They talked about other things, as well. Their childhoods, their families. He knew she had been the only child of a career military man, stopping nowhere long enough to gather moss. In contrast, he told her, he had moss all over him. He talked about his parents and she learned his father was dead and his mother lived in Florida now with a second husband. He told her about his twin sister and brother and all the scrapes they’d gotten into as kids. He told her, too, about the accident that had taken his sister’s life, and the misunderstandings and hard feelings that had resulted from it and which only recently had been resolved.
But she still didn’t tell him about Bobby.
She didn’t know why she was hesitating. After all, he already had a child so she knew he must like kids.
But this one isn’t his, whispered an insidious little voice inside her.
She dismissed the unworthy thought immediately. Marty was a kind man, a gentle man. A wonderful man. He needed to know he was going to be a stepfather. But still…
Wednesday night was New Year’s Eve. She hadn’t made any plans, and Marty hadn’t, either. He called at ten, and they were still on the phone at midnight when the new year came in.
“Next year this time, we’ll be celebrating our one-year anniversary,” he said.
She hoped so. But she really had to tell him about Bobby. But…Inky, her black Pomeranian, lay curled against her side as she lay on her bed talking to Marty. She had yet to tell him about the dog, either. Maybe she should start small and work up to the child.
“Um, Marty?” She worked the words in between a long stream of information about weather patterns on the prairie. “I have something I need to tell you.”
“And what would that be?” His voice was indulgent.
“I have a dog.” She held her breath, waiting for a reaction, her pulse racing and her heart pounding all out of proportion to the simple statement.
“You do?” He sounded a little taken aback. “I didn’t know you were allowed to have dogs in apartments.”
“This place allows small animals.” Her tension began to dissipate.
“Well, I guess it won’t be a problem. He can hang out with the other dogs around here. How old is he? Maybe I can train him to work stock.” His voice was beginning to warm.
She laughed uncertainly. “I don’t think so. He’s um, probably a bit too small for that.”
Now his voice sounded cautious. “Exactly how small is too small?”
She took a deep breath. “Eight pounds. He’s a Pomeranian. Eight pounds is a very sturdy size for a Pom.”
“Eight pounds?” His voice was incredulous. “Good grief. The other dogs’ll think he’s a meal. He’ll make the horses nervous and then they’re liable to step on him. No—” his voice was decisive “—that’s too small. You’ll have to find a home for him in town where he can be somebody’s pet.”
“But…but I can’t just give him away!” Her voice began to quaver despite her best efforts to stay calm. Give Inky away? He’d been her best friend all during her pregnancy and the sad days after Rob’s death. Marty didn’t understand. He’d been so…so dismissive. “He was a wedding gift from my husband.”
Dead silence was the only response from the other end of the phone.
Gathering her resolve, she began to list Inky’s attributes. “Besides, he’s not an outside dog, anyway. He stays indoors. He rarely barks and he’s even paper trained if I can’t take him out. He’s big enough to go up and down the steps and jump on and off the furniture without help—”
“You let him get up on the furniture?” If he could sound more shocked, she couldn’t imagine it. “We’ve never let our dogs in the house. They sleep in the barn when it’s cold.” His voice was adamant. “You can’t have a dog in the house.”
Suddenly he didn’t sound like the warm and easy-going man she’d spent last Saturday night with, the man she’d been talking with just a few minutes ago. Tears welled up and she swallowed, hurt stinging her heart. He hadn’t even listened to her!
If he were like this about Inky, how would he react when she told him about Bobby? The idea was daunting. Maybe this whole notion of marriage was ridiculous. She wanted to marry him, wanted it badly, but maybe—
“Juliette?” His voice was so hushed she nearly didn’t hear him for the thoughts clanging around in her head.
Finally she realized he’d spoken her name aloud. “Yes?” The tears overflowed and made cold tracks down her cheek. She placed a hand on Inky’s tiny head, gently massaging behind his ears, and he heaved a happy doggy sigh as he snuggled deeper against her.
“Are you crying?”
“No.” She gulped and tried to breathe evenly.
“Yes, you are.” His voice registered cautious concern. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t handle that very well. Can I have another try?”
He sounded endearingly humble, and she could imagine the look in his blue eyes, earnest and penitent. “Of course. I’m sorry, too.”
“I guess one little dog in the house isn’t such a big deal,” he said, and she could almost hear him trying to talk himself into the idea. “Just because I’ve never kept a dog in the house doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. I know lots of people who do.”
She had to chuckle despite herself. “Oh, Marty, maybe getting married without knowing each other better isn’t such a good idea after all. I mean, what if—”
But he didn’t let her finish. “Hey, sweet thing, one little almost-disagreement doesn’t mean we should give up. Don’t get yourself all worked up about this, okay?”
“I’m not. Not really. But—”
“But you’re still marrying me on Friday,” he pressed.
When she didn’t respond immediately, his voice lowered, going warm and intimate. “Angel, we’re going to be good together. In a lot of ways. I can’t wait for Friday to get here so I can hold you again.”
“I can’t wait, either.” And she couldn’t. She needed Marty’s arms around her, his kisses that made her forget about all her worries.
It wasn’t until she hung up that she remembered she still needed to tell him about Bobby. But…he’d had an awfully strong reaction to the dog. What if he decided he didn’t want to marry her?
Her stomach trembled. She wasn’t sure marrying so quickly was wise, but she was sure of one thing. She loved Marty Stryker. Against all common sense, she’d given her heart to a man she barely knew, and if he walked away she’d never be able to forget him. If she told him about Bobby, she risked driving him away.
On the other hand, she reminded herself with forced cheer, the odds were at least as good that he’d be thrilled to have a baby boy to raise. Why shouldn’t he? She fell into a troubled sleep still undecided about what to tell Marty about her son. And when to tell him.
Despite the nightly phone marathons, the week seemed to last forever. Juliette’s hours at work moved like cold molasses, though her schedule remained unchanged. At home she packed her things into boxes to go with her out to the ranch and separated her few things from the furnishings that had come with the apartment. She gave notice and apologized to her boss for the short time frame. She decided that Friday would never arrive, but finally it was Friday morning. She worked her last few hours and then went home to wait. Marty would be arriving in another hour.