Multiple Personalities
Belle
BELLE WOKE ON HER SIDE in her big, soft bed at The Point feeling for the first time in her week of living there, strangely pleasant, cozy and safe.
Then it registered there was warmth at her back and a heavy weight on her waist.
She opened her eyes and looked down to see a man’s hand (not any man’s hand, she’d know that strong, long-fingered hand anywhere, it was James’s) dangling at her waist. She saw in the sunlight streaming through her windows that the knuckles were raw and torn, painful-looking scabs forming at the splits.
She no sooner processed this disturbing fact when she heard dog tags and two canine heads popped up on her side of the bed.
One darker (Baron), one blonder (Gretl).
She had not gone to sleep last night with the dogs in her room.
She had also not gone to sleep with James in her bed.
Indeed, she had only seen James once after she ran from the stables to tell Joy her two sons were fighting.
Yes, she told on two grown men, what else was she going to do?
Half an hour after she’d run from the stables, Belle, Rachel and Lila stood on the front steps and watched James load a far worse for the wear Miles into Joy’s Mercedes. When he’d accomplished that, James left Joy to drive Miles to the hospital, Rachel running down to the car to accompany her.
James had walked slowly up the steps, fury in his gaze, as Lila and Belle watched him in open-mouthed shock.
He hadn’t said a word but his glittering eyes sliced through them making them both take a large step away from the door.
He’d then locked himself in his study.
Several hours later, Joy and Rachel had come back.
Miles had not.
Joy had gone directly to her room.
Lila made Rachel and Belle leave her alone. A half an hour later, Lila herself went up, taking a tray of soup, sandwiches and a bottle of wine with her.
By the time Rachel and Belle went to bed, Lila nor Joy nor James had emerged.
Now, somehow, James was in bed with her.
Belle reached out an arm, curled her fingers around the edge of the mattress, preparing to catapult herself from the bed.
Before she could succeed in this endeavor, James’s arm, resting lightly at her waist, became an iron band, hauling her into his hard body.
Belle froze and felt his face burrowing into her hair.
“We have to talk,” he growled.
Holy heck, her mind breathed.
“What are you doing in my bed?” her mouth asked.
“Containment,” he answered.
“What?”
“Containment,” he repeated. “Given the chance, you’ll escape. I’m not going to let that happen.”
Holy heck, her mind breathed again.
Belle had dealt with a number of different James Bennetts in the last three weeks. The jerky one (at their first meeting, post-fling). The demanding one (at the doctor appointments). The broody one (the times he wasn’t being something else). The impatient one, which was a variation of the jerky one (at the stables). The sexy one (also at the stables). And the loving one (again, at the stables).
This, she could tell, was an all-new James Bennett.
Therefore she thought it best to proceed with caution.
“Can I please get out of bed?” she inquired.
His body moved away and she thought that was an affirmative response.
She was wrong.
His hand pressed her so her back was to the bed and he loomed over her, up on an elbow, his other arm resting on her midriff.
“No,” he replied unnecessarily.
She looked in his eyes to see they were still slightly heavy with sleep but nonetheless alert. She couldn’t read them but she felt a curl of fear all the same.
So her attention moved to his ear.
When it did, he murmured, “That’s a good sign.”
She didn’t know what he meant but she also was not going to ask.
“Um, I’m finding this a bit weird,” she confided to his ear.
“Too bad. I have three things to say to you and you’re going to listen. Only then can you get out of bed and start your day.”
“Oh . . . kay,” she replied hesitantly, hoping with all her heart this would be fast and relatively painless.
He was weirding her out!
“First, if you even see Miles, you get away from him and you call me immediately.”
That curl of fear did an ugly little twist.
“What does that mean?” Belle asked.
“This isn’t question time, Belle. This is me talking to you, you listening and giving a definitive indication that you understand exactly what I’m saying to you.”
Belle went silent and just stared.
Definitely weirding her out.
“Do you understand what I just said to you?” he inquired.
She understood.
Oh boy, did she.
All she could do was nod.
“Good. Second, you’re avoiding me and it’s pissing me off. I didn’t ask you to move here so you could enjoy the seaside. I asked you to move here so I could share in the experience of your pregnancy.”
“Actually, you didn’t ask at all. You told—” Belle started to correct him but then clamped her mouth shut when his brows drew together in a scary way.
When he was assured she wouldn’t be foolish enough to utter another word, he continued.
“You’ll spend time with me. You’ll eat breakfast with me. You’ll eat dinner with me. If you’re in the mood for a walk and I’m in the house, you’ll find me and, if I can, I’ll go with you. I’ll take you to your shop. When you’re finished, you’ll phone and I’ll come and pick you up.”
As he spoke, Belle realized she was having difficulty breathing.
“Now, is that understood?” he finished.
“James—” she whispered, and his eyes started glittering with anger so she stopped speaking (she didn’t know what she was going to say anyway).
“You called me Jack yesterday,” he informed her tersely.
Did she?
She didn’t remember that.
“I did?” she was still whispering.
“Yes, you did,” he returned.
“Oh,” she breathed, his gaze cut to her mouth and for some strange reason, his face darkened (this, she found, his face did a lot at the weirdest times) before his eyes came back to hers.
“Apparently, if I kiss you, you’ll call me by my fucking name.”
She didn’t want to be reminded of that kiss.
In fact, last night, when her mind wasn’t occupied with worrying about Joy (and, she had to admit, James, and, she further had to admit, Miles), it had been occupied with doing anything but thinking about that incredibly delicious, mind-blowing kiss.
Therefore, in an attempt not to discuss the kiss, she did something unwise.
“I thought your name was James,” she said and she was still whispering but, even so, she’d forgotten to keep quiet because his eyes narrowed unhappily.
Therefore, she again clamped her mouth shut.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” he muttered.
She knew he was ignoring her idiot comment and talking about his kissing her causing her to call him Jack and her eyes grew round at what that might mean.
She vowed (silently) never to call him James again and kept her peace.
“Now, give me some indication that you understand the second point,” he demanded.
Belle nodded again.
“Excellent,” he clipped, sounding like it was not “excellent” at all and then he kept talking. “My last point stems from our discussion yesterday. Regardless of what you witnessed between Miles and I in the stables, what happened between you and I four months ago was not an act. Miles may have been competing for you but I wasn’t. You clearly don’t realize how offensive your accusation was when you made it the morning after the night we shared. If you did realize, you wouldn’t speak of it as it’s no less offensive now. You won’t speak of it again.”
Belle was finding it hard not to pant at the low and rumbly tone of his voice.
It was a variation on the voice he’d used when he’d promised her she could trust him.
It was also very like the voice he’d used when he’d threatened his brother right before he beat the crap out of him.
This suggested to her there was not only feeling behind his words but deep emotion.
And she didn’t know how to take that.
She had no chance to figure it out, he spoke again.
“Do I make myself understood?” he asked.
Without hesitation, she nodded again.
“I’ll be unhappy if we have to discuss any of this again,” he told her and she wondered what he meant by “unhappy” considering he seemed very unhappy at that precise moment.
“We won’t have to discuss it again,” she promised.
He stared at her so hard, even though she wanted to, she couldn’t move her eyes from his.
Then she felt him relax beside her.
“Good,” he murmured.
She was about to ask him if she could get out of bed but his chin dipped down, his eyes trailing her body and he shifted slightly back. His gaze stopped at the small bump at her belly and his hand went to rest there, heavy and hot.
Belle caught her breath at the intimacy of this gesture and fought against the return of pleasant, cozy, safe feeling she had when she’d woken.
“Does he move?” Jack asked gently.
Belle knew instantly she had a new Jack and this one sounded like the loving one.
She steeled herself against how much she liked the gentle, loving James Bennett and she steeled herself against the magnetic pull he emitted when he was in this mood.
“No, he hasn’t moved yet,” she answered and Jack’s eyes came back to hers but his hand didn’t leave her belly.
“You think he’s a he?” Jack asked and she nodded.
“But I don’t want to know. I want to be surprised,” she told him. “You can know if you want.”
His gaze moved back to her belly as he murmured, “I don’t want to know.”
Belle swallowed at the sweet sensation his murmur caused and was about to ask if she could get out of bed again mainly because she really needed to get out of bed.
And away from him.
She was finding this taxing.
Why she seemed to be able to handle herself more assuredly when Jack was being terrible and why she seemed entirely unable to cope when Jack was being anything but terrible, she had no idea.
She just couldn’t.
She wanted to cover his hand with hers.
She wanted to lean up and kiss his strong, dark-stubbled jaw.
She wanted to run her hand down his bare chest.
No, she wanted to run her tongue down his bare chest.
While she was thinking these thoughts (and staring at his chest), Jack’s eyes came back to her face.
“Have you thought of any names?” he asked, her gaze jerked to his collarbone as her thoughts, with some effort, focused on his question and she licked her lips.
She didn’t want to talk about baby names with Jack while they were in bed together.
How she was talking about baby names while they were in bed together, she had no idea.
She’d much prefer to write her list down in an e-mail and send it to him.
“Belle,” Jack called and she knew the e-mail name exchange idea was out.
Her eyes rose from their mindless study of his collarbone to his face and she blurted, “Lucas for a boy, Olivia for a girl.” Then, worried he wouldn’t like those names, she went on, “I also like Harry.” When he showed no response, just watched her face silently, she kept going, “And Noah.” He again didn’t speak so she carried on, “And Nathan.”
“Nathan,” he murmured and the way he said that name, the way it sounded with his deep voice wrapped around it, she knew she’d battle to the death to give her child that name.
“Nathan,” she whispered and watched his eyes drop to her mouth.
Then she watched his face grow soft and gentle, a look she hadn’t seen in four months.
There was something profound happening. The kind of profound something that happened when a mother and father decided what to name their child.
She felt it slide warmly through her, taking over, taking control, and before she knew it (or could stop herself), her hand moved to cover his on her belly.
His gaze lifted to hers and her hand kept going, sliding up his forearm.
“Belle,” he muttered and her hand glided up his bicep.
“Jack,” she whispered, and as she was studying his mouth she missed the flash in his eyes and her fingers curled around his shoulder.
Still controlled by the moment and not her own neurotic mind, she lifted up and put her mouth on his.
And she kissed him.
Kissed him.
She didn’t know what she was doing. She wasn’t herself and she had no idea what this New Belle intended to get from her behavior.
But Jack knew exactly what he wanted and the minute her lips touched his, he took it.
His torso pressed hers into the bed, his arm wrapped around her waist and he rolled to his back, taking her with him, his mouth locked on hers, his tongue sliding inside.
His hands drove into the hair on either side of her head and held her to him as she tilted her head, her tongue dancing wildly with his.
This felt so good, her belly flipped then melted and her body molded to his. Her arm wrapped around him and she moved to her side, urging him to come with her (and he did) so her hands could roam the skin and muscle of his back.
He felt good.
Actually, he felt great.
As she touched him, the kiss, mildly controlled, went out of control.
She had invited it and when it came she welcomed it and gave back as much as she got, loving every second.
Only when Jack’s hand yanked up her nightgown and slid into her panties at her behind did sanity return in an ice-cold, what-on-earth-are-you-doing rush.
She pulled from his arms, scrambled from the bed and stood at its side staring at Jack, who’d come up on a forearm but his body had gone still.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “So, so sorry. I’m sorry.” He just stared at her, she could see his chest rising and falling, his defined stomach muscles contracting with his deep breathing, and she kept talking, “Hormones. It’s hormones. I’m so sorry.”
She stood there feeling like an idiot and her gaze went from his passion-filled eyes to his chest which was something she liked. So it skittered to his nose which was something else she liked. So it went to his shoulder which was safe when he was wearing clothes, when he wasn’t it was all sinewy and luscious so she settled on his ear.
“Belle—” he started but she blathered on.
“Okay, so, this is obviously going to be weird, considering our brief history. So, for this to work, um . . . me being here, living with you, maybe we should have rules.”
“Belle—” he repeated, and she still didn’t look at him when she kept talking.
“Like, you know, maybe you shouldn’t be allowed to sleep with me, or, um, wake up with me, or, um . . . both. That’s a good rule.”
“Belle—” he said yet again but she kept right on talking.
“And, maybe you’re not allowed to kiss me anymore.”
“Are you allowed to kiss me?” he asked and she heard it, plain as day, there was amusement in his voice.
Her eyes flew to his face and she saw it plain as day there too.
“No,” she answered. “No kissing. None at all. Either you or me.”
“I don’t agree to that rule,” he retorted, throwing back the covers.
Her body went solid in fear and she realized, again too late, that she should have run from the room or locked herself in the bathroom or thrown herself out of a window or something.
She still had time but her feet refused to move.
She watched him get out of bed. She noted he was wearing a pair of dark-gray, drawstring pajama bottoms that looked way too good on his behind and then he started walking around it, toward her.
“Either me not kissing you or you not kissing me. Especially you not kissing me,” he stressed and stopped in front of her, his hand coming to her jaw, his voice dipping low and rumbly. “You’ve never kissed me like that before. That was nice, poppet.”
“Another rule!” Belle announced way too loudly, taking a step back and away from his hand, which dropped to his side. “You can’t call me ‘poppet’ anymore.”
He grinned. “I don’t agree to that, either.”
She blinked at him. “Well, do you agree to the first one, the no sleeping together?”
“Certainly,” he replied without hesitation and her body relaxed only to go ramrod straight again when he continued, “Unless I’m in the mood.”
“The mood?” she whispered and he took the step toward her that she’d taken back and both his hands came to her jaw, holding her captive.
“The mood,” he repeated and went on terrifyingly. “And you should know, I’m guessing I’ll be in the mood quite a bit, poppet.”
“This isn’t funny,” she whispered, her heart in her voice, but even though she knew he could hear it (he had to be able to hear it), he smiled.
“You’re right, it isn’t funny. I’m also not laughing.”
“You’re smiling,” she accused.
“That I am,” he agreed.
“Stop doing it,” she demanded.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” she asked in a voice edged with hysteria.
“Because now I know,” he answered.
Her body stiffened to the consistency of marble but her mouth still was able to form the words. “You know what?”
“I know why you’re avoiding me,” he replied.
“I’m not avoiding you,” she semi-lied.
She kind of was.
Heck, who was she kidding? She definitely was and had been doing it for three weeks.
“You’re avoiding me, Belle. And you’re doing it because you want what we started in the stables, what we started in that bed, what we had four months ago. You want it just as badly as you’re terrified of it.”
“It’s hormones,” she semi-lied again.
It could be hormones, what did she know? She was no pregnancy expert (although she was learning).
“It wasn’t hormones four months ago.”
He had her there.
“I have another rule,” she began, jerking her face from his hands and taking another step back, running into Baron, stopping and lifting her chin to Jack. “No talking about four months ago.”
“Yesterday, I would have agreed to that.” He took another step toward her, negating the distance she’d gained, and leaned in. “Today. No fucking way.”
“Why?” she fairly shouted.
“Because now I want to know, when we both know how good it was then, how good it can be again, why you’re so damned scared of it. So scared of it, you’d latch on to any excuse you could find and walk away from it, and me, without looking back.”
She lifted her chin further and lied, yet again (she was seriously going to hell), “I’m not scared of it.”
“You bloody well are. You’re scared out of your skin.”
“Am not,” she snapped.
“Oh yes you are.”
“No . . . I . . . am . . . not!” she shouted.
He got even closer, his hands coming to her hips and dared, “Then kiss me.”
Her body did a little jerk and she stammered, “Wh-what?”
“If you’re so in control then kiss me. Prove to me you can take it or leave it.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going to kiss you.”
“Scared?” he taunted.
“No!” she snapped.
She saw his eyes smile even though his mouth did not. She remembered the first time she’d seen him do that and just how beautiful she thought it was then.
It was no less beautiful now.
“Liar,” he muttered, breaking into her thoughts.
“I’m not lying,” she lied.
He didn’t reply.
She watched him warily.
He studied her with amusement dancing in his green eyes.
Finally he whispered, “This is going to be interesting.”
Belle didn’t like the sound of that.
Before she could find something, anything to say to convince him he was wrong, he bent his neck and kissed her forehead.
But he only moved away a scant inch when he said softly, “All right, poppet, I’ll let you off the hook for now.”
“What does that mean?” she asked in a shaky voice.
His hand moved from her hip to cup her jaw and his thumb slid along her cheekbone. “That means I’ll see you at breakfast.”
He bent again to touch his mouth to her trembling lips and, once he’d done that, his thumb trailed along her lower one.
Without another word, he turned and walked to the door.
Hand on the knob, he looked at her.
“Do you want the dogs?” he asked.
Belle, standing like a statue, tilted her head down to look at Baron and Gretl who were both sitting at her sides, tongues lolling happily, grinning up at her, tails sweeping the floor.
She mutely looked back to Jack.
He’d asked if she wanted the dogs like he asked it every morning during their years-long relationship before popping off to get ready for breakfast.
Not like they’d had their first ever Jack’s Multiple Personalities Melodrama in her bedroom.
She wondered to herself if he was mad.
Then, for some bizarre reason, she answered him out loud, “Yes.”
At her answer, he gave her a sexy grin, one she’d never seen before, one that looked almost playful.
Her belly did a delightful dip.
“See you at breakfast, poppet.”
He closed the door.
She stared at it.
Then she looked down at Baron.
Then at Gretl.
When Belle’s attention turned away from him, Baron woofed.
When Belle’s attention turned away from her, Gretl licked her hand.
“For some reason,” she told the dogs, her voice still tremulous, her fingers moving to scratch behind their ears, “I think I’m in trouble.”
Baron woofed again and Belle could swear he was agreeing with her.
Belle walked on leaded feet to the breakfast table, dillydallying in the hopes that she’d sit down just in time for Jack to eat his last bite of toast. That way she could keep her promise without actually keeping her promise.
This was a risky endeavor.
The downside was Jack cottoning on to her game and getting scary angry.
The upside was Belle keeping her sanity.
For some reason, she lost it when she was with Jack.
All her life, she’d been a sane person. Very sane. In fact, her mother and grandmother might even say too sane.
With Jack, she was not.
Considering she’d soon be responsible for another living being, she thought it important to behave like a sensible adult, not a brazen hussy.
She was already losing the Mother of the Year award and she hadn’t even had her child.
She’d done everything she could to delay her arrival at the breakfast table.
She’d showered, done her makeup and styled her hair all twisted softly back in a big bun at her nape, a few tiny braids blended in, some wispy hairs here and there at her face and neck. Very romantic and innocent-virgin looking.
She then spent a good deal of time deciding what to wear.
Since the weather had been quite warm and sunny, she decided on a violet-colored cotton sundress that she’d designed. It had an empire waist, a deep V-neck with a ruffled trim and a slight A-lined skirt that hit a couple of inches above the knee. She paired this with silver, flat Capri sandals with a rose at the toe.
Although the deep V-neck was slightly risqué, it was a sweet Audrey Hepburn type of outfit and everyone knew Audrey Hepburn was no hussy.
As she approached the door to the dining room, she saw movement down the hall and stopped in the door to watch Jack walking toward her.
Clearly her efforts at dillydallying had all been for naught.
He had a sleek, black mobile phone to his ear that looked like something George Jetson might own. He was wearing charcoal-gray trousers with an elegant pinstripe, a crisp, light-blue shirt and a black, midnight-blue and gray patterned tie was hanging loose from his open collar.
His eyes were on her.
She felt a trill race up her spine that ran along her scalp and made her shiver.
She realized she’d frozen when he stopped close and put a hand lightly to her waist.
Only then did she understand her mistake. She should have been cool, calm and casual and given him a jaunty wave before entering the dining room.
Instead, she’d stood gawking at him like a lovesick teenager.
Proof positive that she lost her sanity around Jack.
“Right,” he said into his phone, his eyes never leaving hers. “E-mail it. I’ll be in the office this afternoon and we’ll discuss it then.”
He disconnected without saying good-bye and his gaze traveled the length of her.
When they came back to her face, he asked softly. “One of yours?”
Belle, who had fallen into a Gentle Jack Trance, nodded.
“It’s lovely,” he murmured on a small smile.
“Thank you,” she murmured back and saw his smile deepen.
She was staring at his mouth, her own lips parted, her eyes glazing over, her body starting to lean into his magnetic pull when she heard her grandmother’s call.
“Morning, kids!”
Belle’s body jerked and she snapped out of the trance. As she did this, she saw Jack’s mouth go tight and his head turned to look in the dining room.
Belle turned too and she saw everyone there, including Yasmin. And all of them were watching Jack and Belle like they were viewing an awe-inspiring, award-winning play.
“Yasmin.” Belle smiled at the other woman shyly. She hadn’t seen her since that awful morning and she hoped her reaction to Belle being pregnant with Jack’s child and living at The Point would be a far sight better than Miles’s had been. “It’s lovely to see you.”
Yasmin responded as Jack’s hand moved to the small of Belle’s back and he guided her into the room.
“Not as lovely as it is to see you. After the drama and the resulting media brouhaha, I thought I might be persona non grata at your shop. Now, seeing as Jack got you up the duff, I can come shopping anytime.”
Belle did a little stutter step at her words and heard Joy emit a soft giggle, her mother laughed outright but her grandmother was glowering at Jack’s hand at Belle’s back.
Jack pressed more firmly into her back, his warm body got protectively closer and he led her to the empty chair to the right hand side of the head of the table. He pulled it back for her and she sat in it, looking up and over her shoulder at him as he assisted her with pushing it back in.
Then she watched him seat himself at the head of the table.
She recognized she was falling into another trance so she shook herself out of it and looked at the table.
Everyone was watching her again.
She realized she didn’t reply to Yasmin and belatedly, she said softly, “You’re always welcome at the shop.”
“Goody,” Yasmin smiled. “I’m coming today. I hope you’re stocked up because I got my allowance from my trust fund last week and I can’t ask Daddy for a supplement unless I use every last penny.” She turned to Gram. “I do that every month. It drives Daddy insane.”
“I bet it does,” Gram mumbled but she was grinning.
“Well, he was practically absent during my childhood. He was two hours late to my first wedding because of some urgent meeting. And he didn’t show at all at my second wedding because someone was doing something in Geneva that he had to sort. A monthly supplement soothes the pain,” Yasmin blithely replied, her words meant to be amusing but Belle heard the hurt under them and her gaze slid to Jack.
Jack was watching Yasmin, a look of tender concern on his handsome face and at the sight of it, Belle’s stomach did another sweet, little dip.
His head turned, he caught her gazing at him, she felt the warmth hit her cheeks and she immediately looked down at her place setting.
“Belle,” he called and her eyes went to his ear.
“Yes?” she asked.
He didn’t speak for a moment before he said quietly, “Poppet, look at me.”
With some effort, her eyes met his.
And he didn’t look annoyed or impatient.
He looked amused and affectionate.
It was a good look.
She licked her lips.
He inquired. “What did you do with my dogs?”
“Your dogs?” she asked, forgetting entirely that he had dogs, that she liked his dogs, that she spent a good deal of time with his dogs, and she also forgot her first name.
“Baron and Gretl?” he prompted, his mouth twitching. “I left them in your room this morning.”
She gave herself a mini-mental shake and told herself to pull it together.
“Yes, of course, um . . . I let them out.”
“Did they eat?”
“Eat?” she parroted stupidly as she’d again lost the thread of the conversation because she’d become fascinated with watching his mouth form words.
“Yes, eat,” his mouth said then he grinned.
She tore her eyes from his mouth and muttered, “No, I didn’t think of that.” Her gaze lifted to his eyes. “Do you want me to go do that now?”
He shook his head but looked like he was trying not to laugh. “No, love, you don’t have to feed my dogs.”
“Okay,” she whispered and for some reason this made him chuckle.
Belle hadn’t heard his chuckle in a long time and she forgot how very much she liked it.
Elaine, the housekeeper, came in at that point and as Belle and Jack ordered their breakfasts, Belle decided it was a much better plan to engage someone else in conversation before she made an even bigger idiot out of herself.
However, when her eyes moved to the others at the table, they were all again watching her and Jack. Yasmin was doing it with a broad smile. Joy was pressing her lips together but you could see her eyes dancing. Mom was looking at Jack in a way that Belle just knew she was getting a feeling in her bones. Gram was glaring at Jack and Belle with a look on her face that heralded Belle, at some point during the day, being given the third degree.
And therefore Belle decided instantly the table was no safer than Jack.
Though, Belle had been wrong about the third degree coming from Gram at some point during the day.
She’d decided to dish it out right then.
“Can I ask, at this juncture, what you were doing in Belle’s room this morning?” Gram demanded of Jack.
Belle felt her heart sink and she knew it was only courtesy that drove Jack to answer her grandmother.
“We had a chat.”
“I can see you had a chat. Everyone can see you had a chat,” Gram snapped. “Yesterday, you two were entirely different beings than you are right now. If you were in each other’s presence, which was rare, the animosity veritably crackled. At least it did from you.” Her eyes narrowed on Jack. “Today you two are all sweetness and light. What gives?”
“Mom, cut it out.” Belle’s mother, as usual, unwisely decided to go head to head with Gram and entered the conversation.
Gram glared at Mom. “Don’t tell me to cut it out.”
“I’m telling you to cut it out,” Mom returned. “Leave them be.”
“I won’t leave them be. Leaving them be got Belle knocked up!” Gram’s voice was rising.
Belle put her elbow to the table and rested the side of her head in her hand.
Regardless of her embarrassed posture, her family didn’t let up.
“In her current condition that can hardly happen again,” Mom returned, Gram’s eyes bugged out and Belle closed her own eyes before opening them again when her grandmother retorted.
“That’s not the point!” Gram snapped.
“Then what is the point?” Mom snapped back.
“I don’t know!” Gram shouted and looked at Jack. “You were present at this chat. Maybe you can tell us the blasted point!”
“Oh lordy,” Mom muttered at the same time Yasmin giggled and Joy mumbled, “Oh dear.”
Belle wished silently for the floor to open up and swallow her just as Jack spoke.
“I think the point, right now, Lila, is that you’re embarrassing your granddaughter and I’ll ask you to stop doing it.”
Belle’s head snapped up and her neck twisted so fast it made her dizzy.
The air in the room took on an edge.
“Jack . . .” Belle whispered.
His eyes moved to hers and he said gently, “I’m speaking to Lila now, poppet.”
“You shouldn’t rile her,” Belle advised.
He turned his torso toward her and asked, “Are you enjoying this conversation?”
She hesitated before responding honestly, “Not really, no.”
He turned back to the table, his gaze moving in the direction of her grandmother and stated firmly, “Then this conversation is over.”
Belle chanced a glance at the table and saw Gram looked fit to be tied but Mom was grinning ear to ear.
“Told you!” Mom announced, pointing at Gram then her finger moved to Belle. “Told you too.”
“Told them what?” Joy asked and Belle saw her mother’s body give a small twitch as her face lost a goodly amount of color.
She dropped her hand and muttered, “Nothing.”
Everyone at the table was silent for several long moments.
The only one who moved was Jack and this was so he could pour Belle some coffee.
Belle plucked up the courage to break the silence and said in a quiet voice to Jack, “I don’t drink coffee because of the baby.”
He stopped himself from filling his own cup and replied, “Of course.”
He put down the silver service and took her cup from her place, lifted it to his lips and took a sip.
Belle watched Jack sip from a cup she didn’t even use but was somehow still hers and felt, weirdly, the intimacy of this act almost equaled him putting his hand on her pregnant belly for the first time.
The pleasant feeling this gave her was so overpowering it scared her half to death.
She tore her attention from Jack drinking coffee and caught Yasmin openly staring at her with a huge grin on her face.
Then Yasmin declared, “I’m coming to breakfast every day. This is fun!”
Belle didn’t think it was fun. Belle thought it was torture.
She didn’t share this.
Instead, she caught Joy gazing at her with a bright but pensive look on her face.
“I must say,” Joy added, not moving her gaze from Belle. “I agree. I’m glad you’re all here. It definitely livens up the place.”
Belle knew Joy liked her mom and Gram, like, a lot.
Belle also knew she wasn’t really referring to them.
She felt a warm rush slide through her system and she smiled at Jack’s mum.
Joy smiled back.