The Girl in Seat 24B Page 14

I was so confused. I looked at the papers. It looked like a bank statement. I looked up at him like, so what?

  He took the papers back. “There’s a lot of extra money in there.”

  “Well, that’s just terrible. I’m so sorry.” I was still very confused.

  “Carly, that’s our account and you know what? Not one bill has been paid or debit transacted in almost three weeks, except for one, which I’ll get to in a moment. At first I thought maybe you were so busy you just forgot to pay the bills, but I checked, and all of our accounts are current, so it makes me wonder, how is that possible? But first,” he held up a copy of a cancelled check “let’s talk about the divorce lawyer you paid.”

  I held on to the crib for support. I wasn’t expecting this today, and I just realized my stupidity. I must have accidentally used the joint checkbook to pay that bill. I hadn’t meant to.

  He was furious, though I couldn’t really understand why. What did he expect after all this time? The way he was looking at me, with his handsome face that I hadn’t seen in weeks, got my ire up. Who did he think he was?

  “You know what, Michael, I did go to see a divorce lawyer and I cried practically the entire time, so much so that Mr. McRae told me I wasn’t ready and he politely sent me on my way. And I opened up my own account with my own money so that I could take care of the kids and myself, so when you decide to leave for good, I’m prepared! Does that answer your questions?!”

  I had been so good about not crying, but all it took was him coming home, and here I was crying like a baby.

  He stepped closer, his eyes wide, but softened. I would even say worried. He reached out and touched my arm. “I thought we decided not to make any final decisions until the baby was born.”

  I yanked my arm away from him. “I’m not stupid! I know the only reason you haven’t pulled the trigger is because you feel guilty because I’m pregnant. And even knowing that, and knowing how you feel about me, I was still too weak to do it myself!”

  I hated admitting my weakness in front of him, not to mention telling him how much I still loved him. I turned to walk out of the room; I didn’t want him to see me like this, but before I knew it, I was in his arms, and he was stroking my hair. I didn’t wrap my arms around him; I was so stunned to be in them that I wasn’t even sure this was really happening. He hadn’t shown me true affection in months.

  “Carly,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know. And I’m not just staying because of the baby … I’ve missed you.” He sounded like he didn’t want to admit that to me or himself.

  That only made me cry harder and I finally gave in and put my arms around him and sunk into him. I felt like I had come home. He just kept a hold of me and kept stroking my hair gently until I had it out of me again. Once I calmed down, he released me and half smiled. I don’t think either one of us knew what to say. So he missed me and I missed him, but that was far from solving our issues. Not even him saying “I love you” would fix it, but it would be nice to hear, even though I knew it wasn’t going to be said today, or probably in the near future.

  He took a look around the room. “You’ve certainly been busy.”

  “I can’t take all the credit, your parents have helped with a lot of it.”

  He walked toward the unfinished collage wall and touched some of the pictures. He pointed to the ones of Mia and Ashton and recognized out loud who they were, but then he pointed to his own.

  “Who is this?”

  I walked to the wall and smiled. “These are you.” I pointed. “And these are of me.”

  He just kept touching them like it couldn’t be true we were ever so small. “They look like Mia and Ashton,” he said as he continued to touch and stare.

  I smiled. “Yes they do.”

  He turned his attention back toward me. “Where are my pictures that used to hang in here?”

  I pointed to the closet. “I boxed them up along with some of the other things you left.”

  “Can I have them?”

  “If you want them.”

  He walked over to the closet, and I sat back down on the floor and began to rearrange the pictures again. I heard him rifle through the closet.

  “Hey Carly, what’s all this other stuff?”

  “What other stuff?”

  He carried out a fairly large box and set it next to me.

  “Oh, I had forgotten I put that in there.” I looked up at him. “This was supposed to be part of your birthday present. So, I guess, happy birthday.”

  He sat down on the floor next to me, eager to go through the box. He almost looked like a kid at Christmas. First he pulled out three vinyl records that I had searched high and low for. He loved old records, and he loved the three bands Journey, Led Zepplin and Rush.

  “Where did you find these?” he asked while looking them over.

  “Let’s see, eBay, flea market and an online marketplace.”

  His smile was huge and genuine. He set the records carefully down and resumed rummaging through the box. He pulled out each item. There were twenty six items that ranged from the sentimental to the silly. But each one reminded me of him. There was a signed Braves hat that I had to stand in line for hours to obtain. Then there were little things like his favorite candy; he loved Three Musketeers bars. Again, just things about him I loved.

  “So what were you going to do with all of this stuff?”

  I was almost embarrassed to tell him. I bit my lip. “Well, I had planned on giving you one gift every day for the forty days leading up to your birthday and then on your birthday surprising you with … well never mind.”

  He looked at me, then at the partial present, and then back at me. He was smiling, but it was a closed mouth kind of smile. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he just kept looking at me. All of the sudden, it was like a light bulb went off in his head. He sat up straighter and his blue eyes brightened. “Let’s go out tonight.”

  “Like on a date?”

  He grinned. “It is my birthday, after all, and my folks already have the kids.”

  I thought for a second. “I don’t know.”

  He reached over and touched my cheek gently. “Come on, Carly. Just you and me.”

  I went back and forth in my head trying to decide whether this was a good idea or not. Normally going on a date with your husband was a good thing, but we really needed to work a lot of things out, and I thought maybe that should come first.

  “Carly?”

  But his eyes got to me. Darn him.

  “Ok?”

  “Great,” he said as he gathered up all of his gifts into the box. “I’ll pick you up at six?”

  I nodded. He leaned over and kissed my forehead and thanked me and he took his box along with the box of pictures. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he called back as he walked out of the room.

  Just when I thought I knew what to expect from him, he did the unexpected. He came home early to surprise me, he asked me on a date, and he held me while I was crying. Did I even dare say he was acting like my husband? At least I knew better than to get comfortable with that idea. We had been separated for five months, and there was a lot of water under that bridge. Regardless, I got up, went downstairs, and started to get ready for my date.

  What do you wear when you’re pregnant and on a date? That was the question. I searched through my closet over and over again. I tried on several outfits from the casual to the dressy. I kept thinking how ridiculous this was. Why was I so nervous? I don’t even think I was this nervous on our very first date, I just remember being excited. Our first date came right after Christmas, just a few weeks after we had met. He flew to Denver and stayed with my cousin, Kyle. Well, kind of; the few nights he was in town we practically stayed up all night talking, except for the second night when we had been skiing all day. I had never felt so connected to anyone. I wondered if we could get that back.

  I finally decided on a black poly-cotton dress that hit
me above the knee. My legs were still looking semi-sexy, so I thought I might as well show those off as my mid-section was looking pretty pregnant. First I showered and relaxed under the warm water. It was nice to be able to shower without the worry of kiddos knocking on the door. I hadn’t had that feeling in a while. I was missing my babies, but I was taking advantage of the alone time that had been scarce.

  I dressed and carefully fixed my pixie haircut. I brushed it forward and let it fall sexily around my face, just like Michael liked it. I was still sporting a great summertime tan, so just a little lip gloss, mascara and blush did the trick. I tied a cute pink scarf around my neck, threw on some sling-back heels and called it good. While I waited, I read Michael’s latest article about the role of media in presidential elections. It wasn’t his finest, but it was good. They couldn’t all be Pulitzer Prize level.

  At five minutes before six, the door unlocked and Michael came in. I don’t know why, but I expected him to knock. I guess that was silly since he had a house key and his name was on the mortgage … and I was carrying his baby. I stood up, and he stood in the entryway looking extremely handsome. He was wearing a nice pair of dark jeans, a white rolled-up shirt and a tan vest. I loved vests. He was obviously able to work out on the road, his arms were still very toned and his chest was broad. His seven o’clock shadow was perfect, as always. For a moment, my breath was taken away.

  I walked toward him, and he grinned as he looked me over.

  “You look radiant,” he said before he kissed my cheek.

  “Thank you, handsome.”

  “Are you ready to go?”

  I smiled and nodded. He opened the door and led me out and then locked it. He reached for my hand, and we walked down our porch steps hand-in-hand. I hadn’t seen him this happy in months. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but I liked it. He walked me to the passenger side of his white Silverado and helped me in.

  Before he shut the door, he placed his hand gently on my middle. “Looks like she’s coming along nicely.”

  She kicked in response.

  He smiled.

  I smiled back.

  He shut my door and went around and climbed into the driver seat.

  “So where are you taking me?”

  He looked over and winked. “You’ll see.”

  As long as it involved food, I didn’t care. I just sat back and enjoyed the company. We talked easily all the way to a cozy restaurant called Wild Flour Bistro. It was in the next town over in a lovely setting. I made a mental note to add it to my list of photo locations; it was a downtown district, and there was a brook and park nearby. As we got out, I could smell something superb; I hoped it was coming from the restaurant. Mixed in with that aroma was the smell of honeysuckle. One of the many reasons I had come to love living in the south, even when it was humid, was the smell of honeysuckle.

  We walked hand-in-hand into the restaurant, glancing and smiling at one another. It had been too long since we had been out like this. If we stayed together, I would insist we date more. It’s something we should have been better at. Michael told the host his name and that he had made reservations, and we were promptly seated. I looked around at the little restaurant, and the word that kept coming to me was eclectic. None of the tables or chairs matched in a conventional sort of way, but oddly it all came together. And apparently the menu changed daily, and they only offered four to five different dishes to choose from. When the server brought out our water, I noticed the goblets were each unique. It was kind of fun.

  Michael decided on the pan-seared duck breast with sautéed broccolini, and wild rice topped with a mushroom sour cream sauce, and I chose the citrus glazed grilled salmon on a bed of wild rice with grilled asparagus spears sprinkled with toasted almonds. Definitely looking forward to trying both.

  “Here are the rules for tonight,” he said after our server left.

  I raised my eyebrow. “Rules?”

  He slyly grinned. “My birthday, my rules.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Rule number one, no phone calls.”

  “But what if the …”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” he said while waving his finger. “I already called my mom and talked to the kids, everyone is doing fine. I told them you would call them in the morning.”

  I smiled. “Ok.”

  “Now that we have that out of the way. Rule number two, no talking about the kids or work.” He paused as if he was waiting for me to object.

  “Is that all?” I said.

  “Rule number three, I reserve the right to add rules as we go along.”

  “Then I reserve my right to object.” I winked.

  He picked up my hand and kissed my palm. I always loved when he did that.

  “Of course,” he replied.

  We both sat for a second and thought about what to say. The things I really wanted to know at the moment were probably not the best to bring up on an evening out, especially since it was his birthday. I wanted to know where our relationship was going and if I really should be calling back Mr. McRae. I wanted to know if he still loved me and wanted to be with me, but I settled on. “Read any good books lately?”

  As a matter of fact, he had. He read a physics book all about string theory. I had no idea what he was talking about, so he elaborated. I still had no idea what he was talking about, but I supposed that didn’t matter.

  When he was done showing off his high IQ, he smiled at me. “What about you?”

  I smirked. “I just finished this riveting tale all about breast feeding. You should check it out sometime.”

  His eyes sparkled and he laughed. I missed that laugh. I missed him.

  Throughout dinner it felt like old times, the way we talked and laughed. The conversation was all over the place from music, to movies and remember when’s. I told him about the new bands I was loving, and he, of course, countered with why the bands of old were far superior. The conversation gravitated toward when we were dating and right after we were married, when we were free to do as we pleased and when, if he had an assignment, it was common for me to just pack up and go with him. Those were great times and I’ll always cherish them, but I was happy when we settled down some. I was especially happy when we started a family. He, on the other hand, seemed to long for those days again.

  As we were waiting for our check, he reached over and placed his hand on mine. “What were you going to surprise me with today?”

  I set down my goblet of water and thought for a second. “Do you remember that bed and breakfast you wanted to go to in Estes Park last year?”

  His smile faltered and he sat up straighter. He definitely remembered. I wondered if he remembered what a spectacle he made out of himself when I told him it wasn’t a good idea at the time. I had never seen him behave that way before.

  “Well,” I bit my lip. “I booked a long weekend there for just the two of us.”

  His eyes lit up a tad. “Do those reservations still exist?”

  I shook my head no. “That boat sailed a long time ago.”

  He dropped his head slightly and let out a deep breath.

  I had canceled them back in June when I realized this wasn’t going to be fixed anytime soon.

  He began to verbally respond, or at least I thought he was going to. He definitely looked like he had something to say, but he was interrupted by the waiter with the check. I used that as my opportunity to use the lady’s room. Three glasses of water and a baby on my bladder was an uncomfortable combination.

  By the time I returned, the check had been paid. Michael stood up and put his arm around me, and then we left. When we reached the passenger side of his truck, he stopped before he opened my door.

  He looked to me at his side. “Thank you for making this a better birthday than I deserve. I want you to know that the thought and preparation has not been lost on me and I regret that I prevented you from seeing your plans through.” His hands came up and he took my face in them, his eyes bearing down into mine. “Yo
u’re incredible.”

  He leaned in closer and I just about held my breath, but my head kicked in instead of my heart. “What are you doing?”

  He grinned. “Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten what this is?”

  “It has been too long, but … ” I placed my finger on his lips that were seductively grinning at me. “I don’t kiss on the first date.”

  His eyes narrowed. He dropped one hand and placed it on my belly. “Need I remind you, Mrs. Bishop, this isn’t our first date, and you’re carrying our child.”

  I wickedly grinned and placed my hand on top of his. “Believe me, I don’t need a reminder.”

  He stepped back, still smiling, but definitely disappointed. “So I guess that means my favorite birthday present is off the table tonight.”

  I felt the heat rise to my cheeks and my heart pick up just a little at the thought. He had no idea how tempting that idea was to me, or maybe he did. “As much as I would like to … I don’t think we should sleep together until we know that we plan on sharing a bed permanently.”

  “It’s like déjà vu,” he quipped.

  He had definitely heard a variation of that line before we were married.

  I just shrugged my shoulders. It was for the best. I wanted nothing more than to be connected to him in that way again, but I couldn’t until I knew for sure where his heart was. And from what I could tell, he didn’t know. I couldn’t stand the pain of opening myself up to him like that just to have him walk away.

  Without another word, he opened my door and helped me in. As I watched him walk around the front of the truck, I could tell he was walking slowly. When he reached the front, he stopped deliberately and looked straight at me through the windshield. He looked bothered. After a moment, he purposefully turned back around and came back my way. He was acting strange. I followed with my eyes as he walked back around and opened my door.

  “Uh, did you forget something?” I asked.

  He stepped closer and took my face in his hands again. “No, I remembered something.”

  “What?”

  Without a second thought, his lips were on mine and he began to tenderly kiss me. I just let myself fall into it as my lips parted. For just a moment I forgot we were separated and that he didn’t love me anymore because his kiss said something entirely different. He kissed me softly and repeatedly for a minute or two as he gently touched my face. I’m sure the people around us thought, “Get a room already,” but at the moment I didn’t care. I just wanted my Bishop back.