Turning only her head, she said, “I was just thinking that you were probably a difficult child.”
“This from the daughter who defied her parents at every turn?”
“I only defied my parents at every other turn.”
He’d circled behind her and was coming around to her right side. “What did your father and brother-in-law say to you when they cornered you just before they left?”
“Mac and my father?” she asked dazedly. “Oh, they wanted to know if we’d signed a prenuptial agreement.”
“I’m not after your family’s money, Beth.”
“What are you after?”
His gaze dropped below her shoulders and took a long time returning to her eyes. Cocking her head playfully, she smiled. “Allow me to rephrase that question. What else are you after?”
Tony groaned softly. “What makes you think I’m after anything else?”
“Do you mean sex is all you expect from this marriage?”
“I’m sorry I brought the subject up.”
Something in his tone alerted her to an underlying problem. She’d wanted to talk to him about this before the wedding, to pin him down, to force him to tell her exactly what he wanted from their marriage, and how long he expected it to last. Now that they’d broached the subject, she didn’t want to ignore it. “I think we should discuss this, Tony.”
“No.”
Their gazes met, held.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Come on, Beth. You don’t really want to talk right now, do you?”
She swallowed her apprehension and said, “This could be for your own protection.”
He was shaking his head before she’d finished. “Protect me from what? Your family has a lot more money than mine. And it’s not as if you’re going to divorce me and hit me up for child support for a half-dozen kids.”
They both went still, the light from Christopher’s night-light stretching their shadows all the way into the hall. Beth was the first to find her voice. “You don’t need protection because I can’t have children, is that it?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it? Barry left me because I couldn’t give him children. You can’t tell me it doesn’t bother you.”
“I married you, anyway, didn’t I?”
Beth took a step back as if she’d been slapped, and Tony drew in a loud breath. She remembered when he’d told her he didn’t want charity or a virgin sacrifice. Raising her chin in a manner she’d learned from her mother, she quietly said, “Who’s offering charity now, Tony?”
Tony started to swear. Realizing they were still standing in the middle of Christopher’s room, he clamped his mouth shut and whispered, “Beth, this isn’t coming out the way I intended. You caught me off guard, that’s all. What I’m giving you isn’t charity, not by a long shot.”
“What do you want in return?” she asked quietly.
Beth didn’t know what she saw in his eyes this time, but it was more than attraction and seduction. There was anger, and worry, and maybe a hint of sadness, and something else that scared her more than all the others combined, because it looked a lot like remorse. “I’ve already suffered one broken heart, Tony, and I’d really prefer not to experience it again.”
“I have no intention of breaking anybody’s heart, dammit.”
“But?” she asked.
He didn’t say anything. And neither did she. They stood perfectly still, staring at each other. She finally nodded, but nothing had really been settled. Neither of them seemed to know what to do to make things better.
“Look,” she whispered, “we’re both tired and overwrought.”
“Yes,” he said, jumping at the excuse so quickly it heightened her concerns. “We’re probably not thinking clearly. Let’s get some sleep. Everything will look a lot better in the morning.”
Beth thought about how many times she’d told a patient that very thing, and wondered if they felt as suspicious of it as she did right now.
She and Tony used separate bathrooms, then crawled into the same bed. He kissed her good-night, and then they turned onto their sides, facing opposite directions. Her body relaxed eventually, but her mind was more difficult to put to sleep. She reminded herself that she’d put in a grueling two days preparing the house and food for her family’s visit. Maybe Tony was right. Maybe they weren’t thinking clearly. Maybe the fact that he couldn’t talk about her infertility didn’t mean that he’d never accept it. Maybe bringing it up tonight hadn’t put an irreparable rift in their fragile relationship.
Maybe everything really would look better in the morning.
* * *
Morning didn’t bring any magical revelations or miracle cures to their dilemma. Tony woke up to his alarm and groggily got out of bed while Beth went to feed the baby. They came face-to-face in the hall, giving each other a wide berth as if by unspoken, mutual agreement.
Christopher had awakened every two-and-a-half hours throughout the night. Each time she’d fed and changed him, she thought about what would have happened if Tony hadn’t agreed to marry her, thereby giving this beautiful little boy a two-parent home, and her the opportunity to be his mother. Lord, how she wished she’d left the skeleton of her infertility in the closet. But each time she’d crawled back into bed, she was more convinced that she and Tony had to talk about this, to make peace with it, so they’d know where to go from here.
She’d believed Tony when he’d said he wanted to be a father to Christopher. He wasn’t going to divorce her before the adoption was final. But what about later? Could they build a real marriage on the legality of their union? Or would he always wish things could have been different? With another woman, they could be. Barry had certainly proved that. Her first husband had hurt her in nearly every emotional way, making her feel guilty for something that she had no control over. Barry had once said that it was her body that wasn’t functioning properly. It was her body that prohibited conception. And on a subliminal level, in some perverse way that wasn’t fair, Barry had believed that that made it her fault.
She’d come to terms with her own body’s inadequacies, had made peace with her fate. None of it had come without scars, or pain or resolutions. The most important thing was the promise she’d made to herself to be honest about her feelings, and to expect others to be honest in return.
Pipes rumbled overhead as the shower was turned off. She quickly started the coffee, then hurried to the back bathroom where she combed her hair, washed her face and brushed her teeth. By the time she returned to the kitchen, the coffee was done and her resolve was firmly in place.
She turned at the sound of footsteps behind her. “Good morning,” she called as cheerily as she could manage.
“Good morning,” he replied, eyeing her cautiously.
“Are you ready to talk this morning?”
He lumbered past her on his way to the coffeemaker with a dark look and a mumbled “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Come on, Tony,” she cajoled. “You must have some idea in your mind of what you’ll be doing a year from now, or five, or ten. Am I there with you? Or do you see a faceless woman and more children?”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Is it? Can you look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you haven’t paused for a moment while we were making love, that you haven’t thought about the fact that you couldn’t make