other adoptive parents who had used their services.”
Sean shot her a long, measuring look, his pale gray eyes seeming to assess her response in a calculating manner.
“You’ve certainly done your homework,” he drawled, his tone not altogether approving.
Charlotte’s initial response to his comment was to blink at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. Then she realized he was once again inferring that she’d gone behind his back somehow by contacting the Robideaux Agency without his knowledge.
“Yes, I did,” she admitted, eyeing him narrowly as she barely controlled her anger. “But that was over a year ago when we first talked about the adoption option and we realized that at our age we had a better chance of adopting a baby from a foreign country. You told me then to be very careful not to get involved with a fly-by-night organization, and I was. In fact, I told you quite a lot about the Robideaux Agency before we had our first meeting with our counselor there, and it was my understanding that you approved of the way they handled their adoptions. Although I’m thinking that you must not have paid much attention to what I told you or you would have remembered it now.”
“There was a lot going on in our lives a year ago, Charlotte,” Sean retorted defensively. “My business had almost doubled as companies around the city and state began to see the need to increase their on-site security following the hurricane. You were in the midst of another round of fertility treatments then, too, and miserable most of the time as a result. You’d end up in tears during just about every conversation I tried to have with you—”
“Probably because you so obviously resented taking any of your precious time to actually listen to me,” Charlotte cut in, no longer able to hide her ire. “How was I supposed to respond when you were constantly rattling the change in your pockets, checking your watch or staring out the window like a condemned man hoping for a reprieve every time I turned to you for comfort?”
“All you talked about was how tired you were, how sick the drugs made you feel and how depressed you were. Then there were the twice-daily reports on how your temperature had either gone up or down, and how we had to schedule down to the exact minute when I’d next be expected to perform sexually. That was really something to anticipate, too,” he snapped sarcastically. “You lying in bed about as relaxed and willing as a terrified virgin, hands gripping the sheets—”
Charlotte looked away from him, remembering how her confidence in herself as a woman had dwindled more and more as one barren month followed another. Then, smiling ruefully, she shook her head as she spoke her next thought aloud.
“Then I find out that the whole time I’ve been beating myself up for my inability to get pregnant you actually weren’t all that thrilled about the prospect of fatherhood.”
“Not the whole time,” Sean insisted quietly.
“So I was only making a fool of myself for what—six to eight months before you finally spoke up? That’s such a relief to know,” Charlotte allowed, taking her own turn at sarcasm as she gathered the forms from the adoption agency and started to stuff them into the envelope.
“I never once thought you were making a fool of yourself, Charlotte,” Sean said, his tone softening unexpectedly at the same moment she felt the touch of his hand on her wrist. “But I was worried about you—the way you kept obsessing—”
“So you left me and now I’m all better,” Charlotte interrupted him bitterly as an unexpected rush of tears stung her eyes.
“Rehashing the past isn’t really getting us anywhere now, is it?”
Again Sean’s voice was surprisingly gentle.
“I have to agree, especially since we’ll be divorced by this time next year.” Forcing herself to get a grip on her roiling emotions, Charlotte met her husband’s gaze again. “But you’ve insinuated twice already that I’ve been less than honest with you about what I might have done to further our chances of adopting a child. I’m not going to sit by quietly and let you get away with it. I’ve always been truthful with you, Sean—always—and I swear to you that I always will be. But if you can’t, or won’t, trust me—”
“I do trust you,” he cut in, tightening his hold on her wrist just enough to help to make his point. “Obviously I jumped to some wrong conclusions earlier and I apologize.”
Charlotte eyed her husband skeptically for several moments. She was still more than a little angry with him, and she was deeply hurt, too. He could say that he hadn’t thought she’d made a fool of herself by trying so desperately to have a child that she’d been completely unaware of his true feelings. But that was how he’d made her feel six months ago and that was how she felt now.
Taking the time and energy necessary to nurse her grievances against him was a luxury, though—one she couldn’t afford at the moment. Sean’s offer to help her with the adoption had been tentatively made, at best. By continuing to behave toward him in a hostile manner, especially now that he’d eaten a small slice of humble pie, she might just cause him to withdraw that offer altogether.
“Just don’t do it again, okay?” she asked, still refusing to allow her gaze to waver.
“I won’t—I promise.” He finally let go of her wrist after another small, seemingly meant-to-be-affirming squeeze. Then he stood again, looking very weary all of a sudden. “I’d really like to read through the information from the adoption agency more closely, but right now I’m beat. Is there any chance we could pick up where we left off again in the morning, more cordially? I’m not sure how anxious you are to get back to Mayfair, or how you feel about missing a day of work. But I was thinking that since you’re already here, maybe we could try to set up an appointment to meet with our counselor at the agency sometime tomorrow, too.”
Exhaustion had been creeping up on Charlotte, as well, making her much more sensitive than she should have been. A good night’s sleep would better her mood quite a bit. Since she was going to have to spend the night in New Orleans, she didn’t have any great desire to rush back to Mayfair the next day, either.
What could it hurt to stay in the city tomorrow so that she and Sean could go over the paperwork together and, if possible, talk to their counselor at the agency? She might as well take advantage of his willingness to cooperate with her while she could.
“That sounds like a good idea to me. I’ll call the school district’s automated line before I go to bed tonight and arrange for a substitute to take my place tomorrow.”
“The more we can get down now, the better.”
“Yes, I agree.”
Sean smiled approvingly as Charlotte stood, too, the envelope in hand. She thought he would say something more or, at the very least, offer to go upstairs with her as he had earlier. But he stood with his hands in his pockets, apparently content to wait for her to make the next move.
“I guess I’ll call it a night, then,” she murmured after a few more moments of silence passed between them.
Feeling oddly out of place in the once familiar and much loved old town house, Charlotte turned to leave the kitchen, walking alone through the living/dining room to the staircase off the entryway.
She and Sean had shared so many happy times here together.
