The Pregnant Bride Wore White

Her belly brushed his as she turned and leaned against the counter. She dried her hands, meeting his curious gaze, careful not to look at his mouth, his sexy, comforting mouth. “I zone out sometimes. Don’t mind me. It’s hormones.”

He didn’t move out of her way. “Mom said you had false labor?”

“I didn’t go to the hospital or anything, but I’ve had some moments.” She patted her belly. “I think this one’s been waiting for you to get here, so that you could take part in the birth.”

His jaw went slack. She probably shouldn’t have assumed he would want to be in the delivery room.

“Do you faint at the sight of blood?” she teased, needing to lighten the tension.

“Hardly.” He nudged her aside to wash his hands, keeping his back to her.

She came so close to setting her hands on his back and massaging away his tension. Would she feel his ribs, now that he’d lost so much weight?

She passed him the towel then went to the refrigerator for eggs.

“I’ll be there, Keri. When the baby is born.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, relieved. “Okay.” She cracked eggs into a bowl. “At some point today, would you take me to Nana Mae’s so that I can pick up the rest of my things and her car?”

“Her car? Why?”

“She’s been letting me use it until I find what I want to buy.”

“I have a car,” he said in a tone implying it was obvious.

It was the perfect opportunity to get after him for leaving her without transportation earlier, but she didn’t. “Which means I’m at the mercy of your schedule. Nana Mae’s car will do fine.”

“Last I knew, she still had that old Geo.”

“She still does.”

“Even though she hasn’t driven in fifteen years.”

“Even though. She’s sort of a personal rental-car business. Your nieces and nephews have needed it now and then, so she’s loaned it out.” Keri heard the crinkle of bread wrapper as he prepared to fix the toast, making everything seem so homey, when it was far from that. They were polite with each other, treading carefully. “It’s a cute little car, and it runs great.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“You’re not driving it. It’s too small. Too light.”

“I’ve been driving it since I got here, Jake.”

“Joe should’ve let you use my car.”

“He offered it.”

“Ah.”

She turned toward him. “Ah?”

“Stubborn.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He met her gaze. They challenged each other with their eyes. “Are you even supposed to be driving at this point?” he asked.

“As long as I can be ten inches away from the air bag.”

He studied her, his gaze traveling down her body and back up. He didn’t need to say anything to get his point across.

Silence crackled between them. She finished cooking the eggs. He set toast on the plates, then carried them to the dining table.

After eating a few bites, she said, “Do you seriously think I would put my child in danger?”

“Humor me.”

Should she? Dixie had told her recently that damsels in distress were Jake’s specialty, so his overprotectiveness was apparently his default mode. She should probably expect him to come from that position on every issue. Certainly it had been the case in Venezuela, before, during and after the kidnapping.

“I measure the distance every week, and today would be the day to recheck,” she said, trying but not totally succeeding in keeping her tone from being snippy.

He looked ready to laugh. She waited, her arms crossed. Then, just when he seemed about to say something, the doorbell rang.

He shoved away from the table and went into the living room. Keri picked up the empty plates. She couldn’t see who was on the other side of the door, but she could hear a woman say, “I didn’t even get to hug you yesterday.”

“I guess Joe called you,” Jake said, opening the door wider, letting Dixie in, giving her a quick hug.

Dixie waved at Keri, then held up a small tote bag. “I brought everything I need, but you’ll need to wet your hair.”

“Sure. I appreciate this, Dix.”

Dixie watched him walk away, then moseyed into the kitchen, her curls bouncing. She was a couple of inches shorter than Keri, and curvier, if one didn’t count the pregnancy. “So. How’s it going?”

Keri slid plates into the dishwasher. “It’s fine.”

“Fine,” Dixie repeated in the same neutral tone, frowning. “That’s a mild word, especially since the tension was as thick as thunderclouds when I walked in the door.”

“Just a normal period of adjustment.” She shut the dishwasher and looked for something else to do. Dixie was her best friend, but Keri had confided little about how she’d met Jake, even though she’d ached to tell someone. She wanted to talk about how she felt, get someone else’s feedback to help her see her situation with more clarity. Help her sort through the push-pull of her emotions.

“Is he okay?” Dixie asked.

“I can’t tell you. It’s up to him.”

“Then we’ll never know. He and Donovan are as closemouthed as they come.”

“Which is one reason why they’re both good at their jobs. Would you like some tea?” Keri asked sweetly, making Dixie laugh.

“No, thanks. I think I’ll take a chair out to the porch. No cleanup, that way.”