Chapter 10: Finding Forever: Chapter 9

Cade stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a familiar voice echoing down the hallway toward him. A voice he’d ever expected to hear in his own home.

Fucking Granger Abernathy.

His voice was muffled and coming from behind the closed door of Fern’s room. It was clear that he was shouting and this pissed Cade all the way off. Fern had married him to get away from this fucker, so why in hell was she taking his calls?

He stomped his way to her door and without thinking, swung it open and stepped into the room.

He blinked in confusion, when he found her sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed, wearing nothing but knee-high socks and a T-shirt that was hiked so far up it revealed every inch of her pale thighs all the way up to her sage green panties.

“Uh…” He blinked at the unexpected expanse of silky skin on display before hastily diverting his gaze up to her face.

She was staring back at him in shock, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes wide… the flush creeping up her face added a bloom of delicate color to her cheeks. Her hair was wet and loose. Cade bit back a groan at the sight of it. It was so long it tumbled over her shoulders and down her back, with a good few damp inches left to pool on the bedcover around her thighs and butt.

“C-Cade?” She had her phone in her hand and she hastily lowered it to her lap, the move thankfully covering up her crotch area.

“I heard Abernathy’s voice,” he said, his voice rough. Jesus, he sounded like he’d swallowed rocks for breakfast and chased them down with a bottle of Glenfiddich.

“I was catching up on my messages,” she told him, lifting the phone to show him, then going an even deeper shade of pink as she very quickly lowered her hand. “Granger is very unhappy.”

“So that wasn’t a phone call?” he clarified.

“No, of course not.”

“He was shouting.”

“He always is.”

Cade eyed the soft-spoken fae-like creature sitting in the middle of that huge bed and felt an irrational surge of rage at the thought of Abernathy raising his voice to her.

“Not at you. Not anymore,” he told her. “Block him. If he wants to discuss this matter any further, he can contact me.”

Fern did not like the implacable way Cade had commanded her to block Granger.

“That will only enrage him further,” she argued. “If he knows I’m entirely complicit in this matter, that it was my idea, he might back off.”

He gave her a look of such pitying condescension she very nearly flinched away from it.

“You truly believe that hearing it was your idea would make him back off? When he’s been bullying you your entire life? If anything, it’ll make him come at you harder, he’d never accept being bested by someone he doesn’t respect. Telling him it was your idea is the last thing we should do right now.”

“But I want him to know,” she whispered, her voice tight with fury. “I want him to know it was me.”

His expression remained inscrutable, but his jaw flexed as he seemed to consider his next words.

“Okay, Fern, he’ll know it was you,” he conceded with a curt nod. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“But…” How to verbalize exactly what she was feeling without seeming too⁠—

“You want to see his reaction, don’t you?” he said, a tiny thread of amusement running through his voice as he said exactly what she’d been thinking. “That’s bloodthirsty as hell, lass.”

She lifted her chin defiantly and shrugged, striving for nonchalance as she said, “I think I deserve that much at least.”

“Well, do me a favor and don’t listen to his fucking messages anymore, okay? They’ll only upset you and possibly make you ill again. What with your constitution being out of whack because of the… the—” He made a vague circling gesture with his open hand. “The thing.”

“The thing?” she repeated, tilting her head quizzically, amused herself now at his clear discomfort. “You mean the baby?”

He grimaced.

“I mean, it’s hardly that at the moment, is it?” His brow pleated.

“What would you call it then?”

“I’d rather not…” Oh, he really looked a little hot under the collar now. Back in a navy-blue Tom Ford suit, with a pristine white shirt and a striped gray and blue tie, he should have exuded confidence. Instead, he tugged at the collar as if it was choking him and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “What I think doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“It shouldn’t,” he corrected her abruptly. “We’re merely strangers forced together under a set of extenuating circumstances.”

“That’s true,” she acknowledged. “But I’d still like you to answer.”

“So that you can get all offended about it?”

“What makes you think I’d do that? Like you said, we’re strangers, you don’t know how I’d react.”

“Look this pregnancy business is a complication I’d much rather not deal with right now. For me there’s no joy or excitement or anticipation. What you think of as a baby, I see as an inconvenient bundle of parasitic cells that’s only making you ill.”

Fern tried not to flinch at his words. She’d insisted he tell her and should have been prepared for the worst. She just hadn’t expected a complete repudiation of the baby as even a living being.

It frightened her a little… no, it frightened her a lot. Fern tried to tell herself that it was good, that his indifference meant that he’d never want her baby, never fight her for custody… But she feared that Cade’s indifference would also mean that the protection he currently offered Fern would never extend to her baby. And until she was able to take control of her own life, she needed to know that her baby would be safe here. That Granger would never exert any sort of control or influence over the child’s life. If anything happened to her, what would happen to her baby?

Who would champion him?

“See? I’ve upset you,” he sounded disgruntled and Fern blinked, coming out of her panic spiral and back to the present with a jolt.

“No. I mean… not really. Not in the way you think. I was just—” She gave a helpless little shake her head. “You feel the way you feel. I understand and I can’t hold it against you. You don’t owe me anything, Cade… quite the contrary. I’m indebted to you.”

He parted his lips and seemed about to respond, before he gave a curt impatient shake of his head and clamped his mouth shut.

“Is your meeting over?”

“Yes.” He elbowed his unbuttoned jacket aside and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. An irritable glower settled over his handsome features and Fern wondered what bug had crawled up his butt this time.

“I was wondering about dinner?”

“What about it?”

“Was thinking maybe we eat out? Someplace where we’d be seen. Possibly photographed?”

Fern groaned inwardly at the idea.

“Do we have to?” she asked on a soft sigh. “I mean, I know we have to be seen together and stuff, but does that have to be tonight? I’m just so tired. So much has happened these last couple of days, I’ve barely had the chance to breathe. And the parasite”—sorry Baby, Mommy doesn’t think you’re a parasite at all—“is really sapping my energy levels right now.”

His lips thinned at the word parasite but he refrained from commenting, that moody gaze sweeping over her again, lingering on her hair.

“That’s fine. Another night then. I forgot to tell you, my sister-in-law Beth invited us to lunch tomorrow. I told her yes, I hope that’s okay?”

“That sounds lovely,” Fern murmured.

“Right, I have some work to catch up on.”

“Again?”

“What?”

“You’ve been catching up on work since we arrived. Haven’t you caught up yet?”

His lips tilted upwards and his eyes gleamed with what could almost be described as humor. “You sound like a nagging wife.”

She screwed up her face in a self-effacing grimace, nodding to acknowledge his comment.

“Yeah, I heard it as I said it. I just meant that you must be tired too.”

“Look, I don’t really have work to catch up on, aye?” he admitted with a frankness she found disarming and entirely unexpected. “It’s just the easiest excuse I could think of to extricate myself from an uncomfortable encounter.”

The admission startled a delighted laugh out of her.

“You know I’m always going to doubt you now, even when you do have work to catch up on.”

“Most of the time it’s not a lie.”

“But it was this time?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else to say to you. This situation is fucked up and weird. Right? And you’re here, living in my house—my fucking wife, for Jesus’s sake. With your legs bare, and your amazing hair wrapped around you like a silken cloak, flashing your panties with each restless shift of your arse…”

She squeaked, went bright red, and dragged a pillow over her lap.

“And so goddamned innocent. How the fuck are you so innocent? When you’re sitting there fucking pregnant with my fucking⁠—”

His excessive use of profanity tickled her, since it seemed to be an indication of how unsettled he was right now. And it was revelatory to see a man as controlled as Cade, so frazzled and out of sorts.

“Bundle of parasitic cells?” she finished tartly and he glared at her.

“And then there’s that…” He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “One minute you’re shy and retiring and fucking ghosting out of any room I happen to walk into and the next you’re sassy and mouthy and so goddamn brave. Find a personality and stick with it, will you? So that I know how the fuck to manage you.”

“Maybe I can’t be managed,” she said with insouciant shrug, loving that she had him on the back foot a bit. He looked and sounded so frazzled, she couldn’t help but be entertained by the exchange.

“Abernathy did… for fifteen damned years.”

That sulky comment wiped away any and all amusement as the thought of Cade controlling every aspect of her life the way Granger had, stole Fern’s words and breath from her in an instant. She hunched her shoulders defensively, instinctively making herself as small as possible, the way a prey animal would when a predator circled close by.

“Fuck.” The word, snatched from beneath Cade’s breath was curt and filled with contrition. “Fuck, Fern, I shouldn’t have⁠—”

She felt the mattress depress as he sat down next to her but kept her eyes averted, not wanting to look at him, not wanting him to see the terror in her eyes. She felt his tentative touch on her arm and flinched so violently he immediately snatched his hand back.

Better to be small, quiet—a mouse. Better to escape notice than to be seen as a nuisance. Or worse, have him notice her and want to control everything she had. Everything she was.

“Fern, I’m sorry. That was a fucking crass, tactless thing to say.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, wanting him gone. Wanting to be alone and out of sight. She’d let him see too much of the real her. She hadn’t been cautious enough. She didn’t know him. They’d established that over and over and over again. And while she trusted him to a certain degree, she didn’t know how far to extend that trust.

“I think I’ll take a nap now, if you don’t mind. I’m tired and—” She ran out of words and smiled sadly, before saying, a catch in her voice, “I have work to catch up on.”

She heard him swallow and he muttered something foul beneath his breath before pushing himself up to stand beside the bed. He stared at her for a long, long moment before sighing. The sound was laden with exhaustion.

He left seconds later.

“Fern?” Cade called through his wife’s bedroom door. He hadn’t heard a peep from her—nor seen any evidence of her existence—in hours. “I’ve ordered a couple of pizzas. You must be hungry.”

She hadn’t eaten since breakfast—which technically didn’t qualify as eating, since she hadn’t really touched her food. And then had thrown up the little that she had eaten.

“Thank you. I’ll have some later,” came the muffled reply and he glowered at the closed door.

“You should keep your strength up,” he said, then—hoping it would guilt her into eating something—added, “For the—uh—fetus.”

The door cracked open a fraction of an inch and one gray eye peeked at him through the crack.

“Did you get one with pepperoni?” she asked in a small voice.

“I got a meat lover’s deep dish. I figured you weren’t vegan or vegetarian since I’ve seen you eat meat. I also got a seafood special. And a chili con carne. I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for.”

The door widened even further.

“Seafood?”

“Yes,” he said in a quietly coaxing voice, feeling like he was gentling a skittish wild rabbit. “Mussels, calamari, prawns, the works.”

“Maybe I’ll have a couple of slices,” she said, the door opening even wider. She was still wearing the T-shirt of earlier, but had dragged on one of those awful, shapeless skirts with it. This one was dark blue with fucking accordion pleats. She was barefoot, and her hair was still down, it had dried in silky ripples, glinting like precious metal every time the light caught it. It fell to just past her waist and Cade wanted to gather up fistfuls of the luxurious stuff and bury his face in it.

His mouth went dry and he stepped back out of sheer self-preservation while giving the appearance of allowing her the room to pass him.

“Don’t you have any leisure wear? Like pants or shorts?” he asked in a humiliatingly croaky voice as she passed him and padded toward the kitchen. God, she smelled fucking amazing too. Nothing fancy, just softly fragranced soap and shampoo—almond and honey—and yet he couldn’t recall smelling anything quite so heady ever before.

“Not really. My stepsisters really embraced the whole ‘nun-couture’ thing. Strictly knee length—or longer—skirts and blouses, with sensible shoes. Only the very best quality of course.”

“Naturally,” came his dry rejoinder as he moved to follow her.

The still-warm pizzas were on the kitchen counter and she opened and closed a few cabinets, before finding a couple of plates. She handed one to Cade, before flipping open boxes and making throaty appreciative noises every time she inhaled the delicious aroma of each pie.

She helped herself to a slice of meat and seafood, skipping the spicy one entirely.

“Not a spice lover?” he asked as he grabbed a slice of each, while she opened the fridge for a bottle of water. She lifted the glass bottle enquiringly, with a tilt of her head, and he nodded. She immediately picked up a second bottle for him.

“I don’t mind hot food,” she told him as she carried her plate and the two bottles to the glass table in the dining area. “I’ve just had some heartburn these last few days… I don’t want to make it worse.”

“This pregnancy gig sounds fucking awesome,” he said, keeping his tone wry and was rewarded with a light chuckle.

After his dumb comment about Abernathy earlier, he was gratified that he could get that much out of her. And was then instantly confused that he cared.

In fact, he wasn’t even sure why he’d pushed her to eat. He wasn’t her damned keeper, and if she didn’t have the sense to feed herself when she clearly needed to, it wasn’t on him to make sure that she did.

They weren’t really married, he didn’t care… so why had it bothered him when she’d refused to come out of the room earlier?

“Pizza calls for a more casual setting,” he told her, when she pulled a chair from beneath the table. She stopped and looked at him with a curious tilt of her head.

“Patio?” he suggested. “It’s quite mild outside and the sun’ll be setting in about fifteen minutes.”

“Oh yes, please,” she agreed with a smile that lit up her entire face.

Fucken hell… the goddamn sunset would pale in comparison to all that radiance.

The uncharacteristically whimsical thought made him cringe. Christ, he sounded like a lovestruck teen. That would not do at all. What the hell was wrong with him?

He averted his eyes hoping to mask his bewildering reaction.

He led the way to the patio and they were soon sitting—poolside—at the round wrought iron table eating in silence.

Cade watched Fern surreptitiously as her focus remained glued on the fiery orb of the sun as it dipped closer and closer to the horizon, setting both sky and ocean aflame.

The glorious sunset—to which Cade was paying scant attention—bathed her pale features and hair in a warm orange glow. She was so enthralled by the sun’s light show that she barely seemed aware of his presence, giving Cade the freedom stare at her unchecked. Not that he missed the sunset. He caught every moment of it in the changing tones of her skin, the warm shades of oranges and red that caught the silvery highlights in the long tendrils of her hair that were flirtatiously dancing with playful breeze, and he saw—reflected in those soft gray eyes—the very moment the sun surrendered to the sea.

He’d never witnessed a sunset quite like it, and he was staggered to find himself lightheaded and a little disoriented after taking in his first breath in over a minute. He didn’t even realize that he was holding it until his lungs started to burn.

The harsh inhalation startled her into looking at him and he hastily averted his gaze to his plate. He lifted a slice of pizza with a slightly trembling hand and took a bite.

Whatever was happening here was a result of too much work over too short a time, with too little sleep and too many changes in his lifestyle. Once his routine had been restored to some kind of normalcy—Cade had no doubt—he’d get over whatever the fuck was going on with him.