he was like with those other women.”

  “How was he different?” she asks.

  “He got rougher—more vigorous—than usual but I really liked it. It gave new meaning to sex on fire but then I freaked out because I started thinking about how he must’ve fucked those other women better than he does me. Then I started crying.”

  “Oh hell, Laurie. That’s just so silly. You know he didn’t fuck them better than you. He was probably really turned on that you would do something so nuts just to get him off so he got a little carried away.”

  “It was weird. He wasn’t himself.”

  “Well, you damn sure weren’t his sweet L, so why would you expect him to be your precious Jack Henry?” She’s right.

  “He told me to take the wig off, that he couldn’t stand it because it made him feel like he was fucking someone else.”

  She gives me her duh look. “Sounds to me like he went along with that shit to make you happy but he doesn’t want to be with other women. I don’t think he even wants to be with you when you’re trying to look like other women. He hates his past and you forced him to relive it. It’s like a slap in the face to him.”

  I only wanted to have fun. I never considered this outcome and it’s my fault. None of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for me. “Omigod. You’re right. I’m a terrible wife. And to top it off, he’s sleeping in a hotel because of my stupid insecurities.”

  “I wouldn’t say you’re a terrible wife. Maybe you could just say you suck tonight.”

  “He’s told me time and time again that nothing before me matters.” Why am I so insecure when it comes to Jack Henry? He made me his wife. What more can I ask of him? “I have to go to him.”

  I knock on the door once. Twice. And a third time. “Jack Henry.” I remember the second keycard in my purse and take it out. I unlock the door and push it open. “Jack Henry? Are you here?”

  I walk through the suite’s living room but I can’t see if he’s in bed. It’s hidden from view behind a wall but I see a red thong lying at the foot of the bed. It’s the one I left during my hasty departure—which reminds me I’m still not wearing panties.

  I walk through the bedroom door and Jack Henry is sound asleep, a half-empty bottle of whiskey at the bedside. I pick it up for a look at the black label—Jack Daniels. “This one is all on me, caveman.”

  He holds his liquor pretty well. I’m guessing his stamina for alcohol can be accredited to what he does for a living. A winemaker can’t be an easy drunk so maybe he isn’t plastered. We’ve had lots of pivotal discussions after he’s had a little too much to drink. I tend to like the answers I get from him because they’re honest.

  I shake his arm. “McLachlan, wake up.”

  He opens his eyes slowly. “L?”

  “I came back.”

  He reaches out for my hand. “I’m so sorry for what I did.”

  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have done that but I understand now and I’ll never do it again.”

  He runs his hands through his hair, tugging at it. “I’m such a motherfucker. I lied to you. I know exactly what happened and I gave you a punishment fuck because of it. I was too rough with you and I’m so sorry. Oh God, I might have hurt the baby if you’re pregnant. Do you feel okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He looks toward the curtains. “Is it morning? Did you take the test yet?”

  “No. It’s still night but I brought it with me so I can take it in the morning.” Thank God I had the good sense to go back for it.

  He puts his arms out for me. “Come here.” I climb into bed with my somewhat drunk husband. “I love you so much, L, and I can’t stand when there’s disharmony between us.”

  “I will never, ever do this again.”

  He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “It’s late and I’ve had a lot to drink, so let’s go to sleep before I say something foolish.”

  It’s only a matter of a minute or so before Jack Henry is drunk-snoring. Perfect. I get to hear that all night. But I admit I’d rather hear it than miss it.

  I get up from the bed and take off my jacket and skirt. I’m already panty-free so I toss the matching bra to the floor. I should’ve brought something to sleep in but I didn’t, so I’m completely naked when I crawl into bed next to my sleeping husband. He rolls toward me and drapes his arm and leg across my body. He’s naked except for his boxers, his choice of underwear since we started trying for a baby. I think he read somewhere that boxers increase sperm count.

  I lie beneath him wide awake as he continues to snore—in my ear. I’m not drunk but I wish I were—or at least sleepy—because the alternative is that I’m horny. I want makeup sex, but I’m guessing that’s probably impossible since my husband drank a shitload of whiskey.

  I sigh, staring into the darkness, and then close my eyes. Maybe sleep will claim me if I lie motionless.

  Jack Henry stirs and his hand moves to cup my breast. It doesn’t help matters at all.

  I should probably feel ashamed for what I’m about to do but I don’t. What man would be angry about being awakened for sex? I can’t name a one. “McLachlan.” He doesn’t stir so I shake his arm. “McLachlan.”

  “Hmm.” It’s a groan, but not the sexy kind. “What is it, love?” His words are slurred.

  I decide words aren’t the only persuasive tools I possess, so I slip my hand down his boxers. Damn. He’s totally limp, a state I’ve not known him to be in too often. The man verges on having a perpetual hard-on so this may not work at all. He’s still half lying on me so I wrap my free leg around him. “I really want you to fuck me.”

  “I’m up.” He shoots up to a sitting position and I feel his cock stirring. “Did you just tell me to fuck you or did I dream it?”

  “You didn’t dream it. I want to have makeup sex. I need it so I can feel okay about us.”

  “We’re fine, but I’m more than happy to make up with you if I can. I had a lot to drink so it might not be my best work. You’ll probably have to get on top.”

  I don’t think I care how good it is or if I get off. I really just need to feel the intimacy that only that kind of nearness will bring.


  He’s hard for me so I move over to straddle him. He puts his hands on my hips and groans when I sink down on him. “You feel so good, babe.” And it does, but I already know I’m not going to come. Jack Henry’s too incapacitated to do the necessary things to get me there but I still want this. I need it.

  Jack Henry barely comes before he passes out again but I’m still satisfied.

  We fought.

  We forgave.

  We fucked.

  It’s our thing, so I know we’re all good.

  A hungover Jack Henry still wakes before me. Amazing. I don’t know how he does it.

  I’m lying on my stomach and the bed sheet is pulled lower. The cool air hits my skin and then the slight scrape of Jack Henry’s facial scruff moves along my lower back, followed by the kiss of his mouth. “It’s morning, sleepyhead.”

  I lift my pillow and bury my head beneath it. “Go away.”

  “No, my love. I ordered breakfast and it’s waiting for us in the other room. Cold omelets aren’t good, so get up.”

  I remove the pillow and glance over my shoulder at him. “How are you so cheery this morning?”

  “I can’t lie; I feel like shit, but I don’t care because I’m excited about you peeing on that stick.”

  Oh, that’s right. It’s time.

  It was hard as hell but we declined doing an early detection pregnancy test for fear of a false result. That would’ve been devastating so we chose to wait until today to see if we’re going to be parents.

  “Want me to do the test now or do I need to eat my omelet before it gets cold?”

  He crawls up my back and lies on top of me with his mouth at my ear. “Get your sweet bum into that bathroom and do that test.” He swats me across my ass as he’s getting up.

  I yelp and sit up on the side of the bed. “Here’s the plan. I’ll do the test, come out and wait how ever long it says it takes, and then we’ll go in and read it together.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  I get up to go to the bathroom and he catches my hand. “You know it’s fine if it’s not positive, right? That just means we’ll get to keep trying, which isn’t a bad alternative at all.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  I go into the bathroom and my bladder feels like it’ll explode as I open the box and prepare myself for the deed. A pregnancy test is pretty self-explanatory but I read the instructions anyway because I’ve never taken one and I don’t want to screw it up. I follow the instructions to a T and place the test on the counter. I slip into the hotel-provided robe and open the bathroom door, but I stop dead in my tracks when I hear the conversation in the living room between a woman and Jack Henry.

  “I’ve been trying to find you for a while,” she says.

  “There’s a reason you didn’t and it’s because we agreed to no contact afterward.”

  “I didn’t know who you were until I saw your wedding announcement in the paper. Then I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you in the lobby last night.”

  “Isn’t it against some kind of policy for you to look up guests when you work here?” He’s angry.

  “It is, but I don’t care. It was worth the risk because I had to see you,” she defends.

  “I’m married now.”

  It’s clear this is another one of the twelve and I’m so fucking sick of this. It’s ridiculous. This one is ruining our potential baby moment—what could be one of the most epic moments of our lives.

  I walk into the living room and Miss Number X is all dolled up for my husband. I’m immediately pissed off. She’s beautiful—I’ll give her that—but she’s not young. She totally fits his type before me.

  I could play coy. I could play nice. But what I feel like playing is neither. “I’d like you to leave now.”

  “I can do that, but there’s one thing first.” She places a photograph on the table next to our breakfast. “This is my two-year-old son. He belongs to you and you’re going to start supporting him. You can either voluntarily take a paternity test or you can be ordered. The choice is yours.”

  I can tell she enjoyed saying that, and I’m sick. I swallow back the puke rising in my throat. I won’t do it in front of her.

  She walks toward the door and calls out over her shoulder, “My number is on the back of the photograph. I look forward to hearing from you, Jack.”

  I go through a series of emotions all at once but none are more prevalent than the hurt I feel in my heart.

  Jack Henry sits in the chair and puts his head in his hands. “I’m assuming there’s a possibility this child could be yours since you aren’t trying to convince me otherwise.”

  “I was with her for a few weeks but I don’t remember when. I’d have to do some thinking on it.”

  “You’ll have to do some thinking on it?” I feel the tears coming. “Well, I don’t have thinking to do about this shit. I can’t take it anymore.”

  “Don’t say that, L.”

  I walk to the bed where my clothes are and strip off the robe so I can dress and get the fuck out of here. “You don’t understand what this is like, how humiliating it is for me every time a new one pops into our life. They chip away a part of me each time I’m confronted by another one. I thought I was strong enough to handle it, but I’m not.”

  I’m sitting on the bed dressed and putting my shoes on when Jack Henry drops to his knees in front of me. “Don’t leave me, L.”

  “I can’t stay.”

  “We need to talk about this.”

  Tears stream down my face. “Another woman may have had your baby. Not me, your wife.” I place my hand over my chest. “And it breaks my heart because I wanted to be the one—the only one—to give you babies.” I look into his eyes. “Infinity.”

  He immediately recognizes our code word. He steps out of my way because he knows the best thing he can do at this point is let me go.

  Un-fucking-believable! I get my ass out of one shitstorm only to be sucked into another.

  I look at the child in the photograph. He’s blond with blue, maybe green eyes. Nothing about him resembles me. I took biology and briefly studied basic genetics so I know he doesn’t have to look like me to be mine, but it seems there would be some kind of semblance.

  Although Evan and I are different, we both look like Dad and all the other McLachlans. Evan’s three kids look like him in one way or another, especially his son, but is it fair to make a comparison?

  I look at the picture and feel no connection to this boy. Shouldn’t my heart be softened or filled with some kind of excitement about finding out I may have a son? It’s not. I’m mad as hell—not at this child, but at myself. How could I fuck things up like this with my carelessness? L and I were about to have it all and something I did three years ago has shot all of that to hell.

  My gut tells me this isn’t my kid, but there’s only one way to find out. I flip the picture over and immediately recognize the name. Jenna Rosenthal. She didn’t even give me an alias when we had our short relationship a few years back.

  I call the number and she immediately answers. “That didn’t take long. I knew it wouldn’t, so I already have the kit.”

  “No. I want to speak with my lawyer and have him recommend a reputable doctor to do the test.” We’re doing this by the book. No way she’s hoodooing me with false results. I’m sure that kind of shit happens all the time to dumb fuckers, but I’m no sucker. “I’ll take the first available appointment because I want this done as soon as possible.”

  “I’m sure you do want it done and over but it doesn’t end with the test. Ashton is yours and I’m going to make sure you take care of him.”

  I can’t see myself with a son named Ashton. It doesn’t feel right. “We’ll begin with the paternity test. Prove he’s mine and I’ll take care of him, but let’s get one thing straight. Never be unde
r the impression that anything will happen between us. I’m married.”

  “Judging by the look on your wife’s face, you may not be for long.” I can tell she took great pleasure in saying that.

  “Not your business.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Ashton is about to become a huge part of your world—and I’m his mother—so that means I’ll be in your face whenever I feel like it. Every part of your life will be my business, beginning with your home life.”

  I’m not fighting with this woman about a child who may or may not be mine. “My assistant will set everything up and will phone you with the appointment date and time.” I end the call, not giving her time to argue further.

  I need to go to Laurelyn. I don’t know what I’ll say but I have to see her. And I can’t go smelling like sour mash whiskey.

  I go into the bathroom to shower and see L’s pregnancy test lying on the counter. We agreed we were going to look at the results together but Jenna Rosenthal ruined that.

  So what do I do? We wanted to find out together. It doesn’t feel right to do it without her. Nothing about this situation is right. L should be here with me and we should be doing one of two things: celebrating the new life we’ve created or making a game plan on how we’re going to make our baby happen. But we’re doing neither because of me and my fucked-up past. If he turns out to be my kid, he was conceived long before I met Laurelyn. Can she hold that against me? She’s not here, so I’m beginning to think she can, and will.

  I debate looking at the test, but not for long. I want to know if my wife is pregnant. Everyone knows two lines means pregnant. One line means not pregnant but I want to be sure, so I get the box out of the trash and verify what I’m seeing.

  Two lines. Laurelyn is pregnant. “We did it, baby.”

  I once told Laurelyn she is the only angel in my life. Now I’ll have two.

  I go into the house and straight to the shower. I turn the water to full hot but I can’t feel the heat beating down against my skin. I’m cold—inside and out.