French Fry (The French Twist Series Book 3) Page 10

  Louis grabbed the bottle back from me and walked into the kitchen. “You do not have to wait very long at all. I had my uncle send bottles from a grouping which has been aged. You will only have to let this bottle breathe for a couple of hours.”

  My eyes bugged out of my head as he rooted through one of the kitchen drawers in search of our corkscrew. Was he serious? I quickly shook my head and concluded he was messing with me. Will I ever become less gullible?

  The sound of a cork popping caused my entire body to freeze. The realization of his complete sincerity filled me with terror. Since Louis didn’t share virtually every other French person’s affinity for wine, the only reason he would uncork the bottle would be for me to drink it. Here we go again. Another round of “Clash of Cultures.”

  “Um, Louis?”

  “Yes?” He called to me from the kitchen.

  “Well, uh…” I stammered. “You know I can’t, um, drink alcohol, right?”

  He put the corkscrew back in the drawer and closed it. “What are you talking about?” I waited for the “Willis,” but it wasn’t to be. Evidently, Louis wasn’t joking. Not good.

  I bit my lip. “Well, alcohol isn’t good for the baby.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “My mother drank an occasional glass of wine when she was pregnant with me and I turned out alright.”

  I took a deep breath. How could I say this without offending him? I knew his culture didn’t have the same attitude towards alcohol consumption during pregnancy as mine did, but this didn’t mean I had to follow his request. This was still my body after all.

  I tried again. “My stomach is still a bit iffy and I don’t think this will help.” I had a shot to disarm him with this tactic. Maybe my diplomacy skills weren’t completely gone quite yet.

  “OK, Syd, if that is how you feel.” Did I imagine it or did he flare his nostrils? Nostril flaring is his most obvious anger tell. I also could have sworn I heard him say something about “lethal sodium content” under his breath. What? He knows I have been very careful about my sodium intake, particularly since just yesterday I received another lecture from Dr. Bauer about my elevated blood pressure.

  I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. My hormones were starting to rage and I had to get them under control. It wasn’t the baby’s fault his/her father could be a jackass. He/she shouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of Louis’ idiocy. Gah! I couldn’t wait until we knew the baby’s sex. This he/she stuff was starting to annoy the crap out of me. Well, in truth, many things were. Damn hormones.

  Louis sat down next to me and handed me a hefty box wrapped in gold foil. “I asked my mom to send this for you as well.”

  I ran my fingers over the delicate foil lovingly. I would recognize my favorite Swiss chocolates anywhere. Simone must have been feeling generous, because she bought the largest box they made. Too bad the baby thought sweets were grossly overrated.

  “This was very kind of her. Please thank her for me.” I sighed. “I can’t wait until my chocolate craving returns.”

  Louis kissed my forehead. “It’s killing you, isn’t it?”

  I smiled, grateful that the tension between us had lessened. “It is! I don’t feel like myself.” I slid my arms around his neck and inhaled deeply. I was instantly filled with a sense of peace and love (as cheesy as it sounds). We sat in silence for a few moments, losing ourselves in the tranquility.

  I felt myself nodding off when Louis’ voice broke through my consciousness. “Listen, Syd, I wanted to talk to you about something. I don’t want you to worry, but…”

  I opened my eyes cautiously. He has been given a very thorough Sydney-handling education. Even in my non-pregnant state, Louis knew better than to say such a thing to me given how much I worried on a regular basis. Did he really have the desire to take his life into his own hands?

  I flung the blanket back, attempting to disengage myself from the couch, when he pulled me back into his arms. The grin tugging at the corner of his mouth only served to incense me more. I successfully extricated myself from his grasp, but remained on the couch, giving him my best withering stare.

  Louis rewarded me by cackling like a little girl. Nice one, Bluey. Once he registered my continued disdain, he put his arms around me and kissed me tenderly. He was playing dirty and I knew it, but I didn’t care. His kisses were the perfect combination of sweet and sensual. I was powerless as he slowly ran his hands down my body, caressing me in all the right places. I felt a fire igniting in my stomach which would not be tamed easily.

  Thrilled with the exciting turn of events, I buried my hands in his hair and pulled him on top of me for a rousing make out session. Just as I was moving things further along, he took my face in his hands and pulled back. “You are so easy, mon coeur.”

  I pouted. “You‘d better deliver on this promise later.” Raging pregnancy hormones dictated much more sex than our busy jobs had allowed for in quite some time, but Louis wouldn’t have it any other way.

  He grasped my hand and led me to the dining room table. I sat down and regarded him expectantly.

  “What do you think about looking for a new place?”

  Whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout Willis? That is how it is done! (This iconic line from Different Strokes HAD to be said. Even if it were just in my own head.)

  He took advantage of my silence by outlining his plan. “We definitely need more room for the baby. We only have one bedroom and I have been looking online at baby stuff; where will we fit everything?”

  I continued to stare at him in disbelief.

  He grabbed my hand across the table. “Syd, I know you do not want to think about moving right now, but we need more space. Where is my mom going to stay when she comes to visit?” He paused. “I think we should consider buying a house.”

  Did he say house? We couldn’t afford a HOUSE. The real estate market in Northern California, more specifically Silicon Valley, was out of control! We…we…didn’t have the money. I needed to sit down. Crap. I was already sitting down. I needed to put my head down.

  I carefully lowered my head to the table, enjoying the cool feeling of the wood on my face. I may have to stay here for a while. Just until the world made sense again…

  Louis began to stroke my hair. “Mon coeur? Are you OK?”

  I pondered his question. Was I OK? I was trying to see things from his point of view. More space would be great, but the thought of mortgage payments made me queasy. What if one of us lost our jobs? There had been rumblings of layoffs in Louis’ company; wouldn’t that be a ridiculous outcome? His being laid off from a different company last year didn’t mean we wouldn’t find ourselves in the same position this year. I didn’t make enough money to support the two of us if we had a mortgage payment. Louis was well aware of this fact. I decided to remind him.

  I picked up my weary head and leveled my gaze at him. “If we buy house and you lose your job, I have no prayer of supporting us.” I wrung my hands in despair. “We’ll have to live in a cardboard box with baby. And that’s so…unsanitary.”

  Louis chuckled. “We will nothave to live in a box—even if I were to lose my job—which I will not.”

  I chewed on my lip. “Well, we can think about it, but I would rather wait until after the baby is born. My mom has already said she’s happy with the couch and she can always spend a couple of nights at Kate’s if her back starts bothering her.”

  My mom, Kate and I had already discussed this in great detail. Did I forget to update Louis? I’m betting by the confused look on his face I did forget. Uh oh. Stupid pregnant brain. Why can’t I remember anything?

  I pushed a rogue strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m so sorry, Bluey. I meant to discuss this idea with you first. Is it alright for my mom to stay here for a few weeks after the baby is born?” If he knew what was good for him, it would be. He wasn’t the one having to expel a human from his body.

  Since I was the owner of this particular task, I got to do whatever I wanted—at leas
t for a short time—afterwards. And what I wanted was my mommy. Yes, you heard me correctly. My mommy! I’m not ashamed of it!

  Louis was trying very hard not to get annoyed. “Um, Syd, my mom would really like to be here when the baby is born.”

  What the what?

  I stared at him, jaw on the floor, as he continued to explain his foolish request.

  “This will be her first, and possibly only, grandchild. And your mom will have had two by the time our baby arrives. I really want to give my mom this experience.”

  Was he fucking kidding me? First of all, this was MY first child and I wanted MY mother with me. Second, what the hell was he talking about ONLY child? Who said anything about having ONE child?

  Calm down, Sydney. The baby needs you to be calm. Remember your blood pressure. I closed my eyes and controlled my breathing in the manner I was taught by my therapist. Cognitive behavioral therapy rocks!

  I opened my eyes, took my husband’s hands in mine and kissed him gently on the lips. “Bluey, I love you more than you will ever know. I can’t possibly imagine my life without you and I’m honored to be the mother of your children.” I enunciated the last word very clearly. “But if you think your mother is going to be with us instead of mine following the birth of our first child, then you have another thing coming.”

  Fueled by my own irritation, I got up from the table and paced the length of the living room. “Come on! I’m the one who has to eject a being the size of a football from an opening which has only previously accommodated a tampon and a penis!”

  The frustration instantly left Louis’ face and he doubled over, releasing a series of high-pitched giggles. (This ridiculously girly display only comes to pass when he finds something uproariously funny.)

  His inappropriate laugher only incensed me more. “Seriously! My vagina isn’t prepared for the…the… SIZE of this endeavor! There may even be a scalpel involved!”

  For a moment, my comment appeared to have sobered him, but then he uttered the words “Penis and a tampon!” and fell back into his raucous laughing fit.

  I glared at him, determined to finish my rant. “Episiotomy or caesarean, Bluey! Take your pick!”

  Not even these scary words could pull him out of his insane giggling spiral. (Perhaps it was time for HIS padded cell?) He did, however, manage to laugh himself right off the couch.

  Preparing for my big finish, I sat down on the floor next to him to tick off my final points. “I’m the one who will breast feed, swaddle, be hosed down in spit up, change explosive diapers and be up during all hours of the night—and day—to make sure this wonderful child continues to thrive. The only way I can make an adjustment of such magnitude is to have someone making sure I thrive as well. And that person is MY mother. If you suddenly decide to give birth to our child, you can have YOUR mother here. Are we clear?”

  My heart was racing. Damn it. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have told him we would talk about it later. I did my best to focus on my breathing as tears dripped down my face. Pregnancy was truly starting to wear me out. I hadn’t hit the brunt of the physical changes my body would go through and I already felt exhausted.

  Louis sat up and wiped tears of his own from his eyes. “Crystal.” He embraced me softly and stroked my hair until my breathing regulated.

  Louis was smart enough not to say anything further on the subject of his mother’s visit, since it was apparent I would have torn him limb from limb. The scary pregnancy hormones were here to stay, indicating life would be a little more unpredictable from now on. At least I was able to make my husband laugh. I, on the other hand, was absolutely petrified.

  Chapter Eleven

  I closed my eyes and massaged my shoulders as I waited for Kate to meet me. She insisted I go with her to Pottery Barn to pick out new linens for a dinner party she was throwing next week, even though she had a closet full of beautiful options which had yet to be used. Try as I might, I was unable to get out of this excruciating errand. There had to be an ulterior motive of some kind, but I had yet to suss it out.

  A week had passed since my lively conversation with Louis regarding our selection of, um, birthing room companions. Despite his boisterous display during said conversation, things were still strained between us. I would have preferred staying home to convince him of the superior nature of MY plan than going on a questionable shopping trip with my devious sister. Don’t be fooled by her perfect exterior. She could easily pull out the wicked when she deemed it necessary.

  “Hey, stranger!”

  I glanced up to find Kate smiling at me. “What do you mean? I talked to you this morning.”

  She pulled me into a tight embrace. “I know, but I haven’t seen you for a few days. I missed you.”

  I felt my unease about her motives slip away and allowed myself to relax.

  Kate released me from her arms and tapped my nose affectionately. “How are things with Louis?”

  Following our standoff last week, I called Zoe in tears insisting, “Louis was trying to kill me.” A bit dramatic, I realize, but a) we have already established the presence of fairly potent hormones in my body and b) having his mother come to stay with us following the birth of our child just might be the death of me. My conclusion was actually quite true, if you think about it logically.

  After Zoe calmed me down (and no doubt thanked her lucky stars she hadn’t been afflicted with Psychotic Pregnancy Syndrome), she wasted no time informing Kate of my current mental instability. Kate had been calling me at least three times a day since then to ensure I hadn’t gone off the deep end. It had been close, but I had managed to stay afloat.

  I attributed this in no small part to grease—both the substance and the movie. I had been consuming copious amounts of pepperoni pizza (the all-natural, low-sodium version of course) and watching Grease at least once a day. It is truly one of the best musicals ever made. Mock if you will, but don’t even try to tell me you didn’t want to be Olivia Newton-John in her skintight catsuit when you were a little girl. Go ahead and protest, but I won’t believe you.

  “I don’t know. He barely said goodbye when he dropped me off.” I sighed. “He hasn’t brought the subject up again, but he’s still fairly distant.” I felt my eyes stinging in anticipation of another emotional tidal wave. “Our anniversary dinner wasn’t what I expected.”

  Celebrating our first year of marriage should have been a momentous occasion, given everything we had endured. Instead, we made it through our fancy dinner out saying a total of twenty words to each other. I counted.

  Kate put her arm around me. “I’m sorry, Syd.”

  “I’m so confused, Kate. I want to give him what he wants, but…I can’t. I need Mom there.”

  Kate took my hand and started walking past Pottery Barn. When I tried to protest, she shook her head. “You need some air, sweetie. Let’s take a walk.”

  I sighed with relief, since the last thing I wanted to do was pretend to care about table linens. As we walked slowly through the outdoor beauty of the Stanford Shopping Center, I felt grateful for a sister who always seemed to know what I needed.

  “Thanks for taking such good care of me, Kate.”

  She beamed at me. “It’s a big sister’s responsibility.”

  Thank God she felt this way. I don’t think I would have survived my childhood, hell, my life without her. Don’t get me wrong; I have a wonderful family. I, however, am nuts. Kate has always been the one to bring me back from the edge. At least Louis was helping her now. Well, he had been.

  In order to keep my sentimentality from bringing me to tears, I asked the first question which came to mind. “How is my perfect niece?”

  I had been disappointed when Kate told me Sam wouldn’t be joining us (because her presence made everything better), but understood why a nine-month-old’s presence in Pottery Barn was probably not the best idea. Babies have surprising long reaches for such little arms. It is uncanny! I made a mental note to add “babyproofing” to my long
list of required lessons from my wise older sister.

  Kate laughed. “She’s crawling EVERYWHERE. She wants to explore every nook and cranny of the house.”

  I joined in her laughter. Sam may still be a baby, but her personality was coming through loud and clear. My girl had some serious spunk!

  I hung on Kate’s every word, feeling my heart lighten in the face of my niece’s antics. Hearing about the wonderful parts of being a mother was exactly what I needed to face the world once again.

  Suddenly Kate came to a halt and the expression on her face changed from one of amusement to one of purpose. I had a sinking feeling about this. I carefully contemplated our surroundings to find she had steered me to BABY WORLD. That stinker!

  I wrenched my hand away from hers. “Kate! I told you I wasn’t ready!”

  She scoffed. “If I left it up to you, you’d never be ready. You’re eighteen weeks pregnant, Syd! You have to get moving on this stuff.”

  Damn. I knew she was right. How could I possibly say no? A well-timed temper tantrum wouldn’t even help. Kate has become an expert at handling those. (Have you ever been pregnant? If not, then keep quiet. A PMS tirade isn’t even in the same zip code.)

  Kate took my hand back gently. “Give it a chance, OK? You don’t have to feel overwhelmed. I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”

  “Kate,” I whined. “The baby isn’t due until June seventeenth! I have plenty of time for this.”

  She shook her head at me. “You don’t know what kind of complications could come up! Trust me when I say you’ll need this stuff. Being a mother is more physically exhausting than you can imagine.”

  I opened my mouth to comment on my current state of exhaustion, but she held up her hand to silence me.

  “Don’t even try it, Syd. Been there, done that. Pregnancy is hard, but there’s an end in sight. Motherhood is…well, it’s wonderful, but it will take every last ounce of intelligence, strength and patience you have. This store has a bunch of stuff which can help you get through the tough parts, so you can have more energy to enjoy the good parts.”