Just For Christmas. Stella Bagwell
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sandwich and coffee. “Well, just because he’s a private person doesn’t necessarily make him a prime suspect as the baby’s father.”
Shelby’s laugh was deep and rich as she counted Hope’s change to her. “You’re no fun at all, Hope. You’re just too darn logical.”
On the drive home, Hope thought about Shelby’s comment. Maybe she had become too objective. Maybe she was looking at this baby issue between her and Drake in terms that were only black and white.
But what other terms were there? she wondered grimly. She wanted to try to have a baby again. He didn’t. As things stood, they were at a bitter stalemate. And she was beginning to doubt Stevie or anything else could break it.
Drake and Hope’s two-story brick home was located in a quiet, well-to-do neighborhood just a street over from Abby’s Western-style stucco.
Not too many months ago, Drake had hired a crew of carpenters and painters to give each room a facelift. The results had been beautiful, but Hope had liked the house just as well before. Deep down, she knew Drake’s motive for undertaking the expensive renovation had been to dim their memories and make it harder for both of them to remember the rooms as they’d been before they’d lost the baby. And their dreams for the future.
With a weary sigh, she headed the car onto the wide circular drive. At one end of the four-car garage, she stopped long enough to push the remote to lift the door. Not until she’d pulled inside did she notice the dark green car parked at the far end.
It was Drake’s! He was already here!
Snatching her keys and purse, she quickly went inside the house. The kitchen was dark and quiet, so she hurried to the living room, only to find it empty, also. Drake was not to be seen in the den or the study, either. That meant he had to be upstairs in one of the bedrooms.
Her footsteps were soundless on the carpeted stairs and along the dimly lit landing. Ahead, she could see a long shaft of light coming from an open door. Hope walked steadily toward it, a mix of emotions swirling through her.
It wasn’t until she had taken two steps inside the room that Drake sensed her presence. He looked away from the dresser drawer where he’d been placing his underwear.
“I see you finally made it home.”
Letting his remark slide, she took another step toward him. “What are you doing here, Drake?”
He straightened to his full height, one corner of his mouth cocking upward in the semblance of a grin. “What does it look like? I’m moving back in. That is what you asked me to do.”
Confusion wrinkled her forehead. “Yes. But—” She made a sweeping gesture with her arm. “This is my bedroom.”
Slowly his thumb and forefinger rubbed the arrogant jut of his chin. “No. You’ve got it wrong, Hope. This is our bedroom. And if you want me to stay in this house for the next four weeks, then that’s the way it’s going to be.”
Hope felt her slender body quiver with outrage. “You can’t be serious!”
“Have you ever seen me when I wasn’t?”
No, she thought. Drake was a man who rarely joked. He’d often been accused by his friends of being as sober as a judge. And oddly, his lack of frivolity had been the very thing that had first drawn Hope to him. After living with a mother who considered life one big joke, Drake’s seriousness had comforted her. After ten years of marriage, his inflexibility had driven a wedge between them.
Quick, angry steps carried her across the room to where he stood by the dresser. “Why are you doing this?” she asked tightly.
One brow lifted questioningly as he looked at her. “You asked me to come home. To make believe we still love each other. Didn’t you?”
“Yes! For Stevie’s sake! But that doesn’t mean—” She vigorously shook her head. “He’s only six and a half years old. He doesn’t know a husband and wife normally sleep together!”
Drake couldn’t stop a bitter sneer from spreading across his lips. Apparently Hope hadn’t considered that it would take more than just having him under the same roof to convince Stevie they were a happy family. As for himself, he hadn’t thought of their sleeping arrangements until the moment he’d stepped into the house.
“That’s where you’re mistaken, Hope. When I was his age I knew something was wrong because my friends’ parents had one bedroom, and mine had two. So if you want this little farce with Stevie to work, then you’re just going to have to endure me being in the same bed.”
Her hands began to tremble. “I can’t!”
He turned to the dresser drawer and picked up a stack of underwear. He could have told her it wasn’t going to be easy for him, either. Just the thought of her being that close was enough to cause his stomach to tighten and his palms to sweat.
“Then maybe we’d better forget this whole thing right now,” he muttered tightly. “I thought it was a stupid idea, anyway.”
Hope had never had the urge to do bodily harm to anyone in her life. But at this very moment she would have taken great pleasure in kicking him right in the shins.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” she accused. “To spite me.”
Did he want to spite her? Drake asked himself. For making demands on him that he couldn’t keep? For ruining everything precious and dear about their marriage? He didn’t like to think so. Nor did he want to believe he was simply trying to see if she still wanted him in a physical way. As far as he was concerned, their sleeping together was just another part of the make believe.
He looked at her over his shoulder. “Sleeping with your husband is that abhorrent to you? I can remember a time when you never wanted to be out of my arms.”
She suddenly had to swallow as the truth of his words brought sweet memories rushing through her mind. “I’m not the one who called a halt to our sex life. You did that, Drake.” She turned away from him and stared at the floor as pain threatened to swamp her. “Obviously your distaste for having a child with me is far greater than your desire to make love to me.”
Bitter anger rose in him, and he forced himself to bite back several curse words. She didn’t want to understand or see that the mere thought of her getting pregnant again filled him with desperate fear. And not just fear of losing the tiny life they would create. It was the thought of losing Hope he couldn’t bear to even contemplate. No. She didn’t want to acknowledge his feelings in the matter. It was easier for her to simply paint him the selfish villain.
“You don’t want to admit that you gave me no choice in the matter,” he accused her. “It was either sex without birth control or no sex at all.”
His words so infuriated Hope that she whirled on him. “For years you gave me no choice. Sex with absolutely no hope of ever having a baby! Don’t talk to me about choice or manipulation!”
Drake released a deep breath, then wearily pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is exactly the reason I moved out, Hope. You and I both know that. Ten minutes haven’t passed since I’ve come back, and it’s starting all over again.”
He was right, she thought sadly. But what had he expected her to do when she’d found him moving into her bedroom as though he had a right to? He is still your husband, Hope, a little voice reminded.
She sighed. “I’m sorry, Drake. I just…didn’t expect this.” She gestured to his personal things scattered around the bedroom. “I had planned on you using one of the guest rooms.”
His face like stone, he moved away from her and began to search through a leather duffel bag on the end of the bed. “But I’m not here as a guest, Hope. If we’re going to give the appearance of a real husband and wife, this is the way it needs to be.” He glanced at her, his green eyes unyielding. “Or would you rather I leave and we’ll call the whole thing off?”
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