But we don't have a chance to do that before the cop knocks on the car window. Caulter rolls down the back passenger window. "Can I help you, officer?" he asks, his voice innocent.
The policeman looks at us behind mirrored sunglasses. "Got a report of a suspicious vehicle pulled over on the side of the road here," he says. "License and registration, please."
"Sure," Caulter says, giving him his best choirboy grin. "I'd be happy to get it. The registration is in the glove compartment, so I need to get out of the car."
The officer pauses. "Any particular reason for loitering on the side of the road?"
I interrupt, my hands on my pregnant belly. "That would be my fault, sir," I say. "I was car sick and my husband found a place to pull over to give me a break from riding in the car."
The officer grunts. "Well, you pulled over in a small town," he says. "Mrs. Winters up the way likes to watch for loiterers with her binoculars. There are better places you can pick to pull over, I'm sure. Next exit up from here, there's a Wal-Mart with a parking lot."
"Yes, sir," Caulter says. "We will do that."
"Alright," the officer says. "It's probably best to get along now if you're feeling up to it."
"I'm feeling much better," I say, trying to look serious while cum is dripping down my breasts underneath my shirt.
He turns to walk away, then pauses. "Try those ginger candies," he says. "My wife used to use those a lot when she was pregnant. They settle the stomach."
"Yes, sir," I say.
As soon as he's out of earshot, a giggle erupts from my throat.
"I know something else that settles the stomach," Caulter says.
I slap him on the arm, but I can't stop laughing. "You'd better not say your cock in my mouth. Shit, we almost got charged with public indecency or something, Caulter!"
Caulter shrugs. "I can't help it if you're a filthy girl."
"Shut up," I say. "You got us into this."
"You called me your husband back there."
I realize I called him my husband without even thinking about it.
The thought warms me inside.
CHAPTER SIX
CAULTER
We pull into the driveway of the Senator's lake house. We've been back here more frequently since we moved to Boston. Kate and her father patched things up, mostly. He's been on better behavior, mostly. He was a total asshole for so long, I still call him Senator Douchebag in private, even though Kate glares at me when I do it.
At least I try not to call him that in public.
We've been back here to visit, on weekends here or there, and Kate makes it a point to visit her mother's grave every year.
I get the same feeling of nostalgia whenever we come here.
This will be the first time we've been back here at the lake house for longer than a weekend. This is where Kate wanted to have the wedding, since she has so much history here.
We have so much history here.
I reach for Kate's hand and give it a squeeze, and she looks at me with a radiant smile. I love the flush on her cheeks that lingers for hours after orgasm, the glow she has that's a reminder of what happened between us.
"You're thinking of all the naughty things we did in this place," she says.
I don't hold back my laugh. "I actually wasn't," I say. "But now that you bring it up…"
"Keep your dick in your pants, husband," she says. "Rose already saw that we're here."
The housekeeper is walking toward us, and Kate opens the passenger side door and slides out of the car before Rose reaches us. Rose has always been important to Kate. After Kate's mother died, Rose was a maternal figure for Kate. She needed someone like that in her life, especially since the Senator's parenting plan seemed to be to ship Kate off to boarding school and be done with her, wiping his hands free of any actual parental duties.
Of course, if he hadn't done things that way, I wouldn't have met Kate. Sometimes bad shit does have a silver lining.
"Kate!" Rose says warmly, her arms outstretched. She only lets Kate hug her for a second before she pulls her away to look at her. "Oh, you look more and more like your mother every day. Eight months, right?"
"Thirty-four weeks," Kate says.
Rose tsk-tsks her. "You're cutting it close with the wedding," she scolds. "And you're carrying low."
"What does that mean?" I interrupt, as Rose puts her arms around me.
"The baby gets lower, the closer you get to full term. Now, come inside," she says. "It's cold out here. I made Christmas cookies."
Wait. Was she hinting that Kate might have the baby early?
I don't get the chance to ask before they're off, chitchatting and laughing as they walk toward the house. I pull our suitcases and wedding attire, wrapped in plastic, from the car, being extra careful not to drag it on the ground
I'm also careful not to look at the dress. Kate insists we have to adhere to tradition, which means I can't see the dress before the wedding. She actually proposed that we might not have sex the month prior to the wedding, but collapsed into giggles at that ludicrous idea before she finished the suggestion.