I back away, blubbering. “Don’t touch me.” I’m halfway across the dining room when he grabs my arm.
“You can’t say something like that and walk away from me. What’s happening here?”
I jerk my arm out of his grip and cross the living room to the patio doors where I look out at the pool he loves so much—so much more than me. It’s a struggle, but I stop my tears. I even manage to turn to him with a smile. A sarcastic one. “You can drop the concerned husband act.”
His bewildered frown increases. “I am a concerned husband. You’ve behaved strangely since yesterday afternoon, and I’d like to know why. Should I call Barbara?”
“Oh, sure. Pretend to be the concerned father too.”
Both eyebrows shoot up and he jambs his fingers into his hair, pulling it back tight. He’s going all out for an Oscar here. Rage brings me back to my old self. “Knock it off, Jeremy. Your little secret is out. And guess what? I want a divorce.”
He stumbles down the step from the dining room and then abruptly drops to it, his legs splayed out before him. He pants as his eyes scan back and forth wildly. I’m half convinced he’s not faking shock, but then I replay his conversation with Ethan.
“Oh, come on. ‘Circumstances had changed’, remember? You were ready to divorce me anyway.”
He looks up at me, shaking his head. “I really don’t—”
“And if you didn’t want to be married, you sure as hell didn’t want this.” I put my hands on either side of my belly.
“How could you think— I never felt that way. Never.”
“Ha! This is just a ‘fait accompli’. And ‘an expensive one’ at that. But don’t worry, I’ve made the decision you don’t have the balls to make.”
He stares at me, still shaking his head. Suddenly, his frown disappears, and his eyes widen.
“Yeah. Now you remember saying those words, don’t you?”
“I was talking to Ethan—”
“Being honest with Ethan because you thought I’d left the house and wouldn’t hear. But I came back in for something and—”
“Eavesdropped.” He stands. “But you didn’t hear the whole conversation, did you?”
“I didn’t need to. I got the drift.”
“Yes, you did need to. You got the wrong ‘drift’ from what little you heard. Utterly wrong. Yes, the pregnancy was already a fact. And yes, having a child is expensive. But it’s one that’s worth it. I can’t imagine my life being better than it is now, yet I know that after our son is born, it will be.”
“But the circum—”
“The circumstances I referred to were financial. Income. Money. Not the state of our marriage for God’s sake.” He shakes his head again. “I don’t know what else to do to convince you that you mean everything to me, Chelsea. Help me out.”
Tears flow again when my fingers go to my throat, automatically seeking the comfort of his eternal love necklace.
“Yes,” he says. “Did you honestly believe that I gave you that gift as irony, a mockery, a cruel joke?” I let him take me in his arms. “Good God, wife. Call Ethan. He’ll tell you how I make him nauseous with my constant declarations of love for you.”
I didn’t call Ethan last night, but I think Jeremy did, so I’m not surprised when my phone rings and Ethan’s face pops up on the screen. “Good morning, Ethan … or whatever time it is there.”
“It’s half-past three pints and a sausage roll.”
“Is Laura with you.”
He snorts. “If she were, it would be half-past three glasses of Cava and octopus tapas … or some such abomination. She thinks we should be trendy.”
“And you love her.”
“To the depths of my soul. Which brings me to the purpose of this transatlantic communication. Have you gone mental?”
“Obviously, Jeremy told you about my misunderstanding.”
“Something which is likely to happen when you eavesdrop, especially when you hear only one side of a phone call.”
“I know. It’s a bad habit.”
“It’s downright dangerous, luv. Declaring you want a divorce could well have killed him on the spot.”
I picture Jeremy’s collapse, but I say, “Not hardly.”
He clears his throat. “We joke around a lot, Chelsea, but I’m very serious now. The reason I’m calling you while Laura is elsewhere is that she wouldn’t understand. Hell, I don’t understand either. But most importantly, Jeremy doesn’t understand why you don’t trust his love. Maybe it’s because you didn’t know him before he met you. You can’t see the transformation like we do. Or maybe it’s something in your past. But whatever it is needs to be addressed. Losing you would destroy him. Do you really not know that?”
“I do … I want to trust, but …” Don’t cry. “I don’t know why I—”
“Then find out. Please.”
I clutch the infinity symbol on my necklace. “Mm-hmm.”
“Are you crying, you little imp? Don’t you dare cry on me. Stop it. Cease and desist.” He bangs on something. “We’ll have none of that in this courtroom.” I’m laughing now. “Right. So, talk to Jeremy. Figure this out.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t mention this call to him, eh?”
“He didn’t put you up to it?”
“He most certainly did not. I took it upon myself to call because I’m tired of his pitiful moaning. It’s affecting my sex life.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“But you love me.”
“I do.”
“Find the problem.”
“I will. And thank you.”
“Well, now that I’ve got my own girl, I’m no longer trying to win you away from Jeremy, so I’d rather see you happy together.”
He hangs up before I can respond. He’s only joking about wanting me, of course, but he’s serious about wanting Jeremy to be happy. Why do I not trust Jeremy’s love? I believe Laura and Ethan when they say how much Jeremy’s changed since he met me, so it’s not him, it’s me. Something in my past, as Ethan said. And sure, I dated some jerks, but none of them scarred me for life. So what’s causing the insecurity that keeps screwing up things with Jeremy?
I guess I have to swallow my pride and talk to Gabi. I’m just about to dial her when I hear Jeremy arrive home from the club.
“Chelsea?” he calls as he heads toward the office. “Don’t freak out.”
I’m in total panic mode. It’s been decided that the whole London crew will fly here for Christmas. Barbara advised against me taking such a long flight, and that’s all Jeremy needed to hear to quash (his word) the idea of us going there. When he told his mother, she and Mom made all the arrangements and she just surprised him with the new plan in a phone call on his way home from the club.
I’m including Mom and Albert in the London Crew because they’ve been there for months. Despite the hope that my pregnancy would keep my mother home in California more, she’s only been back here twice in the last one hundred and forty-six days. I know it’s not like she’s on another planet—Jeremy points that out far too often. We text or phone daily, and at least once a week she wants to see me on video chat, but I miss her terribly.
I have this secret fear that I’m never going to be a real adult. Isn’t that stupid? I’ve been married for over a year, and in a few months, I’ll be a mother myself, so how can I still feel jealous that my mother doesn’t spend more time with me? I mean, I’m happy that she has Uncle and all the things he can provide for her, but I wish he could do that while living in her house just one mile from me, not in his five thousand miles away.
Anyway.
The main part of our house is pretty much an open floor plan. Our living room runs the length of the dining area and kitchen combined. On one side of the kitchen is a long pass-through that leads to a counter with bar stools on the living room side. There’s a lower counter, a breakfast bar, partially separating the kitchen from the dining room, which is open to the living roo
m and just one step up. So the layout is cool for entertaining because even if you’re stuck in the kitchen you’re not really cut off from everyone.
So why am I panicked? Well, except for a few ill-conceived bong and beer bashes when I first got my own apartment, I’ve never entertained nine people at once—and certainly not when most of those people are rich. That nine includes my brother Scott and his husband Dylan, and, yes, they’ll only be arriving from San Francisco on Christmas Eve morning and leaving the day after Christmas, but still. And, as Jeremy points out, the only ones sleeping here will be Laura and Ethan. But still.
I’m standing in our living room trying to figure out how we can rearrange it. “Where are we going to put a Christmas tree? There’s no room.”
“I thought you were going to put it in that corner, beside the fireplace.”
“But now we need that space for people.”
“You’re going to make people stand in the corner?”
I shoot him a warning glance.
He loses the grin. “Hmm. My piano’s taking up too much space.”
That’s what I was thinking but wasn’t going to say. “It wouldn’t be good for it to be pushed out onto the patio, right?”
“Uh … not in the rainy season, no.” He narrows his eyes and stares at the piano. “How big a tree do we need?”
“Why?”
“If we got a small one, we could set it atop the piano.”
I estimate how large a tree with stand and topper will fit in the distance to the ceiling. “I’m not buying a three-foot tree, Jeremy.”
He pulls me into his arms, but I block his kiss. “Quit trying to distract me. I have to figure out how to keep Christmas Eve from being a disaster.”
“Everything will be fine,” he says. “It’s just family.”
Oh, great. Now, I have another worry. Someone has stolen my husband’s memory and replaced it with an optimism that believes family means a deliriously happy group of people who never have issues.
Clouds are hiding the moon tonight. Our bedroom was totally dark as Jeremy made love to me gently. I know his gentleness is not because of the baby, but because I’ve made him feel uncertain about us, which made me cry again. Now, he’s holding me, trying to comfort me.
“It’s Christmas, isn’t it?” he says. I’ll tell them it’s too much for you. They’ll understand that we can’t all be together this year.”
I shake my head.
“Then I’ll make all the preparations. Just tell me what to do. Make one of your lists … detailed. I can clean and decorate under your guidance, and … well, I’m not sure about the cooking, but—”
“No … not … it,” I say between sobs.
He kisses the top of my head and then buries his face in my hair, waiting as I get myself under control. After a minute, he says, “I’ll tell everyone that drama is not allowed. All right?”
I take one last shuddery breath. “It’s not about Christmas … but I do expect your help.”
“You’ll have it. So, if it’s not about Christmas, why the tears?”
I dry my face on the sheet. “I’m sorry that I keep upsetting you. I love you and I know you love me. I just—”
“Shh. I’ve been thinking about it. It’s the pregnancy, the hormones, you know? Remember last month when you broke into tears because Scrumptious had sold out of German chocolate cupcakes? You’re not yourself, so I should be more understanding of that.”
Oh God, he’s blaming himself. I don’t deserve this man. “The cupcake incident was hormonal, but not every crazy thing I do is. What I overheard freaked me out because I have a hard time trusting your love, and I don’t know why.” He takes a breath, about to speak. “No, it’s not your fault; you do everything right.”
“No one does everything right.”
I smack his chest. “You know what I mean, Mr. Literal.” He tilts my chin up so he can kiss me.
We cuddle silently for a minute. “I’ll try not to freak you out again … you know, with the D word.”
“Thank God.”
“And I’m not going to eavesdrop anymore.”
“That would benefit us both.”
As he plays with my hair, I lie with my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Strong and steady, like him. “So we’re good, right?”
“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
I really don’t deserve this man.
CHAPTER 12
Mom and Uncle arrived in California yesterday, a few days early, to get her house ready for entertaining. Surprisingly, Gordon and Amanda will be staying at Mom’s house, but Richard won’t. He’d rather stay at a hotel.
We met them for dinner last night, and Mom invited us to her house for dinner tonight, so it’s a surprise when Uncle calls Jeremy from our driveway, asking him to come outside. I follow him. The back doors of Mom’s minivan are standing open. “Help us carry all this in,” she says.
This turns out to be cases of liquor and boxes of groceries.
“Mom, what have you done?”
“Oh hush, sweetie. It’s our contribution to the holidays. We’ll congregate here, at least part of the time besides Christmas Eve.”
“Thanks, guys.” I glance at Jeremy, afraid he might be offended, but he’s smiling and patting Uncle on the back. He grabs a box and kisses mom’s cheek as he passes her on the way into the house.
Mom and I start putting away the food as Jeremy and Uncle stock the bar. When they carry the rest into the garage, Mom whispers, “I don’t want you stressed out over this visit, so I’m sending a cleaning service here tomorrow.”
Disappointed, I glance around the kitchen. “But we’ve already cleaned. It’s not good enough?”
“Oh, I didn’t look. I just figured you’d need help, sweetie.”
“Jeremy helped. And I’m not saying Amanda can’t find dust somewhere, but I’m hoping she won’t bring her white gloves.”
Mom laughs. “Don’t be silly; she’s not like that. This is going to be a fun week, you’ll see.”
Fun, she says. “I’m just hoping I survive without angering or offending anyone—or humiliating myself.”
She flaps a dismissive hand. “You’re such a comedian. Everyone loves the heck out of you.” She closes the pantry door, turns to me, and lays her hands against my cheeks. “I’m so proud of you.” She moves her hands down to caress my belly. “I can’t wait for you to meet your beautiful mommy, grandson.”
We’re both a little teary when the guys come back in from the garage. I’m pretty sure Uncle was saying something about a best decision when the door opened, but now he looks at mom and says, “Ready to go, sweetheart?”
“We’ll see you later,” she says and kisses us both before they leave.
“It took you guys a long time to put that liquor in the garage,” I say. “What were you talking about?”
He looks off in the distance for a moment as if he’s trying to remember.
“The last thing. Uncle said something about a decision.”
“Oh. My career decision.” He glances around the room. “If you don’t have anything you need me to do right now, I’d like to work for a while.”
“Go ahead.”
He starts toward the office and then stops and looks back. “I found out why Richard’s staying in a hotel. He’s bringing his girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?”
He shrugs. “I assume.”
I wouldn’t assume that at all.
Laura squeals when I open our front door. “You look adorable! Isn’t that the cutest baby bump you’ve ever seen, Ethan?”
Ethan shoots a cautious glance at Jeremy before nodding and murmuring assent. I think he’s still half expecting the invitation to sleep here—in the same room with Laura—will be revoked. But through dozens of phone conversations, Laura has secured the arrangement by assuring Jeremy that Ethan’s totally acting the white knight to his queen. Evidently, Jeremy picks up on Ethan’s nervousness and greats hi
m with a heartfelt man hug.
Laura and I move into the living room while the guys carry their luggage to the guest room. “When will your brothers arrive?” she says. “I’m anxious to meet them.”
“Only one of them is coming. Ryan lives in Boston, but Scott lives in San Francisco, so he can just drive down.”
“Oh,” she says. “I was sure mum said both of them would be here.”
“Maybe she got confused thinking Dylan was my brother instead of Scott’s husband.”
She turns to Ethan when he joins us. “Who did mum tell us would be here from Chelsea’s family?”
“Her brothers and their spouses.”
Jeremy gives me a wry smile. “Ryan was supposed to be a surprise.”
Laura’s hand flies to her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“No problem,” I tell her. “I am surprised.” I’m also picturing two more people crowded into this room—wait, that’s three, counting Richard’s mysterious friend.
“Will we see Gabi and Matt while we’re here?” Laura asks me.
“They’re coming for dinner tonight.”
“Pizza,” Jeremy says.
Which suddenly sounds low class. “If that’s all right with you guys.”
“Fine with us,” Ethan says. “I could live on pizza. Anything to drink around here?”
Crap. I’m already failing as a hostess. “Of course.”
Jeremy’s already moving toward the bar. “The usual, Laura?”
“Sure.” She and Ethan sit on the sofa.
While Jeremy mixes Laura’s beloved gin and tonic, I waddle off for my thousandth can of delicious sparkling water. From the kitchen, I hear Jeremy telling them about Richard bringing a girlfriend with him. “I didn’t think Richard ever left the office long enough to date.”
“Girlfriend?” Laura says. “I don’t think so.”
Jeremy’s handing Ethan and Laura their drinks as I’m walking back into the room. I sit down in a chair opposite them as he pours his own drink and says, “Uncle said her name is Chris.”
Ethan and Laura exchange a look. “Chris is Christopher,” Ethan says.
Open & Honest (Sometimes) (A High Tea & Flip-Flops Novel Book 3) Page 16
