Nine
Zach’s concerned expression was the first sight Pen saw when she opened her eyes.
She reached for her forehead, where a damp weight sat, and pulled away a black washcloth.
He took it from her. “Stef, rewet this for me?”
His sister jumped to help, returning in a few seconds with a much cooler cloth. Zach pressed it to Pen’s forehead again.
“No more high heels,” he told her, a muscle flinching in his cheek.
“Leave her alone.” Stef entered her range of vision again, this time with a water bottle. “Sip this, Pen.”
Zach helped her sit up some and then Pen drank from the water bottle, her head much clearer than before. She’d been relocated to an enormous sitting room with settees and low coffee tables and several groupings of chairs. She looked down to find she was resting on a dove-gray chaise longue.
“You passed out. Did you eat today?” That was Zach, his voice low and angry, but his innate tenderness outlined every word.
“I ate a little,” Pen mumbled, sitting up and putting her feet on the floor—her bare feet. “Where are my shoes?”
“I’ll carry you to the limo. You’re not putting those things on again.” His mouth pulled down at the corners.
“Yes, I am. I can wear high heels as well as I can flats. Better, in fact.”
“It’s second nature after a while,” Stef concurred. Then to Pen, she added, “He’s being overly concerned.”
“We need to check with the doctor.” He stood from his kneeling position on the floor in front of her and sat on the edge of the lounger. “To make sure nothing’s wrong.”
“She’s light-headed! There’s nothing wrong.” Stef rolled her eyes and took a bite out of what appeared to be a ham sandwich.
Pen’s mouth watered. She literally licked her lips.
“Want half?” Stefanie offered a plate with the other half of her sandwich. “There was too much fancy food out there so I went to the kitchen and made a ham and cheese on white bread like a real American.”
“I can get you anything you like from the caterer, Pen. You don’t have to—” Zach started to argue.
“If you don’t mind.” She reached past him for the plate and Stef handed it over. Pen took one bite, then another, and in no time the half sandwich was demolished. “Thank you so much.”
Zach took the plate. “Better?”
Pen slugged back the rest of the water and let out a satisfied Mmm. “Much better.”
“Guess we forgot the eating for two part, didn’t we?” He pushed a lock of hair away from her face before his eyes went wide at his faux pas.
“Oh my God! You guys are pregnant?” Stef stood from her seat on top of the coffee table, the remainder of her sandwich still in one hand. “I’m so excited! I’m going to be an aunt!”
“Stef,” Zach growled. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”
His sister promptly returned her derrière to the coffee table and pressed her lips closed. She mimed zipping her lips but when she looked back to Pen, she air clapped.
“I’m going to take you home.” Zach stood. “My home, where you’ll be staying.” He leveled Pen with an impatient glare before leaving the sitting room.
“Bossy.” Stef polished off her sandwich and dusted her hands on her skirt like she was wearing jeans instead of Carolina Herrera.
“What does he mean ‘where I’ll be staying?’” she asked herself, but Stef answered.
“While you were unconscious, Zach said he was going to ask you to move in with him.” Stef turned to study the doorway he’d disappeared through. “I guess that was his way of asking.”
* * *
“You’re overreacting,” Penelope told Zach as he moved from the couch to the kitchen on Monday morning. She’d spent Saturday night at his house, and Sunday, too, but this was ridiculous. She was itching to go home. Despite him having stopped by her apartment to gather a few changes of clothes—and shoes—she was ready to sleep in her own bed. And, as of Monday morning, ready to work in her own office.
He returned to the living room with a steaming mug, a string and tag dangling from the edge.
“The doctor said plenty of fluids and that peppermint tea would help as long as you don’t drink it too often.” He placed the mug in front of her on the couch where he’d arranged a remote, a few paperback novels, magazines and a plate of cheese and crackers.
A doctor made a house call Saturday afternoon and told her everything seemed fine, though he’d like her to come in soon for an ultrasound. He did take her blood for a workup, so she was glad to have that unpleasantness over with.
Zach threw a blanket over her legs and Pen tossed it off with a laugh.
“It’s nearly June, Zach. I don’t need a blanket. I don’t have the flu. I have morning sickness. I’m not going to sit here when I have work to do.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No. I’m not.”
She stood and he took a step toward her. The room canted to one side and she gripped his biceps, willing her feet to keep her upright. Strong hands wrapped around her arms and when she looked sheepishly up at her caretaker, his eyes were filled with concern.
“Pen.”
“Fine. I’ll rest. But only for today. And I’m going to return emails, then maybe a few phone calls.”
Sensing he’d lost the battle, Zach didn’t argue. But then Penelope did make a show of sipping her tea and eating a cracker—no cheese yet; her stomach couldn’t handle it.
“The doctor also said the nausea will subside. You won’t feel like this every day.” Zach, her new nursemaid, delivered a paper napkin to her next. She knew everything the doctor had said. She’d been there. But Zach was making her his top priority, and that was really...nice.
“Thank you.” In all sincerity, she should be thanking him. He was overbearing and a worrywart, but he was also looking out for her. For a woman who’d been on her own since she started staying home alone at age eleven, Pen wasn’t accustomed to someone taking care of her.
“I had lunch and dinner delivered. The meals are prepared and in the fridge. All you have to do is take the lid off and eat them.”
When Zach started listing ingredients like “chicken salad on rye” Pen’s stomach did a cannonball.
She held out a hand. “Don’t say the word chicken or rye.” She swallowed thickly. “Or salad.”
He lowered to sit next to her on the sofa, cradling her face in his hands. “You’re going to be okay here while I go to work?”
“Yes. Go.” She gave him a halfhearted shove and he stole a kiss before standing. One more wave goodbye and he left.
She sat back on the couch and flipped on the TV, using the remote. She sipped her tea, kept down the crackers and yes, a few pieces of the mild Swiss cheese, and decided that maybe she could rest for a little while.
With her body being uncooperative, she could use the break.
* * *
Zach’s mind was a million miles from work and the man currently droning on in front of him at the board meeting. He slid his gaze to his right where Armand jotted notes on his steno pad, and then to his left where Celia pecked notes into her iPad.
His mind was on Penelope and the scare she’d given him the night of the charity function at his parents’ house.
He was able to play it off as her not feeling well to everyone except for Stefanie, thanks to his gaffe when he mentioned Penelope eating for two.
Since then, he’d been in productive mode. He’d taken Pen home, called the doctor and scheduled a house visit and made sure she had everything she needed at his place.
His cell phone buzzed and he grabbed on to the interruption like a lifeline. The entire meeting halted as he stood and checked the screen. Stefanie. Good enough for him.
“Continue without me. Celia, if you could email me your notes.” With that, he was out the door, lifting his cell phone to his ear. “Zachary Ferguson.”
“Oh, so formal. I like it.”
“I have to keep up appearances for the suits.”
“Aren’t you one of them now?” He could hear her smile.
“Never say die, Stef. What’s up with you?”
“I’m going to plan a bridal shower for your future wife,” she answered, bringing him to a halt a few yards from his office door. “And I didn’t know, if by the time I threw it, we’d also include the baby shower part. Thoughts?”
Woodenly, he moved to the sanctuary of his office and shut the door behind him. “No showers. We’re doing this low-key.”
“No low-key. You’re a Ferguson and we do things very high-key. Or off-key, if we’re talking about Dad’s singing. I’m en route to the florist for a consultation for a fund-raiser dinner Mom is throwing, but I thought I’d ask about bridal arrangements while I was there. By the way, when is the wedding date?”
“We don’t have a wedding date. No showers.”
“Well, you’d better set one because that baby has a due date and I have a feeling he or she will stick to it whether you’re married or not.”
His face went cold as the blood drained from his cheeks. When he’d become “engaged” to Pen, no part of him believed they’d actually get married. Now that there was a baby on the way, well...he still hadn’t planned on marrying her, but he also hadn’t considered that everyone would expect them to make things official. Especially with a child who would carry on the Ferguson name.
“Have to run. Ciao!” Stefanie hung up on him and Zach set the cell phone on his calendar and stared dumbly at the month of May.
His sister had a point. Their baby was coming whether or not he set a wedding date. If he and Pen didn’t get married, in a few short weeks they’d have to announce a pregnancy and the decision not to wed.
It was archaic to believe they had to marry because they were expecting, but his parents would expect it. Especially now that they’d learned he’d married Yvonne on a whim.
Except no one knew the real reason for his marriage to Yvonne. It was a challenge in a way—to see if he could do it. Could he get over the past in one fell swoop without years of therapy or repression?
He could, as it turned out. He’d had to drink half the liquor in Nevada, but he’d walked down the aisle, had a spontaneous Vegas honeymoon and then wrapped things up in a matter of days.
All because once upon a time he’d been in love—for real. Yes, he’d been twenty-six, but he knew in his bones that Lonna was the one for him. She was four years older than him and had absolutely consumed every corner of his world.
They dated for a year and on that one-year anniversary when they sat across from each other at a rooftop bar, Zach proposed.
He recited a speech including how much he loved her, how there was no one else for him and how the rest of his life would be spent by her side.
Lonna had an announcement that evening, too. She’d come to break up with him. She’d had a speech prepared—it was about how she couldn’t see herself with him past that year, and how she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him because she didn’t love him.
She’d said she never had.
It was a blow he was sure he’d never recover from. Thank God he’d kept the relationship quiet, only telling his parents and friends that they were “dating.” After the breakup, he kept things quieter. He dodged questions, confided in no one and cried in private.
Then he decided he’d been humiliated for the last time, packed up his life and started a new one away from Dallas.
Now he had a decision to make. About a marriage. About a future with Penelope in his life.
No matter what those future plans entailed, one thing was certain: Pen and he might get married, they would have a baby, but Zach refused to allow himself to fall in love.
Not now.
Not ever again.