Her friends greeted this statement with shrill laughter and hoots of derision. Amanda said, "Honey, you've been in a hurry to get married since you were eighteen."
"All right, all right." Sunny's pals knew her too well. "What I mean is, if it takes Kirk a little longer to … feel comfortable with all this, for whatever reason, then I can wait."
"As long as you don't have to wait too long," Charli said with a naughty smile.
"That's right." Amanda blotted her mouth with a napkin. "There's that old biological clock ticking away."
"Don't listen to her," Raven said. "Thirty-year-old women have plenty of time left on their biological clocks. Look at me. It took no time at all for me to get pregnant."
Sunny knew she had the sappiest grin on her face, but she didn't care. "It's just so hard to believe that after all this time, my dream is finally taking shape." She shook her head in wonder. "By this time next year, it could be me wearing those ugly maternity leggings! Pass me some of that gyro!"
* * *
Chapter 7
«^»
Sunny mumbled, "Are you hungry?" Lying in Kirk's arms amid her disheveled bedcovers, she felt his chuckle as a rumbling vibration deep in his chest.
"That's a joke, right? I'm ravenous!"
He'd arrived at Sunny's apartment around six o'clock for dinner. It was now nearly eight and the swordfish steaks sat untouched in the refrigerator, steeping in a piquant lime-ginger marinade. The table was half-set, the salad half-made, and Sunny was one-hundred-percent satisfied.
"Well, it's not my fault dinner never got on the table." She stretched luxuriously. "Someone distracted me."
Kirk's singular brand of distraction had left a trail of clothing from the kitchen to Sunny's bedroom, which was decorated in shades of rose, cream and sage green. The sky outside the lace-draped, fourth-story window was not yet fully dark on this balmy late August evening.
Kirk's stomach squealed, prompting Sunny to give it a playful smack. "Tell you what," he offered. "You get that fish going and I'll finish throwing together the salad. Salad I can do."
"You got yourself a deal." As Sunny flicked on the bedside lamp, her gaze lit on the torn condom packet resting on her nightstand. "Oh, I meant to tell you. I made an appointment with my doctor. I'm going on the Pill." Swinging her feet off the bed, she lifted her pink-and-white seersucker robe off the rocking chair and slipped her arms into it. When Kirk didn't respond, she turned to face him. He was sitting up now, partially covered by the floral-printed sheet, his expression grim.
"Now, don't argue." She tied the robe's sash. "I know you don't like using condoms, and the Pill is more reliable. Plus it's much safer than it was in the old days—the dosage is a lot lower."
He stared at the cluster of family photos on the opposite wall, but something about his inward-directed gaze told Sunny he wasn't seeing them. A shiver crawled up her spine. Slowly she sat on the edge of the bed.
Kirk opened his mouth to speak, and closed it. Finally he turned bleak eyes to her. "I can't let you do that."
Sunny swallowed around a hard lump of foreboding. "Go on the Pill? Why not?"
"I probably should've told you sooner. Instead of letting you keep on thinking…"
Sunny followed his gaze to the condom packet. "Kirk, whatever it is, it can't be that—"
"I've had a vasectomy."
His words kicked her in the solar plexus. "What?"
"Eleven months after Ian was born. Linda and I decided one child was enough. How could I have known…"
That one month later, Linda would be dead.
He stated the obvious. "I can't father any more children."
Sunny's pulse drummed hard in her throat. Like a robot she turned to stare at the square packet on her nightstand, with one end ripped off. Her voice was a rasp. "You … you deceived me."
"Sunny, I love you."
She pressed on her temples, as if to block out those three words she'd waited weeks to hear.
"Please listen to me," he said. "I had my reasons—"
He touched her arm and she jerked away, coming unsteadily to her feet. "What reasons can excuse something like this?" Stinging tears stood in her eyes.
"You mean so much to me." His tortured gaze pleaded for understanding. "I knew very early—as soon as we started seeing each other—that we belonged together."
"That's why you—you lied to me?"
No matter what he said, it was a lie! True, he'd never claimed that he could get her pregnant, but he'd actively fostered her assumption that he could. The empty condom packet was damningly eloquent.
He looked her in the eye. "Do you love me?"
"Don't." She raised her hands as if to ward off a blow.
"Answer me, Sunny. Do you love me?"
"I—I thought I did. Now…" Pressing her fingers to her mouth, she choked back a sob. "Damn you, Kirk. Yes, I loved you. I trusted you!"
His eyes briefly squeezed shut.
"That's what love means," she cried. "It's what it's supposed to mean. Trust! I never thought you'd trick me like this—"
"I didn't trick you."
"What do you call it?" She tossed the empty condom packet at him. "You let me believe in us. In a future! You let me dream!"
"Don't you see? That's why I couldn't tell you. I know about your dream. I know how badly you want children." He rose from the bed.
She backed away.
"I love your dream," he said quietly. "It's part of you. If I could give you those children you want so much, if I could make your dream come true … oh, my love, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I'd have proposed to you already if—"
"If you weren't so busy manipulating me."
Kirk's features hardened. "Let me ask you this. Back in early July, when we first met up again. If you'd known this about me, that I couldn't give you children, would you have gotten involved with me? Would you have let yourself fall in love with me?"
Sunny's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. Would she have? "It should've been my decision to make. You shouldn't have taken that choice away from me."
"Perhaps you're right. I did it because I need you." He spread his arms, laying open his soul. "I need you, Sunny. I need you in my life. I thought maybe, by the time you found out about this, you'd feel the same way about me and it would … it would work out. We'd make it work out."
She hugged herself. "You were trying to … to give yourself an edge. An unfair advantage."
"What would you have done in my place?"
"I wouldn't have betrayed your trust."
"I never meant to hurt you. Please believe that."
Sunny dragged in a shaky breath. "I want you to leave now, Kirk."
After a moment he said, "We need to talk about this some more."
"Not now. I … I can't."
"Not now, but we will deal with this. I'm not giving you up, Sunny."
Holding her robe closed, she said, "I can't sleep with you anymore." She made herself meet his desolate gaze. "I can't share myself with you … that way … if we have no future together."
A muscle jumped in his cheek. "You're telling me we're through."
Sunny clutched her robe so tightly her fingers ached. She wanted to tell him yes, they were through. She wanted to hurt Kirk as deeply as he'd hurt her. But did she want it badly enough to let him walk out of her life for good?
The fact was, that was another decision that had been taken away from her. She'd vowed to abide by the rules of the Wedding Ring pact, which required her to give the relationship three full months unless Kirk called it quits before then. That meant five more weeks.
Her chin trembled as she said, "No. No, that's not what I'm saying. Not yet."
Kirk's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Well. I guess that's something." Snatching his briefs off the carpet, he stepped into them and reached for his jeans. "I'll leave now, Sunny. In a few days, when you've had some time to think about this, about why I … why I deceived you, we'll talk again."
; * * *
Chapter 8
«^»
"Whaddaya think, Ian?" Grant Sterling asked. "Are we building it right?"
The toddler, squatting on a small rug on the other side of the half-finished basement, looked up from his Fisher-Price workbench and the plastic nail he was vigorously pounding into it with his play hammer. Gravely he contemplated the newly erected two-by-four framework. He nodded. "Uh-huh."
"Whew." Hunter Radley paused in the act of measuring a length of wallboard, to grin at Kirk. "I was worried we'd have to tear it down and start over."
The basement windows were all open, but the early September day was hot and the three men had already stripped off their shirts, prompting little Ian to do the same. He worked on his side of the room, clad in sandals and a pair of red shorts thickly padded by his diaper.
Kirk secured the last two-by-four in place with an electric screw gun. "You need another juice box, son?"
"Uh—uh."
"You can come over and take a look now."
Kirk had been tempted to let his parents watch Ian while he, with Grant's and Hunter's help, constructed a new wall in the basement, to divide it into two distinct spaces: a utility room for the washer, dryer and furnace, and a separate playroom for his son. Ian, however, fascinated by the prospect of a wall where there was only open space, had wanted to stay and "help."
Kirk had capitulated, on the condition that the toddler keep his distance when power tools were in use. He'd been especially careful when installing the wooden soleplate with the rented nail gun, which used .22-caliber cartridges to drive long nails into the concrete floor. While Kirk and Hunter had used that thing, Grant had held the squirming boy in his arms, well away from the action.
Kirk now lifted Ian and let him inspect the framework, explaining how the wallboard would soon be attached to it. "I help!" Ian insisted, even as he rubbed his eyes.
"Of course," Kirk said. "I really need your help. But first let's get you into a dry diaper, okay?" Ian nodded sleepily.
As he carried his son upstairs, Kirk glanced at his buddies over his shoulder and mouthed "nap." Five minutes later Ian was softly snoring in his crib. Kirk switched on the nursery monitor and brought the receiver down to the basement, along with three frosty bottles of beer. Hunter and Grant were engaged in some good-natured bickering over how many times it was necessary to measure the wallboard before it was cut.
"You must've heard the saying," Hunter mumbled around the pencil he held clamped between his teeth as he measured a length of wallboard to accommodate the low dropped ceiling. Wearing a twisted red bandanna as a sweatband around his dark, collar-length hair, and with his bare upper body deeply suntanned, he almost looked like a Native American.
"What saying?"
"Measure twice, cut once."
Grant accepted a bottle of beer. "Sounds like the voice of bitter experience. I thought you lived in an apartment until you married Raven."
Carefully Hunter marked the wallboard. "The building housing Stitches has been around for eighty-something years," he said, referring to his two-year-old comedy club. "I'm still struggling to make a living. If I went and hired a handyman every time the roof leaked or some floor tiles needed to be replaced, I'd never make it out of the red. Hand me the utility knife, would ya?"
"How do you change the blade on this damn thing?"
Kirk watched Grant struggle with the knife for a few moments before relieving him of the chore. "Wasn't your old man a construction worker?" he asked as he replaced the pitted blade with a fresh one.
"Yeah." Grant shrugged. "So?"
"So you don't know a socket wrench from a screwdriver. Didn't you learn anything at your daddy's knee?"
"Sure. I learned how to stay out of the bastard's way. It was the only lesson that really sunk in."
Kirk exchanged a meaningful glance with Hunter as he handed him the knife. Sunny had told Kirk that Grant had endured an abusive upbringing before running away from home at sixteen, but until Grant had shed his shirt and Kirk had gotten a look at the scars crisscrossing his back, he hadn't realized just how bad it had been.
Kirk figured it was time to change the subject, but Hunter beat him to it. "So, Kirk. What did you really think about that show last night?" His conspiratorial smile said, Now that the women aren't around to hear.
"A little too politically correct for my tastes."
"What show?" Grant asked.
Hunter said, "The four of us went to the city to see a new off-Broadway musical about sexual discrimination in the workplace."
Grant's eyebrows lifted. "A musical?"
"A musical," Kirk confirmed, as he hauled the trimmed piece of plasterboard to the framed-in wall.
"Number twenty-six on my top-ten list of favorite entertainments." He held the board in place while Hunter affixed it with the screw gun. "This particular musical had a song called 'Tell It to the EEOC.'"
Hunter said, "And who can forget that crowd-pleaser 'Glass Ceiling Boogie-woogie.'"
"Catchy," Grant agreed. He ran his hand over the screw heads dimpling the edges of the wallboard. "We slap joint compound over these, right? After the drywall is all up?"
"You're learning." Hunter stood back to examine his handiwork. "Then tape, then more mud."
"Mud?"
"Joint compound." Kirk stretched his arms back and felt something pop. He rotated his shoulders, working out the kinks. "It'll take several coats. It has to dry and be sanded between coats."
"Then we're done?" Grant asked.
"Then we prime and paint," Hunter said.
"Fire-engine red," Kirk said. The other two looked at him. "I believe in letting kids make decisions. And anyway, it's a playroom, right?"
"Hey, why not?" Hunter said. "Back in college, I painted my dorm room all black." He started humming "Glass Ceiling Boogie-woogie," until Kirk aimed the screw gun at him menacingly.
"Next time we double-date," Hunter said, "you and I get to pick the place."
"I vote for the demolition derby," Kirk said.
"Now you're talking."
"You'd have been spared that torture last night if things were normal between Sunny and me."
Kirk could tell by the looks on his pals' faces that they'd heard about his troubles with Sunny. Three days had passed since she'd found out about his vasectomy. She must have confided in her friends, and they in turn had told their husbands.
He added, "She refuses to see me alone. It has to be with another couple. I don't know how we're supposed to talk and make things right if we can't even have a little privacy."
Hunter said, "Sunny did seem kind of aloof last night. Maybe she just needs a little time to, you know, adjust."
"At least she hasn't broken up with me," Kirk said. "Not officially, anyway."
A heavy silence descended as Grant and Hunter applied themselves to the task of measuring the wallboard. Kirk had the uneasy feeling they knew something he didn't. But that was ridiculous. What insights could they possibly have about him and Sunny?
"Why don't you cut it this time?" Hunter asked Grant.
"You mean you trust me with this thing?" Grant accepted the utility knife with a wry smile. Using the yardstick, he did a creditable job of cutting through the drywall, then splitting the paper backing. He carried it to the framework and held it while Kirk screwed it in place.
Kirk said, "Sunny wouldn't even come in the house to say hi to Ian when the three of you picked me up last night. Did you notice?"
"Yeah," Hunter said. "I noticed."
"I know why she stayed in the car." Kirk squatted to place the last few screws. "She doesn't want him getting too close to her. Which tells me—" he stood "—that she knows our relationship is doomed. I guess I should be grateful, right?" he added bitterly. "She has my son's welfare at heart."
"They really get along, don't they?" Grant asked. "Sunny and Ian."
Kirk nodded. "They hit it off right from the start. Sunny's a natural with kids. She's got this strong
maternal—" His voice cracked. Hunter and Grant pretended they hadn't noticed.
"I let her down," Kirk said simply.
"Don't be so hard on yourself." Hunter leaned against the newel post at the foot of the stairway. Yanking the bandanna off his head, he wiped his sweat-sheened chest with it.
"Sunny has … well, not to put too overdramatic a spin on it, but she's given me back my joy in life," Kirk said. "She's given me her love, unreservedly. And I've repaid her with nothing but misery. The one thing she wants most in the world, I can't give her."
Grant said, "Kirk, no one has a crystal ball. Listen, I've known you only for a couple of months, but that's long enough to know you're not impulsive, or irresponsible. I figure you and Linda thought long and hard about that vasectomy before you did it." He spread his hands. "How could you have known how things would turn out? Stop beating yourself up over it."
Kirk sank down on the bottom steps, setting his beer bottle next to him. "I want to marry Sunny. There's practically no chance of that now."
"Can't vasectomies be surgically reversed?" Grant asked.
"The doctor who did mine talked about that, but to tell you the truth, I didn't pay much attention. At the time, I was thinking of sterility as a permanent step. I do know he said reversals don't always work."
Hunter shoved his bandanna in his jeans pocket. "But isn't it worth looking into?"
"When it's obvious that Sunny's already given up on us? What am I supposed to tell her? That there's a chance I can undo the vasectomy? A chance I'll be able to father more children? What if I go through with the operation and it doesn't work? No, for me to even consider a major step like that, I'd have to know she was behind me a hundred percent. And that's just not the case." Kirk picked at the label on his beer bottle. "God, just when my life seemed to be turning around … just when I was starting to feel like I had a little control over it…"
Grant's grim smile was eloquent. "Believe me, admitting how little control you really have beats the hell out of a false sense of confidence."
Hunter turned to Grant. "If you're worried that you're getting overconfident, get your wife pregnant. That's one big, bad reality check, my friend."
ONE EAGER BRIDE TO GO Page 7
