I slam on my mental brakes. “His doodle?”
“Yeah.” Really? That’s what Jack Henry’s going to call our son’s penis?
“I don’t think it would be any more awkward than a male pediatrician looking at our daughter’s tutu.”
“Her tutu? That’s what you’ll call it?”
We look at one another and laugh. “Is this an example of what our vocabulary will be reduced to? Doodle and tutu?”
“I’m pretty sure it is. Three kids in and Evan only speaks fluent buffoon now.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” I turn at the venomous sound of a woman’s voice but I already know it’s her—Jenna Rosenthal. She has her son on her hip and looks none too pleased about my presence. “You’re pretty cheery for a woman whose husband just submitted proof that he’s this little boy’s father.” She points at Jack Henry. “Look at him, Ashton. That’s your daddy and you look just like him.”
This woman is delusional. That child looks nothing like Jack Henry.
“Don’t,” Jack Henry grits through his teeth and then looks at the boy and softens his voice. “Don’t tell him that.”
“The test will prove it. You’ll see.”
“And if it does, you’ll introduce me into his life appropriately, not standing in the hallway of a doctor’s office.”
“Next,” the receptionist calls out and we step to the counter to pay for the visit.
Jack Henry folds the receipt and shoves it into his jacket pocket. “Don’t look back, even if she says something. Just walk out of here.”
“Okay.” He puts his arm through mine and leads me out.
“Ashton, tell your daddy and the wicked step-monster bye-bye.”
He feels me twist in his arms so I can turn to respond, to let that bitch have it good. “Don’t do it, L. It’ll reflect poorly on you if you physically or verbally attack her while she has a child in her arms. It’s what she wants.”
He’s right but it’s hard as hell to let that one go. “I’m fine.” I straighten and hold my head high. “I’m good. Really.”
He releases my arm and I wait until we’re in the car to have my come-apart. “Why you always gotta fuck the crazy ones?” He looks at me but doesn’t answer. “Damn, McLachlan. First Audrey and now her. Two of the twelve are nutjobs—three of thirteen, if you include Lana. That isn’t a great statistic. What do you do to these women to drive them to the point of insanity?”
“Can we not talk about the others or what I did to them?”
“Sure. I don’t really want to know, anyway.” The topic of his former lovers is beyond old for me and I’m quickly developing the same feelings about this paternity test issue.
“I only want to concentrate on you and our marriage.” He puts his hand on my stomach. “And our little one.”
I place my hand on top of his. “We haven’t celebrated this baby yet.”
He leans over to me in the passenger seat and grasps the back of my neck with his free hand. He pulls me closer until our foreheads are pressed against one another. “Oh God, L. Things have felt so delicate between us this week. I was afraid to try for fear I would make you angrier.”
“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” I embrace his face with my palms. “I’ve been selfish, wallowing in self-pity. I haven’t allowed you to express happiness about the baby because I was punishing you. I’ve been unfair and I see that now. I’m sorry.” I lean in and kiss his mouth. “Let’s go home.”
“Anything you say.”
I’m thinking of all the ways I want to show Jack Henry how much I love him, but they seem awkward knowing our housekeeper will be roaming the house. “Would you want to call Mrs. Porcelli and give her the rest of the day off?”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary for what I have in mind.” He reaches for his phone and makes a call. “Hi, it’s Jack. I have a favor to ask. Would you prepare a picnic for me and Laurelyn?” He gives me a crooked grin, showcasing only one of his beautiful dimples. “Thank you very much. We’ll be home in about fifteen minutes.”
He ends the call and makes another. “Harold, I’m taking the rest of the day off.” He gives me the same crooked grin. “No, everything’s fine. I just want to spend time with my wife so I think it’s fine for you to knock off as well. We’ll pick up tomorrow morning.”
He pulls into the garage and leans over to kiss my mouth. “Stay here while I grab the basket.”
“Okay.”
I wait in the car and he finally returns. He’s carrying two armloads of stuff, including the comforter from the guest bedroom. “Need help there?”
“Nah.” He walks over to the ATV and unloads everything onto the backseat. He gestures toward the passenger seat. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”
“What are you up to, Mr. McLachlan?”
“All in good time, Mrs. McLachlan.”
I join my husband on my chariot and he drives us out to the vineyard. I open my mouth to ask where we’re going but shut it because he isn’t going to tell me. He means for this to be a surprise but I put the pieces together before we get to where we’re going. He’s taking me to the wine cave.
The realization flips a switch to my groin, setting me on ready, and I recall the first time Jack Henry brought me here. I had not yet agreed to his crazy, indecent proposal but he was so determined I would. He used some rather unorthodox moves in order for it to happen. It’s also the day he told me he’d never marry or have children. My, what a difference a year has made. Give us another and we’ll be parents of a … four-month-old.
He parks by the entrance to the wine cave. “You figured it out half a mile back, didn’t you?”
“No.” He looks at me skeptically. “Yeah. But it only gave me time to think about what we’re going to do when we get in there.”
“I recognized your squirm.”
What does that mean? “My squirm?”
“You’re fidgety and restless when you’re turned on but have to wait on me to give it to you.”
This isn’t news to me but I didn’t realize it was so blatantly recognizable to him. “Do you know all my secrets?”
“I doubt it.”