Suited (St. Martin Family Saga) (7 page)

9

W
hen she awoke,
Isa remembered the words Cash had whispered into her ear.
Marry me
. Isa wanted nothing more than to marry Cash and have his baby, but she only wanted it if she knew he wouldn’t leave her again. Life would get harder, it always did, and where would she be if he abandoned not only her, but his child? There was no way to be certain that he’d stay this time and therefore, no way she could accept his proposal. Oh God! She didn’t know how to tell him no. Isa didn’t want to tell Cash she didn’t trust him to be her husband. He’d been hurt enough by his father and others who didn’t trust him. She felt sick just thinking about what she had to do, so she padded to the bathroom. Morning sickness had arrived.

“Isa?”

“Don’t come in here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Cash walked into the bathroom just as she vomited. She sagged down to the floor and leaned against the wall. Cash sat next to her on the floor and wiped her face with a cool cloth he grabbed from the sink.

“Baby, are you sick?” He placed his hand to her forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.”

“I think it was something I ate.”

Cash frowned. “Do you want a bath?”

“A bath sounds nice.” She smiled. A bath sounded like heaven.

Cash ran the bath and scented the water with Isa’s perfume. She’d explained to him when they first met that her mother used to do that. The apartment-sized tub was too small to accommodate them both, so he helped her step in and kept her company while she bathed. She smiled at him, liking his attentiveness.

He crossed his arms and smirked. “Like seeing me as your personal slave, do you?” She nodded. He flicked water toward her face. “So when are you going to marry me?”

Her smile faded. Of course he’d want to talk about it now. She should have been prepared. “I think we should wait.”

“Wait! What on earth are we waiting for?”

“Cash, I can’t marry you.”

Isa stood and reached for a towel. As she stepped out of the tub, Cash focused on the feather-light marks on her stomach that had once been home to their child. The marks were barely noticeable, but he saw. And his fingers reached out to trace them.

“So we should wait and then you’ll marry me, or you won’t marry me period?”

Isa took a deep breath. “I won’t marry you period.”

Cash sat back on his heels. “Why?”

“Don’t do this, don’t ask. I love you and I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t marry you. Let’s just leave it at that.” She dried her body, then hung the towel on the back of the door. She walked to her closet and dressed in faded jeans and a soft white T-shirt. Cash was still on the floor in the bathroom.

“I need some space.”

“I get it, Isa.”

Cash’s low raspy voice drifted on the air. He stood and walked to his clothes on the floor. His steps were slow, his movements jerky. “I wouldn’t marry me either. The things I’ve done to you… All I can do is apologize.” He pulled his shirt over his head. “If you ever need anything, even if it’s years from now, you know all you have to do is call.” He kissed her forehead, hugged her tight, then they broke apart.

“Cash, can I give you a lift?”

“No, I’ll manage.” He opened the door and was gone.

≈

Cash drove the two and a half hours to Whiskey Cove in silence. When he returned to Camp’s house, he went straight to his bed and plopped down face first, still dressed.

Camp walked into the bedroom. “Did you find her?”

“I found her.”

“What happened?”

Cash rolled over. “What happened was I proposed and she said no.”

“You proposed?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe she’s just not ready.”

“I asked her that.”

“What’d she say?”

“She said she wouldn’t marry me. Not ever.” A killer headache was coming on so Cash put his forearm over his eyes and shut out the world.

10

T
he next week
Isa was plagued with all sorts of weird pregnancy cravings. She spent the mornings throwing up her guts, and by lunchtime she’d be starving. On Wednesday, when the starving part kicked in, she decided to take a look at the offerings of the food truck parked across the street.

Several construction workers were seated at the tables that surrounded the truck. Isa ordered a cheeseburger. While she waited, she noticed a preadolescent boy with light eyes and dark hair clearing the tables. She wondered why he wasn’t in school. Where were his parents? She offered a greeting. “Hey, you eat here much?”

The boy nodded at Isa. “Yeah, I’ve had it all. That’s my mom.” He indicated the woman in the kitchen of the truck with a head nod.

“That works out good for you.”

“Not really.” With one finger he traced a gouge in the wooden table.

Isa cocked her head and considered his response. “It’s not good for you? Don’t you get to eat for free?”

“Yeah, but I ate free at school and didn’t have to work.”

“You work here?”

“Yeah, I hafta help my mom.”

“So what about school?”

The boy shrugged. “What about it?”

His mom yelled from the kitchen, “Get off that damned table and get in here and help me!”

Isa watched as the boy jumped up into the food truck and dropped a basket into the fryer. His mother told him she was going to take a break.

Isa watched his mother walk around to the back of the trailer that was butted up against the garbage alley. When Isa took a few steps back, she saw the woman pinned up against the truck while she and one of the construction workers went at it.

She looked around to see if there were any witnesses. There weren’t. She walked to the counter to get her burger from the boy. “Hey, thanks, kiddo. So what does your dad do?”

The kid looked up at Isa. “I don’t have a father. My mom fucks around. That’s how she got stuck with me.” His gaze swept in the direction of the back of the trailer.

Another customer walked up, and the kid took the order. Isa took her burger back to the office and threw it in the trash. Instead of eating lunch, she thought she’d throw up.

She wondered what would become of the boy. Would things have been different if he’d had a father? Isa wasn’t clear on that line of thinking because she’d had no parents, mother or father, to speak of, and she’d still made her life work.

She didn’t know why some people seemed to be born lucky while others struggled. Cash had always been lucky. He’d played Russian roulette with life and walked away again and again. Isa hoped the baby in her belly would be as lucky as Cash. She patted the still slim spot where she imagined he was cradled.

“I hope you’ll be just like him, that you’ll be lucky and loving and…”

It suddenly dawned on Isa that her child would have no father to emulate, no man to compare himself to, because she’d been too selfish to take a chance. She patted her belly again. And she looked across the street. She couldn’t see the boy anymore, but she’d seen enough. She couldn’t keep her baby from his or her father because of her insecurities. She didn’t have to marry Cash, but she would tell him about the baby. And then she thought of the St. Martin clan. Even if Cash were to leave, their child would always have Camp, Logan, Cory, Cal, Clay, and Clara. How wonderful to have so many people to love you when you hadn’t even been born yet.

Isa had made a serious mistake. She needed to go home.

She got back to Baton Rouge on Saturday. On Sunday morning she got up and drove to the cemetery. She planned to speak to Cash on Monday.

She parked under a shade tree and picked up the flowers from the front seat. She always followed the same pattern, walking past other gravestones, honoring not only her child but those who surrounded him. She was happy with his resting place. It was peaceful here with the old oaks. Their arms created a canopy of shade on even the hottest of days.

Isa found Cash sitting on a stone bench next to the grave. He held a teddy bear in his hands, and she could hear the nuances of his low voice, though she couldn’t make out what he was saying. She felt like an intruder on his very private moment, so she turned to walk away.

He called her name.

She turned to him.

He stood and walked to her. “Are you here to visit?”

“Yeah.” Isa held up the flowers. Cash grasped her free hand and led them back to the grave. He lowered his teddy bear and she, her flowers. They stood long moments in silence. When a car horn honked on an unseen road behind them, Cash reached for her hand and they turned away, strolling arm in arm under the canopy of trees.

“Dad and Camp came after me in Las Vegas. They told me what you said, that you stood up to Dad on my behalf. You knew I’d changed, and you made them realize it too. I have, Isa. I’m not the boy I was years ago. But I did mess up again. Yet I came straight back for you. I know I told you I wouldn’t hurt you again and I meant that. I don’t expect you to forgive me again, but I wanted you to know the changes you observed in me were all because of you. You were there with me at every bender. You were there when I woke up. Every damned time. It was your face always that came to me. During detox, I survived because of this.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her the love letter she’d given him when she gave him the bracelet he still wore. “And this.” He handed her the picture his sister had taken of them the Christmas they’d gifted Clara with a digital camera. Both items were dog-eared and worn.

She couldn’t understand. It didn’t seem that he’d ever let go of her. But why not call, or write, or stop by when in town for holidays? He hadn’t reached out at all.

“When Dad came to Vegas, he told me that he’d had a gambling problem. He couldn’t pay a debt he owed, and some thugs roughed him up something awful. He almost died. It was my mother who saved him. She nursed him and had his debts paid. He’s got tattoos too. You know the burning aces on my back?”

Isa nodded, trying to keep up with him.

“He’s got the same tat, at least close enough. Crazy, huh?”

Isa stopped walking and studied Cash. His eyes were clear, and he seemed relieved… No, not relieved exactly. Lighter. She hadn’t noticed that when he’d come to her in Mississippi, when all she’d noticed was his grief and her own, but she could see it now. He’d been freed of his terrible burden.

“Dad told me he’d been the hardest on me because I’m the most like him. It’s weird now when I think about him. I always thought he’d been like he is now, you know, strict and uncompromising. I thought he didn’t like me because I was different, but I’m not. I’m just like him.”

In that moment Isa could see the love and adoration Cash had for his father. He’d wanted his father’s acceptance for so, so long. He had it now, and she couldn’t be happier for Cash, the father of her child. The deep love of her soul.

“I’m only telling you all this because all that stuff with Dad is behind me now. It won’t hold me back. Our future can be ours.” They resumed walking.

So it all had to do with his father’s acceptance. The thought of one man yielding so much power over a person, his own offspring, sent a chill racing up her spine. She imagined Cash with their child and she knew without a doubt Cash would never show the child anything but unconditional love. Isa had planned to tell Cash about their child tomorrow night, but she thought tonight might be better, now that they’d met up at Markos’s grave.

“Cash, do you want to come to my house tonight for dinner and a movie?”

Cash’s smile lit up his face. His eyes radiated his love. She had no doubt that he loved her, just as he’d said.

“I’d love to.” He picked up her hand and lifted it to his mouth. “Can I sweet talk you into making those muffuletta paninis?”

She laughed. “Sure, I can make those.”

“I’ll bring the movie and the brew.”

That evening, Isa was busy laying out the ingredients for the sandwiches. She had the bread that she liked, but the literature they’d given her the last time she was pregnant mentioned pregnant women should go easy on the cured meats, so she’d bought a rotisserie chicken along with the cold cuts for Cash. She shredded her chicken and pulled the provolone from the refrigerator. She’d picked up olive salad and horseradish from a deli.

Cash arrived around seven with movies and beer, as promised. He handed her a beer, which she set on the counter. “What movies did you bring?”

“I got the
Gladiator
sequel,
Ring of Fire
.”

Cash held up the movie. The cover showed a dirtied and bloodied man in leather sandals with crisscrossing calf straps. Isa wrinkled her nose.

“Eww.”

Cash put his open hand on his chest and said, “Kidding, of course. That’s for Camp. But you’re so cute when you wrinkle your nose.” He held up another movie and said, “
The Hangover Part III
.”

Isa snatched it from his fingers. “Awesome.”

Since Isa had the assembly line set up, she started on the sandwiches. Cash sipped his beer and watched. And gave directions.

“Hey, don’t be stingy with that horseradish.”

Isa smeared another layer on Cash’s bread. “Better?”

He nodded and took another swig of beer. “You’re not drinking your beer?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Always. Drunk sex with you is out of this world.”

She laughed at his exaggeration and his leer.

The last time they’d engaged in drunken sex had been in his truck in the drive-thru of the Jack in the Box near campus. She giggled at the memory.

It had been around two in the morning and all the bar-hoppers, just kicked out of the bars, were in line at the drive-thru. Cash had always had a mammoth-sized truck. That one sat high on some special tires and had a full back seat. They’d messed around in it before, but never in public. But the line wasn’t moving, and Cash was getting irritated. He’d always had a temper and, afraid he was going to lay on the horn and cause a fuss, Isa had said, “How ’bout I suck you while we wait?” His wide eyes had dilated as he stared intently into hers. She bit her bottom lip and gripped the erection that was coming to life in her hands. She unbuttoned his crotch and pulled his cock free. Then she leaned over and licked at the crown before sucking lightly. Cash thrust up into her mouth. People behind them honked when the line moved forward and they didn’t.

Cash pulled the truck forward a little. Then Isa climbed over the seat and started taking off her clothes. She removed her shirt and bra and started shimmying out of her pants. When he saw her, Cash climbed over the seat and was on her in a matter of seconds. He sucked at her nipples and said, “Mmm, what are you doing back here Miss Petrovich?” Isa giggled and pulled his shirt over his head. Sitting on the bench seat in the back of his truck, he lowered his jeans. Isa straddled him and rubbed her wetness over the full length of him. Then she lowered herself onto him. When she had him sheathed to the hilt, she started gyrating her hips. Cash rotated beneath her.

The line moved again and cars started honking. Cash let out an expletive. Isa kept riding him. Her pace quickened. His did too. She cried out his name and squeezed his cock in her tight wetness. He followed her over the edge. When he pulled out of her, his semen dripped down onto the seat. Camp mentioned the stain when he and his then girlfriend sat back there when they all went to Mardi Gras. Isa had turned red and then flushed even more when Cash winked at her. He told Camp he’d spilled a milkshake.

“What are you thinking so hard about, Isa?” Cash’s voice drew her from the memories. “Those pickles have been chopped into nothingness.”

She bit her lip, and her gaze met his. Lord, but the man was sexy.

“You’re thinking about that night at Jack in the Box, aren’t you?”

Isa busied herself with the sandwiches. Cash laughed quietly behind her as he leaned back against the counter. With his feet crossed in front of him, he tipped his beer to his mouth.

Her distraction plan had backfired. Now she was the one distracted.