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There had to be a bar or a lounge somewhere on this fucking ship, he thought as he walked past a large pool, deciding that if he couldn’t find somewhere decent to grab a beer and catch the game that he’d find a spot by the pool to lounge and kill time with a few beers while he waited for Zoe to wake up. Maybe he could…he….could…he…
“No fucking way,” he murmured softly to himself even as he closed his eyes and slowly reopened them, praying like hell that he was just seeing things, but when he opened them, the sign was still there.
Licking his lips, he walked forward as though he was in a trance and reached for the doorknob with a trembling hand, praying like hell that this wasn’t some kind of sick joke, and walked inside, letting the door marked, “Buffet,” close slowly behind him.
Chapter 6
“Well, this is kind of boring,” Zoe had to admit even as she reached down and straightened the pillow with a discerning eye, pulling it slightly this way and that way until at last it was perfect and she was officially out of things to do while she waited for Trevor’s return.
She looked over at the small alarm clock by the bed and sighed before glancing back down at the note that he’d left her. He should have been back by now, she thought, worrying her bottom lip as she considered pulling out her cell and texting him, but two things stopped her. One, she didn’t want to start off their marriage as a nagging wife, always demanding to know what he was doing and who he was with. She’d never been that type of person before and she didn’t plan on starting now.
The other reason she wasn’t trying to text him of course was very simple, she had absolutely no idea if they were in international waters yet and wasn’t exactly eager to find out the text and calling rates. Call her crazy, but she wasn’t willing to spend half her paycheck just to find out what her husband was up to…
“Oh, God,” she thought, chewing her bottom lip as she struggled not to smile and quickly lost that battle.
She was married to Trevor and carrying his babies, which had the terrifying ability to frighten her just a bit so she decided to focus on something other than the fact that she could now eat more than her husband and most of the men in his family. She picked up their empty luggage and squeezed them inside the small closet in the corner, double checked her outfit, which unfortunately did nothing to hide the fact that she could lose a few pounds.
Shoving that rather depressing thought aside and the reminder that carrying Bradford twins was only going to make her bigger, she decided to focus on the fact that she was on her first real vacation and she was going to damn well enjoy it. Determined to pretend that she wasn’t the chubbiest woman on the ship, she grabbed her keycard, pulled the edge of her tank top down in a futile attempt to hide her full figure, checked her hair and left the room, deciding to have a look around while she went looking for her husband.
She walked down a short hallway before she came to a door that led to a large pool deck where children were running and smiling, women were lounging by the water, enjoying the sun and the appreciative looks the men around them were sending their way. Zoe paused briefly by a railing to send a wistful glance at a set of empty lounge chairs and contemplated lying down for a few more minutes, a little terrified that after a five-hour nap that she was still tired.
Then again, she could also go for something to eat. Actually, if she was going to be honest then she’d admit that she was starving and the sooner that she found Trevor so that they could grab dinner, the better. God, she couldn’t remember ever being this hungry before, but then again she seemed to be thinking that about twenty times a day.
That actually brought up another interesting question, exactly how long would it be before all this food that she was forced to eat would start showing up in her ass and thighs? She was going to be huge, she thought miserably even as she accepted the inevitable, because really, there wasn’t anything that she could do about it now, not when she was carrying Bradford twins. She started to head down the stairs when she realized with dread and a pathetic whimper that she was actually really hungry, again.
At least her stomach wasn’t threatening to send her running to the bathroom, she realized, relieved that the pill that Trevor’s Uncle Ethan prescribed was still working. She walked by the entrance for the spa, making a mental note to check it out later and kept walking, glancing around, hoping to run into Trevor, but with every passing second it became obvious that she was either going to have to go back to the room and wait for him or hunt down a cruise ship employee and admit that the incredibly hot man that had somehow lost his mind and married her had probably come to his senses, jumped off the ship and was currently begging a judge to grant him an annulment.
That rather depressing thought had her stopping in her tracks, turning around and heading back towards their room where she could do her best to stop the tears that were threatening to come, but then common sense kicked in and she couldn’t help but smile. Trevor Bradford, easily the hottest man that she had ever laid eyes on had dragged her across town, demanded that she marry him before he dragged her back home, determined to have his wicked way with her just to make sure that she was his.
He loved her, she thought to herself with a ridiculously pleased smile as she turned right back around and decided to get something to eat while luck was still on her side and her stomach wasn’t making her wish for death. She could really go for a burger, maybe two, she decided, nearly sighing with relief when her stomach growled in approval, demanding that she move her ass a little faster and find something to eat. She’d look for Trevor, but only after she got something to eat, because she really didn’t think that passing out on the deck among hundreds of strangers would really be one of those magical moments that she would want to savor for the rest of her life.
Food was definitely in order first. Then she was going to hunt down her husband so that they could start enjoying their honey-
“Would Zoe Bradford please return to your room immediately,” came the intercom announcement, letting her know that she was going to have to put her plans off for a bit, which apparently didn’t set well with the twins that she was carrying…
Not. At. All.
*-*-*-*
“Mr. Bradford, your wife will be here soon. Please, just try to calm down and-”
“Kill. Me,” Trevor demanded as he grabbed the ship’s doctor by the collar and yanked him closer. “I don’t want her to see me like this!”
The doctor released a long-suffering sigh as he reached up and easily removed Trevor’s weak grip from his barely wrinkled starched white shirt.
“Mr. Bradford,” he began in that tone that Trevor did not much care for, not at all, “you’re not dying.”
“You don’t know that!” he snapped back weakly, closing his eyes as he gave up his attempts to shake some sense into the doctor and grabbed one of the thick fluffy pillows off the bed and hugged it with everything that he had, praying for a quick death before Zoe could see him like this.
“Mr. Bradford,” the doctor began, but Trevor wasn’t about to let the judgmental bastard waste what precious seconds he had left with more of his bullshit.
“Listen to me,” he bit out, squeezing his pillow tightly, pausing only long enough to slowly inhale, praying that it would be enough to settle the violent attack currently destroying him from the inside out, “I haven’t had a chance to change my will yet and my wife is pregnant,” he began only to let out a pathetic groan when the violent storm playing out in his stomach threatened to send him diving for the wastebasket.
He just wanted to close his eyes and give in and die, but he needed to do this one thing first. He needed to do this for his wife and children. “I want my wife to inherit all my properties, my bank accounts, my life insurance, absolutely everything,” he said, pausing to swallow back the bile that once again threatened to take him to his knees, giving him further proof that the end was near as a thought occurred to him.
“Except my Yankees memorabilia. Give that to my cousin Jason,” he managed to get out, pleased that he’d managed to do the right thing and protect his poor defenseless Yankees shirts and balls from the evil woman that fucking adored the Red Sox.
The Red Sox?
What kind of sick bastard would support a team like that? God, he must really love her, he realized with a pathetic groan as he curled up into a tighter ball, praying that one of his uncles or cousins stepped in and made sure that his children were raised right with Yankees posters on their walls and Yankees shirts on their backs. They’d step in and do the right thing if they saw Zoe trying to brainwash his children with all that Red Sox propaganda bullshit.
