He clasped my hand and led me over to the couch. “Tell me what you were really thinking about.”
“You stepping down for six months...”
“Do you really want me to do that, Claire?” He looked into my eyes. “I will.”
I glanced at the fire that was blazing in the heath, at the bright red stockings that hung over the bricks, and at our huge family portrait that hung high above our massive Christmas tree. I realized that I wanted these family events to happen more often, and I didn’t want it to have to be a holiday for him and I to get alone time.
“Yes...”
“You have to take off too...I refuse to share.”
I nodded and kissed him back. “I’ll take off for six months, but you have to take off for a year.”
“A year? Why is that?”
“Someone has to stay home and take care of the baby.”
“What?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “What baby?”
“Our baby.”
“That joke wasn’t funny the first time.” He looked at my stomach. “Your tubes are tied.”
“Are they?”
“Claire...”
“Jonathan...” I mocked him.
“We both agreed that we didn’t want kids, that even if we did want kids—which we don’t, it was too high of a risk for you to get pregnant.”
“So?”
“So, I need you to be completely f**king honest with me right now because I’m three seconds away from calling my doctor and having her run the damn test on Christmas morning. Are you pregnant?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you need to answer me. Now.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Don’t test me, Claire.” He looked deep into my eyes, pleading for me to answer him. “Tell me...”
I leaned close and kissed him. Then I stood up. “We need to finish this tree before your mom gets here.”
“You’re not going to answer me?”
“Is there a reason why we have five Christmas trees around the house? Don’t you think that’s a little excessive?”
He stood up and walked over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and locking me in his embrace. “You have two seconds to tell me the truth.”
I blinked and he shook his head.
“Claire Statham...” He slowly released me, but before I could make a dash for the kitchen he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. “You and I both know that I’m going to get the truth out of you. Why are you making this difficult?”
“I’m not making anything difficult. I’m fulfilling my ‘I must frustrate the shit out of Jonathan’ quota for the day.”
He laughed and carried me upstairs to our bedroom. Then he tossed me onto the bed. “I’m going to give you one last chance to answer my question, Claire.”
“And what question was that? I think I forgot.”
He lips curved into a wry smile and he covered his body with mine. “Trust me...By the time I get done with you, I’m sure you’ll remember...”
The End