Not the decision to file for divorce—she had to know he wouldn’t argue with her about it if that was what she really wanted. Not the decision to ask him to come home again, either—again, she had to know he would move back to Mayfair in a minute, as long as she agreed to his terms regarding any further pursuit of parenthood.
Finally unable to wait any longer for Charlotte to begin on her own, Sean put a hand over hers. With the other he tapped the brown envelope once, his heart hammering inside his chest.
“Now that we’ve finished eating, do you want to tell me what this is all about?” he asked as gently as he could.
“That would probably be a good idea, wouldn’t it?”
Charlotte opened her clasped hands, holding on to him for a long moment as she sent an inquiring yet apprehensive smile his way.
“Yes, that would be a very good idea.”
Sean gave her hands an encouraging squeeze. Then he let go of her and sat back on his stool, crossing his arms over his chest.
Lowering her gaze, Charlotte picked up the envelope and fumbled with the clasp, her fingers trembling enough for him to notice. He was half tempted to take the damn thing away from her and rip it open himself, but she was jittery enough already.
He expected her to pull out all of the paperwork the envelope obviously held. Instead she removed only a single sheet to which something was attached with a paper clip. She gazed at the paper for several moments, her expression softening perceptively. Finally she looked up at him again, and Sean saw the faint shimmer of tears in her eyes. Yet again, he couldn’t help but fear the worst.
“Just tell me, Charlotte,” he said, his voice a ragged, insistent growl filled with more menace than he’d intended. “Whatever it is you’ve come here to tell me, please…just do it now.”
Charlotte sat back on her stool and blinked at him, momentarily looking as if she’d been struck a blow. Then she tilted her chin defensively and eyed him with sudden, steely resolve. All trace of her earlier fragility, as well as her uncertainty, disappeared in an instant.
“Do you remember that we talked about adoption last year?” she asked, her tone surprisingly matter-of-fact.
“Yes, of course, I remember. We even filled out some forms and agreed to have a home study done by an agency here in New Orleans that arranges adoptions of foreign children.”
Sean hesitated, confused by the tack Charlotte had taken. The home study had been done long before he’d moved out of the Mayfair house. But they had been so focused on their last, ultimately unsuccessful in vitro procedure that they really hadn’t pursued the adoption alternative any further.
Or rather he hadn’t pursued the adoption alternative any further, Sean amended.
Realization suddenly dawning as to where Charlotte must be headed, he pushed away from the island counter, stood and raised his hands in an emphatic gesture meant to fend her off.
“No, Charlotte,” he continued with a mix of anger and frustration. “No way am I going to agree to adopt a baby. I made my feelings about parenthood very clear six months ago. We gave it our best shot and we failed and enough is enough. I haven’t changed my mind about that since then, and I’m not going to change my mind about it now.”
There was no denying the flash of hurt in his wife’s eyes as she stared at him reproachfully, but he braced himself against the pain he knew his words had caused her. Unwilling to hear any defense she might choose to offer, he allowed her no chance to speak.
“I went along with the testing, not to mention the fertility treatments, the scheduled sex and the in vitro procedures even though none of the doctors we consulted could give us any concrete reason why we were having trouble conceiving on our own. I did it all for you because you wanted a baby so much. But as I tried to tell you six months ago, in the process I realized that I’m just not cut out to be a father. I also asked you to try to accept and understand my feelings, but you refused to do it.”
“Believe me, Sean, I have accepted how you feel about being a father,” Charlotte insisted, her voice a firm, quiet counterpoint to the echo of his own rising tone.
Sean had always prided himself on his ability to handle problems in his personal life in the same businesslike manner in which he dealt with professional problems. He counted his quiet competence as one of the main reasons why he’d had such success with the corporate security company he’d started after he’d completed his service in the military.
He knew from long experience that flying off the handle rarely earned anyone anything they really wanted. In fact, he only had to look back half a year to be reminded of where the last volatile confrontation he’d had with his wife had gotten him.
Marshaling his resources, he picked up his glass, looked away from Charlotte and took a long swallow of whiskey as he quickly counted to ten. Then he set aside his glass, took a steadying breath and spoke again.
“So why are you bringing up the subject of adoption now?” he asked, pleased that he managed to sound reasonable once again.
“Because I still want to be a mother—I still need to be a mother—and now I have the chance. But only if you’ll help me,” Charlotte answered in a rush, the look in her eyes one of pleading. “We’ve been approved to adopt a baby girl—as a couple.”
She set the paper and attached photograph on the island countertop and pushed it toward him with a fingertip. But Sean was too stunned by what she’d just said to acknowledge it even with a glance.
Adopt a baby girl? Was Charlotte nuts?
“All I’m asking is that you go with me to Kazakhstan to complete the adoption process,” she added, so amazingly calm and collected that all he could do was stare at her in disbelief. “Of course, we’ll have to pretend that we’re still happily married and living together in Mayfair, but only for a few months. Then you can move back here again and file for divorce if that’s what you want to do. I promise that I’ll agree to whatever terms you choose, and I won’t ask you for anything more ever again—not even child support.”
“Surely you can’t be serious—” Sean began, still unable to believe that she was not only asking something so preposterous of him, but also doing it in such an amazingly blithe manner.
He had prepared himself for the revelation of a serious illness, a request for a divorce, or in the best of all possible worlds, an offer of reconciliation on his terms. But to even suggest that he travel halfway around the world with her— to Kazakhstan, of all places—to adopt a foreign child he neither wanted nor needed in his life… She couldn’t possibly be thinking straight, could she?
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life,” Charlotte assured him, her voice wavering, but not her gaze. “Please, Sean…please, please help me bring our little girl home.”
“She’s not our little girl, Charlotte—”
“Yes…yes, she is. Just look at her—she’s beautiful….”
Sean didn’t want to do it—didn’t want to look at the small color photograph attached to the sheet of paper lying on the countertop. But neither could he ignore completely the desperate urgency he heard in his wife’s voice.
Obviously she was well on the way to irrationality regarding this business of adoption. Maybe by cooperating with her just a little he’d eventually be able to calm her down enough to make her see reason.
His mouth set in a grim line, Sean stared at Charlotte for a long, unhappy moment. She continued to meet his gaze without flinching, and at the same time, pushed the photograph a tad closer to him across the countertop.
With