Keeping Her

by Allie Everhart

  It's true, but I want a baby so much that I don't care about myself. I'll suffer through anything to have a child.

  "And what about the risk for miscarriage?" Pearce asks. "Do you really think you can go through that again?"

  "Yes," I say, but my voice lacks confidence. Because honestly, I fear that most of all. I was devastated after my last miscarriage and I don't want to go through that again. But I'm prepared to.

  "It's different than when it happened before," I tell him. "This time I have you. Before, I had my parents, who were a huge help, but I needed Adam, and he left me. You won't do that. So it'll be different this time."

  "It will still be a huge loss. It won't be any easier, even with me here to support you."

  "You're right," I say, admitting it to both him and myself. "It won't be easy, and I don't want to go through that again. But I know I can do it. And I know that once I hold our baby in my arms that everything I had to go through to get to that point will be worth it." A tear slides down my cheek. "Please don't deny me this, Pearce. I love you, and I want us to have a baby. Whatever it takes to have one, I'll do it. And if it doesn't happen, we at least tried."

  He doesn't say anything. He looks down at my hand and holds it, lightly rubbing it with his thumb.

  He's quiet. Too quiet. Because he doesn't want to say what he's thinking. Another tear slips down my cheek. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want a baby. I finally found out I can have one, and now the man I love doesn't want one.

  I shut my eyes, trying to hold back the tears. Pearce kept hinting that he may not want this so I shouldn't be surprised, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

  Why didn't he tell me this before? How could he make me go through all those tests, knowing he didn't want children? How could he do that to me? Was he hoping the tests would show I couldn't have a baby so that he wouldn't have to tell me no?

  We should've talked about this before we got married, but now it's too late. And as much as I want a child, I'd never divorce Pearce because of this. I'm angry with him, and his decision hurts me, but I still love him. I'll always love him, and I have to accept his decision. We both have to want this. I would never trick him into it, or threaten to leave if he didn't agree to it. I want him to want a baby, not be forced into having one.

  But he doesn't want one. He doesn't want a child. The words echo in my head and my throat burns as I try not to break down sobbing for the intense loss I'm feeling right now. Loss for what I could've had.

  "I don't know how to change a diaper," he says, still gazing down at my hand.

  "What?" I ask, not sure I heard him right.

  His eyes return to mine. "I don't know how to change a diaper. I don't have the slightest idea how you even put one on."

  More tears slide down my cheeks, but I'm smiling. "What are you saying, Pearce?"

  "I'm saying that I'm going to need some instruction. I don't even know how to hold a baby. They're so small and their heads don't seem very stable."

  I swallow and wipe my tears. "Are you saying we can try?"

  "Yes. We can try."

  I reach around him and tightly hug his chest, my tears soaking into his shirt. They're happy tears because I'm so relieved. So happy he wants this.

  He kisses my head and I lift my face up to his. He looks serious again and I worry about what he's thinking.

  I sit back. "Are you only doing this because you know how much I want a baby?"

  "No. I want one too. But I still have concerns about what you'll have to go through. I'm willing to try this, but if it gets to the point that your health is suffering, either emotionally or physically, then we're not going to continue trying."

  I nod. "Okay."

  "And if you become pregnant and there are complications, with either the pregnancy or the delivery, that put your health at risk, then we are not doing this again. If that's the case, then we are only having one child."

  "I would be happy with one." I smile. "Can we celebrate now?"

  He smiles back. "Yes. I'm sorry I wasn't more enthusiastic earlier. I know how much this means to you and I should've reacted differently when we got the results. I was just feeling a little overwhelmed at the doctor's office. What would you like to do to celebrate?"

  "Maybe go out to dinner?" I kiss him. "And then maybe do a little practicing?" I smile. "If we want to make a baby this summer, we really should start practicing."

  He kisses me and leans me back on the couch. "We're going to practice right now."

  "Let's do it later. I'm starving and I want to call my mom quick and tell her the news."

  He sighs and sits back. "Go ahead."

  I get up, but lean down to his ear and whisper, "I promise we'll do lots of practicing tonight. Lots."

  He swats my butt. "Then hurry up so we can go to dinner and get home."

  I call my mom and she's thrilled. She always told me to get a second opinion but I kept putting it off. I didn't tell her the risks because she'd worry too much. She's not as overprotective of me as she used to be, but when it comes to my health, she still worries.

  The next day I meet Shelby for lunch to tell her my news. Since I invited her, I told her I'm paying. I picked a really nice restaurant. She's probably still eating mac and cheese every night so I wanted her to have a good meal at lunch.

  Shelby is doing much better now. She's still sad about her dad, but she's working through her grief and slowly getting back to her old self. Logan's been helping her get through it. He lives here in Connecticut now so they see each other all the time.

  "Is Pearce excited that he might be a dad someday?" she asks, as we're waiting for our order.

  "Excited probably isn't the word." I laugh. "More like scared. Or nervous. He worries he won't be a good dad. He's never spent any time around babies or kids."

  "I haven't either. I don't think I could take care of a kid."

  "Really? I thought you wanted kids someday."

  "No. I'm not the mom type. I'm not nurturing."

  "Yes, you are. You'd be a great mom."

  "Why?"

  "You're fun. You have lots of energy. You don't overreact to stuff. Those are all good qualities for being a mom. And I bet your mom would love to have grandkids."

  She rolls her eyes. "She tells me that all the time."

  "How does Logan feel about kids?"

  "He wants them. He says he wants two, but I think he'd take three or four if his wife would give him that many."

  I smile at her. "So are you willing you to give him that many?"

  She laughs. "Yeah, right. I just told you I'm not the mom type. So three or four kids? Not going to happen. Neither is one or two."

  "Have you told Logan that?"

  "Why would I? I'm not marrying him."

  "Then why are you two still dating?"

  "Because I like him. We have fun together and he treats me well."

  "You can't date him forever. Eventually he'll want to get married."

  "Then I guess that's when we'll break up."

  "Shelby, why wouldn't you marry him? Are you afraid to get married? Or is he just not the one?"

  "Why do you always ask such personal questions?" She sounds annoyed.

  "Because I'm your friend. Friends always ask personal questions. If I didn't, we wouldn't be friends. We'd just be acquaintances." I take a sip of my iced tea. "So is he the one or not?"

  She sighs dramatically. "Fine. He's the one. Are you happy now?"

  I can't tell if she's being serious or joking with me.

  "Aren't you going to say something?" she asks.

  "Yes. I'm just surprised that you said that. I thought you'd say he's not the one. But if he is, then why wouldn't you marry him someday?"

  "Because I don't want to get married. I'm not the marrying type. Just like I'm not the mom type. That lifestyle just doesn't fit me. I'm meant to be single."

  "You only feel that way because you're 22. But in a few years—"

  "I'm 23, but that d
oesn't mean I want to get married."

  "Did you just have a birthday?"

  "It was in December. Right after the funeral. I didn't feel like celebrating."

  "You should've told me you had a birthday. I would've got you a gift."

  "You're buying me lunch. That's good enough."

  "No, it's not. I'll get you something and give it to you later. So going back to Logan, maybe you should move in with him. Test out living together."

  "He asked me to but…" She messes with the napkin in her lap. "It's not a good idea."

  "Why? Because you'd have to move? It's just a half hour away. You could still go visit your mom. And I'm sure you could get a job there. Maybe one with full time hours."

  Our food arrives and she changes the subject. She doesn't want to talk about Logan, but she won't tell me why. We've been friends for months and she still won't open up to me.

  "Is everything ready for the wedding?" she asks.

  "Yes. I had a final fitting for the dress last week. It's such a gorgeous dress."

  "And you didn't even have to pay for it."

  "I know. But the designer is getting a ton of press so he's coming out ahead. We're also getting the cake for free because the bakery wants the publicity."

  "Isn't it weird how rich people always get free stuff? The people who can most afford it don't have to pay for it."

  "I wish you were coming to the wedding."

  "I can't cancel this trip. I've had it planned for months."

  "I know, but I still wish you were coming."

  Shelby is going to Florida the weekend of my wedding. She's staying with her cousin in Fort Lauderdale. She said she planned the trip months ago, yet she never even mentioned it until I told her the date of the wedding. And she didn't seem upset that she was missing it, which kind of hurt my feelings. But maybe she just doesn't like weddings.

  "Rachel. We meet again."

  I look up and see Leland Seymour standing next to me. I haven't decided what I think of this man. He tries to act nice, but I think it's a fake nice.

  "Hello, Mr. Seymour."

  "Please. Call me Leland." He smiles. "And who is your—" He stops when he sees Shelby. "Your friend." He says it slow and grins even wider.

  Shelby's reaching under the table for her purse.

  "Leland, this is Shelby."

  "Shelby." He rubs his thumb and finger over his chin. "What an interesting name. You know, you look more like a Sophia."

  She abruptly gets up, almost falling off her chair. "I have to use the ladies' room."

  Leland watches her leave. "Are you and Shelby good friends?"

  "Yes. I met her back in September. We lived in the same apartment building."

  "Is she coming to the wedding?"

  "No. She'll be out of town."

  "What a shame. I'm sure you'd love to have her there." He gets that big grin on his face again. It's strange, and making me uncomfortable.

  "So what are you doing in New Haven?" I ask. "That's a long drive from your new house."

  "My daughter wanted to look at colleges."

  "Katherine is here?"

  "Yes, we're on the other side of the dining room." He points to their table and I see Katherine sitting there, applying her lipstick. "She just turned 16 and she wants to start looking at schools. Her sister, Caroline, will be starting Yale in the fall."

  "Is that where Katherine wants to go?"

  "Yes, but…" He lowers his voice. "She's not Yale material. We're looking at some other colleges in the area. Maybe Moorhurst. That's about a half hour from here."

  "I've heard that's a very good school."

  "It's not Yale, but it would be a better fit for Katherine. Well, I'll let you and your friend get back to lunch."

  Shelby takes forever in the bathroom, and when she finally comes out, she stands by the table and takes her keys from her purse. "I'm not feeling well. I have to go. I'm really sorry I couldn't finish lunch."

  I stand up. "That's okay. We'll just try again some other time. Do you need me to drive you home? You shouldn't drive if you're sick."

  "I'll be fine."

  I hug her. "I'll call you later to make sure you're okay."

  She smiles. "See? That's why you should be a mom and I shouldn't. I'd never tell someone that."

  "You need to call your doctor boyfriend and ask him to come stay with you. I bet he could make you feel better," I tease.

  "You need to stop with the matchmaking."

  "I'm not matchmaking. I don't need to. You two are already a match."

  She rolls her eyes. "Bye, Rachel."

  "Bye."

  I've only eaten half of my lunch but I'm full so I ask the waiter for the check.

  "It's on us," he says, smiling.

  "Um, that's okay." I get out my wallet. "I'll just pay."

  "Miss Evans, the manager would really like to pay for your meal. And if you enjoyed it, perhaps you could tell your friends."

  So this is a business deal. A free meal in exchange for my help in getting more people to come to this restaurant. The manager knows who I am and he assumes I know other rich people. The kind of people he wants at his restaurant. I don't want to argue with the waiter, so I thank him, then get my coat and leave.

  I've had a lot of these encounters recently. There's been a lot of press about the wedding so people are starting to recognize me. I'll go to a restaurant or just out for coffee and the manager offers to pay my bill. I even had this happen at the dry cleaners. They wouldn't let me pay. Pearce said I shouldn't even be going to the dry cleaners because it looks bad. I'm supposed to have the dry cleaning picked up and delivered. I wondered why they looked at me funny when I went there and told them my name.

  I'm still not used to living this way. Not being able to do things for myself. Having people know who I am. And things will change even more once I'm officially Mrs. Kensington, which will happen in just a few short weeks.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Wedding

  PEARCE

  It's the middle of March and today, Rachel and I are getting married. Again. This time in front of six hundred people. The guest list includes some of my fellow Dunamis members and their families, some friends of my parents, and a few celebrities tossed in to attract more media attention to the event. I don't know who else was invited. The organization sees this as a high-level networking event, so I know there are prominent businessmen and politicians here as well.

  Rachel's parents are here, of course. They've been here all week. Jack gave me the week off so I could spend time with them, as well as take care of anything that needed to be done for the wedding. But everything was basically done. All I had to do was have a final tux fitting.

  Rachel and her mom have spent the past week getting the new house ready. We've owned the house since early February, and Rachel has spent the past month painting the walls and putting up new window treatments. I told her we could hire people to do those things, but she wanted to do them herself.

  We bought new furniture, which was delivered a few weeks ago, and Rachel has stocked the kitchen with mixers and blenders and other things we don't have and won't receive as wedding gifts. The people I know don't give toasters for wedding gifts. They give vacations or expensive paintings or rare antique items we'll have no use for.

  I'm looking forward to moving into the house. I like my loft, but the house feels more like a home. It's warm and inviting and I can see Rachel's personality in how it's decorated. I like that. I'll feel like she's there even when she's not.

  We kept my leather couch and chairs for the living room, then bought a navy fabric-covered couch for the family room, along with several tables, including ones for the dining room and kitchen. Rachel prefers wood furniture, like I do, so all the tables are wood.

  I grew up in a house filled with glass tables, which I hated because if I touched them I would get yelled at for leaving fingerprints behind. Everything at that house was breakable or too valuable to be
touched, so I had to be extremely cautious growing up. And my parents' furniture is either beige or white so I always had to be careful not to spill anything.

  My parents would cringe if they saw my house. Actually, most everyone I know would, even people my own age. They prefer to live in a house like my parents have; one with glass tables and crystal chandeliers and beige furniture. If I'd been forced to marry someone else, I'd be living in that type of house.

  "Your bride would like to see you." Henry walks into the groom's dressing room, where I'm ready and waiting in my tux. The ceremony starts in ten minutes.

  Rachel and I are getting married in a large historic church. My first marriage also took place in a church, which is odd because my family is not religious. The only time we go to church is for weddings and funerals.

  "Is she almost ready?" I ask.

  "She's ready, but she's nervous having all those people out there. She said you're always able to calm her down."

  "I'll go see her." I stand up, straightening my tux jacket.

  "Pearce." Henry smiles. "I just wanted to say that I'm glad my daughter found you. You're a good man, and I've never seen Rachel this happy before."

  "I promise to keep her happy. I love her very much."

  "I know you do." He smiles even wider and pats me on the back. "Now go see your girl."

  I spent most of last week with Henry while Rachel and her mother were out shopping for things for the house. Henry and I went to a few sports bars and watched basketball. We also played pool and he gave me some tips to improve my shots. Then after dinner every night, we'd play a few games of poker.

  It's sad that I've never done those things with my own father. I've only known Henry a few months, but he feels more like a real father to me than my own. My father hasn't spoken to me since the party at the Seymour mansion. My mother hasn't either. I'll see them today and they'll smile for the crowd, but by tomorrow they'll go back to not speaking to me.

  I walk down the narrow hallway to the bride's dressing room. Rachel and I already had our photos done so I've seen her in her dress, but when I knock on the door and she answers, I'm once again taken aback by how beautiful she looks.

  Her dress is strapless and fitted on top, then goes out at the waist into a full skirt. It looks like something a princess would wear. It's a simple design but has intricate beading on the upper half.