Chapter 8: Finding Forever: Chapter 7

“You’re not eating,” Cade said.

He’d nearly finished most of his flapjacks and bacon before noticing that Fern was only picking at her breakfast.

Fern lifted her shoulders self-consciously as she tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from her long, sloppy braid behind her ear

“I’m not very hungry,” she confessed, taking a sip of orange juice in the hopes that it would settle her stomach which had started acting up again. That was a mistake and she felt herself battling to retain her composure as her stomach instantly rebelled against the minute amount of liquid she’d swallowed.

Cade lowered his fork in alarm and stiffened.

“Jesus Christ, you look like death warmed over, what’s wrong?”

Fern shook her head and then clamped a hand over her mouth as the movement sent a wave of nausea surging upward from her belly. She groaned helplessly and leaped to her feet, swaying a little before she found her equilibrium and fled to her room. She barely made it in time, slamming the en-suite door behind her seconds before she knelt in front of the commode and made her offering to the porcelain god of all things wretched.

The door opened a scant minute later, but by that time Fern had already emptied the measly contents of her stomach and was rinsing the horrid taste from her mouth with some mouthwash.

Cade stood framed in the doorway, looking grim and uncertain.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice absolutely miserable, and his mouth thinned.

“What the hell was that?” He was all growly and a little menacing. Fern didn’t know why that voice gave her such a thrill, but she barely stopped herself from quivering at the sound of it.

“Morning sickness,” she explained, patting her mouth dry with a face towel. “It’s unpredictable but I’m luckier than most.”

“How was that lucky?” he questioned, somehow sounding even more growly and menacing than before.

“From what I’ve read it’s not as bad as a lot of other people, some can barely keep anything down. I can be okay for days and then suddenly this.”

“You need to see a doctor. You have no clue what’s normal and what’s not.”

“You still holding out some hope that this is all in my head and that I’m not really pregnant?” she asked, surprising herself by the amount of cynicism she could hear in her voice.

Well, the dark glare that settled over his face definitely matched his voice now.

“I think your ultrasound pretty much laid waste to any such hope,” he pointed out stiffly and she grimaced. Okay, so she wasn’t thinking very clearly right now. “Fern, you’re getting your healthcare advice from the internet. I don’t think I’m an absolute fucking monster for believing you should see an actual doctor to make sure you and your baby are okay.”

Her hand settled over her abdomen as she silently apologized to her baby for being such terrible mother.

“I know,” she acknowledged. “And you’re right, of course. I just haven’t had the opportunity to do so. Not with things the way they were.”

His mouth thinned and he nodded, the movement abrupt.

“Make an appointment somewhere first thing Monday, okay?”

“Yes.” She folded the hand towel neatly and placed it on the vanity beside the sink, meeting his troubled gaze shyly. “I’m sorry I ruined your breakfast.”

“I was mostly done anyway. Thank you. It was very good.”

“Really?” God, she was fishing for compliments, it was so obvious and pathetic. But Fern had rarely received praise from anyone in her life and she was a complete sucker for even the smallest of compliments.

He nodded again. The same curt gesture as before. His gaze was perceptive but he remained silent and she swallowed down her disappointment when he didn’t elaborate.

“I was thinking I’d take a walk?” And now she sounded like she was asking him for permission, but his expression didn’t change. Instead his beautiful eyes scraped over her features with razor sharp intent.

“A walk?”

“On the beach?” God, she’d really hoped to put more authority into that statement, instead she sounded like an uncertain child.

“We can go after the mist lifts,” he said and her jaw dropped in astonishment before she shook her head silently, struggling to find her words.

“Oh no,” she finally said on a rush of breath. “I meant alone.”

“You don’t want me to join you?”

“No, I mean yes. Only if you want to.” Why was talking to him so awkward? Fern wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and just pretend this whole stupid conversation was over. She covered her face with both hands and groaned, then parted her fingers to peek up at him. He was staring at her like she was some kind of alien creature that had mysteriously landed at his front door. And who could blame him? Fern couldn’t imagine he met many people as socially awkward as she in his usual circles.

“Do you want to?” she finally summoned up the guts to ask in a tiny voice and his lips tilted slightly.

“Do I want to go for a walk on the beach?” he asked and she nodded. “I’m not too big on the beach walks, no,” he said almost gently. “But this is probably not the best time for you to be spotted walking alone on a misty beach. Looking all neglected and pale and forlorn. Best to avoid the trouble in paradise articles less than a week after our wedding.”

“Of course,” she said, feeling a little foolish for not thinking of that herself. “I’m sorry, I’m not very good at all of this.”

“All of what?”

“The fake relationship stuff.”

“I’d venture you’re not too good at the real relationship stuff either, given your relative lack of experience in the romance department,” he said, sounding amused. And Fern clenched her teeth at the mockery she thought she heard in that amusement. She angled her head downward, avoiding his gaze. Feeling like a total fool.

His chest heaved on a sigh and she sensed him moving closer. So close that she could feel his heat and smell his delicious, familiar scent.

His hand shifted to grasp her chin between his thumb and index finger and he tilted her face up toward his.

“Fern,” he whispered, his voice growly and gruff and gorgeous. “I’m unfamiliar with this fake relationship business too. And I’m probably not a whole helluva lot better than you at the real relationships either.”

“You’re not?”

His thumb skimmed over her lower lip, then circled lazily over the crest of her upper lip. Fern stifled a moan at his unexpected touch, shocked by how erotic she found this relatively tame caress.

“You have the prettiest mouth,” he said, almost to himself, his gaze laser focused on her lips and the movement of his thumb. To her shock the pad of his big, sexy thumb tugged her lower lip down before inserting itself between her parted lips and then her teeth.

She was aware of his breath quickening only because of the movement of his chest. And that’s when she realized that he was standing close enough for her to feel that movement. Her own breath hiked up to match his and when the rough pad of his thumb dragged over the sensitive lining of her inner lip, she whimpered and leaned into that touch.

That soft sound of longing seemed to snap him back to reality and he snatched his hand down while simultaneously moving away from her.

Fern swayed, disoriented by the sudden loss of his heat, and it took her a moment to adjust to his absence. When she jerked back to the reality of the moment it was to find him clear across the room, standing by the bathroom door.

“We can go for that walk in an hour or so. I have a few phone calls to make.” He turned away abruptly and left her standing there, wondering what the hell just happened.

Fern didn’t really know what to do with herself in this quiet, alien place. She wandered around the apartment, careful to avoid any space Cade was occupying. Whenever he happened to walk into a room she was in—usually engrossed in conversation on his phone—she slid away as unobtrusively as she could within moments.

She didn’t want to be a nuisance, and strove to make herself as quiet and as inconspicuous as possible. It was a trick she’d learned growing up in the Abernathy home. Staying out of sight had been a self-preservation tool that had stood her in good stead.

In the end, she gave up—evading him was hard when he was so restless—and retreated to her room, where she sat on the massive easy chair by the picture window and stared fixedly and unseeingly out into the grayness beyond.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before she felt the firm hand on her shoulder, at which point she startled back to the present with a gasp.

“Christ,” Cade muttered beneath his breath. “Where’d you go? I called your name several times before I had to shake you out of your stupor. Were you sleeping with your eyes open?”

Self-conscious, Fern shrugged out of his hold and got up, putting some space between them.

“Sorry, I must have been daydreaming.”

He gave her another one of those uncomfortably long probing stares before his jaw tightened and he shoved a hand through his overly long hair. He struck her as a man of strict discipline in both his appearance and his behavior, so the long, shaggy hair had surprised her when she saw him again on Thursday. It was much longer than it had been at their first meeting. And, as if in confirmation of her thoughts, he grimaced and attempted to smooth down those unruly waves.

“I wondered if you were ready for that walk? The mist is lifting,” he said, and she darted a surprised look outside. She had no idea how long she’d been zoned out, but it must’ve been a good while if the mist had lifted that much.

She peered out and sure enough, the gloom had abated enough for her to appreciate the truly magnificent view. Pristine white beach, azure water, the powder blue sky—still retaining some of its milkiness thanks to the lifting mist—added an ethereal watercolor quality to the vista.

“How beautiful,” she whispered quite unable to keep the reverence out of her voice.

“It’s still quite cool outside but you’re going to need sunscreen and a hat,” Cade said, his brooding gaze sweeping over her face. “You’ll burn in a nanosecond with that skin.”

True, the sun had never been her friend and Fern had had way too many broiled lobster incidents in the past to venture outside without slathering herself with SPF100 sunscreen from top to bottom.

“I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” she told him and he gave her his usual curt nod, before swiveling on his heel and striding from the room.

He was still wearing a suit and Fern idly wondered if he’d walk on the beach in that three-piece suit with his shiny cap toe black Oxfords. She smothered a laugh at that ludicrous image and pushed herself up from the chair, fighting back a wave of dizziness at the sudden movement. She’d do well to remember not to get up too fast right now. Cade was right, of course, she had to make an appointment somewhere first thing on Monday. Even if it seemed pointless to find an OBGYN in Cape Town when they’d be living in London. Still, seeing someone immediately, considering the dizziness, was the wisest course of action.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to keep the swell of weary panic at bay as she considered the magnitude of what lay ahead of her. Pregnancy, motherhood, the looming specter of Granger and the damage he could still conceivably do in her life.

And then marriage… to a perfect stranger. A man with whom she’d share a home and a name for the next three years.

It was all so terrifying.

“God, Fern, what have you got yourself into?”

The sheer amount of steep stone steps leading down to street level from Cade’s apartment building was daunting. Thanks to the view she’d known they were quite high up on the side of the mountain. But she hadn’t realized exactly how high until faced with these steps.

“You okay?” he asked when she paused at the top of the walkway. She glanced at him and then quickly diverted her gaze back down the steps.

No suit after all.

Instead, Cade looked gut-wrenchingly gorgeous in an open necked white and blue pinstripe shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, navy blue board shorts, and well-worn pair of gray canvas sneakers. Fern felt even more shy than usual around him and found it hard to look at him without staring. It was safer to cast covert glances his way.

“Yes… it’s just a lot more stairs than I was expecting.”

“You sure you’re up for this?”

“Definitely,” she said gamely and he tilted his head, eyes shrewd.

“These go down to street level,” he told her. “After which there are more steps leading to the beach. Going down is fine, but coming back up is a bitch.”

“Have you walked here often?”

“Not really. I’ve never been down to the beach.”

“But you live right here,” she said, unable to wrap her head around the notion of living at the beach and never going to the water. “Why’d you get an apartment here if not for the beach access?”

“The view, the location, it’s a sound investment because it’s sought after…,” he itemized with a careless shrug. “But I’m not here often and when I do stay it’s because I’m in town on business or visiting family. No time for the beach then.”

Fern thought that was a terrible shame to have the freedom to come and go as you please but not take the time to enjoy the beauty around you. Such a waste.

She kept her own counsel though, refraining from saying as much to him. It wasn’t her place to judge the way he lived his life, but now that she had these simple freedoms and pleasures, she would take full advantage of them. Starting right now.

“I don’t mind the steps,” she told him, adding the strength of her convictions and determination to her voice. “I want to see the beach.”

“Let’s go then.”

She was winded, Cade could tell. Despite her determined smile, traversing these endless fucking steps was taking a toll on her. They were halfway down the second set which led down to the beach, when he made her stop and wait while he refastened his laces for no other purpose than to give her a reason to take a breather.

Cade was beginning to fathom that the woman he’d married was stubborn as hell, so he’d been finding excuses for them to slow down, or stop just so that she would take a fucking break.

When they finally made it down to the water’s edge, the fake grimace of a smile disappeared from her face to be replaced by a wide, beautiful showstopper.

It was similar to the smile she’d bestowed on his father the other day… only this one glowed with delight and wonder. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she’d never set foot on a beach before. But that couldn’t possibly be true. She kicked off her sandals and curled her cute little toes in the wet sand, her smile settling into contented bliss.

Cade stared—arrested—wondering how she’d look in the throes of an orgasm if that’s how the feel of sand between her toes made her look. He felt another sharp pang of remorse that, while he should know what that looked like, he didn’t.

And that was on him.

“This is amazing,” she practically squealed, sounding like a repressed Disney princess who’d only recently escaped her stepmother’s evil clutches.

Which, well… accurate.

“When were you last at the beach?” he asked.

“Not since before my mother died,” she said, staring down at her toes, which were still curling and uncurling in the sand. Her smile was now bittersweet and tinged with nostalgia. “I have this perfect memory of her, on a beach somewhere—I can’t remember exactly which one—I was only seven or eight at the time. She’s standing there with a shell held up to her ear and smiling at me. She told me to listen, that the ocean had whispered all its secrets to the shell and if I held it up to my ear, the shell would tell me—and only me—those secrets as well.”

She lifted her gaze to his and his breath caught. Her eyes were bright with tears, love, and longing.

“I felt so special. So honored to have been chosen. That was our last visit to the beach together. My mother met Granger not long after, and she and I didn’t spend as much time alone together after that. She felt it was important to bond with her stepdaughters. And thereafter all of our mother-daughter activities included Antonia and Allegra. And they weren’t interested in going to the beach or having picnics. They preferred spa treatments and manicures. Shopping. Because they were older—more sophisticated—than I was, my mother encouraged them to help me choose clothes. She thought it would bring us all closer together.”

Cade’s eyes dropped to what she was currently wearing. Another shapeless knee length skirt—this one white—combined with a silky yellow top, neither of which did anything for her complexion. The entire ensemble reminded him of a soft-boiled egg and aside from being the absolute worst color choices for her, they were ill-fitting and baggy.

Fern laughed when she caught his look—the sound was edged with bitterness.

“I know right,” she said, plucking at the hem of her top. “Halfway through every school semester, I’d received a care package from Toni and Allie. Some toiletries, snacks—most of which contained peanuts to which I’m deathly allergic by the way—and new clothes.”

“God, what fucking bitches,” he gritted out unthinkingly.

“Absolutely. But I don’t want to talk about them. I want to enjoy all of this splendor,” she said with an infectious grin, before twirling in the sand, arms outstretched, nearly taking out an influencer type dressed in a tiny white string bikini who was making pouty faces at her phone.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she instantly apologized to the woman, who gave her a flat stare of dislike in return. Fern turned toward Cade and gave him a discreet eek face and he felt the corners of his lips tug upwards in reluctant amusement at the goofy expression.

It didn’t suit her earnest, plain features but it charmed the hell out of him for precisely that reason.

Fern exuded so much childlike excitement as she tripped along the beach—dodging waves with delighted laughter, inspecting shells and at one point nearly poking at a washed-up man-of-war before Cade leaped forward to stop her—that he couldn’t help but be reluctantly fascinated by her.

“Aren’t you getting sand in your shoes?” she asked him, after he cautiously led her around the man-of-war’s two-meter-long tentacles.

“What?” he asked, still wholly focused on ensuring her bare feet got nowhere near those tentacles.

“Sand? In your shoes? You should remove them.”

“Remove the sand?” he asked, completely losing his train of thought after looking up to find those dove gray eyes finally meeting his gaze head on for the first time since they’d left his apartment.

“Remove your shoes,” she clarified.

“I’m fine,” he dismissed and she cast a skeptical glance down at his feet before pursing her lips and shrugging.

The beach was filling up rapidly and soon—in addition to picking up and discarding dozens of shells, and inspecting washed up seaweed —Fern began staring at the people around them in rapt curiosity.

“I love this,” she breathed, then turned her eyes on him again. “Don’t you love this?”

“What?” Her mind seemed to flit from one thing to the next every other second and he couldn’t quite keep track of what she was on about this time. He wasn’t sure if he found the quality annoying or endearing. All he knew was that he wasn’t bored.

“Just people… from all walks of life. Out enjoying a sunny day at the beach.”

He glanced around dubiously and to him it didn’t look like anyone was having a particularly good time. Some were flexing for cameras—craving the attention and approval of strangers online—harassed young parents were dealing with recalcitrant, unhappy kids; teenagers were vying for one another’s attention keen on making the exact right impression; others were engaged in games of soccer or rugby or volleyball, their laughter and cheers a little too loud and boisterous to be genuine. It all struck him as too fake, too fucking desperate and disingenuous. And yet Fern was staring at it all with the kind of naive wistfulness that made Cade feel jaded and cynical.

They walked all the way from Third to First beach and back again and by the time they reached the steps leading back to street level she was looking pale and peaked.

“We should rest,” he told her and immediately regretted his gruffness when her face fell and she gave him a wary look.

“You look tired,” he pointed out.

“I’m f⁠—”

“You’re not fine,” he interrupted harshly.

He sat down on an empty patch of warm sand and took hold of her small hand to tug her down beside him. “Come here.”

She folded her legs beneath her and sat down without further protest, then smiled in delight as she buried her fingers in the powdery white sand and brought up fistfuls to sift through her fingers.