Forgotten Honeymoon (11 page)

She might re-evaluate that sentiment if he
bankrupted her father’s company. “Very commendable.”

She frowned at his tone. “You’re grumpy
today,” she said, and handed him back the paper she’d taken.
“What’s the matter?”

He didn’t want to add to her worries and let
her know that she’d married a failure. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he
said gruffly.

“You need a break,” she said with decision.
She sat on the edge of his desk, swinging her sandaled feet. “Why
don’t you take me out to lunch? Or I’ll order something in. We can
eat Chinese food right here.”

He was tempted, but he had too much work. “We
ate lunch together yesterday.”

“That was Monday, Lars. Today is
Thursday.”

Now he was the one with the memory loss. “I
can’t afford to take breaks from my work day whenever you waltz in
here.”

“Then maybe I’ll stop waltzing in here, as
you so rudely put it.” She stood to leave and sank to the
floor.

Lars ran around his desk. Kelly lay silent,
unmoving on the carpet. He checked her heart, still beating, and
her chest rose and fell with each breath. “Claire!” he shouted.

His secretary ran into the room.

He cradled Kelly’s head in his hand. “I don’t
know what happened. She was standing here, and the next minute she
was out cold.”

“She must have fainted,” Claire said, taking
Kelly’s hands and rubbing them. “I thought she looked pale.”

Lars searched Kelly’s thin face. She was pale
and there were dark circles under her eyes. He felt like a selfish
brute for not noticing. “Kelly, darling,” he said.

Her eyes fluttered open. “What happened?” she
asked weakly.

“You fainted.”

“Oh, that,” she said as if embarrassed. She
brushed the hair away from her face and struggled to sit up. “I
must have stood up too quickly. Sorry to alarm you.”

“How long have you been fainting?”

“Not often,” she assured him. “I’ve blacked
out once or twice. It’s normal for pregnant women.”

What if she blacked out while she was
driving? “I don’t care if it’s normal,” Lars said, picking her up
easily. The sheer material of her dress floated over his arm,
reminding him of her wedding dress. “I’m taking you to see Dr.
Armanzo.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck for
support. She protested, “But your meeting --”

“To hell with the meeting.”

She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.
She said quietly, “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said
to me.”

Her words cut through him, and he knew he
hadn’t been doing well in the husband department.

#

Dr. Armanzo pursed her lips with disapproval.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Kelly. Your blood sugar is down. Are you
eating regularly?”

Kelly lay on the examining table, pleating
the paper gown in her fingers. Since she’d gotten pregnant, nothing
tasted good, but she knew that was a lame excuse. “I never eat real
meals. I’m more of a snacker,” she said.

“Then snack more often with three big snacks
a day,” Dr. Armanzo said firmly. She glanced over at Lars who stood
by the doorway, his arms folded, a stern expression on his
face.

“I’ll see to it,” he said calmly.

“And how are you sleeping?” Dr. Armanzo
continued.

“Pretty well. I don’t have to get up as much
to use the bathroom as I did in the first trimester.”

“She doesn’t sleep regular hours,” Lars
volunteered. “Sometimes she’ll get up in the middle of the night to
go work on a project.”

How did he know that when they didn’t even
sleep in the same room?

Dr. Armanzo shook her head. “Not good, Kelly.
You need to take better care of yourself and your baby. You’re not
gaining enough weight and the baby’s smaller than he should
be.”

Kelly felt a stab of guilt. “I’m sorry,” she
said quietly. “Overall, I’m so healthy, sometimes I forget that I’m
pregnant.” She addressed her stomach. “I’ll do better, baby. I
promise.”

Dr. Armanzo placed a plastic wand on her
abdomen and they heard a distinct shwaa shwaa sound. “That’s the
heartbeat,” she said. “In a few weeks you’ll be feeling the baby
move, too, and it will seem much more real.”

Lars stepped closer. “Our baby,” he said
quietly, and smiled down at Kelly.

She held out her hand for his and for a
moment they were together, listening to the miracle of the new life
they had created.

We’re going to be parents, she thought as she
looked at her husband’s handsome face. No matter how different she
and Lars were, the baby would draw them together with shared goals
and dreams.

Lars insisted on driving her home. “But what
about my car?” she asked.

“I’ll get someone to drive it home,” he
said.

Thus spoke the President of Rawlins Lighting.
“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? I need to get back
to the studio.”

“You should rest,” he said firmly. “You’ve
been doing too much, making your pots and also trying to decorate
the house. It’s not a race. We can have empty rooms for a few more
months.”

He was right. She had been racing around,
trying to get everything done. Did she think that if she made the
house perfect, he’d want to stay home more? How desperate was she?
“I’ll slow down,” she promised. One afternoon away from the wheel
wouldn’t kill her.

He nodded. “And we’ll get a cook.”

It was bad enough that the house was so big
that she had to have a cleaning service and a gardening crew, but
now they needed a cook, too? Lars had insisted on hiring help
because he knew KPots was her full-time job. But she didn’t want to
run into paid employees every time she turned around. It would make
her feel as if she lived in a hotel. “I don’t want a cook.”

Lars frowned. “Not every day. A few days a
week. Let me do this for you, please?”

He was concerned about the baby; he was
concerned about her.

Or maybe he wasn’t thrilled with her cooking.
She was a very indifferent,
throw-the-food-together-and-call-it-dinner kind of cook. And he was
a big man. Hummus and a plate of veggies wasn’t enough to fill him
up.

“All right,” she said, giving in. “But just
until the baby’s born.”

“Thank you.” He walked into the kitchen with
her, and stood, holding his keys, anxious to go. “Are you sure
you’re going to be okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, holding up the take-out
food he’d bought her for lunch. “Are you sure you don’t want to
join me? Fajitas are your favorite,” she said, shaking the bag to
entice him.

“I’ve got to get back to work.”

Of course
. She tried not to take his
rejection personally. She knew how important it was to him.

Her phone played a melody, indicating that
she’d gotten a text. She ignored it.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Is it your
parents?”

Her parents didn’t contact her often, but
when they did, Lars always wanted to know. She read the message.
“No, It’s from Andrea. She’s throwing a surprise birthday party for
Julie tomorrow night. She says we’re both invited, if you want to
go.”

“Tell her we’re not going.”

Kelly bristled at his tone. As far as she
knew, they didn’t have other plans. “I beg your pardon?”

“If you want to acknowledge her birthday,
send her a card.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, standing at attention
and giving him a mock salute.

He frowned.

She explained, “I’m not Claire or one of your
corporate minions.”

“I never said you were.”

“No, but you’re acting like I’m supposed to
jump to your command.”

“You need to take care of yourself. Dr.
Armanzo said --”

“-- to take it easy, not to stop life
completely.”

He reached out and touched her cheek in a
gentle caress. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Of course you can go, if
you feel up to it.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

He let his breath out slowly. “I didn’t mean
it that way. I was frightened when you fainted, I ... I’m afraid
I’m overprotective. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Or to the baby?

Kelly searched his clear blue eyes. She’d
chafed under her father’s loving concern for years; she didn’t like
to see the same tendency in Lars. But it was understandable because
they spent so much time together. They used some of the same
phrases and sometimes sounded alike.

But she did not want to argue with Lars. He
did care for her. It might not be love, but in time, it could grow.
She stepped closer, lifting her face upwards for a kiss.
“Lars?”

He pulled back as if embarrassed by his show
of emotion. “I need to get back to work,” he repeated stiffly.
“I’ll call around to find a cook, and I’ll probably be home late.
Good bye, Kelly.”

She curled her fingers into her palms to keep
from reaching out to him as he left.

Damn. She’d practically begged him to kiss
her, and he refused. This was the result of kicking him out on
their honeymoon. If she wanted to get his attention, she was going
to have to do something outrageous. But what? She paced across the
kitchen, deep in thought.

Maybe she should slip into his bed one of
these nights and surprise him.

She’d considered doing that before, but had
chickened out at the last minute. If she was going to seduce her
husband, she should do it soon, before she grew out of her sexy
lingerie. She glanced at her reflection in the microwave door and
smoothed the fabric of her dress over her slightly rounded stomach.
Maybe she was already too big. A lot of men didn’t find pregnant
women attractive. Did Lars? Did he think she was fat?

What would she do if he turned her down
again?

Or worse, what if he went through the motions
out of politeness?

She sighed.
Oh Lars. It was so much easier
when we were just friends
.

#

Saturday night, Lars called to say that he
would be working late again. Kelly didn’t believe him. Her father
had never put in such long hours. Lars was obviously trying to
avoid her.

She picked at the veal parmesan that the new
cook Mrs. Levine had prepared, and obediently swallowed several
bites. Dr. Armanzo had given her a food chart to fill out every
day, listing fruits, vegetables, grains and meats. Lars didn’t say
anything, but she’d seen him checking the chart magnetized to the
front of the refrigerator to see how well she was doing.

Kelly ate half a cup of green beans and wrote
it down on her chart. She didn’t like the regimentation, but she
was willing to do it to have a healthy baby.

After dinner, she flipped through cable
channels on the large flat screen television in the den. Nothing
looked good.

She wished she could call Brenda, but she was
on her honeymoon.

Kelly frowned. She and Lars had gone to
Brenda’s wedding the week before. She felt Brenda was making a big
mistake, but short of drugging the lemonade and kidnapping her,
there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She sighed. Lars
thought she was over-reacting. He liked Marius and said he seemed
“level-headed.”

Kelly wished them both well, even though she
feared the union wouldn’t last a year.

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck
seven times, and she remembered Julie’s birthday party. It seemed
like a million years since she’d gone dancing at a club.

She’d spent the past day and a half resting,
reading, and eating healthy food. She deserved some time off for
good behavior. “How’d you like to go dancing, baby?” she asked her
stomach.

No answer, but then she hadn’t expected
one.

“Okay, then let’s go,” she said. “We’ll wish
Julie a happy birthday, dance one song, and come home. Your Daddy
need never know.”

When she entered the club, Kelly was
surprised by how loud the music was. She’d been reading her
prenatal books and knew babies could hear things in the womb. When
they were born, they could recognize their mothers’ and often their
fathers’ voices. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long,” she said under
her breath. She’d just say hi to Julie and go home.

She found her friends near the back at a big
table. They were an eclectic bunch who liked to talk over ideas and
dance. “Kelly!” several cried, and hugged her. Kelly squinted
around the table. “Where’s Julie?”

“She’s not here, yet.”

Kelly had forgotten that sevenish often meant
eighty-thirty with her friends. She’d been spoiled lately by Lars’
strict punctuality. She checked her watch. She’d stay ten minutes,
max, and if Julie didn’t show, she’d leave. The music really was
too loud. It was enough to give anyone a headache. She sat down at
the table and ordered an orange juice.

Kelly looked around the club, at the people
dancing, the people drinking. Some were laughing, but it was
impossible to carry on a real conversation above the noise. Kelly
had never been much of a party girl, but after a long silent day at
her studio, she liked to go dancing, to connect with friends.

I’d rather be home
, she thought with
surprise.
Home in my quiet, peaceful home, with Lars.
And if
he were willing, they could put some CDs in the stereo and dance
barefoot in the living room.

She’d like to dance with Lars again. Dancing
with him had been the best part of her wedding day. For a few
minutes, she’d felt close to him, as if they really were man and
wife. Then she’d let her pride and suspicions ruin the rest of the
day.

“Where’s Lars?” her friend Gina shouted. Gina
was wearing all black leather tonight and bright red lipstick.

Kelly shook her head. “He’s not the club
type.”

Gina laughed. “You could have fooled me. I
remember the last time you were here and he showed up. When was it
-- February?”

“March,” Kelly corrected. It had to have been
that Friday night she couldn’t remember.