No Matter What (78 page)

“You know me better than that, missy.
 
I’m the soul of discretion.
 
Especially where you’re concerned.”

“Thanks, Bobby, and I’m really going to need you if I do decide to go through with this.
 
I’m scared out of my mind at the thought of being a mum.”

“Rubbish. You’ll be a great mom.”

“How can you know that?
 
I drink beer, go to rock gigs, surf, and I can’t bear the thought of sharing my husband.”
 
She looked at Bobby as she suddenly felt that real fear rise up in her again.
 
That fear of losing Michael to somebody else.
 
Even if it was their own child.
 
“I don’t think I can do it, y’know.
 
Share Michael, I mean.
 
Does that make me sound weird?”

“A bit Glenn Close in ‘Fatal Attraction’ maybe.”

She hit him with a magazine that was lying on the table.
 
“I can’t explain it, Bobby.
 
I just love him so much.”

Bobby poured her more wine.
 
She was starting to feel decidedly light-headed now.
 
“You’ll make gorgeous babies, angel.
 
Especially if they look like you.”

“What’s wrong with Michael?”

“Nothing, honey, but he’s not as pretty as you.
 
Look, I can’t exactly speak from experience here but you can only do what you feel is right for you.
 
And if you really want to be a mom then you go right ahead and do it.
 
If you love each other – and I know you and Mr Walsh do, any idiot can see that and I’m so jealous – if you love each other then it’s the natural next step, isn’t it?”

Bobby picked up the now empty bottle of wine and looked at it as though expecting it to miraculously fill up again.
 
India
was a little bit drunk now and almost excited for Michael to get home.
 
If she was going to go through with this then she wanted to get started making baby Walsh as soon as possible.
 
Before she changed her mind.

Bobby stood up as the ‘phone inside started ringing, leaning over to kiss her cheek, smiling.
 
“I’ll get that.
 
Then I’m putting some coffee on.
 
No more wine for you otherwise you’ll be dancing on tables and pretending you’re Whitney Houston again by the time Mr Walsh gets home.
 
And the last time that happened is still etched all too clearly in my brain, angel.”

She watched him go inside then sat back in her chair, hugging her knees to her chest as she looked out over the Ocean.
 
India
Walsh.
 
Actress, model, wife - and mum.
 
It sounded alright.
 
It didn’t sound odd or unusual.
 
It sounded like her future.

***

Michael was tired and all he wanted to do was go home.
 
It had been a longer day than he’d anticipated but a few problems with Layla had meant some scenes had taken longer to get in the can than others.
 
He’d decided against going to look at the dailies that evening too, opting to go straight home instead, but that was only because
India
was in
L.A.
 
If she’d still been in Vegas he probably would have stayed at the studio for most of the night.

Layla was starting to act like a spoilt child.
 
She was getting away with much more than any other actress would purely because of who her parents were and Michael couldn’t help but wish he’d put his foot down harder when it had come to the casting of her role.
 
She wasn’t bad, that wasn’t the problem.
 
When she set her mind to it and concentrated she could act, that wasn’t in question.
 
It was her attitude that was the real problem.
 
She was acting like a diva when she wasn’t in the position to even think that way and it was starting to agitate him.
 
He knew she was doing it for his benefit, trying to get his attention in any way she could and it was giving him a major headache.
 
He’d have to do something about it before it started to affect everyone around her.

The drive to
Malibu
had taken longer than he’d wanted, too, thanks to the traffic, but as he pulled into the garage he almost breathed a sigh of relief.
 
He was home and his wife would be waiting for him.
 

But he had something to do first, before he went anywhere.
 
Still sitting in the car, he opened his case and took out an A4 envelope, pulling out a stack of photographs – photographs of Kenny Ross talking to
India
, on the deck of this beach house.
 
Their beach house.
 
His, and
India
’s.
 
Photographs that had been taken that very afternoon, letting Michael know that Kenny wasn’t in Vegas but right here in
Malibu
.
 
According to the information Michael had received, Kenny had arrived around
2.45pm
.
 
They’d gone inside for only a brief amount of time then he’d left.
 
Looking at the photographs Michael could tell that whatever they’d been talking about hadn’t made
India
happy.
 
And he didn’t like it when she wasn’t happy.

He slid the photographs back into the envelope and put them back in his case, getting out of the car.
 
So, Kenny hadn’t stayed in Vegas after all.
 
He’d apparently arrived on another flight into
L.A.
early that morning.
 
Why he was here Michael had no idea but his stomach was turning with the thought that something was going on between him and
India
again.
 
The only consolation he could take was that, in the photographs, she’d looked less than pleased to see him.

He walked into the house, going straight to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, drinking it slowly as he leaned back against the counter, looking around him.
 
They’d both loved this house the second they’d set eyes on it.
 
It was one of the larger houses on this stretch of the dry sand beach, facing right out over the ocean. With its cream exterior and neutral interior and the huge walls of glass that afforded stunning views out across the beach and the ocean, it had a lovely, light and airy feel about it.
 
There was a small garden outside and two huge decking areas – one upstairs that led off the main bedroom, and a larger one downstairs that led off the living room which had stairs leading directly down onto the beach.
 
The house wasn’t as large as the one they had in The Hollywood Hills, but it was perfect for what they needed it for.
 
It was their getaway.
 
And Kenny Ross had no right being there.

India
obviously wasn’t downstairs so he headed up to the first floor where he found her in their bedroom, lying on her stomach on the bed flicking through a magazine, obviously having just had a shower as a towel was wrapped around her head and she was wearing her bathrobe.

She looked up at him and smiled.
 
“Hey, you.
 
You’ve been a while.
 
Was the drive here bad?”

He leaned over and kissed her quickly, throwing his jacket onto the sofa, noticing her contraceptive pills lying on his bedside table.

“The highway was busy, yeah.
 
I thought you’d stopped taking those?”

She sat up and crossed her legs, clasping her hands in her lap, still smiling at him.
 
She couldn’t hold it in any longer.
 
Now she’d finally made the decision she just wanted to tell him.
 

“I have.
 
They just fell out of the cabinet when I was looking for some aspirin. Michael ... I want to try for a baby.”

He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right for a second.
 
For years now she’d done nothing but protest against having children and now she was sitting here telling him she wanted to try for a baby.
 
Where had
that
come from?

He looked at her.
 
She didn’t look like she was joking.

“You ... you want to try for a baby?
 
But ... I mean, what’s happened to make you change your mind?”

She shrugged.
 
“I don’t know.
 
Coming here today, having time to think about things ... it just feels like the right time, Michael.
 
I can’t really explain it.”

He wanted to punch the air.
 
He knew how being in Malibu, being near the beach and the ocean, he knew what it meant to her, he knew how it made her see things clearly, but he’d never dreamt she’d come round so quickly.
 
He hadn’t had to say a thing, he hadn’t had to try and make her think his way.
 
She’d come to the right decision all by herself.

A smile spread across his face as he sat down beside her, taking her hand in his, all thoughts of Kenny Ross exiting his mind.
 
He didn’t care what they’d been talking about that afternoon.
 
He didn’t care anymore because whatever it was didn’t matter.
 
She wanted his baby and that’s all he cared about.

“Are you sure about this,
India
?
 
Are you really sure?”

She wasn’t, if she was entirely honest with herself, but she knew she needed to do this.
 
For whatever reasons she needed to do this.
 
She wanted to give Michael what he wanted and if that made him happy then she was happy too.

“I’m sure, Michael.”

He smiled again, stroking her cheek with his fingers.
 
“You don’t know how happy this makes me,
India
.
 
You have no idea.”

He was beyond happy.
 
He couldn’t believe it had been this easy.
 
He couldn’t believe she was willing to try again after everything she’d told herself.

“And I want to start trying straightaway, “she said, holding onto his hand tight because just saying the words were making her feel nervous, dizzy almost.
 
Was she really doing the right thing?
  
For the right reasons?

“Straightaway?”
 
He moved closer to her.

“Now,” she whispered, their mouths almost touching.
 
“I want us to try and make our baby right now.”

He lowered his mouth down onto hers, kissing her slowly as he started to push the robe down over her shoulders.
 
He wasn’t going to argue, he wasn’t going to put up any protest.
 
This baby was what he’d wanted more than anything and if she wanted to get started right away then that’s exactly what they’d do.

“Are you ok?” he asked, half of him feeling slightly guilty, even though he knew he hadn’t forced her into this.
 
She’d made this decision all by herself.

She nodded, her head full of if’s and maybe’s and that small amount of fear that she’d never get rid of as far as having children was concerned, but she was going to do this.
 
She was going to have Michael’s baby and be as good a mum and wife as she could possibly be.
 
And Kenny Ross was going to have to take the back seat he should always be taking.

“I’m fine.”
 
She stroked his face, looking into his eyes.
 
She was scared as hell of what lay ahead but she was going to do this.

“Ok.
 
Give me five minutes, honey.
 
Five minutes and I’ll be right with you.”

She pulled at the collar of his shirt, pulling him back down for one more kiss, her tongue running along the roof of his mouth as she drew her legs up around him.

“Five minutes.
 
No longer.
 
I promise.
 
Jesus, you kill me ...”

Resting up on her elbows she smiled as he almost ran into the en-suite, and she was suddenly almost overwhelmed with love for this man, her stomach doing a million little flips as she waited for him to come back to her.

She put a hand on her stomach.
 
Would it happen straight away?
 
She wanted it to happen soon, she wanted this to be confirmed and happening before she had time for anything to change her mind because the thought of that almost panicked her, the thought of having to go back to Vegas in a few days, the thought of being away from Michael for so long again, just when they’d decided to do this.
 
How could she get pregnant if he wasn’t around?
 
And Kenny was.
 
She closed her eyes for a second, wanting any thoughts of Kenny to disappear.
 
She wasn’t going in that direction anymore, it was over.
 
She’d made sure it was over by doing this, hadn’t she?
 
By deciding to have Michael’s baby, a baby that would bond her and Michael together forever, and that was something Kenny couldn’t prevent.