Текст книги "The Girl of Sand & Fog"

Автор книги: Susan Ward

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

CHAPTER 32

I lie with my cheek on Bobby’s chest, passion-damp and physically drained, my limbs pressed closed to his, savoring the feel of his fingers lightly brushing my flesh.

The hours have passed like it was our first time together in Santa Cruz. Intense, fiery sex. Total emotional and physical connection. Glorious climaxes. Complete contentment. Breathe. Breathe. Then it all starts back up again, as if we’re so hungry for each other, no matter how often we’re together, it’s never enough.

Us.

From the first touch.

Even still today.

I open my eyes and stare out at the balcony beyond the bedroom. It’s dark. I’m not sure what time it is. I don’t care.

The way we’re clinging to each other makes me anxious about what comes next and I can tell that Bobby is holding back the things he wants to tell me as if he’s not ready to go there either yet.

Maybe he’s debating if he should.

Or still wants to.

I’m not sure which.

I lift my chin and study his face. It doesn’t matter either way. There isn’t a chance I’m letting him go ever again.

I meet his gaze squarely. “You want to talk. Let’s talk.”

His arms tighten around me.

His lips touch my hair.

He lies back, eyes closed, and for a few seconds I’m in agony as I wait. “I love you, Kaley.” There is an edge to his voice—regret?—as if his feelings for me are warring with something he’s not sure he still wants.

“I love you, too.”

He lifts his lids and his pupils are dilated, filled with tenderness, want, and—yep—uncertainty.

“I only stayed in Southern California after graduation because of you. I couldn’t leave without talking to you first. Without seeing what was still possible between us.”

“Everything is still possible between us.”

“When the lease is up on this place, I’m leaving. I don’t know for how long or where I’m going or even if I’ll ever come back.”

My insides go cold as my heart thumps against my breasts so rapidly it’s painful. “Leaving? You can’t go. Not now. We’re together. Stay—”

The look in Bobby’s eyes kills my words.

His smile is a touch sad. “I can’t, Kaley. I need to do this now or I will never do it. I’m going to head out on the road. No destination. Travel from city to city. See things. Experience things. Try to figure out if anything out there feels right to me.”

No, no, no.

He can’t leave.

I roll off him and sit up. “I don’t know how you can think that’s more important than us.”

He cups my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly. “I don’t know who I am, Kaley. Not really. I want to take off and see if something out there connects with me. Feels the way it should. Like a part of me that’s been missing that I haven’t known yet.”

He pauses for a moment as if he can see I need to catch up with what he’s saying. “I need to figure out who I am. You’ve only just started working through who you are. You still don’t know what having the truth about your dad means to you. And what it’s going to mean to your life.”

I brush at my tears. “I can’t believe you’re ending us again.”

His eyes widen as his gaze bores into me. “Ending us? That’s not what I’m saying. I stayed for you because I want you to come with me. I want us to figure all this out together. You and me. Like it’s been this year. The best year of my life. Like it should be always for the rest of our lives.”

With him?

Like that?

Just leave Pacific Palisades, our friends, our families, everything we know and everything familiar?

“You want me to come with you?” My mind is spinning. “How would we live? What would we do?”

He pulls me tightly against his chest. His arms are quivering and everything rushing inside him pulses beneath me.

He buries his lips in my hair. “It’s not like we’re broke, Kaley. I have money and so do you. We’ll live how we want. Do what we want. Stop where we want. You can film your documentaries. I bet there are hundreds of interesting films out there waiting for you. You can blog about whatever you want. And I can try to see if something out there connects with me.”

Connects with me?

Instant comprehension.

We are so alike.

Mismatched pieces.

In some ways perfectly matched.

In the important ways perfectly matched.

He leans in, brushing my lower lip with his before he kisses me. “Come with me, Kaley. You’re the only part of my life I can’t leave behind. The only piece of me that feels right. Take off with me. Be with me. Us. Loving each other, through anything.”

I want to say yes. It’s crazy how quickly the impulse in me to say yes screams from my core.

His mouth closes over mine, and we are kissing hot and hungry and needy again despite having spent all afternoon making love.

By the time he pulls back, I know what I’m going to do.

I press my cheek against his chest.

His arms tighten around me.

I peek up at him. “Are you really asking me to run away with you, Bobby?”

He flushes at my wording, but his smile grows larger. “I guess I am. Will you run away with me, Kaley Stanton?”

Shaking my head, I sink back against his chest.

This is crazy.

But it makes sense.

Definitely better sense than how I resolved my issues with my father.

“This is nuts. Do you know that? And I shouldn’t even consider it—I’m enrolled in USC film school for this fall and I’ve worked damn hard to get there—but I’m seriously thinking about it. Do you want to know why? It’s not just because I love you. It’s exactly something my Grandpa Jack would say or do or encourage. He always says the best thing a person can do is get lost for a while. Let it all go. That sometimes it’s the only way you can find yourself.”

When Bobby pulls back there’s a sheepish grin on his face. “Who do you think I’ve been hanging out with and talking to the last four months while you were away? Working through things with? Getting advice from?”

Oh no.

It can’t be.

“Grandpa Jack?”

“I spent a lot of time surfing in Santa Barbara while you were away, Kaley. Had a lot of long chats sitting on a board out in the ocean with Jack.”

My eyes grow large. “You have?”

With his thumbs he brushes the corners of my lips. “I missed you so much, baby. Spending time with your grandfather was the closest thing I could get to spending time with you. You may look like your dad, but in here”—he taps the spot above my heart—“you are your grandfather.”

That was kind of sweet.

Still—

He did dump me four months ago.

Shit, am I really considering taking off with him on our first day back together?

I need to slow this down.

Think.

I crinkle my nose. “Grandpa Jack is the closest you could find to me?”

Bobby’s eyes shimmer. “You’re pretty much all we talked about. I needed to talk to someone. So much had happened. I love you so much. It was my mom’s idea. Jack is a good listener.”

My brow crinkles. “You know, you could have just choked down your pride, hopped a plane, and joined the tour if you missed me.”

“No. I couldn’t.”

My temper flares. “Why not? Was being right more important than being with me?”

He rolls his eyes, exasperated.

“You could have come to me, Bobby,” I repeat stubbornly.

He leans in until his forehead is resting against mine. “No. I couldn’t. And it didn’t have a thing to do with pride or being right. Your dad threatened to kick the shit out of me if I didn’t stay away for the entire four months. I’m almost positive I can take him, but to be honest I didn’t want to because I knew he was right when he asked me to do that.”

What the fuck?

I pull back from him, staring in disbelief. “What are you talking about? You stayed behind because my dad asked you to?”

He nods. “Yep. He showed up at my house the night before he left California with you. He asked that I stay behind, not go on tour with my family, and I respected him for it and so should you. He wanted some time alone with his girl without interference to work on his relationship with you. I had to respect that. Give it to him. Even if you were pissed, didn’t understand, and mistakenly thought I’d broken up with you.”

What?

My emotions explode in a leveling array.

“Mistakenly?” I counter heatedly. “You did break up with me. I remember every word you said the night before I left. You broke my heart. Do you think a girl gets something like that wrong?”

He gives me a contrite expression. “I pretended to break up with you. I didn’t want you skipping out on your dad and coming home to be with me—”

My cheeks burn red. Jeez, why are all guys, even the good ones, totally conceited jerks at times? “As if,” I taunt, grimacing.

“You needed to work through things with your dad. And you have. Now it’s time to work on us.”

“I should be pissed at you. That was a mean thing to do, Bobby. Not to explain. To let me think we’d broken up four months ago.”

His lips make a slight curl downward. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Letting go, not telling you why so you wouldn’t get more pissed at your dad, and letting you be where you needed to be without me. I love you, Kaley. If that doesn’t prove it, nothing ever will.”

We stare into each other’s eyes.

“This is crazy, Bobby. One minute you’re dumping me; the next asking me to run away from home with you.”

“Not crazy at all. And I’m not asking you to run away with me. I’m asking you to get lost with me.” His hands close on my cheeks, holding my face with his palms as his intense green eyes claim me lovingly. “Get lost with me, Kaley Stanton. I want to spend the rest of my life lost with you.”

CHAPTER 33

 

Two years later

I drive down the bumpy gravel road in the center of a dust cloud that moves with Bobby’s Aston Martin and makes it damn near impossible to see through the windshield.

After wandering from state to state by car, stopping where we want, doing what we want—Bobby usually just getting to know people and locales, and me filming whatever catches my eye—we’re finally back in California.

Three months ago we started working our way down the coast from Seattle back to Pacific Palisades and our families. Our home state has changed a lot in the two years we’ve been gone. There’s been a lot to film and experience.

I crank up the air conditioner in the car. Fuck, it’s dry in the Central Valley of California. Hot. Dusty. No rain. Maybe people would start taking the drought seriously if more people could see this or at least watch my vlog and films.

I roll to a stop in front of a small adobe ranch-style house in the middle of a clump of barren earth in the middle of nowhere.

That’s what the center of the Golden State feels like. The middle of nowhere. The land before time. Or maybe I should say the land before urbanization. A strange, brown, uninhabited piece of earth completely unlike the trendy, elite coastal towns I was raised in.

I grab my notepad from the passenger seat beside me and jot that down. I might need it for the next installment of ‘Forgotten California’, my hard-hitting documentary series I upload each week on my rehabilitated serious-news-only Kaley’s World website.

Yep, that’s what I do now. I make serious films with serious subject matter, but I post them on Kaley’s World because, what the heck, after I destroyed my dad’s house in a streaming live video it still gets a shitload of traffic. I cringe, even more embarrassed today about that stunt than I was immediately after I did it, trapped in the shitstorm of being an Internet sensation. Why shouldn’t I put the continued traffic on the site to good use? And raising people’s awareness of the tragedy happening in my state because there is no water is good use.

I lean over the steering wheel, looking up through the windshield. Bobby is sitting on the roof of the house, shirtless, drinking a beer with the old man we met in town last night.

My features soften from my fast-rising emotions. I never know what Bobby is going to do on this strange journey we’ve been on.

Last week, we made an impromptu stop at a water distribution station in a tiny town thirty miles out from Fresno and Bobby spent the day working at a relief center, handing out water. I got some great footage there, but it blows my mind that there are people in California without running water now who have to go to relief centers to fill buckets and get bottled water.

In the richest country in the world there are people—usually the poor. The poor are always first to be hit—without water.

Shameful.

I jot down a few more notes and slap my journal closed.

I patiently wait for Bobby to climb down from the top of the house. The vision he makes causes a smile to claim my lips.

Bobby can’t drive by a person in need without spending time with them. Trying to help. Trying to understand their life. Or just working his tail off, like it looks like he did today given what a hot, sweaty mess he is.

I’m not sure how the random acts of kindness fit into this journey for him. But then, I don’t need to understand it. I love him. That makes everything OK and something we just do.

Today he’s helping an old, weather-worn man fix his roof.

Tomorrow—who knows?

The only thing I know for sure is that I am and always will be in love with Bobby Rowan. That’s the most important thing this two-year journey has taught me.

My phone rings. I rummage through my tote, check the caller ID and then swipe answer.

“Hey, Pop.”

My dad’s laughter floats through the receiver. “You sound cheery. How’s my girl? Where are you?”

“In California. Just north of Fresno. Everything good at home?”

“Good. We all miss you. You coming home anytime soon?”

I smile. “Bobby and I discussed that last night. We are. We’re heading back to Pacific Palisades tomorrow. We should be home in a few days.”

“It’s only—what?—a five-hour drive from Fresno. Why a few days?”

I laugh. “I film things along the way. Haven’t you seen my documentaries on my website? I can’t believe that Mom hasn’t been showing you the installments of my California drought coverage.”

My dad laughs, amused. “Yes, I’ve watched your vlog. I’ve read your online articles. I’ve seen your films. And, no, your mother didn’t have to show me. I can spy on you kids as well as Chrissie can without her help.”

“Oh really. Since when?”

My dad’s laughter grows stronger. “Since you took off with your boyfriend and it’s the only way I can keep tabs on my girl.”

My smile spreads across my entire face.

“I really do miss you, Dad.”

“I miss you, too, Princess. So why don’t you come home?”

I make a playful groan. “I am. Jeez, you’re starting to get as bad as Mom with the guilt and pressure thing.”

“Ah, speaking of your mother, Chrissie told me to tell you that she got that letter you were expecting, scanned it and e-mailed it to you.”

My heart stills. “She did? I haven’t seen it yet. Wait, Pop, I want to open my e-mail and make sure Mom didn’t foul up and that it’s there.”

“What’s going on, Kaley?”

I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Nothing. It’s just some research I wanted that I couldn’t get online. Hold on.”

I grab my tablet, connect to the car mobile hot spot—oh please, let it work here in the middle of nowhere—and then log on to my e-mail. Relief shoots through me as it starts to load.

I scan my loading e-mails.

There it is.

I click open the attachment.

I quickly read it.

My heart stops.

“Oh God.”

“Sweetheart, are you all right?” my dad asks, suddenly sounding concerned.

“I’m OK,” I mumble as I continue to read.

Holy shit.

Right there.

Names of parents.

Their dates of birth.

Location of birth.

Even a last known address.

My heart is racing so fast I can hardly breathe. I turn off my Surface and set it aside. I wonder what Bobby is going to think of this. Maybe I should have asked him, instead of filling out the forms myself pretending to be him and submitting them to the Los Angeles Department of Social Services for his adoption file.

Too late now.

“Kaley, what’s going on?”

Fuck, I just left my dad hanging. “Nothing. Everything is good. I think we’ll be home no later than Friday. Filled with news and definitely ready to see you.”

“News, huh? What’s going on, Kaley?”

He sounds super concerned now.

Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that last part.

When did my dad get so suspicious?

My cheeks warm. “Nothing. It’s just an expression.”

A long pause. “Not buying it. You can explain when you get here. See you soon?”

“Soon, Dad. I promise.”

Click.

I set my phone back into my tote just as Bobby starts crossing the driveway toward me. I grab my camera, pop from the car and quickly snap some pictures of him.

He gives me a pained look.

I smile as I watch him open the passenger door. “That one I’m sending to Linda,” I taunt across the roof. “That picture she’ll love. You looking like a construction worker. I bet she uses it for the Christmas card.”

He leans, arms on the car, shaking his head at me. “Very funny. Why don’t we use it for our Christmas card? Our first one as Mr. and Mrs. Rowan.”

I copy his posture with my arms on top of the car. “Say that again.”

He smiles. “Which part?”

My eyes widen. “The good part.”

“Mrs. Rowan,” he says in a husky, exaggerated way.

I bite my lower lip. “I love hearing that. I wish people still called each other Mr. and Mrs. I could hear that all day and never get tired of it.”

He arches a brow. “Then why haven’t you wanted to tell our parents we got married last month?”

“Because I want to tell them in person. Especially since we got married without them.”

“Who should we tell first? My mom? Your mom? The moms together? Or all our parents together?”

I gnaw my lower lip as if trying to decide, but I already know. “My dad. I want to tell my dad first and I want to be alone with him when I tell him.”

The expression softens in his eyes, a tender look of understanding and approval. “OK. Your dad. Alone. First.”

I love that he gets that without asking me to explain.

“Thank you. My dad, then you have to tell everyone else all on your own.”

“Kaley—”

I climb into the car before he can finish and Bobby settles in the passenger seat. I turn on the ignition and head down the road.

He grabs from a cooler a chilled bottle of Gatorade, twists off the top and downs nearly half of it. He leans back against the headrest.

“God, I’m exhausted. That man was over seventy and I could barely keep up with him. We started at 8 a.m. and just finished now without a break. I don’t know how he does it.”

I laugh. “You probably do more during your nights than he does. He’s more rested in the morning.”

His lids lift and the look in his eyes sends a current through my veins. “I definitely have a hotter wife.”

I lapse into silence and debate whether I should tell him the major news I’ve been keeping from him for weeks.

I park at the motel we’ve been staying at, the only one in the gas and food stop exit near the 99 Freeway that pretends to be a town. I stare at the run-down building. Maybe I should wait. This is not a romantic, marital kind of setting, and I want this to be a perfect memory for us.

This is not perfect. The motel is clean, but that’s about all I can say for where we’re staying tonight. Yep, I should wait and not do it here.

Bobby opens his door and sighs. “I’m so tired I don’t know if I can make it to the room.”

I laugh. “You better. I don’t think I can carry you.”

He shakes his head. “Do you know that old man offered to pay me today? He got all emotional when I wouldn’t take his money.”

My brows hitch up. “Really, how much?”

Bobby grins. “Forty bucks.” He laughs. “I’m driving an Aston Martin—we really need to unload this car and get something else—and he offers to pay me because I helped him today with his roof. I hope that isn’t the way our country has become and I just don’t know it. That people don’t help people unless they’re paid to.”

“Most people aren’t as good as you, Bobby.” I slip my hand around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. I ease back enough to smile in his eyes. “I love you.”

He sort of droops into me. “I love you, too, baby. But don’t think you’re getting any tonight.”

I laugh. “Wasn’t planning on it. And I think I’ve already gotten more of you than I should.”

He frowns, lifting his head to study my face.

Shoot, why did I make that last joke?

I climb quickly from the car, hurrying toward our door, and then slip the key into the lock. Keys. A definite indication we are somewhere not pricy and stylish.

I flip on the light, enter our room, and drop my stuff on the desk.

I turn toward Bobby as he closes and bolts the door.

I lie on my side on a bed and watch him start to undress.

“There are two beds,” I say. “Since you don’t want to give me any, maybe we should each sleep in separate beds tonight. You really do look worn out. But you really do look hot when you’re a sweaty mess. I may not be able to resist myself and jump you even though you are exhausted.”

Laughing, he puts a kiss on my head. “Just let me take a shower. I might get a second wind.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not counting on it with the way you look.” I crinkle my nose. “Or the way you smell. Nope, you’re the one not getting any tonight.”

“You’ll change your tune once I’m clean,” he says in a sexy, half whispering voice.

“You are so conceited, Bobby.”

He grins. “Nope. I just know my wife.”

I keep my face carefully blank. Not as well as you think, Bobby. I wait until he’s out of view in the bathroom and I hear the water turn on before I lie back on the bed, turning my decisions over and over again inside my head. My first impulse is always to run and tell Bobby everything. It’s so freaking hard not to, to wait and try to do it at the right time, in the right way.

But Bobby is not just my husband. He’s my best friend and I want to share everything with him.

I want to tell him so badly…

I cross the room, take my Surface from my tote, sit back on the bed, and log on to my e-mail. I’ll let the e-mail decide. If the last known locations of either of his parents are a reasonable drive from where we are, I’m telling Bobby everything tonight.

I quickly search through the attachment. No last known address for his birth mother, but the dad is in Lodi, California.

Lodi? Lodi? Lodi?

Where the fuck is that?

I do a Google map search.

Oh crap, that’s not far.

Isn’t there a song about Lodi?

I Google again. Yep, there’s a song by Creedence Clearwater Revival. I don’t like the lyrics. Stuck in Lodi again. Doesn’t sound like a great place for a milestone moment.

Bobby doesn’t even want to find his birth parents.

Maybe I should leave it alone.

My other secret reminds me why I shouldn’t.

“What are you sitting there plotting?”

I look up to find Bobby standing in the bathroom door—smelling good, looking good—waiting expectantly with only a towel draped around his hips.

I flush. “Nothing.”

He goes to his bag and pulls out a pair of shorts. “You’re a terrible liar. Do you know that, Kaley?” He drops his towel and pulls on his shorts, and then sinks down beside me on the bed. “Are you going to tell me what you’re hiding from me? Something has been going on with you for weeks.”

I debate.

He waits.

Fuck. No point delaying even if this room is not the scene I pictured in my head. I rummage through my bag, pull out the small case I carry my tampons in, kiss him on the cheek, curl into his side, and drop the white stick with the blue cross onto his lap.

“There, that’s my secret,” I announce, anxiously trying to read his reaction. “I don’t know if this is good or bad. We haven’t really talked about kids. Blue means pregnant.”

I wait. He’s just staring at the stick. He looks like he’s in shock.

“Aren’t you going to say something, Bobby? You better say something soon or I’m going to freak out—”

It happens so fast—being pulled into his arms, crushed into his chest, and his mouth closing in on mine—that the last of my rambling words are trapped in my throat.

When he finally pulls back, he’s breathing like he just ran a marathon. “Oh fuck. I’m going to be a father. How? When?”

I make a face at him. “How? Really? You just asked me how?”

He laughs, but the entire surface of his body is trembling. “Oh God, I can’t breathe.”

“Can’t breathe? Is that good or bad?”

His expression makes tears rise to my eyes. “Good. Definitely good. How could you ask me that, Kaley?” He lies back on the bed, taking me with him and holding me close. “We’re going to be parents. We’re going to have our own family. I’m going to have my own family.”

This time the tears give way as I pick up on what he hasn’t said: a connection to someone by blood. Absolute. From the start. No unanswered questions. No missing pieces. Complete.

God, how foolish I am at times. I shouldn’t have worried even for a second about telling him. I should have known how he’d take it, how important us having a baby someday would be to him even if we haven’t discussed it.

I kiss him on his chest. “Pretty wonderful, huh?”

He stares at me, his eyes sparkling. “How long have you known?”

“Two months.”

His brows lower. “Two months? And you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t want you to think that the only reason I agreed to marry you was because you knocked me up.”

He stills, anxiously studying me. “It isn’t, is it?”

“No. Of course not.” I settle into him, moving an arm across his stomach and this time holding him. “So this pretty much seals the deal. We need to go home. Tell the families we got married and that you knocked me up.”

Bobby grimaces. “Oh, this is going to go over great with your dad. Can you use a different word when you tell him that you’re pregnant?”

We both erupt into laughter.

Once he’s calmed, I lean up and gaze down at him, smiling. “Can you imagine how crazy your mom is going to be when she finds out she’s going to be a grandmother? We definitely need to figure out where we want to live. I need to see a doctor soon. I’m in my third month. And we need a home.”

He inhales deeply then exhales loudly. His hands take hold of my face. “Whatever you want. That’s what we’ll do.”

I shrug. “I don’t know what I want. I haven’t gotten to thinking about that yet. I’ve been a little preoccupied with the how to tell you part.”

His hand moves slowly under my shirt and starts to inch upward to my breasts. “I know what I want. I want to make love to you. Right now. This second.”

He turns me beneath him on the bed. “It better be more than a second,” I warn between kisses, “or you are definitely going to be sleeping in the other bed the rest of the night.”

He has me half undressed before I stop him.

“Wait. There is something else I have to tell you, Bobby.”

“Now? Can’t it wait?”

I shake my head, pull away from him, grab my tablet and click it on.

Bobby falls back on the bed, groaning. “Kaley, what are you doing?”

I open the attachment but I don’t let him see it yet.

“I’ve done something I need to tell you about.”

His eyes shoot open. “What?”

He sounds alarmed.

Damn, why did my voice have to sound all worried and shit?

I search for the right words to ease into this. “I know what you said, how you feel about this, but I thought it was important because we’re having a baby.”

He sits up, tense. “You thought what was important?”

I clutch the tablet even more firmly against me. “Finding your birth parents.” Fuck. Everything in his body goes rigid. “Hear me out before you get angry, OK? I’m a mommy-to-be here so remember that before you get really pissed off. I know my parents. My genetic history. But I want to know yours, too. Those things are important when you’re having a baby.”

He stares at me, the light completely gone from his eyes. “Fuck, what did you do, Kaley?”

Oh crap.

I don’t like the look on his face.

This isn’t going to go well.

I’ll just dump it between us, one dump, no more easing into it.

“I asked Linda what agency you were adopted from. I filled out the forms—as you, by the way—to unseal your birth records. And my mom received the documents, scanned them and e-mailed them to me. I know who your birth parents are and where they live. At least, your birth dad. I know where he lives. There wasn’t a last known address for your birth mother, but maybe your dad knows and we can find her that way.”

His jaw drops. “You did what?”

I set the Surface onto the bed between us. “I found your father. He’s in Lodi. Less than two hours from us and, Bobby, we are going there tomorrow before we head back to Pacific Palisades. You just said whatever I want. I want to meet my child’s biological grandfather.”

He springs from the bed, pacing and raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how you could do this without discussing it with me.”

I follow his agitated movements. “I can do it because I love you and I’ve got your baby growing in me. That gives me a say in whether we find your birth parents or not.”

He stops. “A say: yes. Total vote in decision process: no.”

I pout. “Well, you got to make our last major decision all on your own.”

“And what would that be?”

I arch a brow. “That would be when you decided that not having a condom didn’t matter and we were doing it anyway. Your exact words, Bobby. And you were wrong. It did matter. One time not shooting into a cap and here I am pregnant.”

A flush rises on his face. “That’s different. And how the fuck was I supposed to know you’re just like your mother? A fertility machine.”

I stare at him, not really angry because I know I’ve pushed the limits with this, but I pretend to be angry. “Well, that was a crummy thing to say to your pregnant wife. You’re definitely sleeping in your own little double bed tonight.”

His eyes scream I’m sorry but he doesn’t say it.

Yep, he’s really pissed.

Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this.