Unwrapped (16 page)

J
ac's third wedding was nothing like her first two. There were no sprays of beautiful flowers or poufy puffs of tulle. No pretty bridesmaids or cute flower girls. No expensive wedding gown or tuxedoed groom. Just a cold judge's office with Gerald standing at her side holding a grocery store bouquet and Bailey standing behind her ready to tackle her if she panicked and headed for the door.

Surprisingly, even though the wedding wasn't anything like her dreams, Jac had no desire to escape. A strange calm settled over her the moment Patrick took her hands in his. Her calm could've come from the heat of his skin or the strength of his grip. Or perhaps it came from the clear, steady green of his eyes. Whatever the reason, her voice didn't quaver when she repeated her vows, and her hands didn't tremble when Patrick slipped on the simple gold band. In fact Jac didn't show any signs of nerves until the judge spoke his final words:

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Then Jac promptly leaned over the trash can by the desk and threw up the Western omelet she'd had for breakfast. When she finished, she lifted her head to find Gerald looking like he was ready to lose his breakfast, the judge calling the janitor, and Patrick holding out a red bandanna that didn't go with his blue dress shirt.

“Better?”

She nodded weakly as she took the bandanna. Although a few minutes later, when Patrick had gone to get the truck and she was standing out in front of the courthouse saying her good-byes to Bailey and Gerald, she didn't feel better. She felt like she'd made the biggest mistake of her life.

“Maybe I should come to New York with you,” she said against Bailey's shoulder. “Patrick won't care as long as I come back before the baby is born.”

Bailey awkwardly thumped her on the back before pulling away. She had the hard lawyer look she always got when she'd made up her mind about something. “It's going to be okay, Jac.” She shot a glance over at Gerald. “Tell her, Geri.”

Gerald smiled weakly as tears filled his eyes. “Of course it's going to be okay.” A sob broke loose as he pulled Jac into his arms. “What will I do without you, Jac? Who will make me stuffed French toast in the morning and flavored popcorn at night?”

“Good Lord,” Bailey groaned. “Stop your dramatic whining, Geri. You don't see Jac and me crying, do you?”

He continued to hold on to Jac in a death grip. “Only because you two are the ice princesses and don't cry at anything.”

“It's a Maguire thing,” Bailey said. “Besides, it's not like you won't be coming back for Christmas.”

Jac looked over Gerald's shoulder. “You're coming for Christmas too, Bailey, aren't you?”

Her sister nodded. “Of course I am. But with work, I might have to take a later flight.” She pried Jac away from Gerald. “Remember to take your prenatal vitamins every day. And don't eat too many sweets. And you need to find a good obstetrician and get an appointment as soon as—”

“I already have one picked out.” Patrick walked up. “He's a friend of the family and one of the best in the city.”

Bailey turned and gave Patrick her version of a smile, which pretty much was just a baring of teeth. “Remember our bargain, McPherson.” Then she gave Jac another quick hug and grabbed Gerald's arm, tugging him toward the parking garage.

As she listened to Gerald's sobs, there was a brief moment when Jac wanted to burst into tears. But Bailey was right. Maguire women didn't cry. They just sucked it up and moved on. Accepting her fate, she followed Patrick to the truck he'd parked next to the curb. For once it was clean, and she had to wonder if he had washed it for the occasion. It was doubtful. Especially when he hadn't exactly dressed for it. The cotton button-down shirt was an improvement over flannel, but dress pants instead of jeans would've been nice.

“Are you still feeling sick?” he asked as he helped her up into the truck. “Should I take you to the doctor?”

“No, I usually feel much better after I…”

“Toss your cookies?” A smile flashed over his face, making her realize that, regardless of his inappropriate clothing, she'd married a devastatingly handsome man. “I don't think Judge Murdock will ever forget it.”

She laughed. “He did look appalled, didn't he? I'm just lucky that your family wasn't there to witness it.” She paused before adding, “I guess they were pretty upset with the news.”

His smile faded, and he handed her the seat belt before closing her door. He waited until he'd gotten in and pulled out into traffic before he answered. “I haven't told them yet. But once they've had time to think about it, they'll accept it. They've been wanting me to get married for a while.”

“And why haven't you?” she asked.

It took a while for him to answer. “Maybe because I never found the right girl.”

The right girl
.
Since she was marrying him for money and he was marrying her for the baby, Jac couldn't really claim the title. Which suddenly made her feel extremely sad and kept her from continuing the conversation.

It didn't take them long to reach Patrick's home. He pulled into a parking lot behind three modest condos, proving once again that Patrick wasn't the type to flaunt his money. He reached above his head and pushed the remote clipped to his visor. The garage door of the first condo slowly lifted, revealing a leather-pimped-out, shiny-chromed Harley motorcycle parked on one side, along with a mountain bike, numerous tool chests, and a beer keg.

Once he'd squeezed the big truck into the space that was left, he hopped out and came around to her side to open the door. She hadn't expected him to carry her over the threshold, but she hadn't expected him to grab her luggage from the bed of the truck and head inside without her either. She followed him through the door and up the stairs. When they reached the top, a whirl of fur came barreling toward them. Jac backed toward the stairs while Patrick greeted the pit bull with thumps and ear scratching.

In Mississippi one of their neighbors had owned a pit bull named Kong. The dog had had two mismatched eyes and a set of teeth that rivaled a gator's. Every day, on their way to school, Bailey and Jac had had to pass Kong's house. And every day the dog had tried to eat through the chain link fence to get to them. The pit bull that suddenly took note of Jac didn't have a chain link fence containing it. In fact there was nothing to stop the dog when it charged toward her with teeth flashing and slobber flying.

A scream swelled up in Jac's throat. But before she could release it, Patrick gave one command.

“Stay.”

The dog immediately dropped to its haunches, its eyes trained on Patrick for the next command. Instead Patrick picked up the suitcases and headed for the stairs that led to the third level. Before he disappeared, he called over his shoulder, “I hope you like animals.”

Jac stood with her back plastered against the wall, staring at the dog, who continued to sit, but still looked at her like she was a leg of lamb. An overweight basset hound appeared out of nowhere and waddled toward her, sniffing around her heels before leaving a wet trail of slobber on her shoe. A calico cat joined him, rubbing against her legs. But the cat soon grew bored with the statue of a woman and meandered back into the living room, where it jumped up on the pool table with two other cats.

A pool table.

Suddenly Jac forgot all about the zoo of animals as she took in her surroundings. The pool table took up the entire living room, the only wall filled with a pool cue rack, a wide-screen television, and a multitude of neon beer lights. Next to the living room was a small dining room that held a dart board, a neatly organized desk with a computer, and a desk chair with a blow-up doll sitting in it. The doll wore nothing but lacy panties and a red feather boa that pooled between her spread legs.

As she stared at the placid smile on the doll's face, Jac felt like throwing up again. This had to be some kind of a joke. Somehow Patrick had discovered that she hated pool tables and pit bulls almost as much as she hated motorcycles, and he had pulled all of these things together to make her go racing back to New York.

“Sorry. In my hurry to pick you up at the hotel this morning, I guess I forgot to put Miss Featherbee away.”

Jac pulled her gaze away from the blow-up doll and found Patrick standing at the bottom of the stairs wearing one of his signature flannel shirts. He patted his thigh, and the pit bull raced over for a head scratching. With the dog's attention elsewhere, Jac eased into the kitchen, putting the breakfast bar between her and the sharp-toothed animal. The kitchen seemed to be the only normal space in the house. Although it didn't appear to be used much. The stainless steel stove looked brand-new, and aside from a coffeemaker, there were no small appliances on the granite countertops.

“I'm assuming that you don't cook,” Patrick said. When she didn't say anything, he moved into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “And since I haven't gone to the grocery store, it wouldn't do you any good anyway. I'm afraid that you'll have to order in for lunch.”

“Order in?” She was too stunned by her new home to do more than repeat what he said like a parrot in a cage.

Patrick pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “Although if you don't mind walking, there's a grocery store and some good restaurants within blocks. And I'll pick up dinner on the way home from work.”

“You're going to work?” Jac hadn't expected a true honeymoon, but she had expected to spend the rest of the day in bed naked with Patrick. It didn't look like that was going to happen.

“I've been thinking about starting my own business, but before I do, I want to make sure everything is running smoothly at M&M.” He unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and took a deep drink.

“And what do you expect me to do while you're gone?”

He lowered the bottle, a drop of water clinging to his bottom lip. “Whatever women do—shop online, text your friends, do your nails.” He chugged down the rest of the water, then screwed on the lid and tossed the bottle at the overfilled trash can. “I'll be back around six or seven.” He took a jacket off one of the hooks and reached into the pocket. “If you need me, you can reach me at either number.” He handed her his business card.

She was so stunned by his callous desertion that he was halfway down the stairs before she remembered the pit bull. “But what about the dog? You can't leave me alone with a vicious animal.”

He stopped and turned. “Gomer's a pussycat. Just give him plenty of dog treats and he'll love you forever. The dog walker usually comes by at noon to take him and Gilbert to the park. Cynthia…no, Carrie. Or maybe it's Candace. Anyway, she called and said she couldn't come today. So if you can let them out to pee every now and then, that would be great.” He clomped the rest of the way down the stairs, and the door slammed closed behind him.

Jac might've run after him if Gomer the pussycat hadn't blocked the stairs. The pit bull didn't growl exactly. It just sort of bared its big teeth.

“Easy, Gomer,” she said as she backed toward the kitchen, hoping that's where she would find the doggy snacks. The dog followed her. In fact all the animals followed her. The pit bull, the basset hound, the three cats. They converged on her like a pack of wolves. She quickly opened one cupboard after another, looking for anything that resembled dog or cat treats. Finally giving up, she grabbed a box of Cheerios and poured the entire box out on the floor. The mass feeding frenzy that ensued gave her time to grab her purse off the counter and race up the stairs. Choosing the first bedroom she came to, she slammed the door and locked it.

The bedroom was as sparsely furnished as the rest of the house. A nightstand, a single chest of drawers, and a bed. And it made her realize that no one would go to these lengths for a joke. This sparsely furnished pool hall was how Patrick lived. A wall of panic rose up inside her, and she pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed Bailey. When she didn't answer, she looked up a cab service with every intention of heading to the airport. But the strange flutter in her stomach stopped her. It wasn't nausea. It felt more like the flapping of a butterfly's wings—a brief sensation that was gone as soon as it came.

Jac placed a hand over her stomach. The baby? It couldn't be. Not this soon. Yet she had felt something.

Moving over to the bed, she pulled up the Web browser on her phone. She had her answer within seconds. Flutters or quickening aren't felt until thirteen weeks from the start of your last period. Which meant it was more than likely gas. The answer didn't disappoint her as much as intrigue her. And as she scrolled through different articles on pregnancy and studied pictures of growing fetuses, something did happen inside of Jac. The baby became something more than just a fantasy. Lulu became real.

For the first time in her life, Jac realized she was responsible for someone other than herself. She was responsible for the tiny seed that grew inside her. It wasn't just about dressing Lulu and taking her for walks, it was about making sure she was happy and healthy…and felt loved. Wasn't that why she'd married Patrick in the first place? Not just for her aunt's money, but also so her daughter would have what Jac hadn't? A father who loved her? If that meant living in a man cave for a year, so be it.

Her cell phone rang, and she answered.

“Please tell me that you're not somewhere in the airport,” Gerald said. “I know I was upset about leaving you, but I think that Bailey is right. Everything is going to be okay, Jac.”

She leaned back on the pillow and rested a hand over her stomach. “That's easy for you to say. You didn't marry a Neanderthal.”

“Are we talking in the bedroom or out? Because there's nothing wrong with a little cave-like behavior in the bedroom. Like hair tugging. Maybe a little over-the-shoulder tossing.”