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They silently stared at each other as he slid the ring into place. It fit a little snug, making her panic and suck in a breath, thinking it would never come off again. Then she grew even more unnerved because she didn’t really want it off.
The moment was too intense to suit her. Her pulse leapt uncontrollably, and she felt things for Grady she’d never felt for anyone. But with his chilly fingers still touching hers and the ring banded around her, she experienced a connection with him that was simply overwhelming. Only a person who had never possessed any compassion in their entire life would be able to turn him down at that moment.
B.J. thought she was doing well with the casual, uncaring shrug she managed. “Fine.” Let the stubborn fool have his way for a little while before he realized how right she was. “But you asked for this. We’ll try the whole marriage thing until it falls through. And when it does—which it will—I’m going to be right there in your face, saying I told you so.”
Grady nodded. “All right then,” he told her, blowing out a relieved—or was that a petrified—breath. “We’ll get married next Friday.”
“Next Friday?” she said dumbly. So soon?
Grady merely sent her a look that said, Well, why wait?
B.J. swallowed and immediately put on her cool face again, ignoring the leap of excitement in her belly. She gave another unconcerned shrug. “Whatever,” she answered. “This is your thing, Slim. Doesn’t make no never mind to me. We’ll get hitched next weekend.”
Chapter Fourteen
Grady woke at his usual time Friday morning. He rose and took a shower, just as he always did. Then he fixed breakfast and ate it alone. Nothing new there. An outside observer would assume it was a normal, average day for him. He didn’t appear to be nervous or excited or even regretful about the fact he was getting married in mere hours.
What he honestly felt was reflective. He’d already visited Amy’s grave the day before and informed her about his upcoming nuptials. He’d left the cemetery with a feeling of peace, confident she would approve of her successor.
He hadn’t confessed how much he liked bedding B.J. though. Then again, there were a few things he’d never told Amy. . .or her gravestone. . .like the fact he’d blamed her death on her for an entire day.
Amy had wanted children right away. But typical, reserved Grady, he had to wait a few years. He wanted to build her a house first. Their dream home. And he wanted them to settle into their lives together before adding a new member. So Amy waited with him. . .impatiently.
The woman had loved children. She’d babysat for not only the Gilmores, but many other families in her younger years, and after high school, she’d gone to college for a teaching certificate. Her life revolved around tending to the young. But Grady had resisted the idea of starting a family so soon in their marriage, and he was able to hold her off for three years.
Then, one evening, he asked her at supper when she was carrying a hot pie to the table for dessert. “Do you still want kids?”
Amy spilled her pumpkin special on the floor, she was so excited by his question. She jumped into his lap and started kissing him all over the face.
“Let’s start now,” she said, instantly ready to go forth and procreate.
But you know Grady. ‘Right now’ was not a phrase in his vocabulary. Amy was still on birth control. They had to wait until that cleared through her system and her body took over its natural cycle. Then Grady wanted to get them both tested for whatever was necessary, to make sure everything was okay.
Good wife that Amy was, she let him have his way. Grady’s tests came back fine. He was fertile and full of healthy sperm. Dr. Carl said he was capable of producing fit, normal children. But the shock of all shocks came with his next words as he glanced at Amy and winced.
“Now, you, on the other hand. . .”
And thus started years of baby-making hell
. Amy wasn’t barren, but she had internal physical problems. Grady couldn’t even remember all the technical terms the doctor used. It was inadvisable for her to attempt to bear children—that was all he understood.
So, Grady shrugged and suggested adoption. Amy looked at him like he might’ve just proposed they turn into swingers.
“I want your babies,” she stated adamantly, letting him know good and well that no one else’s would do.
“But Dr. Carl said you can’t—”
“He didn’t say can’t,” she interrupted quickly. “He said shouldn’t.”
“Then we shouldn’t,” Grady was quick to retort.
Amy merely held up a hand, refusing to listen to his concerns. “I’m fine. We will have a baby.”
Grady knew how desperately she wanted a whole gaggle of children—hell, everyone knew—so he gave in, and they began to try. For over a year, they tried with no success. And every month when her period started, Amy fell into a fit of depression. Sex became a duty, and he almost reached the point he regretted having to perform on certain days.
After four months of fertility implants, Amy called him at work and was so hysterical, he thought she’d been in an accident.
But when she calmed down enough for him to understand she’d only missed her period, he said, “Is that all?”
