Chapter 38
The Truth
LANIE
“Fucking asshole,” I muttered, waking to a note and flowers rather than my husband.
Baz said he took the day off, but I woke to him gone.
I knew he didn’t have the balls to apologize for last night.
He was a coward, but wasn’t the only one.
I’d still not told him my news. He deserved to know that much, but I didn’t want to let go of the secret.
I worried he’d never touch me again. I didn’t want that.
I wanted my husband in my bed. Why was it so hard to admit that?
Lanie,
I have business to attend to. I am sorry about last night. I don’t know why I did that.
Let Jeremy know if you need something today.
I will be home with plenty of time to take you to the banquet. You’ll be beautiful.
-B
He thought flowers and offering his assistant fixed everything. I rolled my eyes. It was ridiculous!
I spent the day resting—grateful for a reprieve.
Shooting all day while newly pregnant was not for the faint of heart.
Leah told me she did at least one performance a day of Victoria the Great when she was in her first trimester with the twins.
They fixed up her costumes accordingly, but she managed to keep going.
I didn’t know how. A musical was a lot more demanding than hours on set, right?
After a good long nap and bath, I waited for my hair and makeup team. I was grateful I hired someone once the tiara arrived. I had no idea how I would have managed on my own. And, as I looked at the result, I teared.
Somehow, the tiara my mother longed to wear again sat proudly atop my head.
It was mine—for now, anyway. It was heavy and not the most comfortable I’d worn.
Lately, I’d been wearing more of them. It also wasn’t the worst. Here I was, as my mother had been on her wedding day in this beautiful diadem. I fought tears.
We accomplished our mission, so would this all go away?
Would he cast me aside? Would the next time I wore this be a farce and only for show?
Or would I ever wear it again? Questions swirled.
Baz returned home, but didn’t look particularly ready to discuss his outburst. He mooned over me in a way I didn’t expect.
“You look beautiful,” he gushed. “Gorgeous.”
My makeup artist stepped back, giving us a moment.
“Thanks,” I said, confused.
“I am sorry to be in a rush, but I need to shower and shave, and we have all of forty-five minutes.”
“I know,” I said. “Go.”
He stepped away.
The makeup artist said, “He’s different than I expected from what you said.”
I snickered. “Baz is nothing if not different.”
Baz showered, shaved, and darted quickly into the closet in a dressing gown.
By that point, I was in my evening gown—a draped tulle off-the-shoulder dress in gold.
I’d gone with a classic look from an American designer.
Neither blue nor red felt particularly good.
I assumed everyone would rock either color. I wanted to be different.
Still fastening cufflinks, Baz emerged, jaw dropping as he spotted me.
“Lady Osgoode, don’t you know it’s a dreadful idea to upstage Her Majesty and The First Lady?”
I blushed.
“There is no way they will compete with you.”
“Good. Then, you can take a picture for proof-of-life. Mum would appreciate it, too.”
“Do you want to take a photo with me, too?” Baz scoffed.
“It depends on how much you grovel tonight,” I sighed.
“I can take one,” the stylist said. “You look too good not to share.”
“Give me just a moment,” Baz pulled on his jacket.
“In front of the piano no one plays.” I said. “Yes?”
“Sure,” Baz said. “Whatever you think is best, darling.”
We posed before the grand piano in the formal living room.
“I’ll credit you all,” I addressed the stylist and makeup artist. “Promise. You did a fabulous job. And hopefully this one is a good one. It should blow up.”
“I mean… with you looking like that,” Baz said.
“No,” I said. “Just wait.”
In the car on the way there, I typed out a post while we languished in evening traffic.
“Here,” I said. “My publicist will want to strangle me.”
I handed Baz my phone, almost as a peace offering. Even if he hadn’t groveled yet, he seemed good-natured enough.
“State Dinner with the hubby,” Baz chuckled. “That is almost… wholesome.”
“I’ve never commented on our status. I’ve never confirmed anything,” I said. “This is the first post, Baz.”
His jaw dropped. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, the world knows, but I’ve never been out with you—not officially. So, it’s a big deal. I held off releasing a statement because… I dunno. It was a business deal. It is I suppose, but I think we need to talk about this honestly—all of it.”
He squeezed my hand. “I agree. Completely.”
“I must tell you something. I hope you’re not angry,” I winced, turning off my social notifications and putting my phone away.
“Last night was the worst bit of me,” Baz said. “I am so sorry. I set you up. It was… I didn’t mean for that, but I also didn’t expect to feel that way. In the future—”
I had to get this out before he groveled about things I cared far less about.
“Baz, I’m pregnant. That’s what I meant.”
Baz did a double-take.
“I have been pregnant. It’s been difficult. And last night, I only did that for you, but… I’m exhausted. It’s why I pretended to drink all night.”
Baz stared out the window, silence overcoming him. I shook, unable to think about anything until he responded.
“You… you’re pregnant?”
“Yes, Baz. I’m pregnant. Whatever magic shit we got up to last time I was in London worked.”
“That fast…”
“I’m sorry, I warned—”
Baz squeezed my hand again. “It’s okay, Lanie. I am not upset… just surprised. Why didn’t you just say that?”
“There wasn’t time. And you wanted to play the game. I worried I’d offend you.”
“You couldn’t. And the game…” he looked down, voice trailing. “I want to talk about the game.”
“Yes?”
“I think we should suspend the game for now.”
Relief washed over me.
“I don’t think it is appropriate given your current status. Do you?”
Appropriate. I was still a sexual being!
I had to fake bone my costar off and on for the past few weeks all while pregnant.
No one could tell yet. Who cared about that?
It confirmed what I thought—Baz was done touching me.
He was kind, but wanted to ignore me. We’d done what he needed us to do. That was all it was.
I could remain his wife, but I wasn’t his lover. I fought tears. The reaction was exactly what I expected but nothing like I wanted it to be. I longed for him to tell me he was elated. I needed him to love me. He couldn’t give me that. It was unfair to expect it.
“You’re off the hook,” I laughed, trying to stay positive.
I felt anything but. Deep down, I was heartbroken.
BAZ
Lanie dug into the role of society wife.
She and Leah chatted, leaving me to discuss my football team’s chances the following day with some aristocrats I knew from school.
However, my mind couldn’t have been farther away from the chatter of our cocktail hour in the picture gallery.
Lanie’s news shook me to the core. I planned to say I loved her, but she seemed satisfied to be pregnant.
She was right. Our job was done if this pregnancy stuck. Our business deal worked out.
My father would have been relieved to hear I finally did it.
He managed to get what he wanted. Beautiful Lanie Day had come through.
This enigmatic woman ticked all the boxes.
The only thing I hoped for was that it was a girl.
If it wasn’t a male heir, I’d have an opportunity to ask her to try again, right?
Lanie played a perfect baroness all night.
Lady Osgoode never failed. She never faltered.
She glowed, obviously happy with her news.
Lanie wanted to be a mother. I didn’t particularly want to be a father but hoped that feeling changed.
I didn’t want to be the same man my father was. This child deserved love.
“What do you need from me, Lanie?” I asked.
“With what?” Lanie looked up from her mobile on the car ride home.
“With the baby.”
“My allowance. A plan for a house. That’s about it.”
Back to business.
“You’re right. We need a proper house,” I agreed.
“I don’t want you to think I am opposed to a big apartment, but Baz… that house isn’t going to work with a baby. And I have a feeling you won’t want to give it up, will you?”
“What do you mean?”
“When we divorce, you’re going to want to have it. I know that place means a lot to you.”
When we divorce. Pangs of sadness filled me. I stared out the window at sleepy London.
“You’re right. That’s practical. But I was asking more about what you need. You’ll have appointments with the midwives and such, correct?”
“I can handle those.”
“And when will we know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’d discussed changing that rule if your dad died. He didn’t long enough to have an opinion.”
“I’ve decided I want to keep the family name alive,” I said. “So, I’d prefer a male heir. We can discuss it after we know more.”
“Oh… okay. I will ask the midwife. I’m going to go to the private hospital that my sister used. Is that okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “And let me guess… Leah knows?”
Lanie winced. “I had to make her and Harrison aware. It’s caused some unexpected production issues. I trust them both, okay? They won’t say anything. But it’s my work—”
“Of course,” I tried not to be offended that my wife’s costar and director knew she was pregnant before me.
“I know this isn’t your idea of a good time, Baz,” Lanie said. “And if you want to sleep with someone else, that stands. Just not while I’m in London. Be discreet.”
“Lanie, that’s not my motivation—”
“It’s fine,” Lanie said. “I don’t… I will be away. I booked another gig. I’m going to shoot in Chicago for a bit. I’ll be back home. It’s an indie project—a small role for a friend—but I look forward to it. That will be right after we wrap.”
“But, you’re… pregnant—”
“It’s a short thing. I was going to have to wear a pregnancy belly but now I don’t—at least not a big one, “she said. “It’s an accidental pregnancy thing. We will only shoot for two months. I told the director. I booked it last week and wanted them to know.”
“So your agent knows, too?”
“It’s the business, Baz. Would you rather have me text you the news?”
“When are you coming home?” I asked. “For good?”
“Probably around five or six months. So, like I said, you’re free to browse.”
“So I won’t see you for months?”
“You could come to Chicago. I will be back sometimes—at least once a month for my appointments, right? By the time they become a big deal, I’ll be back here. I don’t have to be—”
“Lanie, this is your home, too. You are welcome here in London. I want you here.”
“Okay. Well, then I will talk to you about what works best when I know more.”
I should have thanked her, but couldn’t. My bed would be cold. I’d not do it. I knew if I even tried to approach a woman, I’d immediately shut down. I loved Lanie. Why couldn’t I get my shit together and tell her? She deserved to know even if she didn’t want to go there, right?
I never expected the biggest complication I’d face in my forties would be falling for my wife.