Side Trip(36)

Mark adjusts the angle of his head and his arms curve around her waist, drawing her closer. Joy stops him with a hand against his chest. “Shower, now.” Or they won’t make their dinner reservation.

“Yes, ma’am.”

They shower together, and later, after she towels off and slips into the resort’s complimentary terry robe, she joins Mark in the room. The plan is to dress for dinner and have a cocktail at the bar beforehand. But Mark, sporting a matching robe, has dimmed the lights and popped a bottle of champagne. What’s he up to?

“When did you order this?” she asked, touched by the romantic gesture. She didn’t hear him call for room service.

“I might have mentioned something when I made the reservation.” He looks at her from under hooded lashes and fills two flutes with champagne.

She tightens the robe belt, slides her hands in the pockets. “What’s the occasion?” She arches an inquisitive brow, shoots him a sexy smile. She knows perfectly well what they’re celebrating.

He brings a hand to his chest with a dramatic gasp. “You don’t know? I’m insulted. Ring a bell?” He shows her two fingers.

“You got another job?”

“No.”

“You bought another car?”

“And deal with New York parking? Do we live in Manhattan?” Sarcasm drips from him. He waves his fingers, a give-it-up gesture. “Don’t let me down, Mrs. Larson. Let’s have it.”

Joy taps her chin and hums. “It wouldn’t happen to be our second anniversary?”

“It would and it is.” He dusts a congratulatory kiss on her cheek and presents her a flute. “My lady.”

“Thank you, dah-ling.” Joy plays along, smiling. Her stomach flutters in anticipation, anxiety, and arousal. A heady combination that has her heart racing and feeling light-headed. She has news to share and isn’t sure how he’ll take it. Will she ruin his romantic plans for the evening, or will they miss dinner because Mark can’t get her to bed fast enough?

Joy looks at the champagne’s label. “Dom Pérignon. You do go big.”

“Go big or go home, baby. To us.”

“To us.” Joy taps her flute’s rim to his and sips. The liquid goes down easy. Smooth, creamy, and golden. She tosses back the rest. Liquid courage.

Mark’s eyes widen. “All righty then.” He finishes his and refills their glasses. Joy drinks half of hers before Mark returns the bottle to the ice bucket. “Ease up, Joy. We still have dinner.”

“Dr. Egan removed my IUD last month,” she blurts.

Mark looks at her. His expression is curious, as if he’s trying to process her remark. He frowns and her heart beats wildly. She’s upset him. After all, she did let a month go by before mentioning it. What if she changed her mind? She hadn’t told him that she was going to have it removed. But then, she hadn’t known she was going to.

Joy had gone in for her annual checkup, and before Dr. Egan could ask how she’d been doing since he last saw her, she demanded that he take the IUD out ASAP, before she reconsidered. And the thing that had decided her in the first place was the awestruck expression of a man watching his two kids play together in the waiting room, as if he couldn’t believe that he was the father to those precious little girls. She’s seen a fraction of that emotion on Mark when he’s gotten down on the floor to play with his nieces and nephews.

It’s been her fault, her hesitancy over starting a family, her fear of having children only to lose them horribly in an accident of her own making. But it’s cruel of her to keep them in this holding pattern. She needs to be strong, and she needs to trust that not every decision she makes ends with someone she loves getting hurt.

She watches Mark cautiously. He still hasn’t said anything. Unease tiptoes through her.

“Did you hear me?” she whispers.

He blinks. “I heard you.”

His hand begins to shake, and he sets down his glass. Moisture pools in the rims of his eyes, making them glisten. His mouth presses firmly shut as if he’s trying to keep himself from crying. With his thumb and finger, he pinches away the moisture. Is he happy, sad, or angry? She can’t tell, but she’s determined to push forward and let him know exactly how she feels and what she wants.

She fits her hand to his jaw. His stubble tickles her palm. “I love you, Mark. I want to have a baby with you,” she implores with a soft whisper.

“Do you mean it?” His brows draw together. She sees the disbelief in his eyes, the uncertainty. Hope flickers, reluctant to brighten.

She feels the impact of the emotions moving through him in the center of her own chest. Tears fill her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I do,” she says, unable to contain her smile. His elation is contagious. “I’m sorry I made you wait this long.”

A ragged breath falls from his lips. “I was beginning to think that you changed your mind about kids.” He impatiently swipes off a tear that spilled down his cheek. He laughs, flustered. “Shit. I can’t believe I’m crying.”

She grasps his face with both hands. “I love that you’re crying. I love you.” She kisses him.

Mark latches an arm behind her knees and scoops her up.

Joy gasps. “What’re you doing?”

“Making love to my wife.” He carries her to the bed.