The tears that crowded her throat refused to be contained anymore. They leapt to her eyes, burning, smarting. Her throat ached with the need to breathe, her sobs desperate to escape.
She must’ve made some sound, because Rich, whose back was to her, turned slowly. His eyes slid to hers, until Jamie thought she’d drown in those blue depths.
Could she believe? She was afraid to hope that what he’d said was true and that he did indeed love her. Hope was so fragile, so easily shattered.
Dare she believe?
Love had always been so disappointing. It had stripped her of her pride, stolen her aspirations. Cheated her.
Did she dare trust her heart again?
“I’m not interested in a marriage of convenience with you any longer, Jamie,” he said evenly. “I haven’t been, since the night I found you with Floyd what’s-his-face. I realized then that I love you and probably have for years, only I hadn’t realized it. Condemn me if you will, but it’s the truth.”
Jamie’s heart quickened. Tears streamed down her face and she brought her fingers to her lips, knowing it would be impossible to speak. Instead, she held out her hand to him, her shoulders trembling.
Rich was there a second later, hauling her into his arms. His mouth unerringly found hers, and he lavished warm, moist kisses on her quivering lips.
“I hope all this emotion means what I think it does,” he murmured against the curve of her neck.
Jamie’s tears fell without restraint. The emotions within her were too primitive, too deeply rooted to allow her the luxury of responding with words. Her hands framed his face as she spread eager kisses wherever she could. Trying to convey everything in her heart, she cherished him with her lips, kissing him again and again until they both shook with passion.
“Jamie…” Rich tore his mouth from hers and stared searchingly into her face.
“I love you,” she managed in a breathless whisper.
His smile was more brilliant than a rainbow after the fiercest storm. “I know.” He wore a cocky grin as he swung her effortlessly into his arms and walked to the bedroom.
Tenderly he placed her on the bed and moved over her. When he kissed her, their passion flared to life, with no reservations, no holding back.
“Tell me what you said wasn’t true,” he pleaded. “Tell me our lovemaking touched you the same as it did me.”
Jamie tried to answer him, reassure him it had been her pain talking, her disillusionment, but she couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat. Smiling, she gazed up at him, letting all the love in her heart spill into her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
They made love gently, slowly, and when they’d finished, they held each other. For a long time neither spoke.
They kissed after a while and Rich rolled onto his back, taking her with him. His hand caressed the small of her back. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love our baby, too.”
“I know…. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
Content, Jamie nestled against him, pressing her ear to his heart, which beat solidly in his chest. Her own heart was radiant with emotion. She’d tried to close herself off from love, but Rich had made that impossible.
His hand reached for hers. Palm to palm. Heart to heart.
And Jamie felt—finally—like the married woman she was. A wife deeply in love with her husband. A woman deeply loved by a man.
Epilogue
The brightly decorated Christmas tree stood in the corner of Rich and Jamie’s spacious new living room, in front of a large bay window that overlooked Puget Sound.
Jamie sat with her swollen ankles elevated while Rich brought her in a cup of tea from the kitchen. He’d insisted on doing the dishes and Jamie hadn’t argued. She was tired and crabby and impatient for their baby to be born.
“We really should take down the tree,” she said. Christmas had passed several days before.
“Take down the tree?” Rich objected. “We can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“Junior wants to see it.”
“Rich,” Jamie muttered, her hands resting on her protruding stomach. “I’ve got news for you. Junior has decided he’d rather not be born. He’s hooked his foot over my ribs and says he’d rather stay right where he is.”
“You’re only three days past your due date.”
“It feels like three months.” She’d given up any hope of seeing her feet back in October.
“Can I get you anything else?” Rich asked. “A pillow? Your knitting? A book?”
“Stop being so solicitous,” she snapped.
“My, my, we are a bit testy this evening.”
“Don’t be cute, either. I’m not in the mood for cute.”
“How about adoring?”
“Maybe…but you’re going to have to convince me.”
“Perhaps I should try for the besotted look.” He crossed his eyes and dangled his tongue out of the side of his mouth, imitating the impression she’d done of him earlier that year.
Despite her low spirits, Jamie laughed and held her arms out to him. “I love you, even if you do look like a goose.”
Rich sat on the ottoman facing her. “I love you, too. I must, otherwise I wouldn’t be this worried.” The humor left his eyes as he leaned forward and placed his hand on her stomach. “Come out, come out, whoever you are.”
“Are you really worried?” He tended to hide his anxiety behind a teasing facade, and Jamie had been so consumed by her own apprehensions that she hadn’t taken the time to address Rich’s.
“I’m anxious.” His hands gripped hers and he raised her knuckles to his mouth and gently kissed her fingers.
“So am I! I want this baby to be born.”
“I can hardly believe how much I love him already,” Rich whispered, his eyes serious. “At first, the baby was something we talked about. When I learned you were pregnant I was so excited I could’ve walked on water. Then a few weeks later, we were living together. This summer we sold your condo and moved here. That was only the beginning of all the changes in our lives.”
“I know.”
“Then Junior started getting sassy, constantly moving around, letting us know he was there.”
“He—or she,” Jamie said with a grin.
“I’ll never forget the first time I felt him—or her—move.”
“I won’t, either,” Jamie said.
Rich smiled that lopsided grin of his that never failed to disarm her. “Everything’s changed, hasn’t it?” Once again his blue eyes brightened. “This child is part of you and me—the very best part of us both. Every time I think about him, I get all soft inside. I want to hold him in my arms and tell him how much his mother and I wanted him. Or her,” he added with a smile. “Enough to go to exorbitant measures.”
“Not that it was necessary,” Jamie whispered. “Might I remind you that Junior was conceived in the good old-fashioned way?”
Rich leaned forward and reminded her of some other good old-fashioned methods they’d discovered. She was laughing when she felt the first contraction. Her eyes widened and she squeezed Rich’s hand.
“Jamie?”
“I think all my complaining might have done some good. Have you got the stopwatch?”
Rich paled, nodded, then rushed into their bedroom, returning with the stopwatch he’d purchased after attending their childbirth classes.
He knelt in front of her, clasping her hand. “Are you ready, my love?”
Jamie nodded. She’d been ready for this moment for the past nine months.
* * *
With a loud squall, Bethany Marie Manning made her way into the world thirteen hours later. Rich was at Jamie’s side in the delivery room. When Dr. Fullerton announced that they had a daughter, Rich looked at Jamie, his face filled with wonder and surprise.
“She’s a girl?” he asked, as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.
“Do you want to check for yourself?” Dr. Fullerton teased.
&
nbsp; Jamie watched her husband, searching for signs of disappointment, but if there were any she didn’t see them. The nurse weighed Bethany, then wrapped the protesting infant in a warm blanket and handed her to Rich.
Rich stared down at the bright pink face and smiled. When he looked over at Jamie his eyes shone with unshed tears. “She’s beautiful.”
“You’re not disappointed we didn’t have a son?”
“Are you crazy? I always wanted a girl. I just said I wanted a boy to keep you off guard.” Very gently, Rich bent down and kissed his daughter’s forehead.
* * *
Hours later, Jamie woke and saw that Rich was asleep, slumped in the chair next to her hospital bed. His head rested against hers. Smiling contentedly, she rubbed her fingers through his tangled hair.
Yawning, Rich raised his head. “Hello, little mother.”
“Hello, proud daddy.”
“She is so beautiful. Oh, Jamie, I can’t believe how much I love her. And you.” He kissed her hand, then held it against his jaw. “I never knew I could feel like this.”
Feeling dreamy and tired, Jamie nodded and let her eyes drift shut.
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” Rich whispered, his face close to hers. “I’ve taken care of everything.”
Jamie’s eyes flew open. “What do you mean by that?”
“Ballet classes.” He pulled open the drawer in the bedside table and withdrew a Seattle phone book. “I’ve called two schools, both of whom are sending us brochures. I also talked to a teacher about piano lessons.”
“Rich!”
“Just kidding.” He lifted her hand and clasped it between his own. “I love you, Jamie.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
They’d come so far, Jamie mused. They’d tried to manipulate fate, create their own destiny, constrain their marriage with limits and conditions.
Instead, love had caught them unawares.
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Debbie Macomber is a number one New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author. Her books include 1225 Christmas Tree Lane, 1105 Yakima Street, A Turn in the Road, Hannah’s List and Debbie Macomber’s Christmas Cookbook, as well as Twenty Wishes, Summer on Blossom Street and Call Me Mrs. Miracle. She has become a leading voice in women’s fiction worldwide and her work has appeared on every major bestseller list, including those of the New York Times, USA TODAY, Publishers Weekly and Entertainment Weekly. She is a multiple award winner, and won the 2005 Quill Award for Best Romance. There are more than 100 million copies of her books in print. Two of her MIRA Christmas titles have been made into Hallmark Channel Original Movies, and the Hallmark Channel has recently launched a series based on her bestselling Cedar Cove series. For more information on Debbie and her books, visit her website, www.DebbieMacomber.com.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3902-9
Marriage of Inconvenience
Copyright © 1992 by Debbie Macomber
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