by Unknown
He shook his head. "Part of the deal, Miranda. It hasn't been quite the thirty days we agreed on, but long enough I think."
"You're not kidding."
"Correct." He handed her the box. "Put this in your purse. You can take care of it inside."
Her hands trembled. She grabbed the box, struggling for calm. The past two weeks had already given her the answer that Drake was looking for. This would confirm it.
Then what would she do?
In a daze she walked into the cool lobby. Drake checked in with the receptionist while Miranda found the restroom. The test strip showed her exactly the answer she expected.
She's very pale, Drake thought as Miranda rejoined him. Tenderness overwhelmed him. The words he'd held back escaped his mouth before he considered the consequences.
"We don't have to go through with this."
She swallowed hard but met his gaze without flinching. "We had a deal, remember?"
Heat broke out on his forehead. A dribble of sweat tracked down his back though the ceiling fan beat steadily away at the warmth of the day. His throat was as dry as the desert through which they'd driven.
He tried again. "You don't understand. We don't have to get a divorce."
The quiet tip-tapping of the receptionist at her word processor ceased. Some faucet dripped in an unknown room somewhere. He heard his own heart beating as he watched Miranda's eyes open wide. The corners of her lips trembled.
"I think you'd better spell it out for me. Before you do that, don't you want to know the results of the test?"
"Yes, I mean, no." He couldn't believe how hard this was. "Just listen a minute. The test results don't have anything to do with what I need to say."
Tiny creases appeared between her eyebrows. Drake wanted to kiss them away but knew that if he tried any attempt at an explanation would be lost.
Taking her silence as consent, he took a deep breath. "We aren't really married." Forestalling her reply he rushed on. "I hired an out of work actress to be the Justice of the Peace. You were so drunk, I didn't think you'd notice. Now I wish I'd gone ahead with the real thing." He dropped his head in his hands, wondering how hard she'd hit him.
After a silent count to ten he peeked between his fingers. Her mouth gaped open. Her nostrils flared with each quick breath. The paleness of her face worried him, as did the tremor of her lips.
"I never wanted to hurt you, Miranda."
A smile lit her lips. "Tell me again."
"Huh? Oh, the out of work actress."
"No, you idiot. The other part."
"The part about …" Realization hit him at the same moment her smile gave way to laughter. "I wish I'd gone ahead with the real thing."
Her laughter quieted, and then went away. "What do you mean by that?"
"I …" He knelt on one knee in front of her. "I mean, marry me, Miranda." He didn't know what he'd do if she refused. "I can't imagine my life without you in it."
She turned her head away. A silver droplet rolled down her cheek until he caught it on a fingertip.
"Why?" Her voice was only loud enough for his soul to hear.
Answering in the same vein, "Because I love you." Anguish rammed into him. What if he was too late, or if she didn't care? "What do you want, Miranda?"
"You." She looked back at him. This time the tears in her eyes glistened and sparkled as she smiled. "Are you sure you want a ready-made family, complete with Pumpkin?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way." Then her words hit home. "You are pregnant." Joy burst through him.
"Oh, yes. And I wasn't kidding when I said that twins run in my family. They tend to skip a generation. It may be our turn."
"I can't wait." He turned to the receptionist.
The grandmotherly lady was sobbing into a handkerchief. She said, "Bueno," over and over again. When she had her emotions under control, she escorted Drake and Miranda into the lawyer's office.
* * * *
The hotel's honeymoon suite was waiting when Drake and Miranda arrived. As they rode the elevator up Miranda whispered to Drake, "I don't have anything, you know, special to wear. A wedding night deserves something unforgettable."
Thinking about the red satin jumpsuit he'd crammed into his suitcase at the last minute, Drake whispered back, "I've got the perfect thing."
"A toga?"
"What?"
She winked.
THE END
