Chapter Two-1
964 Words
Chapter Two
“Are we going to talk about this?” Trent stood in the doorway, with his one hand on the handle and the other on his hip.
“No?” She pulled the covers over her head and sighed.
“Why not?”
“I believe that’s classed as ‘talking about it’.” Adalia grasped her stomach and lay on her side, breathing through her nose. She wasn’t unhappy about the baby. In fact, she was pretty darn happy to be carrying Trent’s child. She was just in shock. And she was afraid of what he’d say about this.
“Adalia,” he began, then paused and walked to the bed. He sat down on the edge and stroked her through the thin duvet. “Adalia, I love you and I just want you to know I’m really happy about this. I know it’s a big deal, but it’s not like we can’t afford to have a child.”
She poked her head out like a prairie dog, and beamed at him. “I’m really happy too. Sorry I distanced myself. I’m just... I just was in shock. That’s all... afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Things are going to change now. Good change and maybe some bad change too.” She pressed her lips together and eased herself into a sitting position. Her stomach burbled a complaint.
“Bad change,” Trent repeated, “I don’t know about that.”
“I’m not the kind of woman who gets a nanny. I want to raise my child myself, with you, obviously, but if I do that, it means giving up on a few dreams.”
“Adalia, you have everything you could possibly want. A husband, a home, a successful bakery...” he said.
“That’s not mine, it’s yours.” It slipped out before she could stop it. Not that she’d want to stop it. The truth was the truth and she didn’t like hiding from it.
“What are you talking about? We set up that bakery together.” He clenched his fists, but didn’t shift closer to her. “Why would you even say that?”
“Trent, don’t even pretend that I have as much to do with that bakery as you do.”
“I’m getting sick of this. You’re talking crazy.” He stood and walked to the window, staring out at Santorini.
Adalia sighed and sat up slowly. “I didn’t dream of owning another bakery. I’m done with that. I dreamed of my own catering business. Independence has always been my dream too.”
“What do you need independence for when you have me.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, but more of a challenge.
“Get real. Everyone needs independence. At least on some level,” Adalia murmured. She let the sheets fall back and looked at his strong back, the stubborn set of his shoulders. “I want financial independence.”
“This is what’s on your mind right now? We’ve got a baby on the way. Your focus should be there... not on some dream catering business,” Trent snapped.
She started as if he’d struck her and got out of bed a second later. “Don’t you talk to me like that! I’ll do whatever it takes to support our child in every way, but don’t expect me to give up on my dreams. Just because I’m going to be a mother, doesn’t mean I stop being a woman, or a businesswoman for that matter.”
“A businesswoman. Adalia, need I remind you about the untimely end to your first bakery?” Trent turned from the window, gaze aflame with rage.
“Thanks for that.” Adalia walked to the door and let herself out of the bedroom, then plonked down on the white living room chair. It was good to know that her husband had faith in her skills as a business person.
“I’m sorry,” Trent said, standing in the doorway, “I don’t know what came over me. I just can’t stand the thought of you overworking yourself or not relying on me for a change.”
“Who do you think you married? You don’t know me if you think I’ll give up on this. I told you from the start that I don’t take handouts.” She was too angry to see straight. She massaged her stomach to still the nausea. It rose again despite her efforts.
“I don’t expect you to take handouts, but I do expect you not to overdo it when you’re carrying our unborn child.”
“God, we’re on unborn children speeches about a half hour after we found out I’m carrying. This is insane, Trent. Just calm down and hear what I’m saying to you. All I’m asking for is a little moral support.”
“You have support. That’s what I’m saying to you.” Trent patted her on the back of the hand. “Now, can we please put this behind us and move on with your vacation?”
She opened her mouth to tell him that there wasn’t a chance in hell they could put it behind them, but all that came out was a burp. She launched herself off the sofa and dashed for the bathroom again, fighting the nausea every step of the way.
Adalia lost that battle the minute she got into the bathroom.
She emerged twenty minutes later to find Trent packing their bags in the master bedroom.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m taking us home. You’ll be more comfortable back at the house.” He took out one of the special numbers she’d bought for the honeymoon, folded it carefully and placed it in her bag.
“So that’s it. Our honeymoon’s over? Just like that, you’ve made the decision because I threw up a few times.”
Trent stopped packing and came over to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest. “I just want to do what’s best for us, what’s best for you and the baby. Right now, that means getting us home safely. Besides, we’ll have just as much fun as we would’ve had here.” He planted a sloppy kiss on her forehead then returned to packing.
Apparently, the issue was no longer up for debate.
***
- Writer
