“The chances of her getting a partnership are very slim, and soon everyone will know she’s pregnant anyway.” Blanche tapped neatly trimmed nails on the Formica counter. “I’m sure there’s another reason.”
A frown tightened his forehead. He’d wondered, but he’d chosen to accept Vanessa’s decision at face value. But his mother was right. “Why would a woman want to keep something like that a secret?”
Blanche poured herself a cup of strong coffee, black, no sugar. She didn’t offer any to Justin; he never drank it late in the evening. “Maybe to surprise somebody? Or maybe because you don’t expect it to last? I didn’t tell my parents about your father until he actually proposed. I couldn’t believe he’d want to marry a girl from a lower middle class family when he could have had any woman he wanted.”
“But we’re marr—” Even as the words left his lips, it hit him. In Vanessa’s experience, marriage didn’t mean commitment and respect and love. It was a peculiar sort of trap that forced two people to stay with each other when they might be happier apart.
But she can’t possibly think our future will resemble her parents’. He’d never done anything to make her believe he’d be like Salazar.
Blanche put a hand on Justin’s sleeve. “Sometimes a woman needs reassurance. Maybe you should tell her how you feel.”
“How did you know?”
“Oh, a mother’s intuition. You’re too proud, and as much as you want to believe you’re not like Barron, you are very much like him from time to time. You’re waiting for her to tell you first, aren’t you?” Blanche took a slow sip of her coffee, her eyes on his. “A successful relationship is not like a business negotiation. Sometimes you have to make the first move, show your cards.”
Justin nodded, more than a little perturbed by her observation. Was he really treating the marriage like a business arrangement? And more importantly, did Vanessa really expect it to fall apart? Justin was a firm believer in the power of both positive and negative thinking, of self-fulfilling prophecies, and it took more than one person to make a marriage work.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It definitely took more than one to make a marriage work.
Justin feigned an interest in the latest financial reports from Sterling & Wilson as they flew back to L.A. the next day, but he knew something was wrong. Vanessa had been asleep by the time he’d returned to their bedroom the night before, and since then she’d been aloof, maintaining a physical distance from him.
Now she was sitting across from him, eyes closed, arms crossed and chin down. But given the tension in her posture, he knew she wasn’t sleeping.
At first he’d assumed she was just tired from the trip…and of course the pregnancy. She could be moody from time and time, and it wasn’t a big deal. But she was shutting him out, and that he didn’t care for.
“Let’s have it. What are you upset about?” he asked.
She didn’t open her eyes. “Not upset. Trying to sleep.”
“You slept for over ten hours last night.”
“Pregnant women sleep a lot.”
“Not you. You never slept much anyway.”
She sighed and cracked one eye open. “Pregnancy changes you. Besides, it’s not like I have tons of work to do, so it’s better I figure out something else to occupy my time.” Her tone held an edge.
“If you’re bored, maybe you can do some volunteering. Pro bono work or...”
“Can’t take on anything like that. You never know when Highsmith will decide he needs me for something. And who knows? My current client might just get sued and actually need some genuine, honest-to-god legal help.” She got up. “I think I’m going to lie down. I have a headache.”
Justin watched her slip into the stateroom and reined in his temper. It would be ridiculous for him to confront her right now. Besides she might really not be feeling well. She was paler than usual, her manner subdued.
He checked his email and raised an eyebrow when he saw one from Pattington. The man had come through with information about Peggy Teeter.
Everything checks out. She has a mother in a cancer center. Lung cancer—bad, but treatable. Her father was a poet, and he lived in L.A. for two years when he was in his thirties. Details in the report (attached).
Justin scanned the report Pattington had sent. So Peggy really was Vanessa’s half-sister.
Glancing at the closed door to the bedroom, he dialed Peggy’s number.
“Hello?” came a tentative voice.
“Peggy Teeter?”
“Yes...”