Chapter Eleven

“Your father and I are back from your aunt’s house. I haven’t talked to you in a few weeks, so I thought I’d check in,” her mother said. Try a few months, Lydia thought dryly as she listened to her mother drone on and on. As she was an only child, one would expect that she’d have a closer relationship with her parents, but that had never really been the case. Instead, she’d left for college and her visits home had grown farther and farther apart even though they lived only about an hour away. It wasn’t that she was abused or anything along those lines. They just believed in parenting directly from a childcare book but without many nurturing feelings thrown in. Apparently, that would make her a more independent adult, which possibly they were right about. She certainly hadn’t had any issues cutting the cord and striking out into the world on her own.

“That’s great,” she replied, proud of the amount of enthusiasm she’d managed to interject into her voice. “Did you guys have a good time?” While her mother went on about their trip to Tampa, Florida, Lydia’s mind went to what had caused the ever-widening rift with her parents. They’d fully expected her to desert Brett when he became sick. And they were completely against her leaving her job and traveling with him. She could understand their fears about her financial security even though she’d assured them that Brett had insisted on covering the costs of the trip. He’d made good money working as a computer programmer and had always been one to save every extra penny. Plus, she had enough money in her own account to give her plenty of time to find another job when the time came. The stress of having to deal with their displeasure along with the knowledge that her fiancé was dying was almost more than she could bear. That was one time in her life she needed them to step up and just give her a hug. Maybe lie to her and say that everything would be all right. Instead, all she’d heard was how she was throwing away her future for a man who wouldn’t be around much longer. It had been so callous and heartless. Since then, their once cordial relationship had been decidedly frosty. They had no idea she was even married. When Jake had asked her about them shortly after their hasty wedding, she’d made some excuse about them traveling and her speaking to them soon. She’d been embarrassed to say that they likely wouldn’t care, and if they did, it wouldn’t be anything positive.

When there was a lapse in the conversation, she blurted out, “So, great news! I got married a couple of months ago!” What am I doing? Shouldn’t I have saved this type of news for someone like the paperboy? Or my favorite cashier at the grocery store? Anyone who would actually be happy about it? Jake walked in the door right as she did her big reveal. She desperately hoped that he’d continue on to the bedroom and change clothes as he normally did, but no such luck tonight. He propped against the counter watching her intently. He had to have heard what she’d said.

“Then your father had some bad fish at a restaurant one night and was so sick I thought he’d have to go to the emergency room. I told him to have the chicken, but of course, he didn’t listen to me.”

Unbelievable, Lydia thought. Had the woman heard a word she’d said? Catching sight of her frown, Jake gave her a questioning look, to which she simply shook her head. When her mother paused again, she quickly jumped in. “Did you catch the part about your only daughter getting married?”

Her mother gave what sounded like a long-suffering sigh before saying, “Is this where you say something about being married to Brett’s memory? Because frankly, that’s not healthy and I can’t encourage that kind of delusion.”

WHAT? Lydia had nothing to say for a full minute. She was still attempting to process what she’d heard when the phone was gently pulled from her hand. It was a testament to how rattled she was that she didn’t object. She was relieved to hand it off. Let Jake be the one to hang it up; it saved her the effort. Then she heard, “This is Jacob Hay—your daughter’s husband. Mrs. Cross, I presume?” Lydia began choking, and Jake calmly patted her on the back before resuming his conversation. “Yes, that’s correct. Lydia and I were married a little over two months ago.” She saw him wince before he added, “I am absolutely gainfully employed. In what capacity? Um, I’m the vice president of The DeSanto Group.” Then in a strained voiced, he asked, “Is it—no, we don’t have trash trucks. The DeSanto part is actually the CEO, Mark DeSanto’s last name. It’s not fancy for sanitation. No, ma’am, I’ve never driven a garbage truck.” Lydia couldn’t help it; she flopped against the countertop laughing as the normally unflappable Jacob Hay struggled with the questions her mother was asking him.

“Just give me the phone back,” she whispered, trying to show him some mercy. His eyes were so wide they looked as if they’d pop out at any moment.

He bravely waved her off and continued answering what sounded like a bunch of bizarre and absurd questions. “What do I wear to work every day? Normally a suit. Why am I repeating your questions?” He flushed after that one before saying, “I’m just trying to make sure I understand you correctly. No, ma’am, I’ve never been arrested, but I have had a couple of speeding tickets.” His voice had taken on a high pitch as he said, “It wasn’t in a fancy sports car. I drive a truck. No, ma’am, not a monster truck, just a regular Ford truck. I own my home. Er . . . I’d have to look at the last appraisal to tell you what the value is—there are no tax liens against it of any kind.”

Lydia was nearly on the floor now. Jake was so adorably rattled, but he continued to hold the phone almost as if determined to see it through. “Hang up,” she wheezed out as she held her sides. “You’re just encouraging her.”

“Yes, ma’am, I have a daughter. Well, of course I know who the mother is. It would be kind of hard not to, wouldn’t it?” He laughed then abruptly stopped. “No, I absolutely believe that women are equal to men. Um . . . I’ve never thought about being the one to give birth. I wasn’t married to her mother. I . . . it just didn’t work out that way. No, this is my first marriage.” His face paled as he strangled out, “I—believe in safety, yes. I have a physical every year and um . . . it’s all been checked and I’m good.”

“Oh, dear God!” Lydia got to her feet and yanked the phone away from Jake before he passed out. “Mother! Why in the world would you ask him all of that? Have you any idea how personal and inappropriate—”

“I think he’ll do,” her mother interrupted. “Bring him and the daughter over for lunch one Sunday. I’ve got to run. We’re playing poker with the Crenshaws tonight, and I need to make a trip to the grocery store.” Lydia sat there holding the phone long after the line had disconnected. What just happened? Had she just gotten approval from her mother for the first time ever? It was almost more than she could comprehend.

Finally, she placed her iPhone down in front of her and looked over at Jake. He shook his head before releasing a loud breath. “That’s one of the most fucked-up conversations I’ve ever had and that’s saying something. Did you hear all of that?” he asked incredulously.

“I gathered enough from your answers to figure most of it out.” She giggled. “It looks like I married myself to a dude who drives a trash truck and has no idea who his baby mama is,” she joked.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he threatened as he started edging toward her.

She backed away, still laughing. “Now, Jake . . . you’re the one who grabbed the phone. You asked for everything you got.”

“Oh, really?” he said mildly as if they were discussing the weather. Then he dove and she squealed as he chased her around the island in the kitchen. On the third lap, she thought she detected a gleam of desire in his eyes and intentionally slowed down. When he pounced the next time, she let him catch her. And shortly thereafter, she had her first encounter with kitchen floor sex. The ceramic tile was cold, but Jake’s body was hot—so very hot.

*   *   *

Later that night, while they were lying in bed, Jacob told Lydia about his lunch with Chris. He’d been torn about it but didn’t feel right keeping the information from her. That made him feel as if he had done something wrong and he didn’t really believe he had. His wife went still in his arms when he relayed the part about her rubbing his leg twice with her foot. “You’re angry, aren’t you?” he asked, knowing the answer.

She nudged him onto his back so that she could turn and look down at him. She caught him by surprise when she asked, “Do I have the right to be jealous here, Jake?”

He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, wanting to see her face. “What are you asking me? Why wouldn’t you? We’re married, aren’t we?” Shit, was he actually encouraging jealousy? That was a new one.

She sat up against the headboard and all of his male instincts were screaming that “the talk” was imminent. “I still don’t really know what we’re doing here,” she admitted. “I mean, I know we’re married and we live together. We obviously have sex—a lot of it. But—ugh! I’m just going to say it, and if you freak out and run, then so be it.” She squared her shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “I’m in love with you Jake. I know we got married for all of the wrong reasons and we haven’t been together that long, but that’s how I feel.”

He felt panic rising at her words. Love? He’d considered the possibility that he was falling for her a few times, especially after some of the intimate moments, but what was he supposed to do? Say it back to her now? She was looking at him warily, but dammit, there was hope there too; he could see it. “I . . .” When his phone suddenly blared, he dove for it like a lifeline. He didn’t bother to look at the ID as he answered the call. When he heard Chris’s hysterical voice on the other end, he jumped out of bed. “Fuck! Which hospital? I’m on my way.” He was already throwing his clothes on before he finished speaking.

Lydia had sprung from the bed as well and was scrambling to his side. “What’s happened?”

“Casey fell down the stairs. Chris said the fall knocked her out, but she did wake back up a few minutes later. She thinks her arm might be broken, something about the angle looking wrong.” He was already on his way out of the bedroom while Lydia struggled to dress. “I’ve got to go, I’ll call you.” Not thinking of anything except getting to his daughter as fast as he possibly could, he didn’t notice the look of hurt on Lydia’s face as he hurried away.