Trouble Won't Wait (33 page)

He cuts me off with, “Overnight? Where you goin’? With who?”

“Mike.”

“What the fuck?” he yells.

“Oh, this is classic, Michael. This is exactly why I told you that little idea of yours where I even the score would never work. We’re over, you and me. Go to the bar with some of your friends or something. I know you have other options for New Year’s Eve.” I’d half like to be bitchy and tell him to ask Lana out.

“Jesus, Mandy. I’m tryin’ to work here and you’re tellin’ me you’re
dating
somebody already and you’re goin’ on an overnight trip, but you won’t tell me where or with who?”

“Shit. I’m going on a snowmobile trip. With
him
, okay? Do you feel better?”

I get the background noise of a nail gun, but that’s it.

“Mike?”

“Fine.
Fuck
you.”

Wow. Mike hung up on me. He’s never hung up on me before. That did not go at all as planned. I’d hoped to let him think I was going overnight with friends somewhere. I’d
hoped
he wouldn’t want to go to Mark’s party.

So much for wishful thinking.

* * * *

It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m in the powder room at Mark’s, touching up my lipstick. Adam seems to be fitting in well with Mark and his pals, though I can only hope he’ll never become quite as big a sports fan as they are. The idea of him hanging in Mark’s garage every weekend with them…geez.

More than a few eyebrows have raised here tonight when I’m standing close to Adam. Funny how the brows of the women stay raised as they check him out a little longer. He’s dressed in khakis and a nice green shirt with a tie. The tie really turns me on. I can’t wait to get him alone and loosen it. I had to go out and buy a new little black dress, since my old one was too big. Maybe later when Adam removes my dress, I’ll model the tie for him. Hmm.

Tomorrow, I get to meet Adam’s parents and Brenda up in Aspen before he and I snowmobile out to their cabin. I’m a little anxious about meeting the parents, his mom especially. They’re so worldly and I’m…
not
. But I’m excited about spending tonight and tomorrow night with Adam. I haven’t slept over at his house yet. All night in his arms, wow. Can’t wait.

Over Queen pumping through Mark’s state-of-the-art home sound system, I hear yelling. A very familiar voice. “Where’s he at, goddammit?”

Mike. My heart immediately starts pounding. What the hell is he doing here? I’d better go out before he makes a scene at Mark’s party like I did at Brad’s.

I step into the dimly lit hallway, bundle up my suddenly frayed nerves, and walk to the living room.

Adam is standing in the kitchen near the veggie tray watching, with a vein standing out on his neck.

Kenna must have gone for Mark, because he’s following her in from the garage.

“Mike. What are you doing here?” I ask. His eyes are bloodshot already, which means he’s been drinking for some time. “Tell me you didn’t drive like that.”

Mike ignores my question, looks me up and down, then shakes his head. “Where’s he at? Where’s fucking Danny?”

“Danny?” What would Mike want with him?

“I seen him checkin’ you out on Christmas. Where’s he–”

“I’m right here, Lawson. You want somethin’?”

As Danny gets in Mike’s face, I shoot Mark my
Please Help Me, Now!
Look.

“Came ta kick yer ass,” Mike asserts.

Two of his employees move up behind him.

“Nobody’s kickin’ any ass in my house,” Mark booms. “Lawson, I don’t see your name on the guest list. Kenna, was his name on the list?”

Poor Kenna is appalled speechless–her southern hospitality is taking quite a beating tonight.

Without missing a beat, Mark orders, “Take it outside.”

Mike and Danny head toward the door, with Mike’s guys following. Jesus, I can’t deal with another scene like this. Thank God almost everybody is out in the garage right now.

As I reach the door, Adam’s hand covers my shoulder.

I can’t let this stupidity go any further.

Before I have a chance to stop it, Mark steps in. “Lawson, what’s your beef with Danny?”

From a double-parked truck, I see three girls hanging out the windows and giggling. The guys with Mike turn to them and wave. Cute. Three guys, three girls.

Stepping forward, I announce, “I’m not here with Danny, Mike.”

“Hu…” Mike hiccups. “…uh?” He turns to face me and sees Adam’s hand still on my shoulder. “Oh. Treadmill guy. What the…oh!” His confusion solidifies and becomes anger. “What the fuck?” His hands fist up and he steps forward like the drunken fool he is.

Adam takes a step closer, also.

“Hey, Boss?” A finger taps Mike’s shoulder. “C’mon, man. Be cool. Let it go. You got another piece waitin’ in the truck, man.” At least one of them has figured out Adam is no small guy and probably able to kick some serious ass.

“Yeah,” Mike sneers. “I’ve moved on anyway.” He tries to be cool and saunter away, but trips down the last step and hiccups hard as he’s regaining his footing.

Mark and Danny guffaw as Mike glares back at them.

So Mike’s out picking up one-nighters from the bar. God, I hope he uses a rubber so they don’t catch whatever Lana carries.

“Damn. I really wanted to kick that shithead’s ass,” Danny complains as he follows Mark inside.

“You all right?” Adam asks me.

“Yeah. Okay if I sleep at your place tonight?” I’m in no mood to deal with Mike showing up drunk at all hours ready to fight. Or anything else.

When he spins me around to capture my mouth with his, all I want is to leave the party and go home with him.

Epilogue

It’s five AM, August first. The kids are upstairs here in Adam’s house, sleeping in their new rooms. Once Mike settled down and accepted that we were well and truly over as a couple, Adam hired him to do some remodeling on his
tiny
house. He added bedrooms for my kids when they sleep over, and a couple of extras for future use. Since Ben and Rachel have rooms in both houses, they come and go mostly at their own choosing.

Mike’s dating a nice girl and asked for an evening alone, so the kids didn’t have a choice last night. His new girlfriend might change things some, but right now Mike spends more time with the kids than he did when we were married.

I’m in the master bathroom, killing time while I wait for the results of a pregnancy test. I swear, I’m no less nervous now that I want it to be positive than when I was young and single, and wanted it to be negative.

Adam and I were married the end of June, just three weeks after my divorce was finalized. I know it seems fast, but we’ve been waiting for what seems like a lifetime. We had a pretty ceremony at his family home in Aspen. It wasn’t a huge or fancy wedding, but neither of us needed one. Though his mom wanted to make a society event of it, Adam prefers to keep his financial status low-key.

We honeymooned all over Europe for two weeks, and then spent a week at the house on Maui, hardly coming out for anything but the beach. I’m pretty sure that’s when I conceived–
if
I conceived. I went off the pill before the wedding.

Adam’s showering, getting ready for work. I doubt he’s noticed I’m in here yet. By my calculations, I’m two weeks late. I couldn’t bring myself to take the test “as early as the first day of a missed period.” I’ve been down that road before, running back to the drugstore for a new test every two days, waiting to be late enough for it to finally register.

I’m as tense this morning as I was back when Mike and I got up after just four hours of sleep to take a test for Ben. It seemed better this time to wait and spring it on Adam.

Brenda had a baby girl the end of January, and now Adam’s parents are anxious for him to produce another grandchild. They’ve been great with my kids, having them up to ski Aspen Mountain and swim in their indoor pool.

It’s so strange, dealing with new in-laws after all those years with the Lawsons. They’re not racist and obnoxious like Mike’s family, but I sure felt uncomfortable around them at first. It was mutual, I guess, since Adam didn’t forewarn them that Laura and I looked so alike. I’m much more talkative, though, and Laura was painfully shy, from what I’ve heard.

It will be years before Adam knows me well enough to finish my sentences, or until I know all his childhood stories. We’re still learning how not to annoy each other with silly habits.

Mike and I managed what I would call an amicable divorce, using a mediator and as little bickering as possible to speed things through. He was much more understanding and calm than I’d expected after New Year’s. Sometimes when he behaved himself, I’d find myself resenting him for spoiling what we’d built together all those years.

On the flip side, if Mike hadn’t cheated, I may have never come to be here, now, hoping I’m pregnant with Adam’s baby. Every move we make, every choice, big or small, bad or good, is irrevocable. Opportunities are passed our way and we decide what to do with them.

Did fate or God make Adam stay home alone for Thanksgiving when I so badly needed someone who appreciated me that I’d be willing to talk to a complete stranger in a cemetery? And what made me go out to Brad’s garage at exactly the right–wrong?–time? I don’t know. All I know is what we chose to do with what we were handed.

Speaking of what I’ve been handed: He’s turning off the shower and stepping his glorious body out. I might make him late for work–again. If pregnancy makes me horny like it has before, we’re in
trouble
. Behind me on the counter is the test. I’m afraid to look now. I mean, of course we can keep trying if it’s negative. Of course. Lord knows, we’re good at it.

I’m excited though, you know? Two weeks I’ve been keeping this inside, noticing pregnant women everywhere I go, calculating what my due date would be. How close it would be to what holiday. This would be a St. Pat’s baby. And Adam would be so happy. I want that for him, more than anything.

The big pool of sadness he used to lug around has receded so there’s only a puddle left. I know it wasn’t only Stevie, but also his wife he lost. I’ve never wanted to replace her, just make him as happy as possible. She and I are different, as are Adam and Mike.

So Adam’s coming toward me now, slipping his hand inside my robe, kissing me with his newly shaved face. I’m lost in him, his hot, damp skin, the shampoo smell of his hair, his strength. The dimples tell me he knows I’m up to something and he likes it, very much. Which reminds me what I was up to…

He nuzzles my neck. “Did we do it that fast?” he asks. Must’ve spied the test. He’ll be so proud of himself if he managed to impregnate me in only a month. “What’s a plus sign mean?”

Other Lyrical Books By Autumn Piper

Lone Star Trouble

Trouble Under Venus

Fallen Star Trouble

About Autumn Piper

I write contemporary romance with a high heat index to match their American southwest settings. Known by my writing buddies as “Angst”, I have a penchant for making my characters suffer. My stories may be tributes to the old saying, “No pain, no gain”, but my Hero and Heroine always get the happily-ever-after they so deserve.

I love sunny days, hot bread, the ocean, and that fluttery feeling I get inside at the first spark of a great romance. In between being a wife, mom of two teens, editor and writer, I like to read, garden, take morning walks, and make people laugh–probably succeed here when I try to jog.

For me, an excellent book has characters I can sympathize with or hate (sometimes both at once), a story I simply must see through to the end, and realistic dialogue. Give me those key elements, and I'll read any genre or time period, any author.

Autumn’s Website:

www.autumnpiper.com

Reader eMail:

[email protected]

Trouble Won’t Wait

9781616504229

Copyright © 2012, Autumn Piper

Edited by Mary A. Murray

Book design by Lyrical Press, Inc.

Cover Art by Renee Rocco

First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: November, 2012

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.