Forsaking All Others (From This Day Forward Book 2) (12 page)

He’s trying to kill me. I mean, what else could he be trying to do? My hormones are all over the place and just when I think he’s going to give in, he pulls back.

I’m breathless and he’s got a cocky grin on his face. Yeah, David knows exactly what he’s doing to me. He gives me another quick kiss before he goes to shower. Once he leaves, I have a sudden desire to cry again. I need to get these emotions in check.

I freshen up my makeup and pull my hair up as he moves effortlessly around me, grabbing a shirt from his closet. He comes back out, the towel slung low around his hips, and my mouth goes dry. The water beads down his body and traces over every muscle.

“You almost ready?” His words snap me out of my trance and I realize I’m staring blankly into the mirror watching his every move.

“Y-y-yeah…I’m good.” I put the cap back on the lipstick before realizing I never put it on. I take the cap off again and focus my attention on applying it carefully. I can see him watching me as I line my lips, his gaze is almost as intense as mine was. I snap the cap on and he blinks rapidly.
Two can play this game.

David is still standing in his closet, a shirt wadded up in his hand. I look at him innocently, “You going to wear clothes to dinner or just the towel?”

He glances down and shakes his head as if to clear his mind.
Elizabeth-1, David-0.

“Yeah, I’m uh…gonna change in the bedroom.”

I wink at my reflection when he closes the bathroom door and go into the closet to find something to wear.

I come out a few minutes later in a black one shoulder kimono dress and strappy heels. It was the only dress that was loose enough to disguise the fact that I’m carrying a tiny human inside me.

He’s watching
Sportscenter
when I walk into the living room so he doesn’t notice me right away.

“Do you care if I drive? I’m a little wary of going out to dinner with you behind the wheel, if you know what I mean.” I laugh as I say it, but I’m only slightly kidding.

“You let me drive you to lunch! You don’t trust my driving now, Beth?” He reluctantly peels his eyes from the television to answer me and I get the privilege of watching him open and close his mouth like a fish out of water.

I grin wickedly at him, “That was lunch, not dinner. I think it’s better if I drive. You coming?”

“You don’t even know where we’re going!” He calls after me as I open up the garage and climb into the driver’s seat of my SUV.

I gesture to the passenger seat and he gives me a resigned look before getting in. I turn and smile at him, “Where to, boss?”

He rolls his eyes at me, but I can tell he’s amused. “
Nick’s
. I wanted it to be a surprise, but someone here in this car is a control freak.”

Nick’s
…where it all began. No ulterior motives there, David. Nope.

I give him a fixed grin, “Great!”

I’ve just turned off our residential street when his hand reaches across and rests on my knee. “This is nice, Beth. Just you and me.”

I smile and agree as beads of sweat trail down my spine.
How can his touch affect me like this?

We reach the restaurant and find a parking spot in the crowded lot. David comes around and opens my door before grabbing my hand as we make our way across the gravel. This simple act is stirring up a lot of memories—the only problem is that I’m still unsure of when the memories occurred.

The air-conditioning is going full blast once we step inside, but with my husband’s hand on the small of my back, I’m burning up inside.
Once we reach the bar he leans into me so I can hear him over the crowd, “I’m David, by the way.” He extends his hand for me to shake. I grin up at him (that’s all I seemed capable of doing since I met him- grinning like a fool) and lean back into him, “David, I’m Elizabeth. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I sigh at the memory and David looks at me questioningly. “You okay, babe? Want to grab a table while I grab us some drinks?”

I nod before realizing that he’ll expect me to drink.
Shit!
“Why don’t you get the table and I’ll get the drinks—maybe find something on the patio.” I wink at him, rivulets of sweat on my back are making my dress stick to me.

“Yeah? Okay, but I’m not wearing an undershirt tonight so try not to spill!” I turn back to the bar when I feel his arms wrap around my waist. He nuzzles my neck and whispers in my ear, “Do you even know what I want?”

Me? Is it me? Please let it be me.

My heart is hammering in my chest when he gestures to the bar and I realize he’s referring to his drink order.

My words become jumbled up in my mouth and it takes me a second to compose them into an actual sentence. “Y-yeah, a Shiner like usual. R-r-right?”
C’mon tongue, work!

He steps closer to me as someone squeezes through the crowd, his eyes never breaking contact with mine. There’s such an intensity when he looks at me like this, it makes it harder to think clearly.

He smiles at me as though he’s amused, “Yeah, babe. I didn’t know if you’d remember.”

I did remember. I’m mentally giving myself a pat on the back when I realize I still have to figure out my drink situation. He squeezes my arm before pushing through the crowd and out onto the patio.

The bartender finally notices me and I shout out David’s order. As he brings it over, I lean in closer, “Hi. I’m pregnant. Is there any way you could get me a
Malibu
and pineapple, but make it virgin?”

He looks perplexed, “So, you want pineapple juice and a lime wedge?”

I force out a laugh, “Yeah. That.”
Seriously?

He brings it back over and I give him my card to start a tab, “Thanks—and if a sexy man in a gray shirt comes up…he looks kind of like Daryl Dixon from
The Walking Dead—
well, can you continue to make mine virgins and not tell him. Like a secret?”

He agrees, but walks away shaking his head. He must think I’m insane. Hell, I’m starting to think I’m insane.

I use my back to push open the patio door, carefully holding both drinks in my hand. I’m almost halfway across the patio when I see him. He’s sitting at the same table as when we first met and I’m once again hyperaware of my heart beating out a steady rhythm in my chest. I am about three steps away from him when I realize that I was focused on him and not the deck slats. My heel slips in perfectly, but this time I remain upright.

“Shit.” I mutter the curse aloud and he turns around to face me.

“I had a feeling that if I sat here long enough, I’d end up rescuing a beautiful woman,” He takes both drinks and places them on our table before dropping to his hands and knees to free my shoe. He looks up at me with that cocky grin and his southern accent is all of a sudden so much stronger, “You need some assistance, little lady?”

I playfully punch his arm, “I’m fine.” I grab the red straw and suck down some of my drink before realizing it really is just pineapple juice and I’m going to remain painfully sober.

He takes a swig of his beer while glancing at the outdoor menu, “Feels like old times, yeah?”

I take another drink, still alcohol free, before answering, “Yeah, I’ve gotten a lot of flashbacks since we stepped inside. It’s weird—David?”

He looks up at me expectantly, “Yeah?”

I take a deep breath, “What was I like…before?”

He takes another drink before asking, “How do you mean?”

I sigh, “I mean you’ve told me that the anxiety attacks were a recent thing, but I just wonder what I was like—I guess I just remember a lot of the bad stuff from before and I want to know if I’m more than that person.”

He moves his chair closer to mine and grabs my hands, “You were always more than that, Beth. You know, I thought you changed because I was gone so much. You were laid back, but you didn’t let me off the hook when I messed up. Before the accident and the affairs, you were a lot like you are now.”

I focus on the way his hands dwarf mine as he talks. “What about when I was a kid? I remember going to therapy when we moved here. Is that true?”

He nods, “Yeah, from what you’ve told me, it was just a handful of times. I don’t know what you expect me to tell you—we’ve both had our ups and downs, but I’ve loved you no matter who you’ve been.”

I squeeze his hand and offer to get us another round, as my mind is in need of a reprieve. David tries to stand up to go, “Babe, let me take care of that.”

I smile patiently, “Well, I need to go to the bathroom, so you gonna take care of that for me as well?”

He shakes his head and smiles before sitting back down in his chair. “I’ll be right here.”

I grab us another round after coming out of the bathroom. The bartender recognizes me so I’m spared from embarrassing myself again. I’ve just turned from the bar when I get the feeling someone is watching me. I look around the crowded room, but don’t see any faces I recognize. I shrug it off and carry our drinks outside.

I manage to time my bathroom breaks perfectly the rest of the night to where I’m in charge of getting drinks. It’s weird watching someone else drink to the point that they’re tipsy while you remain stone cold sober.

David got more animated with every beer and at one point pulled me to my feet to dance on the patio. Thankfully, it was more like swaying in one spot as I was not looking forward to getting reacquainted with the deck.

He held me tight and sang the words in my ear—something about reminding the other person of how their love used to be. I didn’t know who either of the singers were, but the song was beautiful.

Was that us?

Were we settling for good and not great? I found myself so caught up in the song that I began singing the words, ‘remind me’ back to him during the chorus. I opened my eyes to see that we were the only ones dancing and more than one person was staring, but I didn’t care.

I realized once we sat back down that David may have had one too many and decide it’s time to cash out our tab and get him home.
Home.

Well, I guess he would have to stay at the house, I didn’t know where his hotel was and I doubt he’d be willing to tell me. I pay the tab so we can be on our way.

“Did you just buy my drinks?” His voice is slightly slurred.

“Yes, I sure did. You’re a terrible date—I bet you expect me to drive you home now.”

His face falls, “Beth, I’m sorry. We got to talking and I lost track of how many I had.”

I place my hand on his cheek, “Stop, I’m kidding. Let’s get you home.”

As I lead him to my car, he speaks up, “Maybe I’m not drunk. Maybe,” at this he hiccups, “Maybe I just wanted your arms around me.” He nods as if to reinforce what he’s just said, but it looks more like he’s about to doze off.

I laugh and open the passenger door for him, even going so far as to buckle him in. This is not how I saw the night going, but as I can’t remember ever experiencing this before with him—I’m not even mad.

Once we get home, I get him into our bed—holding back when I help him out of shirt and jeans. He’s out by the time his head hits the pillow, so I leave a couple of aspirin and a bottle of water on the nightstand.

I don’t know how long I stand there, watching his chest rise and fall steadily, but it feels like a lifetime. I grab his clothes to take to the hamper, but change my mind at the last minute and keep the shirt. I wash my face and change into it. It hits me mid-thigh and I’m immediately enveloped in the smell of him.

I breathe deeply and sigh happily, my inner romantic nods her approval, while my brain is flashing warning signs. I choose to ignore it and climb into bed next to David. I curl my body around his and fall asleep almost instantly.

I dream I’m on a small boat in the middle of the ocean, being tossed helplessly by the waves. The feeling of being sea-sick is overwhelming. When I open my eyes, it’s still dark and the clock shows that it’s only three in the morning. I groan because the feeling of seasickness didn’t go away when I woke up. David is still dead to the world, his arm draped across me. I disentangle myself carefully so I don’t wake him. I move quickly, but stealthily through the dark house, my hand pressed over my mouth. I make it to the guest bathroom just in time to throw up pineapple juice onto the tile floor.

I clean up the mess once I’m done getting sick, but just as soon as I finish, another round of vomiting starts. When it’s over, I go to the kitchen and grab a bottled water from the fridge. I take a tentative sip and immediately run back to the bathroom.

This is bad.

I’ve dealt with morning sickness for the last month, but it’s never been this severe. I try taking smaller sips of water, but nothing stays down. I’ve thrown up so much that my throat feels raw and it hurts to swallow.

I’ve taken my pregnancy symptoms in stride up until this point, but if someone walked through that bathroom door and offered to carry the baby to term for me, I’d sign up in a heartbeat. I’m curled up in the fetal position with my face pressed against the cool tile when I feel the urge to vomit again. I throw up the little bit of water I drank, but my stomach is otherwise empty.

I’m just resigning myself to living out the remainder of my pregnancy on this bathroom floor when I hear hurried footsteps.

“Beth?” David is standing in the doorway in just his underwear, somehow looking better than I do in spite of all that he drank, “Baby, I heard you getting sick. Are you okay?”

I moan in response and lay my face back against the tile. He grabs a washcloth and runs it under the faucet. Then, he’s on his knees, wiping my face and neck with it. “What time is it?” My voice is raspy.

“Just after five. I woke up and didn’t know where you were until I heard you get sick. Guess you drank too much.”

I nod, even though it hurts my head to do so. He gets up and walks out while I resist the urge to watch him go.

He returns a few minutes later with a small bowl and a fruit punch Gatorade
.
He lowers the bowl and I realize it’s Cheerios.
David’s infamous hangover cure.
I’m amazed that I recalled it, all things considered.

“Try a couple of these and then take a drink. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

I grab a couple and pause, “How are you even functioning right now? You drank more than me.”
And mine were non-alcoholic!

He smiles, “I guess I’m not a lightweight like you, babe.” He strokes the hair off of my face before his gaze travels downward, “You’re wearing my shirt?”

I nod, very slowly.

“My shirt and nothing else?”

“Not the time, David. Not the time.” I pop the Cheerios in my mouth, willing my body to not reject them.

He exhales sharply, “Right. Go ahead and take a drink.”

I’ve just finished taking a drink when I feel everything coming right back up. I lean forward and get sick again. This process continues until I’m falling asleep in between episodes. David tries to wake me up to get me to take a drink, but it requires too much effort.

“Beth—open your eyes and look at me.” His tone is sharp, so I begrudgingly open one eye. He’s crouched over me, worry etched across his face.

I close my eyes again,
I just need five more minutes, Mom.

“Open your eyes, baby.”

I try to open my mouth to tell him to let me sleep, but it’s too hard. Maybe he can just read my mind. I begin vomiting again, but can’t move so I end up getting sick on the rug.

David lifts me up off the floor and carries me back to our bedroom. He gently places me on the bed and begins throwing on clothes. I close my eyes again, sleep beckoning me as he opens and shuts various dresser drawers.

“Here. Let’s get these on you.”

I startle awake as he struggles to get a pair of sweatpants on me. He manages to get them up around my waist with no help from me before lifting me off the bed and carrying me out to his truck. He reclines the seat so I’m not fully sitting up and buckles me in.

“Where’re we going?” The words all run together, like my tongue is refusing to cooperate.

He glances over at me as he backs out of the driveway. “I think you have alcohol poisoning. I’m getting you to a hospital!”

Hospital?

No.

He’d find out I was pregnant. I had to force my muddled mind to think of a solution.

“No. Just let me sleep it off.”

He shook his head and drove faster. I close my eyes to think and am immediately startled awake by him opening my door.

What? We just got in the car.

David unbuckles me and lifts me effortlessly into his arms and I see that we’re at the hospital already. He rushes me through the automatic doors and over to the registration desk.

I try to pick up my head, but it lolls back onto his shoulder. My body weighs too much right now.

“—drank too much last night—can’t stop vomiting…”

I feel the urge to vomit as he’s talking and a quick-thinking nurse grabs a blue bag and shoves it into his hands. I should feel some sense of embarrassment that I’m puking in an emergency room full of people, but I’m beyond caring right now.

One of the nurses goes to find a doctor before coming back to the desk. I manage to hear something about orders for a toxicology screen. That same nurse asks if they can get a urine sample on me and I give her a panicked look before she continues, “I’ll get a female nurse to help her.”

David looks ready to argue with her until I place a hand on his chest, “Please…”

They bring a wheelchair out for me and a female nurse pushes me through some double doors and into the nearest bathroom. Once the door clicks shut, I find the solution I was looking for in the truck earlier.

“I-I’m pregnant…”

Her eyes widen in understanding, “And you drank too much alcohol last night?” She’s working very hard to keep the judgment out of her voice.

“N-no,” I sigh the words, “I have morning sickness, but this is the worst of it so far.”

She nods at me and then cracks the door, “Barb? A word?”

An older woman walks in, her face giving the impression that she doesn’t take anything from anyone. The nurse fills Barb in on the situation and she gives me an appraising look.

“So, I take it the man out there doesn’t know this?”

I nod, my mouth is like the Sahara.

“Is he not the father then?”

I sigh, “He is. I just haven’t figured out how to tell him that. We’re sort of having problems right now.”

She nods seriously, “Is now the time you want to tell him?”

I shake my head vigorously, the action nearly doubling me over in pain.

Barb turns back to the nurse, “Okay then. Let’s get the urine sample and then get her into a room. I’ll find out who our on-call obstetrician is this morning and be right back.”

The nurse helps me with the urine sample and then Barb comes back. “Dr. Westland is on call right now—he wants to get an IV started, since it’s obvious that she’s severely dehydrated. He wants an ultrasound done as well.”

When my eyes go round, she amends, “We’ll have your um—”

“Husband.” I supply helpfully.

“Perfect. We’ll have your husband fill out some paperwork and financial forms while we do that.”

They don’t take me back to the waiting room, but into an exam room where both nurses help me into a gown and then through another round of vomiting.

They start an IV of fluids and Zofran to stop the vomiting while waiting on the doctor. David comes in a few minutes later and brings a chair over to the side of the bed.

“Back here again. I’d hoped you and I were done with hospitals for a little while—especially after the last time.”

I close my eyes and nod, “Me too.”

He leans over and grips my hand in his, “I’ve got to take better care of you.”

His words break my heart because he thinks that not only was he responsible for the car wreck, but for me being sick right now too.

I mean, he kind of is responsible for the sickness…

Thanks, logic.

The nurse comes back in not long after and takes David to fill out the insurance paperwork. Once he’s gone, the on-call obstetrician comes in and performs an ultrasound. My little gummy bear has changed in just over a week and is dancing around as though all is well.