Bare devotion, p.5
Bare Devotion, page 5
“I knew Henry well, yes. But he did change, in some ways. I don’t know, it’s like the minute we moved into the big house it all went to shit. That’s about the time we started the wedding planning, too.” The disappearance of the long talks they’d have on the small porch of the cottage they’d lived in as their house was built the first time. It was on the property they’d bought for the river house, and they’d converted it into a functioning guesthouse. How had they gone from that intimacy to her jilting him? She was awash with emotions too heavy to number. Nothing she wanted to talk to Poppy or anyone about, not yet, maybe not ever. “I’ve got to get back to the office.” She fished around in her designer bag for change.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do for a place to live?” Poppy tilted her head. “I mean, if it was up to me you could have the downtown apartment as long as you need it, but Bianca has already rented it out again.”
“As she should have.” Although Sonja desperately wished she’d been able to secure the efficiency, she truly couldn’t afford it. She was lucky Poppy had been able to let her stay there, gratis.
“It’s got to be hard, being so close to him after all of this. Are the sparks still there?” Poppy slipped in the kind of quiet, unassuming yet jarring, thought provocation she’d been good at since they’d met as freshman in college.
Sonja placed four quarters on the table and sighed. “Yes.”
* * * *
Henry helped himself to his second bourbon after work. He stood at the tiny kitchen counter in the cottage they’d lived in for six months while the house was built. The riverfront property was hauntingly quiet since their breakup. That was about to change when the contractors came in to do the flood repair and restoration. The guesthouse had become his home again, as it was untouched by the flood. At night though, he still found himself wandering around through the ravaged house, facing the memories of what he and Sonja had shared. Wondering how he fucked up so royally.
He carried his drink with him as he walked across the property to the main house, through to the expansive back deck. As he took the wooden steps down to the short pier, he recalled how, only a few weeks ago, his brother had pulled up in one of his eclectic boats and offered the entire wedding party a ride into NOLA to celebrate the upcoming nuptials.
The bite of the liquor hit his tongue, and he savored the burn as he swallowed his drug of choice. Bourbon had been his nectar and he its lovelorn bee as he nursed his aching heart. He grunted out a bitter laugh at the moving water, the current evident in the small eddies that formed around the bank and large tree trunks that floated along as easily as a fiberglass kayak.
How stupid he’d been, to think he’d be lucky in love. To fall for Sonja’s act. He’d believed her, thought she’d really fallen in love with him, too. But then she’d changed, right before his eyes. All of the wedding planning replayed much uglier in his memory as he walked himself through each stage of their relationship.
He’d fucked up, yes, forcing Sonja’s hand on the wedding. He saw that now. She’d wanted something much more casual, laid-back. Something her family would be comfortable with instead of the over-the-top event he wanted to announce how much he loved her. By the time Deidre showed up as an “extra” guest invited by his parents, it was too late.
Even his family didn’t know about the crazy ex in his back pocket. They knew Deidre and knew they’d been engaged, briefly. But they didn’t know how batshit crazy she was. Some of it through no fault of her own—Deidre was a spoiled rich girl from way back. Her parents had appeased her every whim, and when she’d met him, she assumed he would, too. When he told her they were done, she’d gone insane with jealousy, rage. She sharpened her stalking skills over the next couple of years, ending in him seeking a restraining order against her.
He’d told Sonja about his short engagement in the early days of their relationship, because he didn’t want Sonja to think he was ever holding anything back from her. But he’d held back the crazy stalking parts. The dark memories of feeling he’d never be able to have a normal life again. It’d been a source of pride for him to not tell his parents the full Deidre story—he’d needed to handle it on his own. And part of him had been ashamed that he hadn’t seen her coming a country mile away. He’d been a kid back then, comparatively, but there was nothing he’d do differently, looking at it from ten years out. The restraining order had been a step toward his maturity and a way to set a healthy boundary.
Regret gnawed at him. Maybe he should have told Sonja all of it. Every last ugly bit. But shouldn’t the woman who loved you accept you completely, no matter what you told her? Or didn’t tell her? And while he was certainly guilty of not sharing the entire Deidre past with her, how was it that an ex ended up axing their big day?
There was something else, something she wasn’t telling him. He thought maybe his parents had said something to her, made her think twice. But even if they had, it underscored the sad state of their bond if she didn’t come to him with her concerns.
It wasn’t just the wedding, or the day, or the fact that he’d kept some of his past from Sonja. He’d not fought harder to keep the initial connection they shared alive. He swirled the bourbon in his glass. Working for relationships wasn’t his strong suit—he’d proven that with his parents, hadn’t he? Instead of fighting them like Brandon and Jena had, he’d ignored what needed to be done. A tug of recrimination forced him from his pity party. His parents—had he been too willing to overlook their worst character defects because he’d been so desperate to throw the huge society wedding he felt Sonja deserved?
Christ, Sonja was the love of his life. If she wasn’t, this wouldn’t be so hard. But he could never, ever let her see it. The last thing he ever wanted from the woman who’d jilted him at the altar was pity. Compassion was pushing it, too. And if he didn’t have much else, he did still have some fucking pride left.
It’d taken being jilted for him to realize what he’d always feared. He wasn’t worthy of Sonja, never had been. The fact that he’d started to believe he was, to the point he’d been slayed by her wedding escape, made him question his sanity.
He wanted nothing from Sonja but for her to go away and let the good memories somehow remain intact, unsoiled by the ugly anger, resentment, and bitterness his runaway bride had left in her wake.
God damn his conscience.
Chapter 5
The next day Henry stayed in the office all afternoon, refusing to leave except for coffee and bathroom breaks. It was one thing to have to work with Sonja on the McNeely case but he wasn’t a sadist. Each instance of seeing her in person that he spared himself was worth it. Seeing her again had affected him in more ways than he’d expected. He’d assumed it’d be difficult, that the rage and frustration at her last-minute betrayal would flare, big time. And it had. What he hadn’t counted on was their connection.
It was still there. Frayed like a steel cable that’s on its last two threads of dozens, sparks arcing about as the strain placed on it waxes and wanes. But the cord between them wasn’t completely severed, not yet.
And he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.
A text illuminated his phone, and he felt the cold dread surround his insides. Deidre.
She’s still working for you how stupid do you think I am? You need to cut her off completely or I’m going to share some photos.
Fuck. This was the last thing he needed. Of course, Deidre didn’t have incriminating photos of him, or of them together in college, but she had a long streak of nasty shenanigans that assured him his worry was justified. She’d make something up. And he shouldn’t give a flying shit about Sonja being hurt, but it was more about making sure Deidre got the hell out of his life again.
“Hey, Henry.” Rick, their newest attorney, stood in the doorway, his expression neutral. “Got a minute? I’m having a hard time with this part of the McNeely case.” Rick was fresh out of law school and, while smarter than anyone else, often needed more expert guidance around more complex cases.
“Can I come to your office in about five minutes? I’ve got to make a call.”
* * * *
An hour later he found Sonja in her office, sipping a can of ginger ale with a straw. The ordinary sight of a woman enjoying a soda was in direct contrast to the fact that it was the woman he’d lost, the woman he’d somehow stopped sharing everything with the minute they began planning the wedding. Ironic that now, after they’d lost everything between them including their house, he was being forced to tell her what might have saved them this pain in the first place. At least some of it.
“You’re drinking a soda?”
“Starting over on many fronts.”
He liked talking to her about something ordinary. Anything but admitting his volatile ex had been a stupid secret he’d kept from her. “You never drink soda. You gave it up when we moved in together.”
“I did. And I wanted one today, so what?” She made a show of shuffling a pile of file folders. “We’ve spent a lot of time on the McNeely case but I need to go over the Randall account with you, too. I don’t think they’re going to be able to use a mediator. Too much at stake.” She spoke in her usual cool manner, no hint of how emotionally charged the Randall divorce was. Would going through their breakup, while not a divorce but equally significant, shake her off her professional pedestal?
He looked at her, really looked at her. The way her skin had a luminousness to it. Her white sleeveless blouse was snug across her breasts. Nothing unusual, as Sonja had the most beautiful, full breasts. But the top button was about to pop. Shit, he could see the pearl bead that was sewn into the center of her bra.
And she’d left her favorite, body-tight dresses hanging in their closet. As if she didn’t need them. Two days ago, when she’d thrown up in the bathroom right next to him.
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and he felt a trickle of it down his neck. He didn’t know if he was going to throw up or pass out. Maybe he should take a knee. He sank into the chair in front of her desk instead.
“You’re pregnant.” He didn’t mean to say it so angrily. Didn’t mean to say it at all.
Sonja’s hand jerked, hitting her files. They flew across her slick desk and knocked over her can of soda. Ginger ale spilled over and down the front of the desk, dripping onto the plush carpet. Sonja jumped up, grabbed a few tissues from the box on the credenza behind her desk and started blotting on her desk, righting the aluminum can. She was leaning over, showing her deeper-than-usual cleavage to advantage, but his gaze didn’t stay there. He looked lower, to her midsection. Sonja was all curves but always had a flat stomach. She worked hard to keep it, she said, but he knew for a fact that even when her workload precluded her cherished gym time, her abs remained flat.
Not slightly rounded, pushing against her linen skirt.
How had he missed it?
“Answer me, Sonja.” Anger simmered low in his gut, rising into a rolling boil. “Are you pregnant?”
Sonja sat back from trying to mop up the spill without getting too close to him. Her lips parted as she let out a soft sigh, her eyes watery and full of sorrow.
“I planned to tell you on our honeymoon.”
“On our—you knew before the wedding?” He pieced things together. The way she’d seemed to lose her energy for the wedding festivities. She was still incredibly happy, or so he’d believed, but not with the usual enthusiasm. “You didn’t even sip your beer at the rehearsal dinner.” They’d been at the old hometown diner, where beer suited better than wine or cocktails alongside fully dressed po’ boys and crawfish étouffée.
He sank into the seat in front of the desk. “So you are? I’m right? You’re going to have our child?”
She nodded, slowly. “Yes. I’m pregnant.”
“When, when did we, ah...” His ears buzzed.
“Here.” A pop of a can, and Sonja shoved a second can of ginger ale into his hands. “Have a sip. I know, it’s a shock, isn’t it?” It was the most open she’d been with him since she’d fled the wedding.
“We always used protection.” They were both adamant that their family wouldn’t happen until they could afford it. Until they were sure what they wanted to do career-wise. They still hadn’t hammered out whether they’d both continue with the family firm, or if Sonja would break out on her own, doing more pro bono than Boudreaux Law.
“Until we didn’t. The time we thought it was impossible for me to get pregnant, so soon after my period.” Her soft words, spoken without a hint of regret, reminded him of the day they’d found themselves hot for each other while setting up their new patio furniture in preparation for the upcoming wedding weekend. They’d made love on their deck atop the two-person chaise longue, in view of the river as the sun set. Without a condom.
“But you’re on the pill.”
“Was. Obviously.” She blushed. “It’s not one hundred percent, as we both knew. We took a chance, and it happened.”
His gaze sought hers, and when their eyes met it was as if they were back there, behind the house, with nothing but joy in front of them. Sonja’s eyes reflected the rush of lust that swamped him, making him painfully hard. Her lips parted, and he saw her pink tongue flick out, her signal that she was ready.
Henry was on his feet and around her desk without thought.
“Sonja.” He didn’t touch her, but she didn’t back away, either.
“No, Henry.” Her voice was quiet, a soft moan with no conviction of keeping him away. He reached out and lifted her chin.
“I’m not going to, God, Sonja.” The words were rough against his dry throat.
She looked at him, her hand on his wrist. But she wasn’t trying to take his hand off her face as she stood stock-still in front of him. He felt the shakiness of her exhale, saw the bare vulnerability in her eyes.
“Henry, this isn’t enough reason for us to try to go back in time.”
She didn’t want him anymore, no matter how he was trying to read into her every move, her quaking, her hesitant manner around him. It wasn’t from a need she was trying to repress. It was her emotions from the past few weeks and the baby hormones—he’d had enough friends have kids and had heard all about how women turn into heaps of feelings when they get pregnant.
“Trust me. Going back to anything we had is the last thing I want.”
* * * *
Henry’s words sliced through the temporary sense of shared joy. His eyes had reflected the surprise of finding out he was going to be a father, followed by his obvious pleasure at the thought, Clearly, he’d quickly tamped back any happiness with his current feelings toward her.
“I heard you the first time, Henry. We’re through.”
He stepped away then, resumed his seat in front of her desk. To her credit Sonja didn’t prevaricate or let one single tear well from his brutal honesty. She sat back down in her chair, too, taking a long sip of the ginger ale. How had a common soda become such an elixir?
“I, I never want you to think I’m asking you for anything. Not just with the baby, but...anything.” She broke the silence.
“Our attraction’s always been there. It’s not going to disappear because our commitment to one another has. And I’m sorry if I crowded you. It’s my shock, I think.”
“No, it won’t disappear, you’re right.” She watched him. He looked surprised, yes, but also a little, no, make that a lot, annoyed. “You haven’t said anything about the baby.”
“I need some time to process it.”
“That’s it? You’re not going to ask why I’ve decided to have it? How we’re going to raise him or her when we’re not together?”
“I don’t need to ask those questions, because I know the answers. You’re in your early thirties, the usual age that women get serious baby fever, if not sooner. You’ve got your law degree and license; you can support a child on your own. You may have needed me to help you get pregnant, but you don’t need me to help you raise a kid. So why wouldn’t you have the baby?”
She tried not to laugh at his recitation of facts. So Henry. “Wow. I have to say I’m surprised. I thought you’d be more shocked, since we were both set on not having kids for a few more years.”
“Maybe that was a dumb plan. Sometimes impromptu works best.” Impromptu and Henry were not acquainted. Or hadn’t been, up to almost three weeks ago.
“So you’re okay with me having the baby? Even though we’ve broken up?” She forced her breathing, told herself his response didn’t matter.
“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m going to be a dad.”
* * * *
Henry would be damned if he let Sonja see him sweat, witness his desire to be in total denial of what they were facing. The need he had for a clean break, a new start, was already being postponed for as long as it took their house to be renovated and sold. As long as Sonja kept working at his father’s firm.
But now, now they were bound together forever—by a child. Holy shit.
“I wasn’t sure how you’d take it. I knew I needed to tell you, of course.” She fiddled with her keyboard, her body language shouting for him to get up and leave her office. Sonja’s smug lawyer expression, something he’d treasured when it unnerved courtroom opponents, made him see red.
“Hold on, Sonja. You’ve already decided to keep the baby. If you hadn’t, I trust that you’d have at least told me before you did anything. That said, the bottom line is that you’d have the final say.” And he meant it. Did he want a child? Yes. Right now? It wouldn’t have been his first choice. But the thought of his baby growing inside her filled him with something he hadn’t felt in too long. Hope.
