Unchained (44 page)

Bending to pick up the chubby youngster, he hefted him up and down a few times, as if he was on a scale, and said, “Not quite twenty. Am I right?”

“Of course,” Tori answered as delight bubbled in her throaty laugh and pride for her son shone in her eyes.

Cradling the cute kid on his hip, he took his time taking in every detail. His hair was a dirty blond with some of his mother’s brown undertone. He had his father’s interesting steel blue eyes and Tori’s distinctive lips. The kid was going to break a thousand hearts someday—just like his daddy had.

Daniel was beating the crap out of Alex’s back with the plastic toy still clutched in his hand. A huge burden of unspoken worry vanished once he was assured the boy was in good shape.
At least, there is that
, he thought.

“Here,” Tori said, her mouth in a lopsided grin. “Let me put his nibs in the play zone.”

Alex laughed heartily and handed the boy to his mom. “Oh my god, Tori. I’ve missed your mouth! His nibs.” He chortled with unrestrained glee. “My mom used to refer to my dad that way when he was acting like a dick.”

She snickered. “Yes, well, in this case, it refers perfectly to his lordship here,” she motioned with mocking snark. “Like his father’s father, he thinks he’s all that and then some.”

“Ah. The dubious St. John pedigree.”

She looked momentarily shocked at Alex’s playful but sarcastic reply.

With Daniel settled in a clever six-sided play zone, he took Tori by the hand and led her to the small loveseat in the corner, had her sit down, and then grabbed a rolling chair that he placed at her knees. When he sat, she gave him her hands without his asking.

“I’m all ears.”

She smiled. “Am I in trouble for calling?”

“Fuck no,” he ground out. “I’d be more annoyed if something was wrong and you said nothing.”

Tori nodded and tried to look relieved. “I don’t know where to start.”

He felt like he did when, as a commander, he’d sit with a group of men for a debriefing at the end of a harrowing mission. Sometimes, the best place to jump off from isn’t the beginning.

“I know Drae’s been driving to Flagstaff and that he’s there now. In the Lamborghini.”

She blanched. Had he been too direct, too quickly? He wanted to kill Draegyn.

With pursed lips, which on Tori had quite a dramatic effect, and pinched expression, she dipped her chin, stared at their clasped hands, and then raised her eyes to his.

“First, you should know I’ve had a consult with an amazing doctor.”

“A doctor? Jesus, fuck me Christ, Tori. What’s wrong?”

“That’s the thing, Alex. Something’s been wrong this whole time. To explain bluntly, looks like I have a case of postpartum depression. P-P-D for short.”

Alex barked out questions like commands. “Depression? Does Drae know this? Why the fuck isn’t he here helping?”

“Settle down,” she murmured in a hushed voice. “I’m just coming to grips with this myself.”

He took a deep breath and steadied himself. “Okay.” He thought a minute and said, “I know you, Victoria. You’ve done the research. Give ‘em to me one at a time.”

He was asking for causes and symptoms so he’d understand better. She did not act like she wasn’t prepared for the question.

“Hold on to your hat.” She gripped his hands tighter and spelled out her agony in simple terms that still managed to rip a hole in his heart. Poor Tori.
Fuck.

“Classic case. Feeling sad for no reason. Crying jags. Insomnia. Sudden anger. No appetite. All my thoughts—unhinged, off the hook, unchained. Difficulty concentrating. Feeling inadequate as a wife.”

He growled by reflex when she said it. Killing Drae seemed like a real possibility.

“Yeah,” she said in a tense, brittle voice. “I think that’s quite enough for now, don’t you?”

He wasn’t sure what to say. How to react. He’d known she had a tough time. Everybody knew. Daniel’s wasn’t an easy birth, and her pregnancy was a challenge.

“What are you supposed to do?” Here was one time when he wished for some sort of clue about female shit. He vaguely recalled his mom having problems after Angie was born, but he was a kid then, so what the hell did he know about anything?

“Well,” she assured him with an earnest smirk, “it’s not terminal, so that’s a bonus.”

“Tori, come on. This isn’t the time for cute.”

“All right, all right.” She cleared her throat, hemmed and hawed a bit more, then told him something he already knew. “I need to talk to Meghan. Have a ten-page printout of diet changes and stuff like that. All natural. That’s the only way for me, but I’m a little manic right now, so I’m not sure what the hell I’m doing.”

“Understood. And you know damn well she’s waiting with bells on at the end of the hallway. Now, back to crying phone calls and Flagstaff-bound spouses.”

“I need my hands back for this,” she pleaded.

“Why?”

“’Cause you’re gonna freak out and start yelling.”

He reared back as if he’d been slapped. “Are you sure?”

“No doubt whatsoever.” Her tone was solemn. Serious. “But please don’t go off on a tear, Alex. You have to let me handle this.”

He stood up, scraped a hand through his hair, and went to stand at the play zone to stare at Draegyn’s son. Tori had a reason for telling him about the PPD first. She might be a mess in her current state, but she was a smart lady at the core. He had to trust that she knew what was in her best interest.

But as for Draegyn, he was another matter altogether. Alex didn’t get it. At all. Drae was so insanely infatuated and in love with Tori that his absence and the unsettling tension between the married couple was worrisome. Had something happened? Or fuck … someone?

“Who’s Carol?”

Tori sat back heavily in the chair, her mouth gaping wide and stared at him. “Fuck my life,” she muttered with a hasty glance at the baby as if she was gauging distance and whether their vulgarity was audible. “You’ve been back, what? An hour? And already the gossip machine handed you a name?”

“Everyone is worried. Now, stop bitchin’ and explain what’s going on.”

He looked at his watch. “Oh. And do it in five minutes or less because I think that’s about how much time we have before my lovely wife marches in here and demands that you hand over that kid.”

“Oh shit.” She chuckled. “A timed challenge. Okay. In a nutshell then. I think my crazy hormones and depression created a glitch in the matrix.” She held up her hand and sniped, “Let me finish.”

Crossing her legs, she looked calm, but he sensed her turmoil.

“We’ve had problems communicating. Before the baby and after. My fault. I see that now, but maybe the realization came later than would have been advantageous.”

“Oh god. Stop talking in niceties. Problems communicating? Your fault. Cut the crap. Did he do something?”

“I don’t know,” she responded. “We don’t talk like normal people do. One minute, I’m doing stupid shit like jumping off buildings and-”

“What?” he barked, cutting off what she was saying. “You what?”

“Long story. Not important. My point is one minute up. Next minute down. Not fertile ground for nurturing our communication skills. He pushed my buttons, so I pushed his. Now, he’s hiding something, and I have no idea what although when I’m on a downward swing, I’m positive he’s cheating on me.”

An angry primal growl rose from his throat.

“Easy, big guy. The other side of that is when I’m on a high, he’s like he’s always been. Loving. Funny. Attentive. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“So who the hell is Carol?” he asked more confused than before.

“No idea. None. Is it a person? A business? A code word? Coming up empty.”

“Have you asked him?”

She gave him a deadpan sneer. “Um, did you hear the part about the PPD?”

He knew Tori. If she asked the question during a manic swing, she’d probably do it with a stick of lit dynamite in her hand.

“I can tell you this,” she said at last. “He thinks he’s protecting me. Whatever this is, he’s got it in his mind that I’m being protected.”

“From?”

“Him,” she replied succinctly. “He’s protecting me from him.”

Oh, how lovely
, Stephanie thought. Gazing out the passenger window of a sleek, luxury Justice SUV, she watched two puffy heart-shaped clouds slowly chase each other across a brilliant blue sky as the soft white contrail from a high-flying jet shot through their middles connecting them by a thin thread.

The sight seemed terribly romantic. Side-by-side hearts linked together by a tiny unexpected strand of white.

One of the hands resting calmly in her lap moved to cover her stomach. Her head turned, and through the dark shade of her sunglasses, she saw her fiancé with what she swore was a silver aura pulsing off his body. His hands had a death grip on the steering wheel, and he was clenching his jaw so tight, she wondered if his teeth would survive the punishing clamp.

Her eyes shifted briefly to the driver’s display and widened. A one-legged man in a butt-kicking competition moved faster than the car was. It would be funny if she didn’t have to pee.

Stephanie laid her head on the rest and kept an eye on Calder. It was a real hardship not to laugh. And not just because she was overflowing with numb happiness but also because he just looked so damn cute with his stupefied expression. Poor man. He didn’t know whether to check his butt or scratch his watch.

But if he was stupefied, she was, well, she was blown straight out of the water and still drip-drying on the line. It might be some time before she was able to string more than a couple of coherent words together.

Pregnant.

That was right, folks. Stephanie Bennett. Age fifty. Engaged to the most wonderful guy on the planet. Pregnant.

Had a bun in the oven.

Knocked up.

Eating for two.

In the family way.

What the friggin hell is the universe thinking?

She’d been a nervous wreck during the doctor’s visit. Convinced her time as a fertile woman had screeched to a sudden halt, she was prepared to hear a totally different diagnosis than the one she got.

After a battery of tests and bloodwork, she was dressed once more and sitting mutely next to her man as they waited for the doctor to come in and give them the wretched news that she was a dried-up old lady. Past her prime and slowly turning to dust. Had her thoughts been a bit overdramatic? Yes. Yes, they had.

Nothing in her lifetime of experiences prepared Stephanie for the words the smiling doctor used when she joined them in the quiet office and sat behind the desk.

“All good news,” she began. “First, the bloodwork was fabulous. I see no reason not to give up a high five for taking excellent care of your health.”

Calder let out a huge sigh of relief.

And then the planet tilted slightly.

“Now, as to what’s been causing the appetite changes and the dizziness.”

She held her breath.
Here it comes
, she thought. Expecting to be gently told she was getting old and should just relax and accept it, the doctor opened her mouth and said something, but she was sure at the last second the medical professional started talking in tongues or something because all Stephanie heard was a garbled jumble of sounds.

Then Calder wildly blurted out, “Say again?”

Oh good
, she thought. It wasn’t just her.

She examined the doctor’s face and saw mild amusement.

“I said you’re pregnant. Congratulations, Mrs. Bennett.”

At that, Calder’s head jerked and he sat up straight.

Remembering the shocking announcement, Stephanie rubbed her fingers on her stomach and smiled to herself. She’d had maybe thirty seconds of freefalling shock, and then this feeling of perfect calm enveloped her. Everything around her seemed to be moving at supersonic speed, but she just sat there, her head down, as she stared at her flat belly and let the awe sweep her away.

Oh. Oh, my god. Pregnant. Should she have been afraid? Well, she wasn’t. In those few moments, her whole life made perfect sense.

She and Calder made a baby.

Holy Hannah.

“But I’m fifty,” she finally muttered to the chuckling doctor. “Who has a baby at fifty?”

“Well, Janet Jackson for one,” the doctor announced with glee. “Birth rates among mothers forty-eight and older have grown steadily in the last decade. Now granted, you two hit the daily double.”

“What’s that mean?” Calder barked.

Stephanie reached for his hand and held on tight.

“It means,” she said warmly, “you made a baby the old-fashioned way. Without intervention. That’s a mighty impressive feat and should tell you how much this baby wants to be born!”

The doctor kept talking, and her man kept on asking a steady stream of questions, but Stephanie couldn’t remember hearing any of it. All she could do was stare at her stomach, touch it reverently, and try to keep breathing.

The doctor was laughing. “This isn’t my first rodeo with a fifty-year-old mama-to-be. You came to the right practice, Mrs. Bennett,” she assured her.

Every time she called her Mrs. Bennett, Calder reacted.

“Please, Doctor Murphy. Call me Stephanie.”