Chapter 9
9
TROPHY
Lance winced as the plane landed hard. He hated being out of control, and this was no exception. The rattletrap he was confined in wobbled precariously before making a right turn, taxiing to the main building of the airport. He landed his Hornet on the carrier all the time – and on short runways for practice. Despite the length, you had to stop, but there was such a thing as grace or finesse. He could have done a better job – and said as much on his way exiting the plane.
Was it a jerk move? Yeah.
Did he get an earful back? Oh yeah…
“Hey man, Navy? Am I right?”
“You bet, served twenty and…”
“I could tell,” Lance interrupted, chuckling in the most arrogant fashion he could. He was looking to pick an argument after Stephanie’s rushed phone call, and this was perfect. “This isn’t a carrier – next time, try not to wait for a hook line to catch us. How about you use whatever skills you were supposed to have learned in flight school to slow us down. I could have thrown this thing on the ground with more finesse.”
“Sir… we need you to disembark the aircraft,” a flight attendant said, pushing at his shoulders.
“Why you…”
“So how many ‘birds’ did you put in the water when you took a swan dive off the flight deck?” Lance tossed over his shoulder, laughing, as he was exiting the plane – only to see the man wave him off and move out of sight.
Several rumbles behind him were severely disapproving, but he didn’t care. He had less than an hour to get this out of his system because he didn’t want to fight with Stephanie.
Digging in his pocket, he grabbed the fragile piece of paper that he kept folded in his wallet. That email had been printed out, examined, memorized and was his only key to finding her now that he was in Louisville. He had two nights to convince her to talk with him, to work with him regarding the baby and their marriage, and he needed to be at the top of his game. Monday morning, he was scheduled for duty and would need to be on the carrier, in his spot, at oh-eight-hundred.
Plugging the address in his cell phone as he walked, Lance headed toward the rental car location and prayed they had something that wasn’t reserved. He saw it would take thirty-three minutes to get to her apartment complex and then he needed to find her building, knock on her door, and come up with something constructive to say.
“Hello. ”
Lance’s eyes shot up from his phone as he nearly bumped into Stephanie standing there before him, looking miserable. Her skin had a greenish tinge to it. Her eyes were red, swollen from crying - complete with circles underneath from exhaustion, and a monster of a pimple on her forehead. She was obviously having issues with nausea and hormones…and had never looked more beautiful to him.
“You look like crap,” his runaway mouth began and he winced.
Her lips flattened, nearly disappearing from her face combined with a look of resignation. She tossed up her hands and pivoted to walk away before his brain caught up with what he said.
He never expected her to actually show up to pick him up and was completely taken aback. It just slipped out, the same garbage he spewed toward his buddies, but she wasn’t his ‘buddy’, nor did she deserve to deal with his mouth.
“Stephanie… wait!” Lance called out, running after her immediately and grabbing her arm – only to have her whirl around on him, immediately on the attack.
“You think you can just show up and say whatever you want – and it’s okay? Yes, I look like crap. Welcome to my world – I feel like crap too. Is that what you want to see or hear? Your pregnant, knocked-up wife is sicker than a dog every night at seven o’clock, and guess what time it is, Husband ?” she sneered mockingly – only to freeze a second later.
Stephanie was in a state now, simply beside herself. Her face got deathly greenish-white, and her lips bloodless as she immediately scanned the area nearby, slapping a hand over her mouth.
She’s gonna blow! Lance thought in a panic and yanked his backpack off his back, unzipping it and pulling out his bag from the gift shop where he’d bought a magazine. He didn’t wait, he held open the bag for her, there in the middle of the airport as she hung her head inside and let loose. She was sobbing, gagging, and coughing into the bag as people gave them a wide berth, and he spotted a trashcan in the distance.
“Stay here,” he uttered, touching her head… and jogged over to get it, yanking the lid off and grabbing the plastic insert, ignoring the smell. People were staring at him, gawking openly, as he walked toward the family restroom in order to give her a bit of privacy.
Putting his arm around her shoulders, he led her to the bathroom, ignoring everyone. The moment they got inside, he turned her toward the can in the center of the bathroom. Smoothing back her hair with one hand, he reached over to turn on the water with another, wildly pumping the towel rack. Yanking off a length of paper towel, he wet it under the water, and put it on the back of her neck.
“Every night…” she coughed, spitting into the garbage can, before throwing up again and groaning painfully. “Always like this at night.”
“Shhh… I’ve got you,” he whispered, standing there beside her and trying to make her comfortable. “Can you take something to help you?”
“If I take it, then the baby gets it too,” she panted, sounding exhausted as she moved from the trash can to the sink, cupping her hands beneath the water. “I’m scared to cause a problem.”
“Stay here, and I’ll get you a Sprite or a ginger ale,” he offered and saw her nod weakly. Stepping out into the airport near baggage claim, he saw a security officer standing there with another woman pointing at him. Boldly he walked over and nodded at the man. “My pregnant wife is sick in the bathroom – in case you are wondering. I’m going to grab her something to sip on at the kiosk, unless I’m in trouble, or you want that trash can back?”
Neither said a word, and Lance went on about his business. He picked up a can of Pringles since that was as close as he was going to get to crackers, a bag of peppermints, and a large 20-ounce bottle of 7-Up. Gathering everything together, he asked for a few extra plastic bags and headed back to the bathroom. Gently knocking, he heard Stephanie’s voice.
“Come in…”
“Are you feeling any better?”
“Yes,” she admitted quietly. “It’s like I have to do a purge, and then a little while later, I’m fine. I’ve tried different foods, different things, but it’s the same routine every night.”
“I’m sorry,” he began and saw her flinch. “I’m sorry that you are sick,” he quickly amended, “I’m not sorry in the slightest that we are having a child together. A little shocked, but not sorry in the slightest.”
That seemed to placate her as she nodded simply, before helping herself to the bottle of soda and then smiling weakly.
“Are you hungry or something?”
“That’s for you.”
“Sour Cream and Onion?”
“Is there any other flavor worth having?” he taunted, looking at her as eyes met his before looking away. It was too late. He saw the glimmer of humor, camaraderie, and affection lingering in those depths giving him a bit of hope that maybe things weren’t too far gone. “Can I assume that since you are here, I can grab a ride with you?”
“I figured you intended on staying at my place.”
“I’d like that, but I don’t want to push my luck.”
“The couch is comfy,” she quipped and gave him a sideways look as she washed her hands and face once more, drying them… and waiting. Lance couldn’t help himself – he smiled.
“I bet that couch feels just like my rack on a ship.”
“Probably.”
“Then it’s perfect.”
“You don’t mind? You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be? I get to spend the weekend with you, talking about all the things we should have and shopping for our child. Maybe you can tell me what the appointments have been like and what I’ve missed so far.”
“You don’t have to do any of this,” she said bluntly to him before reaching for the door handle. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Stephanie?” he began quietly, picking up his backpack and looking her in the eyes. “I’ll admit that this wasn’t quite what I planned, and I’m nervous that I’m going to do something wrong… but I’m here.” He wasn’t sure what else he should say at that moment.
I’m here because it feels like the right thing to do. I’m here because I’m the biggest loser if I bail on you. I’m here because I really do care, even if I know I’m not in love with you. That’s my kid, and I don’t want him showing up later on, completely pissed off that he’s got a deadbeat dad! – All of those thoughts were swirling in his head, including the biggest one: I’m here because I’m scared too, and I don’t want you to do this alone without me.
She held his gaze silently, not saying a word and nodded.
It was a very quiet walk to the car – and the ride to her apartment was even more so.
Walking into Stephanie’s apartment was strangely comforting. There were little things around the place that just seemed like her in a very weird way. He barely knew her, was trying to make things better, and she was a stranger… but a stranger that ‘fit.’
There was an order to her home that reminded him of how picky he was when it came to the storage space in his rack. Everything had a place, a purpose, and if it didn’t – then it was junk. He didn’t want to bother with keeping up with the little things that didn’t matter, but she did – in a very decluttered way. No coasters, no vases, or figurines on display. There was a rack of tiny printing press stamps that looked to be antique, but it was held within a wooden frame – and it said ‘Wood’ in the center.
Cute , he smirked. It would say Cavanaugh before he left.
“Just put your bag down anywhere,” she said simply, waving her hand as she disappeared into the kitchen. “Do you want something to eat? I hope you aren’t expecting a pot roast dinner or something. I mean, you showed up here with zero notice and…”
“Stephanie, I just want to hang out this weekend and do a lot of talking. I’m not expecting diddly-squat, except that.”
“Oh,” she uttered and then played it off. “Good. I’m glad we are on the same page.”
It took everything in him to keep from laughing. His sweet girl had zero ‘game’ to her face, and her expression was telling. She was trying to be tough, talk a good game, and act a little saucy with him, but the player was about to meet the master.
“Yup. Same page, same book, same everything,” he said glibly. “And because we’re so much alike, why don’t you relax? I’ll just make myself right at home and whip up a little something for the ol’ wifey…”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, I’ve got this. Go brush your teeth, do your girly things, and let your man handle a late supper,” he urged, fighting back a gloating smile. If he was going to snoop and get the dirt on her, she couldn’t be hovering underfoot.
“About that wife thing?” she began, and he interrupted – deliberately.
“I’m not one of those pigs that makes his girl wait on him hand and foot…”
“Well, goody for you…” she retorted, crossing her arms and glaring at him.
“I’m a modern man.”
“I’m a modern woman – and this is my house.”
“It’s an apartment,” he corrected, knowing he was getting under her skin. “Don’t you have something to do? Put your feet up and get with the babymaking…” he uttered, waving at her still flat belly. “When do you start to show?”
She tossed her hands in the air in frustration, stomping off and muttering under her breath at him words that could even make him blush – and he’d heard a lot of salty talk from the guys. They usually keep it pretty clean because Pasteur and Ohio would both get this look on their faces. The guys played hard, but deep down, they were both Boy Scouts.
Not him.
Peeking around the corner, he started jerking open cupboards and drawers, looking for any hints or clues as to who she was deep down inside – and how to reach her. There were little tidbits that gave away a person’s true nature and he wanted to know hers.
If a person had a ton of cleaning solutions, chemicals, towels, wipes, and other things – they were probably a germaphobe or a clean freak. If someone had a bunch of diet food in the fridge… but eight boxes of Girl Scout cookies in the pantry hidden at the top, they were insecure about their weight and struggled with willpower – and understood.
Thin Mints were his weakness.
Lance opened a cabinet and hesitated before smiling broadly.
Jackpot.
There, in the cabinet, instead of cups and dishes… his girl had several tattered romance novels that looked well-loved. The spines were cracked, several pages folded at the corners, and mauled from an avid fan who obviously read and re-read them repeatedly. He gingerly plucked the worst looking one from the shelf to look at it.
“Please don’t be a billionaire…” he muttered, “because I’m sure not.”
Historical – more specifically – it was a book about knights and King Arthur sorta junk. Yeah, he could do the whole chivalry, wooing, damsel in distress stuff that would make her head spin. He might not be able to conjure up a horse or a sword, but he could definitely romance his woman.
Hearing her moving around, he quickly shut the cabinet and moved to make them something to eat. It would need to be something easy and fast to bake because he was pretty sure Stephanie would be popping her head around the corner any minute now. Grabbing a can of biscuits, a package of hot dogs, and a bag of shredded cheese, he set to work.
Five minutes later, as he was sliding the tray into the oven, Stephanie appeared – just as expected. He arched an eyebrow at her, staring pointedly as he fought back a smile .
She had changed into a pair of pajamas, complete with a fuzzy robe over them. Yeah, she had no intention of trying to make this easy on him or impress him. She was waving the ‘mom’ card… hard . If she thought he was going to run away, she would have been right a few weeks ago. Now, seeing her like this made his palms itch to touch her stomach knowing his baby was growing inside of her.
“Yes?” he drawled.
“What are you doing?”
“Cooking my wife something to eat.”
“About that,” she began, and he felt his stomach sink at her very uncomfortable look written all over her face. “We never signed the marriage license, so it wasn’t filed with the state. We’re not married.”
“Uh, yeah, we are,” Lance retorted quickly.
“Uh, no, we’re not,” she mocked, using his same tone.
“Where is it?”
“Why? So you can shred it?”
“Why would I do that when you are having my child?”
“Look, I’m trying to let you out. We can be friends and be civil about things. We’re both adults. Well, one adult and one sort-of adult…”
“I’m an adult,” he replied quickly and decided to turn the tables on her bickering. This would go a lot smoother if she weren’t trying to pick a fight or goading him. “I’m very much an adult. You should have told me that arguing and fighting with you turned you on. Baby, if you want it rougher between us, I’m all for that. Arguing, fighting, makeup sex, a little spanking…”
“WHAAAAT?”
Poor Stephanie looked like she was about to eject her eyeballs from their sockets as she strangled to get the word out of her. He was trying so hard not to laugh at her reaction, doubling down.
“I’m not big into slapping, but…”
“I’m feeling the urge to slap someone right now,” she balked.
“You’re in the mood now? Well, let me turn off the oven, and I’ll be happy to accommodate you. I heard pregnant women got turned on easily, but I’ve never experienced it. This will be a thrill,” he grinned at the disbelief on her face.
“You’re not touching me.”
So, Lance extended a finger and touched the tip of her little pointy nose.
“Touch…” he drawled deliberately – and sure enough, she slapped his hand away. “Is it ‘Go Time,’ babe?”
“No – and don’t call me that.”
“What sort of nickname do you prefer?”
“None.”
“Pumpkin, Ladybug, sweet cheeks?”
“Don’t call me anything because I know you don’t mean a word of it.”
“And if I did… princess ?”
He whispered the endearment tenderly, taking a step toward her – only for her to bump into the counter behind her. Good, she was pinned , he thought silently, advancing closer.
There was something so magical about her that it called to him. Yeah, she wasn’t the normal girl he went for, but then, again, that was a good thing. He could see introducing her to his family, standing proudly beside her, because she oozed class – and frankly, his taste in women had been distinctly ‘class-less’ before her.
Nope. He was a changed man deep down inside, a little further than any of them realized. Was he still a cad – sure – but this was his wife, his road to walk. A part of him was still a little nervous, but only because he didn’t want to let her down anymore. He was bringing his ‘A’ game and just hoped it was good enough or soon enough to win her over.
“Where’s our marriage license, princess?”
“Quit calling me that…”
“Why? I’m your Prince Charming…”
“Oh, heaven help me…”
“Princess, don’t call on heaven because you never know what you’re gonna get. Just remember, even Lucifer was an angel—once. You can call on me instead,” he whispered seductively, making the moves on his wife.
“I’m not calling on you ,” she breathed, trying to crane her neck away from him as he took a step closer, standing directly between her feet. Yeah, attraction to Stephanie had never been a problem – and it wasn’t now. His body was on fire with the simple idea of unfastening her robe and getting rid of those cotton pajamas.
“Why not? You’ve screamed my name before, and if you say the word, I’ll make you do it again,” he murmured against the skin of her cheek, hearing her sharp intake of breath. “Where’s our license, princess?”
“Stop it,” she pleaded – and he did. He didn’t want to push her too hard, but he did want her to know he was interested in being a part of this despite his initial reactions. The idea of being with someone, seriously, was very intimidating.
“Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen,” he promised gently, touching her hand and backing away as she requested. “Where is it? Is it in a folder or a file somewhere? Framed?”
“It’s in my car, above the visor.”
“Then I’ll grab it and handle everything,” he replied in a matter-of-fact voice. “We are married. This is just a matter of paperwork being filed with the state.”
“You can’t bully your way into this.”
“Well, I’m not willing to let go either,” he retorted, grabbing her keys off the table and taking off into the parking lot. As he slipped into the car, he folded the visor down and saw the paper. It had been folded several times, and there were circular watermarks in places where she had cried , he thought horrified, looking up at the apartment door where she stood watching him in the distance.
It wasn’t just his ‘A’ game he needed to bring to the table. He wasn’t just a player in a convenient moment or okay with fumbling through this all as a joke – because it wasn’t one, and he was realizing it now.
This was serious.
Everything.
Stephanie’s feelings were on the line, and it wasn’t just him fooling around, flirting with her, or trying to win her heart. There was real damage that could occur to someone he respected tremendously. He recognized why he was so nervous about a relationship or commitment now. It was because he was afraid that he would fail her, falling short of the man she needed him to be.
And that terrifying monster in the dark now had a face.
His.