A Pregnancy Scandal (6 page)

She glanced at the clock. 1:00 a.m. Had Phillip fallen asleep somewhere else? Since it was her house now too, if she wanted to get up and find her husband, that was her right. If any of the servants were wandering around this late, they probably wouldn't think anything of it. Would they?

She bit her lip.

The way she felt—lost, adrift, scared—had nothing to do with what the new lady of the house should be allowed to do. She missed Phillip. Marriage was new and the house was new and being pregnant was new. She needed to not be alone right now.

Throwing on a robe as she padded to the door, Alex wandered down the hall to the ornate staircase that curved to the marble floor below. Soft, hidden lighting somewhere in the recesses of the stairs guided her path as she crept to the first floor. Otherwise, the house was dark.

Except for Phillip's study. A lamp spilled a glow into the hall through the slightly ajar door. Pushing it open, she peered over the edge of the couch, which faced away from the door and overlooked a small courtyard outside the triple bay window. Phillip indeed had fallen asleep on the couch, still dressed, still sitting up against the plush cushions.

She skirted the couch and stopped short of touching him. Her hand fell to her side as she took a moment to study this man she'd married. In sleep, his handsome face had relaxed. Normally, he had this energy about him that drew her eye...and everyone else's. Charisma was a big part of his appeal, no doubt, but in this quiet moment, she could also appreciate other subtleties, like his strength, both internal and external.

She might have leaned on that a little too hard today. But the day had been difficult. Other than her mom and bridesmaids, the crush of people at the ceremony and the reception had been Phillip's guests. And every eye had been turned on her. It had been exhausting to keep up with what little conversation she had been included in.

Then, as now, she sought the one person who was supposed to be her lifeline in this deal. Whether he was annoyed at her or not, she needed the contact. He was leaving tomorrow for Washington and they'd had precious little time together as it was, thanks to her morning sickness.

Gently, she touched his shoulder. “Come to bed.”

His eyelids blinked open but he didn't immediately stand. “What are you doing here?”

She flinched and tried to catch it, but she'd never been good at hiding her thoughts. And that terse comment had not been the reception she'd anticipated. “Looking for you. I was lonely and you weren't in bed.”

“For a reason,” he muttered. “You should go back to sleep. You're pregnant.”

Hands on her hips, she scowled down at this grumpy man she scarcely recognized. “What?
Pregnant?
When were you going to tell me about this?”

A smile tugged at his lips, though he tried to fight it. “I just meant you need your rest and I didn't want to bother you. You're sleeping for two now.”

“Is that why you didn't come to bed?” The light dawned then. Maybe his absence had less to do with disappointment in her and more to do with a misguided sense of sacrifice.

“Among other reasons,” he returned. “Figured it was better not to tempt fate after what happened in the limo.”

The look he shot her should have been lascivious, but she sensed there was something else underneath it. Something he wasn't planning to share with her. Instead of doing as he'd practically ordered and hightailing it back upstairs, she sank onto the couch next to him. “Is it weird to think of sharing a bed?”

He shrugged without looking at her. “Not weird. Different.”

How selfish was she? All this time she'd been caught up in her own fears and hang-ups, never realizing he'd stumbled into some internal roadblocks, as well.

“We don't have to,” she said instantly. “There's no reason to rush things.”

Perhaps it would help to give them both a bit of breathing room. She could get her bearings and figure out how to stop feeling so much like she'd stepped off the edge of a cliff with no wings. He could take some time to work through...whatever was worrying him.

Silence filled the space and she glanced at him. They'd never had trouble talking before. In fact, some of her favorite memories involved deep discussions about random subjects of which they'd always seemed to have an endless supply.

Not only was Phillip grumpy tonight, but he'd added a distance into the mix that she didn't especially like.

“Hey.” Impulsively, she clasped his hand. “We're supposed to be partners. If something's bothering you, we should talk about it.”

She wanted things to be like they'd been before. Was that too much to ask? Had marriage actually driven them apart? If so, that was a side effect someone should have warned her about before she'd said “I do.” Regardless, she'd made a deal and she'd stick to it. She just hadn't counted on it making them both miserable.

He stared down at their joined hands for so long, she thought he wasn't going to answer. But he didn't pull away, so that was something.

“You know this is where I lived with Gina, right?” he finally asked.

His first wife. He rarely talked about her other than to say they'd been very much in love, so Alex's knowledge of the woman was limited. But she would definitely like to hear more, especially if it meant she didn't have to go back to that lonely bedroom just yet.

She nodded. “It's okay. I don't mind. We both had other lives before we met.”

He flashed her a brief smile of appreciation. “That's not weird for you?”

It hadn't been until he brought it up. Should she be worried about competing with a ghost? “We talked about this last week. This is your ancestral home and I had no particular attachment to mine, so...here we are. I wouldn't say it's weird, just different.”

An intentional echo of his words. Clearly they both had some adjusting to do. But for the good of the baby, they were in this together, for better or worse.

“I appreciate that. And the pass on sharing a bedroom. That is something we should probably ease into. More than anything, I want to be sure you feel like you're being treated fairly.”

Fair? She wasn't being forced to raise her child alone and their marriage had the best possible basis for lasting because they'd established easy-to-follow rules up front. What wasn't fair about that? “This is still new, but I certainly don't feel like I'm being taken advantage of.”

“Good. It would be hard for some women to be in a marriage of convenience with no hope of having her husband fall in love with her.”

They'd had this discussion once already, but that had been before they'd actually tied the knot. Now it had a sense of finality that hadn't been there before. She was living in his house, sharing his name and pregnant with his child, but she would never have a place in his heart.

Yeah, she was okay with that. Love didn't exist. Or rather, it didn't last. Except maybe it did for some people. Phillip and his first wife obviously, and probably some other people. Cass and Gage, for example. If anyone could defy the odds and have a lasting love, her money was on those two.

She frowned. So if it lasted for some people, what if it could for her and she never had the chance to find out? That was the crux of Phillip's question. What if she woke up one day in a loveless marriage and that wasn't okay anymore?

“I signed up for no expectations, Phillip,” she countered with a bravado she suddenly didn't feel. “That means I'm not expecting anything more than what we agreed to.”

But that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to
hope
for something more. If Phillip had loved Gina, he obviously had the capacity for it. Maybe part of
no expectations
could be taking time to explore what could happen between Alex and her husband inside of a safe agreement. No pressure. No one scouting for the exit. No idea what it would look like. Just two people taking it slow so no one got hurt.

Maybe that was the key to getting their relationship back to the way it had been before they'd got pregnant and married. Because she wanted that easy, flirtatious camaraderie back.

If love was in the cards, that was strictly a bonus.

Six

B
y Sunday evening, the distance Alex sensed between her and Phillip hadn't disappeared.

He spoke. He listened. Sometimes he smiled. But he'd moved some things to a bedroom down the hall, essentially kicking himself out of his own room—which only made sense, he argued, because he was going to be in Washington most of the time. He didn't touch her, even casually, and all of their conversations skated along a very practical edge. Of course they had to talk about logistics and get used to living with each other. But did it have to be so...clinical?

It was like he'd flipped a switch.

While he packed for the trip back to Washington, Alex sat in the breakfast nook adjacent to the kitchen, a spot she'd discovered by accident, but liked very well. Franka, the stout German cook Phillip employed, had welcomed Alex into the kitchen and the two women had had a couple of friendly conversations.

Which was nice. She needed a friend in this giant house, especially now that Phillip would be gone until Friday. For the time being, he planned to commute back and forth until they could enjoy a less restrictive schedule. Alex was hoping once her morning sickness wore off, she could arrange to work remotely for three weeks a month and come home to Dallas for face-to-face meetings the fourth week. She hadn't approached Cass, Trinity and Harper about it yet, but Alex didn't anticipate much resistance to the idea. Cass did something similar since Gage lived and worked in Austin.

Cass had to drive it, though. Alex's husband owned a private jet and she intended to make full use of it. Love Field was only a few miles from their house, making plane travel a bit easier than it normally would be. Being married to a man from old oil money did have its perks.

In this day and age, nearly any business task could be managed with a cell phone, an internet connection and a laptop. Except meetings with the rest of the Senate, apparently. When Phillip had told her they'd work it out, she hadn't exactly understood that she'd be the one who had to make the most sacrifices.

It's worth it
, she reminded herself. The baby would have two parents and that was what mattered.

But when Phillip hunted her down to say goodbye, he brushed her cheek with his and then headed for the airport with a cool “I'll call you.” Which kind of left her wondering
why
it was worth it, especially when she spent half the night in the bathroom, hugging the floor in agony. Alone.

Alone was how she did things, she reminded herself. She
liked
solitude, or at least she used to, but something had changed.

She wanted Phillip to be
with her
. That had been the whole point of this kind of marriage in her mind—for them to spend time together with no pressure.

When she got to work the next morning, her calendar reminded her she had a doctor's appointment on Thursday. She groaned. Somehow she'd convinced herself the appointment was today and she'd hoped to talk to the doctor about more effective remedies for morning sickness.

Because her current state was ridiculous.

Harper bounced into Alex's office, her strawberry blond curls brushing her shoulders. Normally, Fyra's chief science officer wore her hair in a no-nonsense bun to keep it away from the machines and tools in her lab.

Harper was an excellent distraction from all the angst and mood swings and general unpredictability of Alex's life. If it got her mind off Phillip, so much the better. Especially his smile as he'd danced with her at the wedding reception, which she could not erase from her brain for some reason.

“Special occasion, Dr. Livingston?” Alex asked with a nod at Harper's hairstyle.

“Dante is in town,” she acknowledged with a cheeky grin. “He's taking me to lunch.”

“Boring.” Alex rolled her eyes, only half jesting. “When are you going on a date with someone you might actually have a chance of getting romantic with?”

Harper and Dante had been friends since freshman year in college, when they'd been paired up in chemistry. Friends with absolutely no benefits other than companionship, which put Harper in the slim minority of women who didn't notice how hot Dr. Dante Gates was underneath his horn-rimmed glasses.

“I'm not the newlywed. Not all of us are looking for love.” Harper waggled her brows. “Speaking of which, do kiss and tell.”

Harper plopped into a chair and perched her chin on a palm, batting her eyelashes in a very clear invitation to spill everything. Instead of a quick rejoinder about how Alex wasn't looking for love either—which Harper well knew, as she was one of the few people aware of the agreement between Alex and Phillip—tears sprang up. As they rolled down Alex's face, Harper silently rounded the desk and gathered her friend up in a fierce hug. That only made the baffling anguish inside that much worse.

“Sorry,” Alex choked out. “It's just hormones.”

Probably. Harper didn't let go, but Alex didn't mind. Disappointment over Phillip's distance had caught up to her, increasing the flood exponentially. Which was ridiculous. Alex had entered Phillip's agreement willingly because it made sense. There was no room for emotional outbursts just because she'd hoped they'd pick up where they'd left off after the party. Last weekend should have been a honeymoon of sorts, even though they'd opted to skip any kind of trip because it seemed too traditional and sentimental.

The weekend had been nothing of the kind. Granted, she'd been nauseous pretty much the whole time.

But they could have spent time together. As friends. Oh, she understood that Phillip had to go to Washington for work during the week. But while he'd been home yesterday, she'd have been happy to watch a movie together or go to dinner. She didn't have to eat, but the conversation would have been nice. That would have tided her over until he came home.

But that hadn't even been suggested. Did he not think about their one night of passion the way she did? Because she wanted a repeat of their closeness, the tender kisses and their bodies communicating so perfectly.

More tears rushed down her face.

If you couldn't cry all over your best friends, who could you cry on? She and Harper had been friends since college. Way before they were business partners and colleagues.

When the surge had passed, Harper eased back and leaned on the desk, but she kept Alex's hand in hers. “That didn't seem like pregnancy hormones to me. Not that I'd know or anything.”

What should have been a throwaway comment made by a staunch workaholic came out sounding wistful. As if Harper wished she could commiserate instead of merely being sympathetic.

Alex glanced at her friend through watery, suspicious eyes. “Trust me, you would not like to have firsthand knowledge, if that's what you're thinking.”

“Oh, I'm not,” Harper insisted with a forced laugh that raised Alex's concern even more. “I'm a scientist. I like to deal in facts. Since I've never been pregnant, I can't speak from personal experience, nor have I done any research. I mean, I know the basics and pregnancy can cause mood swi—”

“It's hormones,” Alex interrupted before she got a full discourse on the potential side effects of pregnancy. “You were at the reception. Things did not improve and it's just not how I envisioned spending the weekend after my wedding. Phillip left to go back to DC yesterday.”

“Oh. So no kiss and tell.” Harper managed to look sympathetic through her disappointment, largely owing to her Irish charm, no doubt. “That would make me cry, too.”

“It's hormones,” Alex repeated through gritted teeth and one last tear trickled down to belie the statement. Crying on your friends wasn't cool if you were going to turn around and fib through your teeth about the genesis of the waterworks. “And okay, I'm sad that he's gone. Don't make a big deal out of it.”

Saying it out loud made it real. Her marriage was forty-eight hours old and as lifeless as the paper it was written on. Maybe that was the deal she'd signed up for but, hormones or not, in the cold light of Monday morning it sounded as appealing as drinking dishwater.

Alex had a gorgeous husband, one who had been featured in magazine after magazine as one of the hottest bachelors in America. Now he was hers. Yet not hers. Was it so bad to dream of him taking her to bed and then calling the next day to say how much he hated that they were in different states?

“There's nothing wrong with missing your husband. I'm pretty sure that's allowed, even if you do have weird ideas about why to get married. Not that I'd know anything about that, either.” Harper made a face, and if Alex didn't know better, she'd swear that jealousy laced the other woman's tone.

“Please. Phillip and I got married because of the baby.” And a multitude of other reasons. “What better reason could there be? I'll be fine. I didn't have a husband last week either, so nothing has changed.”

Everything
had changed. That was the problem. And she had no idea what to do about it.

“Anything I can do?” Harper asked.

“You can distract me from my misery by telling me you found a new supplier for the pumice microbeads in your exfoliating scrub,” Alex reminded Harper with raised eyebrows. The sooner they got off the subject of Phillip, the better. “Our profit margin is circling the drain.”

“Are you that miserable? You should call your obstetrician.” With a pat on Alex's arm, Harper leaned forward, clearly hoping to avoid the topic of suppliers and cost of goods.

“I have an appointment Thursday. I can suffer in silence until then. Now, about the pumice supp—”

“I'll go with you,” Harper interjected smoothly. “To the appointment. Let me drive you.”

“I can drive myself—” Alex sighed as she cut herself off. Maybe she spent so much time alone because she constantly drove people away. After all, it wasn't like she'd said anything to Phillip about spending time together. He probably didn't even know she'd hoped to. “You know what? That sounds nice.”

“It's a date, then,” Harper said. “Cass called a meeting this afternoon to talk about her progress on finding the leak, or lack thereof. Check your calendar. She just scheduled it.”

Alex groaned. Someone in Fyra had leaked information to the media about Formula-47, which had nearly cost the company everything. Since they hadn't found the culprit yet, they'd decided to go forward with obtaining FDA approval before Harper felt ready, strictly to stave off damaging effects of the leak.

Another meeting with little progress. It was maddening. “Okay, thanks for the heads-up.”

Back to business. That was a good way to get her mind off Phillip. Except she had a suspicion it wouldn't work.

Alex didn't exactly suffer in silence until Thursday. It was a little difficult when Fyra's chief science officer had taken on a personal mission to check on Alex ten times a day. Harper's pointed, yet loving, questions were hard to ignore, especially when Alex craved companionship. Alex found herself being honest about how she felt—physically at least, as the angst about Phillip was too hard for her to justify to herself, let alone to someone else. And she even let Harper run to 7-Eleven to fetch ginger ale a couple of times. On Thursday, true to her word, Harper popped into Alex's office, keys in hand, to drive her to the doctor.

“Let's go,” Harper chirped and steered Alex into the two-seater Mercedes her friend had recently bought.

The smell of new car and leather engulfed Alex as she settled into the seat. “Thanks. For being there. I didn't realize how much I'd need hand-holding.”

“Sure. That's what friends are for.” Harper had tamed her red curls into a bun today, returning her to a more serious look.

Of her three business partners, Alex had always had the most in common with Harper, as they both approached life analytically. They'd had matching T-shirts in college that read Left-Brained Women Are Sexier. No one but the two of them had thought the saying was funny.

Thank God Alex had her friends during this challenging period. It didn't fully alleviate the loneliness of a big empty house, but Alex had solved that problem by going into the office early and staying until 10:00 p.m. Numbers were her refuge; always had been.

Phillip had called, as promised, every night at 10:30 p.m. and asked how she was feeling. It was nice that he took the time, but she was usually exhausted, so their conversations had been short. She then fell into Phillip-laced dreams, where he held her during the night and stroked her hair, then her skin. His lips would seek out the hollow of her throat and their urgency would increase until they were both naked and panting each other's names.

Hormones. They were killing her.

When the time for her appointment came, Alex's obstetrician, Dr. Dean, listened to her concerns about the severity of her morning sickness. “I'd like to do an ultrasound.”

Dr. Dean had mentioned on Alex's first visit that she didn't typically do ultrasounds until around eighteen weeks to verify the baby was growing correctly, and also to determine gender, which Alex very much wanted to know ahead of time.

“An ultrasound? But I'm only at eleven weeks,” Alex said as her pulse started hammering in her throat. “Is something wrong? Is that why you want to do one?”

Dr. Dean waved at the nurse to roll the ultrasound machine over to the examination table and smiled at Alex. “I guess that depends on your definition of
wrong
. One explanation for the severity of your symptoms might be twins. An ultrasound will tell us, and if you are carrying multiples, finding out sooner is best.”

“Twins?” All the blood rushed from Alex's head as Harper clapped gleefully from her spot across the room. “Oh, my God.”

One baby felt like a huge enough responsibility to raise without damaging him or her. But two babies?

The sonographer pulled up Alex's gown, poured warm goop on her abdomen and then rolled the wide white wand across Alex's stomach. The black-and-gray screen near the table blurred and shifted with each movement and a blobby thing appeared.