Society Wives: Secret Lives: The Rags-To-Riches Wife

“But, Jack—“

“Save it, Mother. Lily and I want something small and intimate with just family and a few friends. If you can’t do that, then we won’t have the wedding here. We’ll just go back to the original plan and get married in the justice of the peace’s office.”

“Lily dear, try to talk some sense into my thick-headed son,” Sandra said. “Explain to him that it would be an insult not to invite our friends to celebrate your wedding.”

“Actually, I’d rather we kept it small,” she admitted.

“But—“

“You heard the girl, Sandra,” John said as he joined them. “She and Jack don’t want to turn their wedding into a circus. And I can’t say I blame them. If they decide they want to have a big reception later, then we’ll throw them one.”

“Well, I can see that I’m outnumbered here,” Sandra said. She turned to Felicity. “Evidently we’ll need a cake to feed thirty.”

Felicity jotted down details in her notebook. “All right. Now that we’ve taken care of the wedding cake, we’ll need to decide on the groom’s cake. Most grooms like a chocolate cake, but we can do just about anything. Do you have any preference?” she asked Jack.

“Chocolate’s fine,” Jack told her.

“Great. Now what about the menu?”

Lily could feel herself starting to fade. Yet every muscle in her body was tense as Jack continued to rest his hands upon her shoulders. Suddenly she flashed back to that night in his hotel room. She’d been both nervous and excited when she’d first arrived at his room. She couldn’t remember how long she’d stood there waiting, debating whether or not to use the key. Sanity had returned for an instant and she’d turned around, prepared to go. Indecision had her still standing there when the door opened behind her. Jack had said nothing. He’d simply come up behind her and rested his hands on her bare shoulders. Then gently he’d turned her around, lowered his head and kissed her. And all thoughts of leaving had melted beneath the touch of his mouth.

“.we had talked about mini beef Wellingtons,” Sandra Cartwright was saying.

“Lily, do you want the beef Wellington?” Felicity asked.

“I tell you what,” Jack said before she could answer. “Mother, why don’t you and Felicity work up a menu? I’ve got a busy day tomorrow and I’m guessing Lily does, too. I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine with us. Right, Lily?”

“Right,” she said, grateful to him for arranging an escape.

He pulled the chair back for her, and Lily stood. “Just remember, no quiche, Mother. Lily and I are going to need you to help us with everything else.”

“All right,” Sandra said. “I’ll make the quiche Lorraine for you after the wedding,” she told her.

“Thanks,” Lily said. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Ten minutes later, after saying her good-byes and agreeing to speak with Felicity the next day, Lily was in Jack’s car driving through the iron gates.

“I’m sorry for leaving you to the wolves like that,” Jack told her. “Tom Carlton is an old family friend and he had some business to discuss with me before he left town. Unfortunately, it took a lot longer than I’d expected.”

“It’s okay,” she told him, because he seemed genuinely concerned. “I liked your family. They’re not at all what I expected.”

He glanced over at her. “Should I ask what you expected?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t expect them to be so … so nice to me. I mean given who they are and who I am and … and the circumstances.”

His expression darkened. “They’re just people, Lily. As for the circumstances, you didn’t exactly make the baby on your own. We both did. If they were going to be upset with anyone, it would be with me.”

“But—“

“But they’re not upset. The truth is I think my mother is excited. She’s been wanting a grandchild for years. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard her complaining that her friends are all grandmothers two and three times over and she doesn’t have even one.”

“Yes, I think I did hear her mention something about that.” Which had surprised Lily. “And she wanted to know what colors I was going to do the nursery in.”

“Speaking of that, we haven’t talked about where we’re going to live. I know you have your apartment and I’m sure it’s nice. But it doesn’t look like it’d be big enough for three of us.”

He was being so tactful, she thought. She knew her one-bedroom apartment was small. She’d already put in a request for a two-bedroom in anticipation of the baby. But she had been hoping to get a house, something with a yard.

“My house has more room and I thought, at least for now, we could live there. Then if you want to find or build something else after the baby comes, we can do that.”

Talk of moving to Jack’s house brought everything home again. She was marrying Jack Cartwright. She was moving to his home. She could feel the panic setting in again.

“If you’d like, we can swing by the place and you can take a look at it, see if there’s anything you want to change.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure the house will be fine.”

“But don’t you want to at least see it first—“

“Maybe another time. I’m feeling a little tired.” And more than a little worried about whether she was making the right decision—not only for her and the baby, but for Jack, too.

At the sound of Lily’s sigh, Jack looked across the seat at her. She had her head tipped back and her eyes were closed. He didn’t doubt that she was exhausted. What had started out as a casual brunch had turned into a marathon of wedding plans. Of course, he probably should have known that once they had agreed to have the wedding at the house that the woman would turn into a drill sergeant. Sandra Cartwright was not one to do things in half measures. When he’d walked into the library and seen the glazed look in Lily’s eyes he’d known he had to get her out of there.

She’d been a real trooper, he thought as he took the car out onto the interstate. He’d known she’d been nervous, that she’d had misgivings about marrying him. He’d had a few misgivings of his own, he admitted. As his father had pointed out, marriage was tough under ideal circumstances. Their circumstances were anything but ideal. The consensus was that people should marry for love. His parents had. So had a couple of his friends. He and Lily didn’t love one another.

But there was something there—chemistry, attraction, and … and something more. In the four days since he’d spotted her outside the counselor’s office at Eastwick Cares and learned she was pregnant with his child, that something had grown inside him. He cared about her. And not just because of the baby, he admitted. From the way she’d looked at him when he’d come into the library, he wondered if she had felt it, too.

She gasped.

Jack jerked his attention over to Lily. When he saw her rubbing her hand over her stomach, he felt his heart stop a moment. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

She looked over at him with those ghost-blue eyes. “Nothing’s wrong. And yes, it’s the baby. Our son or daughter is kicking again.”

Jack swallowed hard. He looked down at her belly and felt the full impact of her words. Their son or daughter. The life growing inside her was a real person. In four months’ time he would be holding his child in his arms. A tiny boy or girl whom he was responsible for. A tiny boy or girl who would call him Daddy. He looked up at Lily once more. “Does it hurt? The kicking, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t say it hurts. It’s more uncomfortable than anything. Although I have to admit, those kicks are getting harder as the baby gets bigger.”

He turned his attention back to the road. “Is there anything you can do for it?”

She laughed and Jack was struck at the lightness of the sound. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh, he realized. Even the night they’d spent together, she hadn’t laughed. There had been desire and passion and even some sadness he’d detected beneath her surface. But there had been no laughter. “Did I say something funny?” he asked, hoping to hear her laugh again.

“Being pregnant isn’t like the flu, Jack. The only cure is when the baby is born. But until then, ice cream seems to be the only thing that makes him or her settle down.”

“Ice cream? The baby likes ice cream?”

“I think so,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Or maybe it’s me. All I know is that when our little soccer player starts kicking, I haul out the carton of butter pecan ice cream and once I start shoveling it down, the kicking stops.”

Jack laughed. “So our kid likes butter pecan ice cream, huh?”

“Looks that way.”