The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) (21 page)

So she crawled out of the bed, grabbed fresh panties and bra, nylons, a blouse, a skirt, and made her way to her bathroom. He used the master bath, which was smaller; she used the main, off the hallway.

In the mirror, her face looked green, her eyes red-rimmed with dark circles beneath. She dropped her pajamas onto the tile floor and stepped beneath the hot spray, letting its force beat the life back into her.

She still felt queasy by the time she’d dressed and put on her makeup.

Is this what a broken heart felt like?

* * * * *

Three days later, Zoe had to admit this wasn’t exactly how a broken heart felt. Instead, it could be how a brokenhearted
pregnant
woman felt.

Early on Saturday morning, she stood in the feminine care aisle in her local pharmacy and stared at the array of home pregnancy tests. How was it possible? She was on the pill. She’d missed her period, but she’d done that before. Her doctor had told her it wasn’t unusual. But she’d felt sick again this morning, and there were other things, a tenderness in her breasts. She’d gone online, researched symptoms, read every site. And she
knew
.

The last three mornings, she’d hidden the queasiness from Keith. The last three days, she’d ignored Spence’s calls, texts, and emails, despite the aching hole inside her. The last three evenings, she’d made dinner and smiled and watched TV and pretended everything was normal.

Keith had pretended, too, but they both knew something was wrong. He just didn’t have a clue how totally their lives were about to be changed irrevocably.

She read the packages, chose a brand, paid for it, and carried the bag next door to the restroom in the grocery store. In the quiet of the stall, she waited for the result.

When it came, she almost cried. Years ago, she’d wanted this. She’d gotten over that, accepted her life the way it was. She’d been fine, happy, she had a decent job and a good husband, and she didn’t need kids to be fulfilled.

Zoe bent over and hugged herself, rocking. The awful truth was that she’d lied to herself for all these years. Because she did want a child. She always had.

Now, when it was finally happening, it wasn’t her husband’s. The baby belonged to the other man. The man she couldn’t have.

* * * * *

She’d ignored his messages and texts. Spence couldn’t take it anymore. At lunchtime on Monday, he haunted the parking lot outside Bay Metals waiting for her. Some would call it pathetic. Spence saw it as determination.

Although he did feel conspicuous waiting in his car. He didn’t even know if she went out to lunch or brown-bagged it.

At twelve-thirty, she exited the building in running clothes, fitted pants and a shirt with zippered pockets for her keys and cell phone. Her long hair was restrained in a ponytail pulled through the back strap of her visor.

He got out of his car. She didn’t see him until he stepped straight in front of her.

Stopping short, her hand flew to her mouth. She swallowed, blinked at him, and he could have sworn something swam in her eyes. Tears? It couldn’t be. Maybe it was.

“Zoe.”

It was all she let him get out before she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Talk. That’s all.”

She glanced over her shoulder as if afraid someone might come out of the door. “You have to go. We said everything on the phone.”

He raised a hand as if he would have touched her, and she backed off. “We didn’t say anything, Zoe. You have to tell me what happened. Why the sudden change?”

“I told you. Keith doesn’t like it anymore.”

“What about you? You’re the one who has to choose the other man.”

She rolled her lips together, closed her eyes a moment. “Please. Just do this for me. Just leave it alone. Okay?”

There was definitely something in her voice, a quaver. “Zoe, we can work this out.”

She laughed, choked it off, put her hand over her mouth again, then dropped it to say,” I’m married. You and I can’t work anything out.”

“So, your husband doesn’t make love to you, and he lets you have sex with other men, but he gets to choose? That isn’t right.”

Her eyes darted around the parking lot again as if someone might be lurking, overhearing. But he’d kept his voice low. And so did she. “Please.”

“Please what?” He took a chance and regained the step she’d put between them. “Do you want me to beg? Because I will.” He laid his heart open for her. “This means more to me than a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits arrangement.
You
mean more to me.”

Hand over her mouth, she shook her head, blinked rapidly so a tear wouldn’t fall. Because that’s what it was, a tear. His heart turned inside out. He didn’t want to cause her pain. But he couldn’t let her go like this.

“I’ll play it anyway you want to,” he said softly, so close now he could smell the shampoo on her hair. “You name the rules. Whatever you want.”

“It’s too late for that,” she whispered. “Because I didn’t play by the rules either.” She skirted him, starting running, heading off between two buildings, perhaps a short cut to a running path.

He stood there watching the spot where she’d disappeared. She didn’t want it to end. If she had, she would have told him to get lost. There was hope. She felt emotion about him. Should he exploit it? Like she said, she was married. He had nothing to lose; she could lose everything. He should give her up. It was the right thing to do. A true gentleman would walk away.

Spence had never claimed to be a gentleman.

Chapter Nineteen

Zoe headed home on the dot of five o’clock whereas usually she didn’t make it out before six. But the end of the day couldn’t come fast enough. She was so tired, she could barely keep her head up. It could have been pregnancy. Or it could have been all Spencer Benedict.

Did he know how hard it was not to throw herself into his arms and tell him everything? Did he know how she craved him when he said she
meant
something to him? She wanted whatever he was willing to give. He’d smelled so good, she’d wanted to rub her face all over him, like a cat nuzzling close. She could still smell him now, as if his scent had imprinted itself on her.

But she was going to have a baby. She’d purchased two more test kits. They said the same thing. She had an appointment with her doctor tomorrow, but she didn’t need anyone to tell her. She could feel subtle changes in her body, her breasts slightly tender, even a bit swollen, the sickness, the fatigue. She’d damn near slept away the weekend.

All she wanted to do now was roll right from her car into bed, but when she pulled into the driveway, Alison’s BMW was parked at the curb.

Oh, please, no, not now.

Keith was so happy about his daughter’s pregnancy, the first grandchild. Alison was ecstatic. Zoe simply couldn’t handle it tonight.

They were in the kitchen, a pot boiling on the stove, the scent of spinach ravioli permeating the air, strong enough to make her feel like gagging. The thought of eating the ravioli, which was one of her favorites, made her ill.

“Glad you’re home early,” Keith said. “Alison was starving, so I had to start dinner.”

“Oh my God, Zoe, come here.” Alison flapped her hand. She was a pretty blonde with her father’s eyes. She’d pulled a chair away from the dinner table and faced it toward the kitchen. “The baby’s kicking. You absolutely have to feel this.” Everything was a new wonder to her.

Zoe gritted her teeth. She was so tired. She simply couldn’t face it. But she pulled a chair away from the table and sat.

“Here. Right here.” Alison grabbed her hand, pressing Zoe’s palm to the side of her belly. “There. You feel it?”

Zoe furrowed a brow. Her stomach churned. “Well, no, not exactly.” It was a physical ache simply to touch the mound of Alison’s child. If things were different…

“Okay, okay, wait.” Alison moved Zoe’s hand around as if it were a sonogram wand. “You felt it, didn’t you, Dad?”

“Yes, sweetie, I felt it,” he said indulgently as he tore lettuce and tossed it into a salad bowl. Then he stopped, a leaf in his hand, and stared at Zoe. The look in his eyes made her stomach plunge, as if he could see what was going on inside her. But of course, he couldn’t.

“Ooh, there.” A smile nearly split Alison’s face in two. “You had to feel that.”

There was a ripple beneath Zoe’s hand. Then another. It wasn’t exactly a kick. “It feels like the Loch Ness monster’s swimming around in there.”

Alison laughed. “The baby’s turning. I don’t know if that’s his foot or his hand or maybe even his head. It’s been happening the last few days. I just had to come and show you.”

“Then she said she was starving,” Keith groused good-naturedly. Zoe told herself she’d imagined that assessing look a few moments earlier.

It occurred to her then to wonder why he was home. “Did you leave early?”

He shrugged, his back to them.

“It was my fault,” Alison said, a sparkle in her eye that belied any remorse. “I was so excited, I just wanted to come right over.”

Alison’s husband was a lawyer, and they’d decided she would be a stay-at-home mom. Her job right now was getting the baby’s room together, even though the little guy wouldn’t be showing his face until sometime around Halloween.

The timer dinged, and Keith dumped the ravioli into the strainer. Another wave of spinach and cheese rolled through the air. Zoe put her hand over her mouth.

“Are you okay?” Alison asked, touching Zoe’s shoulder.

“Just a headache. That’s why I came home early.”

“And here I am bouncing all over you. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry.” Zoe put her hand on Alison’s belly again. “Ooh, there, that was definitely a kick.” She infused her voice with excitement, but inside, it fell flat.

This would be her in a few months. She couldn’t imagine the excitement. She could only imagine Keith’s reaction. She wasn’t young and in love with her husband, buying baby things, scouring stores, planning, hoping.

“I’m really not hungry,” she told Keith. “I just don’t think I can eat.” She put her fingers to her temple, rubbing it. But it wasn’t her head that ached. It was her heart, her soul. “I’ll just take some aspirin and lie down.” She put her hand on Alison’s knee. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not.” She beamed. “All the more ravioli for me. God,” she groaned, “I’m never going to get this weight off.”

She was all baby. Zoe didn’t see an ounce of fat.

Keith gave her an unreadable look as she passed through the kitchen. “Do you want me to save some?”

“No. I’ll just have a piece of toast or something if I need it.”

She couldn’t eat the ravioli, couldn’t even stand smelling it. And she couldn’t sit at the dinner table listening to Alison’s happy chatter. She simply couldn’t.

What was she going to do? How was she supposed to tell Keith?

* * * * *

“Thanks for ruining dinner last night.” Keith slapped a hand on the clock, shutting off the alarm.

Zoe had been dreaming of a fire alarm going off, and she was so big with child that she couldn’t get out of bed. She was going to burn up, die of asphyxiation. Then she realized the pillow was over head.

And Keith was snarling at her.

“What?” she muttered.

“Dinner. Alison was disappointed. She came over with her big news about the baby, and you walked out.” He threw the covers aside and sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to her.

Her stomach was rebelling. If she moved, she was afraid she’d throw up. “I touched the baby.” What more did he want? “But I had a headache.” She hadn’t gotten up again. She hadn’t even heard Keith come to bed.

“Would it have cost you so much just to have eaten with us, show some excitement?”

Where on earth was this coming from? She realized he’d been picking at her for a week. Since his lunch with Spence. Since their blow-up about it.

Oh yeah, she knew where it came from. “I’m sorry.”

He stood. She knew she should get up, too, but God, she was so tired, even after sleeping almost twelve hours. Besides, she didn’t want Keith to see her wince with the queasiness. Better to wait until he was in the bathroom.

So she closed her eyes, listened to the sounds until he turned on the water in the sink. Zoe finally managed to throw the covers aside. Standing, she made it halfway across the bedroom before her stomach started to twist. She put her hand over her belly, breathed deeply, willing away the sick feeling. She couldn’t feel anything in there, but when she was as far along as Alison, the baby would start to kick.

Despite the terror she’d felt since the moment she’d used the pregnancy test, there was also a sense of wonder, much like Alison’s. A baby. It was terrifying but still exhilarating, if she didn’t think about Keith or Spence or what would happen, if there was just the baby and her and nothing else to consider. She felt a flutter of sheer joy.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Her eyes snapped open, but the sudden move made her dizzy. She grabbed for the edge of the bureau.

Keith stood in the bathroom doorway, his toothbrush in one hand, an empty tube in the other.

Zoe swallowed back the nausea. “What do you mean?”

“What’s wrong with you?” He stared at her.

“Nothing. The headache.”

“You’ve still got it?” He didn’t look sympathetic.

This time she put her hand to her head. “Yeah.”

“You were acting like you felt sick.”

“You know I sometimes feel ill when I have a headache.” That was true, but it didn’t last until the next morning, especially when she’d slept through the night.

Why was he looking at her like that?

She felt queasy for a whole different reason. “Do you want to take your shower first or shall I?” They couldn’t run both showers at the same time and have enough water pressure.

“I have to shave first. But I need another tube of toothpaste.”

“There’s one under the cabinet.” She always stocked for him.

She left him then, padded into the bathroom, opened the shower door, and turned on the tap for the water to heat. Dumping her pajamas on the tile floor, she stepped beneath the spray. Her breasts were tender, and even the shower beating on them was too much. She put her back to the showerhead. Washing her hair, she closed her eyes against the soap. When she opened them again, Keith was watching her.