ONCE UPON A VALENTINE Page 7

  Inside, Shea felt like quivering gelatin. Pax had obviously warned them she was coming, and for some reason, it completely unnerved her. “Shea Weatherby,” she said. “Happy anniversary, Mrs.—” She realized she didn’t know if the woman was a Merrick or not, but it didn’t matter because her attention had turned back to her husband. He’d begun dancing with the brunette who’d passed off the toddler to Beatrice.

  “Call me Grammy,” the white-haired woman instructed her. “Everyone does.” She clapped her hands together over her generous bosom. “Doesn’t matter how old I get, it still does something to me seeing Daddy dance with his daughter.”

  Shea kept smiling as her stomach suddenly hollowed. “They’re lovely together,” she managed.

  She slid back a step and bumped into Pax, who’d somehow worked his way behind her again. “Excuse me.” She darted around him, desperate to escape, and caught the quick frown on his face before she made it past Donny and two other men and into the living room again, where pandemonium was still reigning.

  The little girl with the pigtails was closest.

  “Do you know where the bathroom is?”

  The girl’s feet bounced on the carpet as she batted a balloon across the room. Then she pointed.

  It was enough direction for Shea.

  She bolted down the hallway, and the second doorway she passed was mercifully an unoccupied bathroom. She darted inside, shutting the door and flipping the lock, as if Pax were likely to come in after her.

  Her heart was racing as she tore off her jacket, quickly turned on the water faucet above the pedestal sink and shoved her hands under the cold water as she fought the nausea roiling inside her. Weak tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes as she looked at herself in the mirror.

  It was the reflection of a mad woman, and she looked away.

  She cupped her hands under the water and splashed it on her face. Then did it again. And slowly, the nausea abated. Her stomach settled. Her pulse slowed.

  And when she heard a soft tap on the door, she cringed.

  “Shea?” It wasn’t Pax’s voice. It sounded like his sister. “Pax says he thinks you’re not feeling well. Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied thickly for the second time that day, and it was barely noon. She snatched one of pretty little disposable guest towels stacked on a shelf next to the sink and mopped her face quickly. Then she adjusted the pin more firmly into her bun, grabbed her jacket from the floor and pulled open the door to Beatrice’s concerned face. “I’m fine,” she said again.

  The other woman’s eyebrows rose a little. “Honey, you don’t look fine.” She glanced up the hallway toward the living room, then grabbed Shea’s hand and tugged her out of the bathroom and in the opposite direction.

  “Beatrice—”

  “Pax sees you looking this white and he’s going to come unglued.” She nudged Shea through the next doorway into a bedroom. “Sit there.” She pushed Shea toward the brass bed.

  Shea sat. She felt like an utter fool. “Beatrice—”

  “I used to sleep over here when I was a girl,” Beatrice mused. “Grammy hasn’t changed a thing since then.” She grabbed something from the dresser and turned toward Shea.

  Blusher, she realized when the other woman stroked a soft brush across her cheeks.

  “Coming back to live with them has definitely been a blast from the past,” Beatrice went on, as if there were nothing unusual about the situation at all. “And it’s convenient to be here rather than over in Port Orchard where our parents live, but I really look forward to finding my own place. Just waiting for some financial stuff to be resolved first.”

  Shea tilted her face up obediently when Beatrice tapped her chin. “What made you decide to come back to Seattle?”

  “Seemed like a good idea.” Beatrice straightened and cocked her head in a gesture eerily similar to Pax’s. She clucked her tongue, gathered up more blush on the brush and swept it lightly again over Shea’s cheeks. “After my fiancé dumped me for our twenty-two-year-old receptionist.” She made a face. “Didn’t much feel like being partners with him in our planning business after that.” She studied Shea’s face for a moment, then nodded and sat on the foot of the bed beside her. “Much better.”

  Shea looked at her with sympathy. “Been there. Bruce dumped me two days before our wedding.”

  Beatrice’s response was immediate. “Crumb.”

  She didn’t know why she found that amusing, but she did. “Yeah. He was definitely that.”

  * * *

  Standing outside in the hallway, Pax slowly balled his hands into fists as he listened to Shea’s low voice. He knew eavesdropping was rotten, but he couldn’t make himself stop.

  “How long ago did it happen?” he heard his sister ask.

  “Not long enough.” Shea’s voice was soft. “Almost three years now. Supposed to be a big white June wedding and all of that. My mother was in wedding planning heaven.”

  Pax exhaled and turned, leaning silently against the wall outside the bedroom door.

  The regatta that Shea had been covering for the Washtub when he’d met her had been nearly three years ago. Over the Fourth of July holiday. The crumb had probably just jilted her.

  “We’d picked a date in November,” Beatrice was sharing. “Canceling the wedding plans turned out to be a lot easier than getting out of the business with him, though.”

  “I’m guessing that would be the financial stuff,” Shea said.

  “Mmm-hmm. How long were you engaged?”

  Pax heard a footstep and he glared at Donny, who was sauntering down the hall toward the bathroom. His cousin lifted his hands peaceably and turned on his heel.

  But the interruption was enough to jab Pax’s conscience.

  He made a sound and stepped into the doorway.

  Shea’s eyes rounded, looking at him guiltily.

  He couldn’t blame her for confiding something in his sister that she’d never confided in him, but it still bugged the hell out of him. “How long were you engaged?”

  Rather than shying away, though, her eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you ever learn that listening through keyholes wasn’t polite?”

  He put his hand pointedly on the open door. “Shut the door next time. Bea.” He didn’t look away from Shea. “Mom’s looking for you.”

  Beatrice hesitated only briefly. “Sure.” She hurried out of the room.

  Pax pushed the door closed behind her. The house was small and packed with people. He wasn’t going to chance anyone else overhearing. “You could have told me.”

  Shea pressed her lips together for a minute. “Whenever we’ve been together, the point hasn’t been to talk about me. I’ve been working, and it’s always about you. Or your partner. Or your latest pet project.”

  “You weren’t interviewing me the night of the ice storm.”

  She looked away and pushed herself off the bed, rubbing her hands down the thighs of her jeans. “A-about that.”

  “Is that when you started believing that relationships never last?”

  “When I slept with you, or when I was left at the altar?”

  He looked at her and her flippant expression faded. She shook her head and rubbed the line forming between her eyebrows. “I learned that when I was a kid,” she said abruptly. “Bruce was an incredibly stupid aberration.”

  “He was an ass.”

  Her gaze flicked to his. “Yes,” she agreed after a moment. “I suppose he was. But my mistake was in forgetting what I already knew.” She clasped her hands around her waist. “Relationships, and especially marriages, don’t last.”

  “Really?” He jerked his head toward the door. “They’re celebrating seventy-five years out there. My parents have been married for forty. Donny—my cousin—he’s go
ing on twenty, with his oldest kid graduating from high school this year and his youngest just starting kindergarten. All those kids playing in the living room? Pretty sure their parents—all cousins of mine, by the way—are believing in their marriages, too.”

  Her throat worked. “Congratulations.” She spread her hands wide and paced away from him, putting the width of the bed between them. “My mother has been married seven times! I have more stepsiblings than Carter’s got pills and none of them have managed to make a marriage work, either.” Her eyes searched his. “You’re thirty-eight and in the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you serious about anyone! If you’re such a big believer, why haven’t you taken the plunge?”

  “Because when I do, there’s no getting out of the water. Not for me.”

  She frowned at him. “Well. That water’s not for me. I don’t swim. You’re not natural. You know that?”

  He struggled not to lose his patience altogether. “Because I believe in having what my parents have? What my grandparents have? Because I’m smart enough to wait around until I have someone standing by my side who wants that, too?”

  Her eyes flooded. “Well I hope she’s got an understanding nature,” she said hoarsely.

  His hair stood on end, and he suddenly had the feeling he was stepping through a minefield. “Why?”

  “Because I’m pregnant!” The words whooshed out of her, seeming to echo around the room.

  He was vaguely aware of the music and noise coming from the rest of the house where the party was going strong. But just then, the only thing he could hear was his pulse clanging inside his head.

  She sank down on the side of the bed as if her legs had stopped functioning.

  He wasn’t sure his own legs still worked, when it came down to it. They’d gone numb.

  “You’re...pregnant,” he repeated slowly. The words circled inside his head, along with his pulse. “Pregnant. As in...pregnant.”

  She nodded once, not looking at him.

  “Since when?” On the stupidity scale of one to ten, a kernel of his brain realized that the question was about a seventy-two.

  Her fingers kept plucking at the bedspread beneath her. “I just found out.”

  “When? Today? Is that why you were as skittish as a cat when I picked you up?”

  “Friday,” she whispered. “I took a home pregnancy test.” Her jaw canted. “Or two.” Her lashes lifted. “And don’t jump on me for not telling you immediately,” she sounded defensive. “I tried.” She turned her palms upward. “And now I’m ruining your grandparents’ party,” she said thickly.

  He heard her, but the words didn’t really penetrate.

  “We’re having a baby.” It was beginning to sink in. And something was tightening inside his chest.

  Her eyes were wet, but she still managed to glare at him. “I just said so, didn’t I? Don’t worry. I don’t expect anything from you.”

  It was easier to battle down the bolt of anger at that than it was the sting of pain. “Then you’re a fool if you don’t.” He wasn’t even aware of moving, but he must have. Because suddenly he was standing right in front of her, knees going out from beneath him as he knelt down. He put his hands on her hips, feeling the way she trembled. “It hasn’t even been two months since the ice storm. You’re really sure?”

  “Eight weeks and three home pregnancy tests sure.” She sniffled. “I’m sorry, Pax. I never thought—” She broke off, looking shocked when he pressed his palms against her flat abdomen.

  “Hey there, buddy.” He cleared the knot from his throat. “Tell your mom if she says she’s sorry again, I’m going to put her over my knee.” He looked up at her. “We were both there, Shea.”

  Her nose was red and tears started crawling down her cheeks. “You’re not even going to ask if it’s yours?”

  He managed not to swear, but it was close. “You wouldn’t be this upset about telling me if he weren’t.” He wanted to brush away her tears and make her believe that everything would be fine. But he hadn’t gotten to where he was in life by lying to himself. He knew he couldn’t make her believe anything that she wasn’t ready to believe.

  Given the glut of personal information he’d learned about her in the past ten minutes—more than she’d ever shared in all the time he’d known her—he had to face the fact that there was no guarantee that she’d ever even get to that point of believing.

  So he satisfied himself for now with addressing her belly again instead. “Mommy has a lot to learn about your old man,” he murmured.

  “You keep referring to the baby like it’s a boy. You don’t know that.”

  “Six generations of Merricks.” He ignored the leaping inside his chest and straightened, pulling her to her feet. He could span her waist in his hands and her head didn’t even reach his shoulders. An image of her, heavy with a baby, floated inside his head. Would their son be dark-haired like he was? Have Shea’s blue eyes?

  The knot was back in his throat. The backyard in his mind suddenly possessed a tire swing and a sandbox.

  “First baby has always been a boy,” he managed. “Second baby’s always a girl.”

  Alarm filled her eyes. “Second! We’re not having a second baby. We shouldn’t be having a first!”

  If she’d wanted to end her pregnancy, she would have done it. And she never would have told him. He knew that much about her. “But we are,” he said steadily. Which was pretty damn impressive as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t like he’d gotten up that morning suspecting this sort of news. “Have you told anyone else?”

  A burst of laughter from the partygoers caused her to jerk, her breasts bumping into him. She hastily stepped back as far as the bed would allow and wrapped her arms around herself. “Who...like Harvey? He doesn’t need to know I’m pregnant. Not yet anyway.” Her soft lips twisted. “He’ll probably stop sending me out on anything and assign me to coffee runs when he finds out.”

  “I meant your family, sweetheart.” But he knew the answer now.

  She sidled past him, giving him as wide a berth as space allowed, and paced around to the other side of the bed. “It’s your baby. You deserved to be the first.”

  Which didn’t say anything about her plans for telling her frequently married mother.

  “I guess I should thank you for that.”

  Her gaze skidded over his and away. She rubbed her hands down her thighs and tucked her fingers in her back pockets. “Thanks for not suggesting that we should get married. Or...or anything ridiculous like that.”

  He let that slide for now. His brain had already been filled with plans, and none of them were ridiculous in his estimation. Particularly now. “Three different home tests? But you haven’t seen a doctor.”

  “No. I told you. I just—”

  “—found out. Right. Do you have someone in mind?”

  “No.”

  “You’re just taking things one step at a time, I guess.”

  Her lashes lifted. The corners of her soft lips rose in a forced smile. “Pretty much.”

  There was a tapping on the door. “Pax?” His mother’s voice was soft but distinct. “Your grandparents are starting to open their gifts.”

  He didn’t take his eyes off of Shea. She’d shifted restlessly at the knock, pulling her hands from her pockets to wipe her cheeks. He raised his voice. “Be there in a second, Mom.”

  Shea groaned softly. “I’ve crashed an anniversary party and didn’t even bring a gift.”

  “You kidding? You’ve got the biggest damn gift of the day.”

  Her mouth rounded as his meaning obviously sank in. “What? No.” She shook her head so hard that the lock of hair tumbled over her cheek again and was joined by a few more. “Oh, no. No, no, no.” She leaned forward, pressing her palms flat against the mattress. “We are not
telling them I’m pregnant.”

  “We’re going to tell them sooner or later. Can’t think of a better time than now.” Leaning over the way she was caused the scooped neck of her pink T-shirt to gape, giving him a mouthwatering view of creamy skin barely contained by sheer lace.

  She must have realized it because she straightened like she’d been jabbed in the spine with a hot poker. She yanked the hem of the shirt around her hips.

  “Unless you figured on waiting until after he’s born,” he continued. “No,” he added when he saw the glint appear in her eyes. “I’m not serious. That is not going to happen. Maybe you don’t want to tell your mother, but my entire family is here.”

  “And they’re going to know exactly what happened!” As pale as she’d been earlier, her face was filling with color now.

  “I wasn’t planning to give them the exact details,” he drawled.

  “You know what I mean,” she huffed. “They know we’re not...not—” she made a face and waved her hands “—romantically involved.”

  They didn’t know anything of the sort, but telling Shea that would only inflame her further. “Would you prefer that they thought we were?”

  “No!” She flopped her hands at her sides and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “My mother’s always said to get a ring on your finger first. The only time I have a one-night stand, and look what happens.”

  “We’ve known each other more ’n two years, Shea. Not exactly a one-nighter in my book.”

  “Yeah, but we haven’t...haven’t dated or anything.”

  “And whose doing was that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “What do you think a date—” he air-quoted it “—or two would have changed anyway? You wouldn’t have learned anything more about me over dinner or drinks or whatever constitutes a date in your mind than you already know. You are the one who’s the mystery. Not me.” He figured that was a debate she’d try to keep going indefinitely, so he stepped over to the door, pulling it open. “I told them you were my friend. That’s all they need to know. Now come on.”

  “Pax—”

  She looked truly miserable, and it gave him a pain in his gut. Dammit. “I have a gift certificate for them in the truck,” he said gruffly. “I had Ruth set them up for a hot air balloon ride. They’ve always talked about it but have never done it.”