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“Forgive me,” he said, a slight smile crossing his lips, “I didn’t mean to intrude. Trey, your parents asked that I find you and Tylar. Dessert's being served and apparently they want to make a toast.” Landon turned on his heel and exited the stable. Trey and I exchanged glances, unsure of how much he'd heard. Trey took my hand and we returned to the manor, finding our places at the long dining room table.
Champagne flutes had been set at everyone’s dessert plate. A servant was circling the table filling each glass. When he reached mine, Trey whispered to him. He left and returned with a bottle of sparkling water, filling my champagne flute. I looked across the table and met Landon’s amused glance. No one else seemed to have noticed.
Clive Sinclair tapped a silver fork against the crystal water goblet once as he stood to offer a toast. “To Thanksgiving,” he said, looking around the table at his guests, “and to the friends and family who we're blessed to share this holiday in celebration. Cheers!” He raised his flute, and then turned to his wife as they tapped their flutes together. Trey and I tapped our glasses and drank. From across the dining room table, I heard another tapping of silver to crystal, followed by Landon’s voice.
“If I may,” he said, standing up.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!
I felt Trey stiffen next to me.
“I’d like to offer a toast as well. To Trey and Tylar,” he said, raising his flute, “and to the safe arrival of their baby. May their child be spared the unfortunate fate that befell my sister’s baby.”
Suddenly I heard a gasp around the table. Trey was on his feet in an instant, blue eyes blazing with rage.
“Landon,” he hissed, “Let’s take this outside now.”
Susan and Claudia were immediately at their sons’ sides; Clive and Nelson followed. It was if everything was unfolding in slow motion; voices, images were all swirling together in a giant collage of color and sound. The room was hot and my body felt clammy. I heard someone shout for Trey to grab me before I sank into dark oblivion.
CHAPTER 39
When I came to, my eyes met Trey’s worried gaze, his hand holding mine. I was in his room, lying on his bed, and I silently thanked God that I wasn't in yet another hospital room. He leaned over to adjust the cold compress on my forehead. I foggily remembered the family argument during dessert.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You fainted,” he replied, concern in his voice. “How do you feel now?”
“Just a little shaky,” I said. “I just remember that everything started swirling and it got really hot and loud in the room.”
“You can thank Landon, for that,” he snapped. “My parents think you need to go to the hospital, Tylar.”
“No,” I said abruptly, “no hospital. I’m fine now.”
“I don’t want to take any chances with you or the baby,” he said.
I reached up, touching the stubble around his chin dimple with my finger. He closed his hand around mine, raising it slightly to his lips, kissing it gently. His eyes warmly locked with mine.
“I love you, Tylar,” he sighed, a frown creasing his lovely forehead.
“I know, Trey,” I answered, studying his frown. “That’s supposed to be a good thing, isn’t it?”
He continued to stare at me pensively. “It just never has been for me,” he replied. He stood up, kicking off his shoes, and climbed onto the bed next to me fully dressed. He pulled me into the crook of his arm, placing his other hand on my belly. Within a minute, I once again felt the fluttering of butterfly wings beneath his hand. Trey felt it too, looking at me in amazement. I felt so relaxed in his arms, so protected and safe. We lay there, resting, his hand on my belly. The butterfly fluttered.
“Are you sure that I can’t get you anything to drink?”
“Honestly, Trey, I feel much better now. I’ve fainted before. I’ll call my doctor tomorrow and let her know what happened. If she feels I need to be seen, I’ll see a doctor here. Satisfied?”
“I suppose,” he acquiesced. He smoothed my hair back and lifted the cold compress off of my forehead. I felt totally better. I just wanted to stay here in his room with him.
“Have the Andrews left?” I asked.
“Yes,” he chuckled, “this is a Thanksgiving they soon won’t forget.”
“Did you end up punching Landon out?” I couldn’t hide the mischievous tone in my voice, secretly hoping that he had. He grinned, but shook his head.
“I was too busy seeing to you.” He held my hand now, our fingers interlocked.
“Do you want to tell me about it, Trey?”
