Nobodys fool, p.3
Nobody's Fool, page 3
“I guess I could ask Summer. She’d know if a party like that is possible.”
Becs sat up higher in the massaging chair, turned the option on the remote from throbbing to a more sedate rolling across her lower back. “Of course, it’s possible. Think of the fun you’d have putting together a nursery here at home, where you could plan where everything would go, what patterns you wanted.”
“I don’t know. It seems awfully... self-indulgent.”
Becky waved her newly pink fingernails. “That’s Grandma getting inside your head. Don’t listen to her.”
“Oh, God. Grandma.” Mom’s face twisted as if she’d sucked down a gallon of lemon juice. “She’s gonna have a lot to say about you being pregnant and not married, you know.”
“Lucky for me, I’ll be on the other side of the country and not around to hear it.”
“Great. Another disappointment she’ll throw in my face. You sure you won’t consider Ace’s proposal? For my sake?”
While her tone was light and teasing, Mom’s question held a lot of truth behind the humor. Still, Becs had to put the brakes on that train of thought pronto. “Sorry, Mom. I refuse to get married because anyone—even Grandma—thinks I have to. I’m a grown woman. I’m strong, smart, capable, and I don’t need a husband to make my son feel loved and wanted.” She rubbed her belly for emphasis.
“You don’t get married to make your child feel loved and wanted. You get married when you love and want the person who loves and wants you. You do love Ace, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“And you want to marry him?”
“Yes.” Before Mom could say anymore, she added, “But on my terms. Not his, and not Frost’s.”
The nail technician slipped Becky’s flip-flops on her feet, then signaled her toward the drying station while picking up her purse. Thanks to her excess belly bulk and wet nails, she struggled to get out of the massaging chair, but eventually, with some help from two technicians, she got to her feet.
“Thanks.” Becs offered her mom a nod before shuffling to the long narrow table embedded with fans and heating lamps to harden and shine her new polish. Once settled with her purse on the stool to her right, she stared out the window at the parking lot, her mind traveling over her conversation with her mother.
Of course she loved Ace. She’d loved him almost since their first meeting years ago when she’d accused him of attempting to kidnap her little brother from a ski shop. God, she’d been such a sullen teen in those days, all dark looks and sarcasm, but even in those days, Ace had a way of digging out the sunshine from deep inside her. They were good for each other. Salt and pepper, total opposites that worked exceptionally well together. He was always upbeat and optimistic, daring and impulsive, while she stayed more grounded in reality, preferring to have all the facts before leaping into any abyss. Like this whole marriage thing. She sighed. If only she could be sure...
“You never are, you know.”
“Huh?” She flinched at the sound of her mother’s voice so close. While she’d been daydreaming, Mom had slid onto the stool on her left. Becs had been so self-absorbed, she hadn’t heard a sound or sensed any motion nearby.
“You’re never guaranteed a happily-ever-after. It takes a lot of work, a lot of patience, a lot of giving in without giving up. Trust me. There are still days where I look at Jeff and wonder when I’m going to find a strange phone number in his pocket or smell another woman’s perfume on his collar.”
Becs gasped. “Dad would never—”
“I know. In my heart, I know he loves me, and I trust he would never hurt me.” She tapped her chest and then her temple. “My head, though, still remembers all the painful episodes of my past and tries to convince me I somehow deserved what happened, so it’s only a matter of time before it happens again.” Her lips quivered in a tremulous smile. “The point is, to make a marriage work, you need a good steady foundation of love and trust. If you have the slightest doubt about your feelings for Ace or his for you, then you’re right to wait.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Becky’s posture relaxed.
Her mother placed her hand over Becky’s. “I love you, Becky-boo. Always.”
“I love you, too.”
Chapter 3
When Mom pulled the SUV into the driveway at the end of their busy afternoon, Becs had her head buried in a shopping bag full of baby clothes. She didn’t need them; Frost already had a closet bursting with outfits, more than he could possibly ever wear. But her mother was so excited to buy something for her first grandchild, how could she possibly say no?
“Hmm. I wonder who that could be?”
Mom’s statement had her jerking her attention away from the fuzzy blue layette and matching hooded snuggle coat to stare out the window at the approaching dusk. She squinted while looking down the sidewalk, expecting to see someone strolling along the street. “Huh? Who?”
Mom pointed in front of the house. “That black car at the curb. I’ve never seen it before. Jeff must have a patient in his home office.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “The holidays can be rough on so many of our clients.”
Becky took in the black sports sedan, a high-end luxury vehicle she doubted any of Rainey-Day-Wife’s clients could afford—unless it was a rental. A rush of emotion flooded her already hormone-overloaded senses. It couldn’t be. But the sudden kicking in her belly told her she was right. Frost’s daddy had come to town.
“It’s Ace.”
“Ace? How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“And I’m guessing you also know why he’s here.”
Crap.
“He’s going to ask me to marry him again. In front of you and Dad, hoping it will put some pressure on me to say yes.” She clutched her mother’s forearm through her heavy woolen coat. “Mom, you meant what you said in the nail salon, right? That it was okay for me to say no if I had the slightest doubt?”
“Yes. Do you doubt him?”
“I don’t doubt that he loves me, but, yeah, I can’t be a hundred percent sure he’s not asking me to marry him because I’m having his baby. I won’t get married to a man who only asked out of some misguided sense of obligation. I’m not going to fall into the same trap you did. I’ll need you and Dad to both back me up on this.”
“We will. I promise.” Mom slid the gear into park and cut the engine. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” While gathering the shopping bags by their handles, she took a deep breath to steel her nerves for the coming battle.
“Leave the bags for now,” her mother told her, opening her car door. “You’ll try to use them as a shield, and that’ll give him the upper hand. If you want to win this argument, keep yourself open to hearing what he has to say without showing weakness. Stand your ground, and Dad and I will be right behind you. Promise.”
Mom was reading body language now? Dad’s influence again, no doubt. She took another deep breath. “Okay.”
With her spine stiff and her belly thrust forward, she climbed out of the car and waddled up the walk. The wind was milder today but held a slight scent of coming snow. She took several more breaths, allowing the crisp air to grant her some semblance of peace. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d thought her biggest battle over the next few weeks would be with her mother. Look how quickly Mom had come around. Ace, on the other hand, wouldn’t prove so malleable. She’d have to stick to her guns and, like Mom used to say, when faced with a challenge, channel your inner Bette Davis.
Her stepfather opened the front door as they reached the steps, probably thinking to give them a heads-up about Ace’s surprise arrival. Mom tilted her head to one side, a subtle hint they were aware of their visitor’s identity, and Dad stepped back to let them inside.
“Here they are now,” he said a little too loud and with way too much enthusiasm to whoever sat in the living room—as if she didn’t already know.
“Clearly,” Mom muttered as they entered the foyer, “Jeff would make a lousy spy.”
Becky bit back a laugh. From the corner of her eye, she caught a motion in the living room, a flash of blond followed by those familiar broad shoulders as Ace stood.
All her bravado fled when he approached, but she fisted her hands and stood straight and tall. “Ace. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be competing?”
“Yeah. I would’ve finished my second run...” He glanced at the clock on the wall behind him. “...an hour ago if I’d stayed there. But I didn’t.”
“Obviously. Why not?”
He flashed her a grin. “I quit.”
Good thing she’d left the bags in the car. Otherwise, she would’ve dropped them when she heard his pronouncement. “You what?”
“I quit. Well, technically, I retired from the pro circuit. I told my coach I was done.” He shrugged. “I’ll release an official statement about my retirement after the holidays. Timing’s perfect. I’ve got plenty of endorsement deals, and the Zeta Games are asking me to be an on-air correspondent, starting next season. That’s cool, isn’t it?”
“Why would you do something like that?” The question came out a harsh whisper. Shock had pretty much stolen her ability to speak in her normal tone.
“Retire?” At her nod, he added, “Because it’s time. You know I never wanted to be the old man who didn’t know when to get outta the way and make room for the next generation. These young kids are coming up fast. They’ve got new tricks, more speed, and I’m the guy they’re gunning to beat. One day, one of these up-and-comers is going to make sports history as the first one to come out on top against the Aerial Snowball.”
He chuckled. “Now I know how my competition felt about me all those years ago. It’s like I’ve got a giant target on my back. If I stay in the game, in a year or two, I’ll wind up coming in eighth or tenth behind these new guys, and my resale value will plummet. But if I get out now, I keep my records and my pride intact, and I’m still the best in the business—at least for a short while. I can’t keep them from breaking my records, but I don’t have to be publicly humiliated, becoming known as the ‘grampa of the pipe’ in the process.”
“I hate to interrupt,” her stepfather said from in front of the open closet door, “but, Becs, why don’t you take off your coat, and then you two can go into the living room to talk, rather than discussing something so serious here in the hall?”
Stunned mute, all she could do was nod and let her trembling fingers unzip her jacket. Ace had quit competing. Had he really done it because he wanted to, because he felt he was too old for the sport? Or did he think he had to retire if he had any hope of convincing her he was ready for marriage?
She’d never resented his many absences, had always accepted them the way she’d accepted his blond hair and blue eyes. This was who Ace was: a sports legend long before she’d met him. His livelihood demanded he travel for practices, for events, for appearances.
For the girlfriend routinely left behind, his regular disappearances were an inconvenience, easy to overlook. For a wife, the mother of his child, though, those extended separations would prove a lot harder to dismiss. Whatever he’d intended by retiring, he’d just helped to make her argument stronger. If he thought this decision would change her mind, he was way off the mark. No matter what he said about the new kids coming up, he wasn’t ready to leave competing yet. He’d done this on a whim and would soon regret the decision and resent her for his choice.
That’s what her father had done to her mother. Not for the same reason, but the sperm donor (she refused to call him Dad anymore) had publicly humiliated Mom, broken her heart—nearly broke her spirit!—because he blamed her for their marriage, blamed her for having to grow up.
She remembered all the arguments when she was a kid, the lack of money because neither of them had been able to go to college or get decent-paying jobs, Mom’s dedication to Mike that resulted in heated continuous debates with school administrators, teachers, coaches, other parents. All that battling and championing took her attention away from her husband—which, of course, he used as an excuse to cheat on her constantly. Poor Mom, left broke, alone, and with full-time care of two kids. There would be no repeat of that history, not if Becs could stop it!
Her mother’s elbow nudged her in the back. “Go on, sweetheart.”
Becs stumbled forward while shooting her mother a pleading look.
Apparently, Mom caught on. “Your father and I will grab a few cups of tea and join you shortly.”
She peeled off her coat and passed it to Jeff, and Ace took her hand to draw her into the living room.
“Isn’t it great, Becs? Think about it. No more months of practice, no more weeks at some event. There’ll be some travel involved. I won’t be working a nine-to-five. You know I could never survive in that world the way you do. Still, I’d be home a lot more, which means I’ll have more time for you and the baby.”
“O...kay,” she said as she sank into the only chair in the room she could still climb out of without help, a stiff red leather wingback near the decorated tree.
Reaching out a hand, she bounced an ornament that dangled from a bough with a fingertip. The silver bell tinkled, and she automatically thought of the old movie, one of Mom’s favorites, where an angel got its wings. They’d watch it every year while stringing popcorn for garland on that old sorry artificial tree. A wistful smile played about her lips. Not all of her childhood memories were contentious.
“Becs? Are you listening to me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, then, what do you think? It’s perfect, right? We’ll be a family. You, me, and Frost’ll make three.”
She shook her head and managed to emit the hardest word she’d ever uttered. “No.”
The devastated look on his face nearly cracked her heart in half. She might as well have kicked a puppy.
“No?”
“I told you. I’m not ready to get married.”
“To me, you mean. You’re not ready to get married to me.”
Ouch. She hadn’t expected him to jump to such an insulting conclusion. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who else would I marry?”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “You tell me.”
“Oh, come on. You know there’s no one else. It ticks me off that you would even go there!”
“I ‘went there’ because you don’t seem too eager to have me home more often. I expected you to be happy about my retirement.”
“I am,” she lied, but didn’t pull it off with any sincerity. She sighed and dropped her hands on top of her tummy. “You shouldn’t have done it, Ace. I can’t bear to think you gave up your career—”
“I didn’t give it up. I’ve just channeled it into a new direction.”
“Something you said you were looking at doing five years down the road.”
“That was before.”
“Before I got pregnant.”
“I never said that.”
“You don’t have to.”
By clutching both arms of the sturdy chair, she managed to get to her feet without looking like a clumsy elephant.
At the same time, her mom and stepdad entered the room with their tea service on a tray. Perfect timing—not.
“It’s been a long day, and I’m wiped. I’m gonna skip the tea and niceties and take a nap before dinner.”
“Becs, wait.” Ace’s command stopped her in her tracks, but she kept her spine stiff. “I love you.”
She nodded. “I know. I love you, too.”
And because she loved him, she walked away, prepared to eventually let him go for good.
ACE EXCHANGED CONFUSED glances with Becky’s parents. “See what I mean? I don’t get it. She’ll barely talk to me.”
Mrs. Prentiss sat on the loveseat beside him and patted his hand. “She’s afraid.”
“Of what? Of me? That’s crazy with a capital K. Becs has never been afraid of anything or anybody in her whole life, least of all me.”
A half-smile twitched her lips. “Pregnancy does strange things to a woman’s mind.”
Bull. Becs was one of the most level-headed people he knew. He loved that about her, that in a world where he was surrounded by yes-men, he could always count on her as his honest straight-shooter. He didn’t care what anybody said about hormones or pregnancy messing with her head. If she wasn’t ready to marry him, there was a real, concrete reason. She never overreacted or let emotion cloud her judgment. Ever.
“So, what do you think I should do? Wait it out? You think she’ll listen better once Frost is born?”
Dr. Prentiss chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with her hearing, Ace.”
“What you’re saying is... she’s never gonna marry me?”
The smile on Mrs. P’s lips widened. “Ace, let me ask you a question, and I want you to be totally honest with me.”
He swallowed hard and shifted to face her head-on, eyes steady and unblinking. “Okay.”
“Would you have asked my daughter to marry you if she weren’t pregnant right now?”
“Yes.” At her hard look, he squirmed. “I know what you’re thinking, and yeah. Okay. I probably wouldn’t have done it on the bathroom floor. I woulda picked a restaurant or a park or someplace special and I would’ve made it a bigger production. And I realize I screwed that part up. But I always intended to ask her. I had a timeline, you know?” He bounced his hand to each subsequent milestone as he listed, “A couple of more years of competition, then retirement, then marriage, then baby. I figured marriage was about four or five years down the road, with a baby a year or two after that. Baby coming before the rest of the plan threw off my mojo at first. But it didn’t change how I feel about Becs, I swear.”
“I’m sure it didn’t.” Dr. P handed out cups of tea, first to his wife, then to Ace, before taking the seat Becs had left. “Did Becky know about your timeline?”
