Keeping Her Page 18

  "She's told me she's not ready for a serious relationship, so I don't know what will happen. Honestly, I think she does want a more serious relationship, but for some reason she won't actually commit to that. Maybe she thinks she's too young."

  "What do you mean by 'commit'? Are you thinking of proposing to her?"

  He smiles. "No. I'm not quite ready for that. She hasn't even met my parents. But I have considered moving here to be closer to her. There's a job in Westport at a small private medical clinic. It's a good job and I know one of the doctors there."

  "Do you prefer the private clinic setting over working at a hospital?"

  "Yes, definitely. As I mentioned before, we're able to give better, more individualized care when we're not confined by the rules of insurance companies."

  "And who are your patients? Mostly wealthy people?"

  "Yes. They're the only ones who can afford it. At the clinic I work at in Boston, we see a lot of professional athletes, a few politicians, some businessmen. You should go to the one in Westport. You'll find it's much better than a traditional doctor's office."

  "I never go to the doctor. I haven't been sick in years."

  "Well, if Rachel ever needs to go, have her go to that clinic. They have some excellent OB-GYNs if you two are thinking of having children soon."

  Children. It's something Rachel and I still need to discuss, but I'm trying to put it off as long as possible.

  "Logan?" Rachel appears behind us. "Shelby asked for you."

  He nods and goes inside. Rachel stays out on the deck with me.

  "How's she doing?" I ask.

  "Not well. Shelby and her father were really close. She wasn't ready for him to go. But she knows it's for the best. He was in bad shape and only getting worse." She glances inside. "We should probably leave. I think she wants to be with Logan right now."

  "Let's go say goodbye." I open the door for her and we go inside. Shelby's still on the couch, tucked in Logan's arms.

  Rachel goes over to her. "Are you sure you don't want us to stay?"

  "Yeah, I'll be okay." She reaches up and hugs Rachel. "Thanks again for coming. I'll talk to you after your trip."

  "I'll check in with you before we leave." Rachel looks at Logan. "Bye, Logan."

  "Bye." He glances at Shelby in his arms, then looks at Rachel. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of her."

  I go up to Shelby. "I'm very sorry for your loss. Please give your mother my condolences."

  She nods, sniffling. "Thanks. I will."

  "Next time I'm here, maybe we could have lunch," Logan says to me.

  "Yes, we should do that. Give me a call and we'll set something up."

  Rachel and I leave, but instead of going home, I drive to one of my favorite restaurants. I haven't taken Rachel there yet and I know she'll like it.

  "Where are we going?" she asks when I drive past the exit that takes us back to the loft.

  "I'm taking you out for lunch. You're graduating in two days and we haven't taken any time to celebrate. So we're starting now. It's a very nice restaurant. I think you'll enjoy it."

  "I feel bad celebrating when Shelby is going through such a rough time."

  "She'll be okay. She has Logan."

  "Shelby told me he wants to move here, but she told him not to."

  "Yes. He told me."

  "I don't understand. I know Shelby really likes him, so I don't know why she's pushing him away."

  "Maybe she's just not ready for a serious relationship. Logan is 28. He's ready to settle down."

  "But I think she is too. I know she's only 22 but she's mature for her age. I could see her getting married in a year or two."

  I pull into the restaurant. "Let's not worry about those two. We'll have lunch and then you can plan the rest of the afternoon."

  We end up going to a movie. I've been to the movies several times since being with Rachel, and I've decided I don't like movies. It's not the movies themselves I don't like, but having to go to the theater to watch them. The sticky floors, the popcorn smell, the crowds of people. I'd much rather watch a movie at home. But Rachel loves going to the theater, so I go.

  The next day, her parents arrive and we show them around Weston. Her mother brought up the wedding issue again, insisting Rachel be allowed to plan it. She seemed angry, but Rachel took her aside and talked to her about it. I don't know what she said, but her mother was in a better mood when they were done.

  On Saturday we go to Rachel's graduation, then out for dinner. We drove down to Greenwich to a steakhouse that's considered the best in the state. I told Rachel we should drive into Manhattan to eat, but she thought it might be too much for her parents. She said her dad gets nervous in crowded, congested cities.

  As we're finishing dessert, I hear Rachel say, "Mrs. Kensington."

  I turn around and see my parents behind me. What the hell are they doing here? We're nowhere near when they live. But they do eat out on the weekends and I know they like this restaurant.

  Rachel and her parents stand up, so I do as well.

  "Mother. Father." I nod at them, but only my mother looks at me. My father is looking at Henry, assessing his suit. Henry's suit is a cheap, off-the-rack suit that doesn't fit him very well, but I'm sure it's all he has. He doesn't need an expensive suit working as a farmer.

  "These are my parents," Rachel says. "Beth and Henry Evans."

  I wish she would've just ignored my parents and let them continue out the door. I have no desire to speak to them. And I don't want them talking to Rachel's parents. I know this won't go well.

  "Hello." My mother gives them her fake smile and shakes their hands. "Eleanor Kensington. And this is my husband, Holton."

  He just stands there, silent, refusing to shake their hands.

  "It's nice to meet you," Henry says. "We've enjoyed getting to know your son. He's a fine young man. And a fast learner. I taught him how to chop wood and he had it down within a couple tries."

  My father glares at him, then says to my mother, "I'll be in the car."

  He storms off. He's angry about what Henry said. Although my father hates me, he doesn't want anyone else stepping into his father role. He has to be in control of me, and he feels like he loses that control when someone else acts like a father to me. That's one reason why he hates Jack. And after Henry's comment, I'm sure he hates Henry as well.

  Rachel's parents are quiet. They seem a little shocked that my father just left like that. My mother and I think nothing of it. That's typical behavior for him.

  "I should go," my mother says. She gives us one last fake smile, then walks off.

  The four of us sit back down at the table. Beth and Henry look very uncomfortable, like they're not sure what to say.

  I feel the need to lighten the mood so I smile and say, "So those are my parents."

  Rachel covers her mouth as she laughs. I laugh too. My parents are rude to the point that sometimes you just have to laugh and not take it too seriously.

  "Did we do something wrong?" Beth asks in a concerned tone.

  "No. It has nothing to do with you. That's just how they are. I apologize for their behavior."

  "They can be a little difficult sometimes," Rachel says.

  I chuckle. "Yes. Difficult. That's a nice word for it."

  We return to the conversation we were having before my parents interrupted, and the evening is pleasant again.

  I've decided I love Rachel's parents. I already thought that when I met them in Indiana, but the last couple days just confirmed it. They're good people and I'm always relaxed around them. My own parents make me nervous. They always have.

  I feel blessed to be part of Rachel's family. I really lucked out. I married the woman of my dreams and received great in-laws as well.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Two Weeks Later

  RACHEL

  The past two weeks have been pure heaven. The best time I've had in my entire life. Like a dream. Or a fairytale.

 
Pearce and I have been all over Italy; staying at the best hotels, having fantastic meals, going to museums, churches, and other tourist sites. The weather has been chilly, but that's typical for December, and it's not nearly as cold as Connecticut. Pearce and I agreed that we need to come back here in the warmer months so we can do some of the outdoor activities we weren't able to do this time.

  My favorite part of the trip has been spending time in the small villages. We spent our first week in the larger cities, going to all the tourist sites. Then this past week, Pearce took me to the smaller towns that he told me about when we first met. He's been here many times so knew where to go, but then a few days ago, we found a small village he hadn't been to before and we both fell in love with it. It's a cliffside town along the Mediterranean coastline and the views are magnificent. We were just going to come here for the day, but we loved it so much, we decided to stay, so we got a hotel and have now been here two days.

  Today is Christmas and the entire town is covered in lights. It's so beautiful that Pearce and I have spent the past couple nights just strolling the streets, taking in the lights and the architecture and the people. The people here are very friendly. A lot of them don't speak English, but they try to communicate with us the best they can. We asked our hotel manager about restaurants, and although he knew some English, he still struggled to explain how to get to one of the restaurants he recommended. So he gave up trying to give us directions and just drove us to the restaurant, then came back later to pick us up. Pearce gave him a big tip for doing so, but the man wouldn't take it. He said he just wanted to make sure we had a nice evening. And we did. The restaurant was wonderful. We spent three hours there, drinking wine and enjoying a multi-course dinner.

  It's our last night here and Pearce and I are spending it out on our private balcony. It's evening so the air is cool, but I'm wrapped up in the cashmere blanket Pearce bought me a few days ago when we were shopping in the open market. I'm usually not much of a shopper, but I couldn't resist shopping in these little Italian villages. I bought a couple scarves, a leather handbag, some leather boots, and some items for my mom. Pearce told me to buy whatever I'd like, saying it was my Christmas gift, but this whole trip is a Christmas gift. It's an experience I'll never forget.

  "Merry Christmas," I say to Pearce.

  "Merry Christmas to you as well." His arm is around me, my head resting on his shoulder, as we sit on the small bench that's on the balcony.

  "I wish we didn't have to leave."

  "So you enjoyed our honeymoon?" He leans down and kisses the top of my head.

  "'Enjoyed' isn't a strong enough word. I don't even have words to describe it. It's better than I ever imagined it would be." I hug his chest as I reach up to kiss him. "And it's not just Italy. It's being here with you. I'll never forget this. Thank you for taking me here."

  "You're very welcome. And since you enjoyed it so much, we'll be coming back here. Anytime you want to go, we'll make a trip."

  "Could we come back to this village? I'd like to spend a whole week here. In fact, I could live here." I laugh. "Would you consider moving here?"

  He isn't laughing. "Maybe we should retire here."

  I sit up. "Are you joking?"

  "Not at all."

  "You would seriously consider retiring here?"

  "We wouldn't have to live here year-round. We could buy a house and stay here for a few months out of the year."

  "Oh, Pearce, I would love that! I think we should put it in our plan."

  He smiles at me. "We have a plan?"

  I smile back. "Yes. Our life plan."

  He turns a little to face me. "And what else is in this plan?"

  "Well, we should probably move out of the loft and get a house."

  "I agree. I think we should start looking when we get back. We don't have to buy anything right away, but we should see what's out there." He holds my hand. "Anything else? So far, we've decided to buy two houses in different locations. That's not much of a plan."

  The only other thing on my plan is to have a baby, but I don't know if I should bring that topic up now, or wait until later.

  "What is it, Rachel?"

  I should just tell him. We can't avoid this topic forever.

  "I want us to have a baby." As I say it, his expression turns serious and a little concerned.

  "You said you couldn't have children."

  I take my hand back from his and wrap the blanket tighter around me. "That was just one doctor's opinion. I need to see someone else. A specialist. Someone who can run more tests and give me a second opinion. I just haven't done that because I'm afraid of what I'm going to find out."

  "I didn't realize there was still a possibility…" His voice trails off.

  "Maybe there isn't. But if there is…I want to try." I pause. "Even if we're only able to have one, that's okay. I'll take whatever God will give us." I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to cry. Crying implies I've given up. That I'm losing hope. And I refuse to do that. I still want to believe it's possible for me to have a child. I open my eyes and see Pearce watching me. "Pearce, you're not saying anything. You do want children, don't you?"

  He's quiet, and a heaviness fills my chest. He doesn't want children. How could I not know this? How could we get married without talking about this? Truthfully, I think part of me knew he didn't want them. When I told him I couldn't have children, he didn't seem that upset. I should've known that was a sign he didn't want them.

  "You don't want children," I say quietly, glancing down at the blanket.

  Silence again. His silence is his answer.

  Tears fill my eyes. I can't stop them. I feel like I did when my doctor told me I couldn't have children, except this time, my husband is telling me that.

  "Rachel." He pauses. "It's not that I don't want them. I just…"

  I look up at him. "You just what?"

  "I just don't think I could do it. I can't be a father."

  "Why not?"

  He shakes his head. "I don't know the first thing about children. I get nervous around them. And they don't like me."

  That's why he doesn't want kids? Because he's afraid of being a father? Relief washes over me because this is something he can overcome. A lot of men are afraid of being a father. I thought he was going to say he just flat-out didn't want them, and if so, I wouldn't be able to change his mind. But this is something he can work on. It's something we can work on together.

  I smile. "Pearce, that's not true. Children like most anyone. And our child would love you. You would make a wonderful father."

  He gazes out at the darkness. "No. I wouldn't. The only example I had was how NOT to be a father."

  "Then you'll use that to know what not to do." I bring my hand out from under the blanket and place it on his face, turning him toward me. "Pearce, I want to have a child with you. I want us to at least try."

  "I know you do." He kisses my forehead. "But we don't need to decide anything right now. Let's get home and have you see a specialist and find out what our options are. Then we'll talk about this again."

  I nod, and lay my head back on his shoulder. We sit there quietly for a moment, listening to the soft breeze that's circling around us.

  "Are you excited about going back to Indiana next week?" he asks.

  "Yes. Although I'll be tired when I get there after all the travel. I might have to spend Monday catching up on sleep. But I'm excited to see my friends and spend time with my parents."

  "I may not be able to call you much next week. These meetings tend to drag on and it's hard to get away."

  "Meetings? I thought you said it was a conference."

  He clears his throat. "It is, but in addition to speakers, we also have meetings with our clients."

  "Do you think your father will talk to you when you're there?"

  "Only if he has to, for business purposes. Otherwise, no, he won't talk to me."

  I can't believe Holton is acting this way. There's something wron
g with that man. Something seriously wrong. I've never met anyone who is that hostile and angry all the time. He's so unhappy, and he wants to make sure everyone else is as well, especially his son. He seems determined to break up Pearce and me, but it's not going to happen. In fact, part of the reason I was so forgiving of Pearce lying to me is because I knew his father intentionally told me those things so that I'd divorce Pearce. But instead, his father's actions caused Pearce to open up to me and tell me things that helped me understand him better. So if anything, his father just made my relationship with his son even stronger.

  "Are you falling asleep?" Pearce asks.

  I'm now nestled against him, my eyes closed. "No. I was just savoring our last few moments here."

  "Let's savor them inside," he says, lifting my face up to his for a kiss.

  I smile. "In bed?"

  "It is our honeymoon. And after tomorrow, I won't see you for an entire week." He slides his hand under my legs and lifts me up, carrying me back inside the room.

  "I don't want to leave tomorrow," I tell him as he sets me down.

  "We'll come back here," he says, his lips over mine. He peels my robe back, gazing at my naked body, his eyes filled with desire.

  His robe drops to the floor and my own desire erupts, firing up my core as I see him there, already aroused and ready for me. He holds my face and his lips move gently over mine, our bodies still not touching. He's too far away. I need to feel him. I step closer, placing my hands on his chest, then lowering them to feel the hard ridges of muscle that outline his abs.

  My hand continues downward, stroking him. I hear him groan. I feel the rumble of it in my chest as his tongue sweeps over mine. His hand goes behind my head, tilting it up slightly as his kiss goes deeper, his other hand traveling down my body, teasing my breast. I moan and my head falls back into his hand. He holds it there, as his deep, slow, sensual kisses continue. I'm burning up. Wanting him. Needing him.

  His hand slides down my stomach, and when he reaches the spot that so desperately needs his touch, he skims past it. I feel him smile a little as he kisses me. He knows what he did. He felt me tense up when he hit the spot, then relax in disappointment when he went past it. But it only made me more turned on. The waiting. The anticipation. He knows what it does to me and that's why he does it. He wants to please me. And he does. Every single time. Sometimes multiple times.