His Good Girl (12 page)

"Kevin!" I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him, squealing in excitement. "You mean it?"

"If you want there to be cake, we'd both better take tomorrow off."

"Well," I was laughing and crying all at once. "What's a wedding without cake?"

There was no denying that it wasn't the wedding I'd always dreamed of. For one thing, instead of the stained glass windows and organ playing softly in the background, we actually went to the courthouse, in a room with an ugly, foul-smelling blue carpet and filled with gray folding chairs. Instead of the lace and tulle wedding gown, I was actually wearing a prom dress we'd found on the clearance rack at
JC Penny
. It didn't have tulle, or lace, or skirts that fell to the floor, but at least it was white. Even if it was backless and fell above the knee.

"You look beautiful, dear," Kevin's mom beamed at me as she pulled me aside. "Just…" She looked around the room, and even though she was clearly trying to hide her distaste, I saw the way she wrinkled her nose. "Are you certain that this is what you want? Given even a few months I'm sure we could throw together something a little more… suitable."

"I'm sure," I told her, touched that she seemed to care so much. "I just want to follow the wonderful example you and your husband have set for us."

"Oh. Well, that's very sweet of you, dear, but—"

"Cara!" Amber squealed, grabbing my arm. "Look at you! Beautiful, just like every bride should be."

"Thanks." I smiled at her and bit my lip when she winked conspiratorially.

When I heard Kevin's mom gasp behind me, I knew that my groom must have walked in. When I glanced at her, I could see that she was tearing up. It didn't take me long to figure out why. Kevin was striding toward me, cutting a strikingly handsome figure in his dark gray suit.

"Oh," I murmured under my breath, unaware I'd even spoken aloud until he smiled at me.

"You don't look too bad yourself." He winked. "I got you something."

"For me?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course. You only get one wedding day, and every bride should have flowers." He pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal a delicate wrist corsage made of tiny white and pink rosebuds and baby's breath.

"Kevin, it's beautiful."

"It had to be, for you to wear it."

I looked up at him with tears in my eyes as he slid the corsage around my wrist. If I'd ever been happier, I couldn't remember when.

"Are you ready?" he asked me.

Speechless with joy, I gave him a nod, my smile radiant. We walked hand in hand to the front of the room, where the justice of the peace was waiting. The ceremony only took about ten minutes, and it didn't matter that there wasn't music in the background or a petal-strewn aisle to walk down, or even that the Justice kept calling me 'Lara'. The only thing that mattered was Kevin, and the look in his eyes as he gazed at me, and how strong and confident his voice was when he promised to take me as his wife, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, until death do us part.

***

"Well, isn't this colorful," Kevin's mom said as she took her seat and looked around Gus's restaurant.

"The food is terrific," I promised.

"I'm sure you're right, dear." She smiled as she patted my arm, and I beamed at the gesture of affection.

The ceremony had been over practically before it had begun—or at least it had seemed like it to me. Maybe it was always that way. When Kevin's parents had insisted on taking us to dinner to celebrate, I'd suggested Gus's. I'd been ecstatic when they'd agreed, but now I was having my doubts. His mother clearly wasn't comfortable, and we were all clearly overdressed, standing out in a sea of blue jeans and plaid. It was a little puzzling—I'd thought she'd be touched that we'd chosen to follow in their footsteps; I was sure we would be bonding over our shared love stories, but if anything, his mom seemed uneasy about our quick nuptials.

Amber had been being a little distant, too, ever since we'd said our vows. Thankfully, Kevin at least seemed back to his old self, grinning from ear to ear and kissing me every chance he got. That, if nothing else, helped me to relax.

"What can I bring you to drink?" Our waiter appeared moments after we were seated.

I'd been about to order a Coke when Kevin's mom spoke up. "Champagne, if you have it. We're celebrating." She gave me a tremulous smile and I hoped it was her way of saying that she was happy.

"You don't have to do that, Mom," Kevin protested after the waiter had left to ring in our drinks.

"Nonsense. It's your
wedding
day. We have to do something to make it special."

"It's plenty special, Rhonda," my new father-in-law spoke up. "Just look at them, they're happy. Now you just calm down and enjoy yourself."

"You're right, I suppose." She sighed, but there was no mistaking the tears in her eyes, and they didn't look like tears of happiness from where I was sitting.

As I watched her, I began to feel my stomach knot up. Something wasn't right here. Was she
upset
? Did she not want Kevin to marry me? She'd seemed so loving and accepting before—what had changed? I looked to Amber, hoping to glean some clue as to what was going on, but she wasn't even looking in my direction.

"I know you're right," Rhonda repeated. "Just, when it's your only son… if we'd had just a little more time, maybe…"

"You've said enough on the matter. Now, let it drop."

My eyes widened in surprise as I overheard the exchange between my in-laws. Granted, I hadn't known Kevin's father long, but I hadn't thought him capable of sounding so gruff! I glanced at my new husband, but he didn't seem to find anything remiss. Suddenly, I realized that Kevin sounded exactly the same way talking to
me
sometimes, and I could feel my cheeks flush.

"I-I'm sorry," I offered softly. "I just thought—"

"Don't you apologize, Cara." My father-in-law gave his wife a stern sidelong glance. "Not everybody likes all the frills and fuss of a big wedding and my wife just has to accept that."

"I guess it just hadn't occurred to me…" I felt my cheeks burning brighter by the minute, mostly from shame.

Just then, our champagne arrived, and Kevin stood up to accept the bottle. In no time, he'd popped the cork to polite applause and a hoot from his father. As soon as each of our glasses had been filled—Amber had scowled when her father reminded her that she was underage, and she was given only a capful for the occasion—Kevin began to speak.

"I would like to propose a toast. To my beautiful new wife: Cara, I know we haven't known each other long, but I plan to make you the happiest woman on Earth from this day forward."

Tears came to my eyes but I brushed them away, smiling at him as I lifted my glass and clinked it against his. Then I took a delicate sip of the bubbly liquid before getting to my feet. "I would like to propose a toast to my wonderful husband. Thank you for choosing me, Kevin." I lifted my glass in his direction, then turned to look at his family. "And here's to continuing family traditions."

"Hear, hear," I heard Amber mutter.

I held out my glass, letting my in-laws clink theirs against mine before I drank again.

"That was a sweet toast," Kevin said as I took my seat. "But what family traditions were you talking about?"

"Yes, I wondered that also," his mother chimed in.

"Oh." I gave a little embarrassed laugh and shrugged. "You know. When I heard all about your whirlwind romance, I just couldn't wait to follow in your footsteps. Even though…" I glanced at Kevin with a big smile, "he's not going anywhere, but still, I thought it would be romantic."

"I'm not following you, dear," Rhonda said. "What whirlwind romance?"

"You know." My brow furrowed as I looked at her. "You and Kevin's dad."

"Well, only if you consider four years a whirlwind romance."

"But…" I glanced at Amber, and it was clear to me that she was avoiding my eyes. The knots in my belly tightened. "I thought… I don't understand."

"Why would you think that my parents got married right away?" Kevin asked.

"Because…" I trailed off, wanting to sink into the floor, or at least run to the ladies' room and lock myself inside. "I thought… I thought before your dad shipped out with the Army…"

"The Army?" Rhonda echoed with a little laugh. "Oh, dear. Rupert has always been an accountant, honey."

"That's right," he spoke up. "And damn proud of it, I might add."

"Rupert!" she said.

"Well, it's true. I do my best work behind a desk."

"Cara…" Kevin said gently.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I whispered, hardly able to speak due to the tears filling my throat.

"But who—"

"Amber Marie!" my father-in-law barked as I ducked my head. "Have you been filling Cara's ears with stories?"

"I only said that if you
really
love someone, why wait?" Amber said sweetly.

Though I didn't lift my head to check, I was fairly certain her wide-eyed innocence would mirror her honeyed tone. I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't believe it. She'd pretended to be my friend, she'd made me believe that she liked me…

"What are you playing at, young lady?" Rupert barked at her.

"Nothing, Daddy," she simpered. "I just thought that if she and Kevin love each other so much they should prove it, that's all. I mean, they'll probably end up divorced anyway, so why bother spending all that money on a big ceremony?"

My head shot up and I could feel the color leave my face. "What?" I croaked.

"Young lady!" Rupert spoke in a tone that would have been bone-chilling to me, and by the look on Amber's face, she felt the same way.

"Please, dear, you're causing a scene," Rhonda said. "Amber, you should be absolutely ashamed of yourself! How could you say such a thing to your brother? To Cara?"

"But Mom, everyone knows that the statistics say that if you've been divorced once, it's more likely to happen again. So I just figured—"

"That's enough." When Kevin spoke, his voice was calm and controlled on the surface, but I could hear the steel beneath. "We're not going to sit here and listen to this. We're leaving."

"Oh, Kevin, please—" Rhonda began but he interrupted her.

"I'm sorry, Mom, but I'm not going to sit here and let my wife be treated like this, especially since it's clear that Amber has been playing games since you all arrived."

I felt unbelievably numb. A part of me knew that shit had just hit the fan; that I'd been the pawn in some sort of vicious, mean game. The other part of me felt impervious to pain of any kind. It was as though I was frozen, unable to feel or acknowledge anything around me.

Kevin's dad stood too, and extended his hand to his son. "Well… welcome to the family, Cara," he said after an awkward pause.

I barely felt it when Kevin pulled back my chair and offered me his hand. I mumbled my goodbyes but my mind was spinning, taking my focus from everything going on around me. I just couldn't make sense of it. Why would Amber do something like that? How could she hate me so much? She barely knew me! And what did she mean…was she saying that Kevin had been divorced before? But for that to happen, he'd have to have been married before, too, which meant that there there'd been someone before me…

"You were married." The words came out sounding hollow, and more like a statement than the question I'd intended.

"I'm sorry, Cara. I thought you knew."

"How could I have known?" Everything I said sounded wooden. I longed to cry, but for the first time in my life the tears wouldn't come, despite how broken I felt.

"You told me that you'd been talking to Amber, and somehow I just assumed. I am so, so sorry," he went on. "I never wanted you to find out like that. If I'd known—"

"We've been dating for six weeks. You should have told me yourself," I said.

"You're right. You're absolutely right." We'd made it to the car, and the conversation halted while he opened my door and helped me inside. It didn't immediately resume, either, even when he started to drive. I felt so lost and overwhelmed. I had so many things to ask, yet I didn't have the faintest idea where to start.

Welcome to the family
. My new father-in-law's words came floating back to me and I almost laughed. I had been waiting my whole life to feel like I was part of a family and I'd thought, for a moment there, that I'd finally gotten my wish—but it looked like I'd been taken for a fool all along.

Six months later…

I held the pregnancy test by the cap with my eyes tightly closed, trying to force myself to be patient. It was hard, though. I wanted to see those two light pink lines more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life. Yes, it was true that Kevin wanted to wait for a while longer before we started a family, just as it was true that the timing wasn't great for us right now, but that didn't stop me from wanting it.

Though we were still technically newlyweds, the magic of being freshly married had begun to fade. Actually, that wasn't entirely true—if I were being completely honest with myself, I'd have to admit that we'd never really been able to match the enthusiasm we'd shared for a life together since that awful celebration lunch with his family. What a joke that had been—celebration my foot. Maybe his parents hadn't really liked me, either. Maybe they'd all been in on it. The thought made my expression sour and I begrudged them even this; that they had the power, all those many miles away, to detract from the happiness I felt at the idea of possibly being pregnant.

Not that my husband agreed with me one bit. You'd think he would, you'd think he'd do anything to make up for the awful experience, but he was convinced that his parents had had nothing to do with it, and he wouldn't even entertain the possibility that he might be wrong.

"It was horrible, what Amber did," he'd said the last time I mentioned it. "But my parents would never, ever go along with something like that. I told you, she got grounded from her iPad, television, everything when they got home. They even took her allowance away."

"So what," I'd muttered, refusing to be placated like the child he clearly thought me to be.

"Look, honey, if I didn't know any better, I'd swear you
wanted
my parents to be involved."

"Why would I want that?" I'd snapped.

"Because you're used to people disappointing you," he'd replied, with a sympathy that I'd found grating. "Because maybe, deep down, you're happy to have an excuse not to trust someone."

I'd scoffed and written the notion off as ridiculous, which it absolutely was. But deep down, in quiet moments when I was alone with nothing but my thoughts, I could admit that I knew his parents wouldn't have supported such treatment of me. If nothing else, they loved Kevin too much for that.

So why was I still so bitter? Amber was a child, playing childish mind games. Why did I let it get to me so much?

It was a question I still couldn't answer, just like the one that followed on from it; why was I letting it become an issue that chipped away at our marriage? We weren't even a year in yet, and already I'd begun to feel that I was living with a stranger.

My anger had made me grow cool and distant. I could see the gap it was wrenching between us, but couldn't see a way to bridge it. Some days, I wasn't even sure I
wanted
to. I still loved Kevin—the sight of him still made my heart race, his smile still made my legs turn to jelly. But I wanted more. I wanted him to find a way to reach inside and remove all the pain I was feeling. Part of me believed that if he really loved me, he'd find a way.

I suppose he'd tried, but nothing he'd done—none of the intimate, romantic dinners he'd cooked, or the surprise bouquet he'd sent to work, or the little love notes he'd left around the house—had helped for long. Sure, the gestures were nice and they always brought a smile to my face, but then, moments later, it would fade. Part of me wanted to call my mother—I hadn't heard from her since we'd dropped by to visit—but I knew she'd only say, "I told you so," and there was no denying it; she'd been right. I'd been crazy to marry a man I hardly knew, even if it was his family I mainly had an issue with.

Kevin had seemed to draw away a bit himself, as well. He was putting in more and more hours at the restaurant in which he worked, even picking up overtime on the weekends. Not that I could blame him. I knew I wasn't exactly creating a welcoming home for him to return to, yet even that knowledge didn't seem to be enough to make me stop.

That was why the stick I was holding in my hand was so important, why I was hoping so hard for a baby. If nothing else could bring us together, that would. It had to, right? I worked with pregnant women, for God's sake. I'd heard all the stories; a spouse who'd begun to stray was brought back, more loving than ever, when his wife became pregnant. Two people who thought their differences were irreconcilable were reunited when their child was born. It happened all the time, and it could—no, it
would
—happen for us. It would put a 180 on everything that had begun to go wrong, it would be the glue that kept us together and make everything else feel like a bad dream. A distant, irrelevant dream.

Taking a deep breath, I cracked one eye open to peer at the test. My hands were shaking slightly and I forced myself to steady them as I looked down. My eyes both popped open and I stared at it, my mouth agape. It wasn't possible.

Negative
. How could that be? I was three days late! I'd been so careful to keep track, I knew I was late! So why wasn't it positive already?

With an irritated grunt I leapt to my feet and threw the test with its one pink line in the trash can. Well, wasn't I the most miserable little failure? I couldn't seem to do anything right. I couldn't make my husband happy, I couldn't find it in me to forgive him for things that really, at the end of the day, weren't his fault. And now I couldn't even get pregnant. Life just wasn't turning out anything like I'd thought it would.

***

"You seem quiet. Are you okay?"

I pushed my broccoli around with my fork, staring at the cooling chicken beside it on my plate. "Yes, I'm fine."

It had become rare for Kevin to make it home from work in time to cook dinner. I knew I should be enjoying this time together and making the most of it, but ever since taking the test that morning, I hadn't been able to shake the disappointment.

"I made tiramisu for dessert," he said.

Tiramisu was my favorite, and time-consuming to make. I knew that I should smile and thank him, but even the thought of that coffee-soaked goodness did little to improve my mood. "Okay."

"Cara." He sighed heavily. "If something's bothering you…"

"I think something's wrong with me!" I surprised myself when I blurted it out, but it was almost a relief when the words were out in the open.

"Wrong with you?" He leaned forward in his chair, his brown eyes fixed intently on me. "What do you mean? Are you sick?"

"No." I sighed, slumping back in my chair. "No, just… I can't seem to get pregnant."

"Get…" He trailed off and cleared his throat. "Get pregnant? I wasn't aware that you were trying."

"Well, not
trying
, exactly, but I'm not… I mean, I was just hoping—"

"Cara." His voice took on a tone I was all-too familiar with, that 'young lady, you'd better explain yourself and I mean now,' quality that made me squirm in my chair. "We agreed that we would wait before trying to have children."

"No," I muttered bitterly. "
You
said we would wait, and as usual I got no say in the matter."

"Is that how you feel, honey?"

"Of course it's how I feel!" I snapped, refusing to be mollified by the concern in his voice. "You did what you always do! You just lay down the law, my opinion be damned."

"I understand you're upset, babe, but that's no reason to curse at me."

"Oh, for God's sake!" I spat, my irritation rising by the moment. "Damn, fuck, shit!" I glared at him then, daring him to say something.

He met my eyes head-on and I could see that I'd made a mistake trying to push him. Mistake or not, I'd done it. It was clear in the tightness of his jaw and the red flush that was creeping up his neck. "Young lady, if you want to have a discussion, I'm all for it, but you will
not
speak to me like that. Am I understood?"

I knew he was right. I
knew
it, so why did I have to keep playing the brat? "Fine," I retorted. "Forget it."

"No, I most certainly will not," he told me, throwing down his napkin. "I am open to hearing anything you have to say, but there is a way to go about it, and you know that's not the right way. Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

I didn't have one word I could say in my own defense, so I settled for rolling my eyes and folding my arms across my chest.

"That's it. Get over here," he said.

"Why?" I demanded, my voice hard.

"You know very well why. I'm going to put you over my lap and show you what happens when you want to be mean for no good reason."

"No."

"What did you say?"

Something I'd learned quickly about Kevin was that when he was well and truly pissed, his voice got softer, not louder. His tone was deadly quiet right now, and I knew I needed to apologize, but just couldn't bring myself to do it. "You heard me," I said.

"Cara, if I have to come get you, I promise you're not going to like it."

"I'm not going to like it either way, so who cares?" I countered.

"Young lady, I don't know what has gotten into you! What am I supposed to do with you, Cara?"

"Funny, I thought you had that all figured out." The words were muttered, but just loud enough for him to hear. He went quiet and suddenly, everything around me seemed eerily still, except for the wild pounding of my heart. I knew I was in the wrong, knew I shouldn't be pushing him like this. Now that it had come so far, I found that all I wanted to do was apologize. And I would have, if I'd thought it would have done any good. It didn't have a thing to do with stubbornness anymore—more to do with the fact that I knew I'd made him so mad that there was nothing I could do or say to make it better.

"Over here—
now
."

When he finally spoke again, his voice was such a combination of power and restrained anger that my heart leapt to my throat. Yet, I pushed my chair back and stood on shaky legs to walk toward him. I felt like all the air had been sucked from the room—by the time I'd covered the eight small steps between us, I was sure I was going to be sick. I'd never seen his brown eyes so full of fire—the angry kind, anyway. The nerve in his jaw was twitching. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear he wanted to spank me until I could never sit down again, and the thought scared me.

"Kevin, I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… spoken to you… like I did."

"No, you shouldn't have," he agreed, his tone cool and not the least bit mollified. "But if you're feeling any actual regret right now, I bet it's because you're about to get your butt tanned good."

I swallowed hard at the thought and felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Yes, but… I really
am
sorry."

"Well, so am I. I'm sorry that I haven't treated you better."

I flushed hotter. "You… you've been wonderful," I admitted, ducking my head so I wouldn't have to meet his eyes.

"In that case, what have I done to deserve this kind of treatment from you?"

Nothing
. I knew it, and clearly he did too, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. In fact, my throat was clogged with shame and tears to the point where I couldn't speak at all.

"Over my knee, Cara."

I'd never heard him speak so sharply before, even before a punishment, and it made my heart leap. "Kevin, maybe we should wait—"

"Oh, and let you out of your punishment?"

I flinched at the sarcasm in his voice, even knowing I probably deserved it. "That's not what I'm saying. Just, you're pretty angry right now… maybe if you have some time—"

"You're right, I
am
angry. I've done my best to be nothing but good to you, despite the fact that you're in a bad mood every single day when I come home. I don't know how much more of this I can put up with."

I drew back, just out of arm's reach, and folded my arms across my chest defensively. "Look, I know that things have been hard lately, but—"

"You're right, they have, and as far as I can tell they're not showing any signs of improving, unless you can get over whatever is the matter with you."

"I'm sorry, Kevin."

"So you keep saying."

I averted my eyes and bit my lip, hard, trying to keep from crying. I knew that he wanted to spank me, and knew that I deserved it, but I just couldn't bring myself to drape myself over his knee, as he was clearly waiting for me to do. He could have reached me easily; if he'd pulled me to him, I wouldn't have fought him. Yet, he obviously wanted me to submit myself, and I didn't think I had it in me.

I don't know how long I stood there, my feet frozen in place as I looked away, or how long he sat there, waiting for a show of submission that I couldn't give. When he finally pushed his chair away from the table, I flinched at the sound, my body beginning to tremble as he moved closer. Yet somehow, it was a relief to think we would be getting it over with. Maybe afterward, things would get better. Maybe we could talk about all the things that were bothering us, and just maybe I could admit to all the feelings I was keeping locked up deep inside.