Taking it All (19 page)

WITH
each passing day of complete silence from Chessy, Tate grew more and more despondent. Every day meant further loss of hope. But he still had his trump card. One he'd moved on very quickly; he planned to force a confrontation between himself and Chessy so he could prove to her that she was first and foremost in his priorities.

He'd agreed to a partnership with the two other financial advisors, splitting the client load equally three ways. Effective the next day, Morgan Financial Services would become Morgan, Hogan and Letterman Financial. Or MHL.

He'd thrown everything he had into getting it lined up as quickly as possible. It wasn't as though he was sleeping nights anyway, so he'd stayed up, working on contracts and the legalities, all the fine print of the newly formed partnership.

It was done. It would be official tomorrow but he wanted Chessy to hear it from him directly. Tonight. Before the news broke the next day. The question was how to get to her? Jensen had appointed himself her bodyguard, never allowing Tate past the doorway. Chessy wasn't answering his texts or his voicemails. And there was a giant wall of silence between him and those who used to be his friends—Dash, Joss and Kylie. Jensen he hadn't known for that long, but the others? He considered them his closest friends, but they'd made their choice. Not that he begrudged Chessy their friendship, but he missed them. Not only had he lost his wife but he'd also lost their friends.

His cell rang and he froze. His hands shook as he fumbled to get the phone from the holder secured to his pants. God, it was Chessy's ringtone. She was calling him!

He swore when he couldn't get it out right away. The very last thing he wanted was to miss her call. She may not ever call back.

“Chessy, thank God,” he said when he finally was able to answer.

“Tate?”

Her quivery voice made his blood run cold. It sounded as though she'd been
crying
.

“Chessy, what's wrong?” he demanded. “Are you hurt? Tell me where you are and I'll be right there.”

“I'm fine,” she said, though her voice was still shaking. “I wanted to know if you could meet me tonight. At our—your—house. Somewhere private.”

His thoughts scattered in a dozen different directions. Could he meet her tonight? Hell, he'd move heaven and earth to meet her any damn where she wanted. But it was the somewhere private part that bothered him. As if she had something important to tell him. Was this going to be when she told him she wanted to end their marriage and have him served with divorce papers? Or dare he hope she would agree to a reconciliation and come back home to him?

But regardless of the purpose, she'd be
here
. In their house where she belonged. That stood for something. Because once she walked in here, she was home. She'd be on his turf and she wouldn't have Jensen between her and him. No, it would be just Chessy and Tate, exactly as she requested. Definitely private.

“Unless you have work stuff,” Chessy mumbled. “We can always do it another time.”

He winced but he deserved that shot. “Tonight is fine. Absolutely come to the house. I'll cook dinner for us and we can talk. There's a hell of a lot you don't know about yet that will be released tomorrow but I wanted you to hear it from me first. I had fully intended to drive over to Kylie and Jensen's and pull you out by the hair to take you back home with me so I could discuss the changes I've made. Changes I hope you'll be completely on board with.”

“So it sounds as though we'll both be doing a lot of talking,” she mused.

“I'll listen to every subject you want to bring up. Then, only when you're satisfied with my responses, will we move on to what I want to discuss with you. It's a pretty big step. I have the backing and investors.”

“Do I get a choice in the order in which we say what?”

Tate could hear the clear nervousness in her voice and she sounded as though she wanted him to speak his mind first before delving into what might bring her back to him after their long separation.

“Absolutely,” he conceded.

“Okay, then listen up.”

A ridiculous smile quirked up the corners of his mouth. He was already mentally going through the contents of their pantry and fridge so he'd know if he needed to run out for anything. He was positive he had all the ingredients on hand to make one of their favorite dishes.

“You're going first while we eat dinner. After and only after you've said what's on your mind will I tell you what's on mine.”

Dinner was already beginning to look like one huge clusterfuck. How did one cook a meal that acted as an olive branch? And to make it the good start to try to salvage their marriage? But was that what it was going to be? Or was Chessy going to tell him it was well and truly over?

“What time do you want me there?” Chessy asked quietly, not sounding certain that she would be welcome.

Tate nearly lost his shit over that but made a visible effort to relax so he didn't come across sounding like an asshole. But there were some things that needed to be addressed.

“Baby, you do
not
have to ask what time it's okay for you to come to your own house. I don't plan to start cooking until you get here. I thought you could sit at the island and ride herd while I try
not
to ruin our supper.”

This time he heard the smile in his voice and he ached all the way to his soul for one smile, directed at him. Her looking at him like he'd hung the moon. It was the way she used to look at him. Pure adoration that was there for the world to see. She was a magnet for people. They were inexplicably drawn to her just to gain a smile or a few sweet words. Men and women alike walked away as if they had just been in the presence of royalty. And well, she was in a way. She was his princess.

He'd done everything to outfit the princess, to transform her into a woman who never had need of a single item. Her credit card had no limit and he encouraged her frequently to go out and buy something for herself. She was infuriating in that regard because she always had the same answer. She didn't need anything. Tate gave her everything she wanted. How he'd loved hearing those heartfelt words come from his wife's sweet lips. What man wouldn't be absolutely agog over the fact that his woman gave not one damn over wealth or material possessions. What she wanted above all was . . . her husband. And that should have been the easiest slam dunk of all.

All he had to do was give her his undivided attention. Thinking back, yes, he'd desperately wanted to net this client because she was also entertaining other options. It was what had prevented him from giving Chessy what she deserved.

Tabitha Markham would indeed have been a coup. He had no doubt that she was being courted, wined and dined by other financial businesses like a duck on a June bug. But he had practically told her to fuck off once he heard Chessy scream in pain and terror. And he couldn't care less which financial advisor she decided to go with now. If he lived to be a hundred, the sound of Chessy's cry would haunt him to his dying day.

“I should let you go then. I still need to shower and change. I haven't been feeling well lately and unfortunately it shows.”

Tate was immediately filled with concern. “Is my girl sick? Who's taking care of you? That's
my
job.”

It angered him, this helplessness that he couldn't reach out to his wife when she needed him most. Chessy didn't fall ill very often at all. She always got glowing checkups from her doctor, who announced she was fitter than the majority of patients he saw.

But the few times a cold had gotten the best of her and one particularly vicious bout of strep throat, Tate had been within an arm's length the entire time. She'd wanted to sleep in the guest bedroom because she was afraid she would make him sick, but he was having none of that.

Every single night, or day if she were simply taking a nap, he carried her to bed and tucked her in, ensuring all the pillows were in the exact position she liked them. And even more generous, he handed over the remote for the TV in their bedroom.

While she binged on the HGTV channel and watched countless renovation episodes, Tate's head was always about to explode, but he let her torture him with her girly shows because he knew how much she enjoyed them.

She sounded extremely weary now and it alarmed him even more. So help him, if she didn't show tonight now that he was worried out of his damn mind, he'd go over there and haul her out of Jensen's house, police be damned.

“I'll tell you all about it tonight,” she said. “I don't want to get into over the phone.”

Tate's heart lurched. His stomach knotted to the point of pain and nausea welled in his throat. He had to suck in deeply through his nostrils so he didn't completely lose it.

“How soon can you be here?” he demanded.

“Uh, well I don't have anything else scheduled. I mean I guess I could come at any time. I figured I'd come when you were ready to eat.”

Tate checked his watch. It was five. Certainly not out of the realm for preparing dinner. By the time Chessy drove over and they settled into the kitchen and he started preparations it would be six. Perfect timing.

“Can you head over now?” he asked, trying to keep his enthusiasm at bay and sound normal even though when it came to Chessy, anything at all to
do
with Chessy, normal wasn't part of his vocabulary for sure.

He couldn't wait to finally see Chessy one-on-one for the first time since the night she'd walked out, when she had been devastated and so damn fragile looking. As though she'd break if someone stared at her too hard. And yet he had let a brute of a man put his precious girl through the paces, warming her up for when Tate would have taken over.

Chessy could have been seriously injured. For all practical purposes she had been raped. Just because the bastard hadn't fully penetrated her didn't mean he hadn't forced himself on her, even as she was screaming her safe word.

To still his restless mind and whirling thoughts, he began to prepare the crepes while he waited for her answer. In theory this recipe was damn good. But it was all in the execution. And Tate wasn't one to ever follow the letter of a recipe. He always improvised, adding stuff he liked and experimenting until he got the flavor he wanted. He and Chessy had always taken turns being the guinea pig and then they'd offer constructive criticism. Not enough Cajun seasoning. Too much black pepper. The lobster and crab smelled and tasted too “fishy.”

There was no modesty from him when it came to this dish. He and Chessy could make themselves sick on it, eating way beyond the point where they were already full. It was always “Oh, I'll just have one more bite,” and then a moan of pleasure followed by another bite and another . . . Until they groaned in agony and flopped onto the couch in a vegetative state and watched mindless reality shows to get their minds off their miserably full stomachs.

“Yes,” Chessy said finally. Was there a hint of excitement in her voice or was he simply hearing what he wanted. If she had missed him only half as much as he was missing her, then he had a shot. “I'll leave in a few minutes after I shower and change. If I wait any longer, someone will want to take me, and as I said, I'd rather not have an audience for what I want to talk about.”

Again that tendril of dread curled tighter and tighter around his neck. “Tell me at least that you're okay. That there's nothing seriously wrong with you. Don't leave me to my worst imaginings, Chess. You've got me scared shitless.”

“I'm fine, Tate. Truly. It's just . . . complicated, which is why I wanted to say it face-to-face.”

Whatever got her back home where she belonged, even if it was only for a short time, worked for him.

“Okay then. Head this way. I'm putting together supper now.”

KYLIE
and Joss, as well as Jensen and Dash, faced Chessy with concern as she prepared to leave to go back . . . home. She still considered it her home no matter that she hadn't lived there in several weeks. Maybe she'd always consider it home.

Moreover, when they'd bought the house, she'd picked it out with a family in mind. It was a huge house for just the two of them. Four bedrooms, three bathrooms plus a guest room downstairs, space for an office, two living areas, a formal dining room plus an eat-in kitchen and an island bar.

In her mind she could so easily see having children and raising them in that house. Most couples didn't buy their forever home right after marrying, but Tate had been financially secure enough to purchase the house and once she'd seen it—and envisioned their future in it—she'd instantly fallen in love.

Five years later she was pregnant with the child she'd always desperately wanted but her marriage was in ruins and the house she'd once dreamed of raising a family in was off-limits. Even if she did end up getting the house if she and Tate divorced, how could she ever raise her child in a home that screamed Tate from every corner?

“I don't think it's a good idea for you to go over there alone,” Dash said firmly.

He and Jensen were standing between her and the doorway, a formidable barrier, their arms crossed over their chests and stubborn looks on their faces.

Kylie and Joss stood at Chessy's side but it was clear they were in agreement with the men.

“You should make him come here. On neutral ground,” Joss said in a low voice. “Or over at mine and Dash's house. We'll give you all the privacy you need but you shouldn't be at a disadvantage emotionally, and with you being pregnant you're especially vulnerable. Just ask Dash! I cry over the most ridiculous things. I swear I'm a hormonal mess. I certainly can't be trusted to make life-altering decisions with pregnancy brain.”

Dash's entire face softened with love as he gazed at his wife. “You're adorable pregnant. And you are not a hormonal mess. I love every part of you and wouldn't change a thing. You pregnant is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I can't wait until you get bigger and I can feel the little one kick.”

Chessy's hand went to her own flat stomach and tears welled in her eyes. Joss shot Dash a look of reprimand and Dash immediately looked contrite.

“I'm sorry, Chessy. That was digging the knife deeper.”

Chessy shook her head. “Do not ever hold back with Joss for fear of hurting me. That isn't fair. She deserves to have someone who sees her for how special she is.”

Jensen sighed. “Will you at least let one of us go with you? Joss is right about one thing. You're extremely vulnerable right now and that gives Tate the upper hand. And when he learns of your pregnancy, he's going to push hard for a reconciliation.”

“I guess we'll have to see, won't we?” Chessy said lightly. “At any rate, expect me back tonight. He's cooking dinner because he says there's something he needs to tell me. Maybe he wants a divorce. But it's obvious we need to clear the air. I need . . . closure. I need to know where this is headed because I can't go on like this. I have to make plans for me and my child.”

“Honey, a man does not cook dinner for a woman he's planning to dump,” Dash said dryly.

“I'm going,” Chessy said emphatically. “Now please let me by so I'm not late.”

“Only if you promise to call if you need us,” Jensen said. “One of us will be over immediately if you need help or support.”

She leaned up on tiptoe and kissed Jensen's cheek and then Dash's. She hugged both Kylie and Joss before disentangling herself and headed for the door.

“Thank you all,” she said sincerely. “I'm so lucky to have friends like you.”

She hurried down the sidewalk to her car before she could change her mind and completely chicken out of her dinner with Tate. She had a whole horde of butterflies in her stomach and her pregnancy wasn't helping in that regard. She just hoped she could make it through dinner without losing the contents of her stomach. That certainly wasn't the way she wanted to break the news to Tate of his impending fatherhood.

Would he be happy? It saddened her that she had no clue. It had been him who'd wanted to wait when she wanted children earlier in their marriage. But he'd thought they should be more financially secure first.

But when was it enough? It seemed that no matter how much money he brought in, no matter how many clients he netted, it was never enough. He'd always put her off and said maybe next year. Or when he reached his goal of X number of portfolios that he managed. She knew for a fact that he'd surpassed his supposed goal on three separate occasions. And yet he still hadn't agreed to have children.

It was very possible that he wouldn't greet this news well at all. She may end up a single mother with an absentee father for her child.

Guilt surged through her chest for making assumptions and jumping to conclusions. Tate wasn't a horrible person. He'd be a good father. She knew that much. It didn't matter if this child was planned or not. He'd love him or her every bit as much as Chessy already did.

When she arrived at their house, she parked and got out only to be met at the door by Tate. He looked as though it took everything he had not to pull her into his arms or touch her in some way. But instead he merely stepped back and swept his arm inward in silent invitation.

Her nerves a mess, she walked inside, feeling as though she was in foreign territory rather than the house she'd made a home over the last five years.

“Come into the kitchen while I cook dinner. I've already gotten a start on the crepes.”

Anticipation made her mouth water. “Crawfish and crab crepes?”

He certainly knew her weakness and his smile proved it.

“I may have made your favorite,” he said slyly.

She sighed. “You don't play fair, Tate.”

He shrugged in response. “I warned you, Chessy. I'm not going down without a fight. I believe in us. I love you. There's no way I'm just going to let you go without throwing everything I have your way.”

Well, that answered the question of whether he was going to ask for a divorce. Was his big thing he wanted to tell her simply an opportunity to beg for forgiveness again? And how much longer could she stand up under the onslaught when she loved him with every aching breath?

She loved him, yes. Without question. But trust him? No, she couldn't say she fully trusted him any longer. Not when he'd repeatedly chosen his clients and career over her.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me tonight?” she asked.

“It's one of the things,” he said calmly. “But not
the
thing. We'll discuss that over dinner. While the crepes are in the oven, I'd like to hear about you. You sounded upset on the phone and you said you hadn't been feeling well.”

She shook her head. “We'll discuss it after dinner. After you've told me what it is you have to say to me.”

He looked frustrated with her stubbornness but he didn't press. Instead he opened a bottle of wine and poured one glass and started to pour another until she held up her hand.

“No, don't,” she said quickly. “I don't want wine. I'm afraid it will upset my stomach.”

“So you
have
been ill,” he said grimly.

“I'm separated from my husband,” she said in a terse tone. “Do you expect me to be radiant? I've been miserable, Tate. This is never what I wanted. You chose this for us, not me.”

Anger sparked in her blood and she could positively feel her blood pressure rising. She took several calming breaths, knowing it did the baby no good for Chessy to become so upset.

Tate's eyes darkened with sorrow. His hand shook as he reached for his glass of wine.

“I didn't choose our separation,” he said quietly. “Never that. I fucked up. I get that. It was stupid. I just reacted without thinking. It's a mistake I'll pay for dearly for the rest of my life. I hope you can find it in your generous, loving heart to forgive me. To give me yet another chance to make things right. I don't want to live my life without you, Chessy. I can't bear the thought of it. There will never be another woman for me. You're it. And I want it all, but I want it with you.”

Her heart squeezed at the sincerity and graveness in his tone. She had no doubt he meant it in this precise moment. That wasn't in question. He'd also been absolutely sincere after the night of their anniversary, and look where that had gotten them. It wasn't a matter of him speaking an untruth now. It was the question of how long that vehemence would last. A week? A month? She had no faith that he'd continue to put her first in his life and she refused to live with that uncertainty any longer. She had a child to think about now and her child deserved a full-time father, not someone who was gone all the time and never there for the important moments in life.

“I don't know what to say—to think,” Chessy said, her mouth turned down in an expression of unhappiness.

“Just say you'll think about it,” he urged. “I don't have to have an answer today or even tomorrow. Just promise me you'll think about it and not give up on me quite yet.”

She closed her eyes but nodded, knowing there really wasn't an alternative. She couldn't very well say with any authority what would happen once he told her whatever he had to tell her, and she then told him she was pregnant. She knew he'd fight even harder for them to get back together once he learned she was pregnant, but not telling him wasn't an option. He deserved to know he was going to become a father no matter her reservations about him as a husband.

There was visible relief on his features. His eyes brightened and lost some of their dread.

“I swear you won't regret it, Chess,” he said gruffly.

He turned away and cracked open the stove, peering in at the bubbling cheese that was just turning a yummy brown. She sniffed appreciatively, her stomach growling in anticipation. She hadn't even attempted to eat today because the mere thought of food was revolting to her.

He grabbed oven mitts and slid the casserole dish from the oven, setting it on the stovetop while he closed the oven door.

“We'll give it five minutes or so to rest and then we'll dig in,” Tate announced.

As he spoke, he went to the cabinet where the plates were and took two down. Then he retrieved knives and forks from the drawer and set the small table in the breakfast nook where they so often had eaten together. The formal dining room had only been used on the occasions when they entertained clients or their friends.

He carried the still-steaming casserole dish to the table and then fetched a spatula to spoon up the delectable entrée. Chessy took a cautious sniff, praying her stomach didn't rebel.

To her relief, she felt no nausea when she forked in the first savory bite. The flavor hit her taste buds like a mouth orgasm. She moaned her pleasure. This was right up there with good sex.

“Good?” Tate asked with a smile.

He knew damn well it was fantastic.

“It's wonderful,” she sighed. “Best thing I've eaten in weeks.”

He frowned at that. “Have you been eating, Chess? I know you. And when you're unhappy or stressed you don't eat or take proper care of yourself.”

“Well duh,” she muttered. “I can assure you that my marriage crumbling around me isn't exactly lighting my world on fire.”

He sighed. “We're both miserable, baby. Doesn't that tell you anything? We both still love each other. I certainly love you. If we're so unhappy apart, don't you see that the logical thing to do is get back together so we can make one another happy again?”

“Because I'm afraid,” she said frankly. “You've broken too many promises to me, Tate.”

His nostrils flared and he went silent a moment before pushing his plate forward. He propped his elbows on the table and directed his stare at her.

“Maybe my news will prove to you that I'm trying to change—that I
am
changing. I've partnered with two other guys and expanded my firm to include them. Which means that I'm no longer a one-man show. It also means I won't have to devote so much time to work or my clients. I have two partners now to share in juggling clients and their needs. I did this for us, Chessy. Because I let my career get in the way of our relationship. I let it overrun all else. That wasn't fair to you and I'm prepared to go to whatever lengths necessary to make amends.”

Chessy stared at him in utter disbelief. Tate had been so adamant about not taking on another partner after his first one had bailed. He'd been determined to make his business a success without anyone else.

“It will be made public tomorrow,” Tate continued. “But I wanted you to hear it from me. And for you to understand why I did it. I did it for you. To hopefully help you see the commitment I'm making to you. To our marriage. You mean more to me than my business, my career, money, worldly possessions. Having it all means nothing if I don't have what's most important in my life. You.”