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He leaned over, kissing me on my forehead. I didn’t budge as I heard him settle beside me. In a few moments, I heard his even breathing. I was still too angry to sleep.
The time was ticking away. It was just me, wide awake and tearful. Then I felt it: a fluttery feeling inside me. There was no mistaking our baby’s movement. I placed my hand on my abdomen to try to feel it from the outside. There it was again!
“Trey,” I said, turning over in the bed to face him, “wake up!” I shook him gently.
His eyes blinked open. I threw the covers down and grabbed his hand.
“What is it?” he said, yawning.
“Here, feel this,” I said, pressing his hand to my abdomen. Once again, I felt the fluttering inside of me. I watched Trey’s face as he felt it too and realized what it meant. He smiled, moving his hand around to different areas as the fluttering continued.
“How does it feel to you?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Kind of like butterflies, but stronger,” I answered. He leaned down, kissing my belly and abdomen. It warmed me some to see him do this. I had no clue how Trey would be around a baby.
“Come here,” he murmured softly, pulling me to the center of the bed. “Please forgive me for my comment Tylar. I know you’ve never been with anyone else. I promise we'll work together so that you can continue college and realize your dreams. Will you trust me on that?”
I nodded, burying my face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. His nearness, his scent, his touch calmed me. I was happy to be here with him and his family for Thanksgiving and drifted off to a contented sleep, dreaming of babies with sapphire eyes.
CHAPTER 38
It was after 10 a.m. when I awoke. Trey, already up and showered, was now shaving in the bathroom. I pulled the covers back and, realizing that I was still naked, grabbed my nightgown off the floor and shrugged it on. I met him in the bathroom and he smiled at me in the mirror. Feeling comfortable in our intimacy, I showered as he shaved, the scent of his body wash emanating from the steam.
Trey had just finishing getting dressed when I emerged from the bathroom. He was wearing dark blue Eddie Bauer cotton chino pants with a white long-sleeve oxford shirt. He pulled a camel-colored cashmere v-neck sweater over his head, rolling the sleeves of his shirt and sweater up mid forearm.
“I've some calls to make and emails to answer this morning,” he said, as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his shoes. “I’ll be working downstairs in the study. Do you want me to have Thatcher bring you some breakfast?”
“Aren’t you eating?” I asked.
“Just coffee for me this morning. But I want you to eat something more substantial.”
“That will be fine,” I answered, a bit piqued that he had calls to make and emails to answer on Thanksgiving morning. Who worked on Thanksgiving? I retreated back to the bathroom with my make-up case and hair products. It didn’t take long to blow dry my air and flat iron it. I plucked a few errant eyebrow hairs, and then applied some liner, shadow, and mascara. My cheeks needed just a hint of blush. I'd brought a black desk-to-dinner dress to wear for Thanksgiving. It was a tailored number that gathered at the hip and hit above the knee with a lovely v-neckline. I put on my black bra that was getting a bit tight with the blossoming of my bosom. It certainly gave my breasts a push upward and some daring cleavage. I pulled the black dress over my head, tugging it into place. Wow, was everything shrinking? The dress hugged every possible curve. The sleeves were three-quarter length. My breasts were subtly displayed at the v-neckline, still within the realm of tastefulness, I decided.
There was a knock on the bedroom door. It was Thatcher with a breakfast tray. “Good morning Ms. Preston,” he said warmly as I opened the door. He walked past me, placing the tray on the nightstand.
“Thank you, Thatcher,” I replied, eyeing the assortment on the tray.
“Please use the intercom if you need anything else, Miss.”
Good God! Did Trey think I was carrying quintuplets? There was orange juice, milk, fresh fruit, eggs, bacon, muffins, oatmeal topped with brown sugar, and wheat toast with assorted jams. I flicked on the television; this feast would take a while and I wasn’t very hungry.
Eventually, I'd eaten what I could and got dressed, pulling my nylon thigh-high stockings up. I'd brought a pair of black ankle strap pumps with three-inch heels. They would be perfect with my dress. I checked myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked great, but certainly curvaceous. Maybe was time for me to start shopping for maternity clothes. I decided to see if Trey was done working. I descended the staircase, my heels clicking against the marble floor in the front foyer. I could hear Trey’s voice from behind the closed door of the study.
“Are you absolutely sure she was living with him?” he said.
Who was he talking about? Who was he talking to?
“How long has she been gone?” Pause. “That fits the timing in question. Okay, call me next week after you get back.”
I felt guilty for eavesdropping. I knocked on the door, and let myself in as he finished his call. He glanced up as I entered, then did a double take.
“You’re seriously not wearing that dress today, are you?”
“Why?” I questioned, looking down at it.
“Because your breasts have outgrown it,” Trey replied, irritated. “Put something else on. I don't want everyone in this house ogling you.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Trey,” I said, “the only people that’ll be here are your mom, your dad, a couple of old friends of theirs, and the staff. I think I’m pretty safe from any ogling.”
