marshmallows out by a warm fire and actually need our favorite North Face jackets, as we talked outside over an Easton Corbin song. Hot chocolate replaced my margaritas, although I usually couldn’t resist a pre-relaxation Captain Morgan & Coke beforehand. (Unfortunately, I was SOL on liquor now that I was expecting.) I wolfed down s’mores while Andrew snuck blocks of pure chocolate and skipped the graham crackers and marshmallows.
As I closed my serene prayer, relieved to feel better, Andrew stepped outside, tossing me my pink North Face jacket. He whipped his other hand out from behind his back, presenting me with a tall, steaming glass of hot cocoa overloaded with fluffy, sweet marshmallows. “Hi, sweetheart,” he breathed huskily. “What are you doing? Please tell me you are not working.”
I glanced down at an array of papers scattered across the table where I was seated. “Hey, babe. Ummmm … not anymore.” I took a quick sip of my hot cocoa. “I’m done.”
Rolling his eyes, he pointedly gathered up the papers and pushed them aside. “It’s Sunday night; this is your time off,” he ordered. “No more work. I’m sure you’ve already over-analyzed the week.”
I sighed. “I know,” I admitted resignedly. “In the back of my mind, I think that if I can figure out what stepping it up a notch means to them, maybe the situation will start to improve.”
“You’ve done everything you can do. Baby, I just think you need to realize that your boss is not going to give you any opportunities to stand out.” He paused and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I think … I think he’s already made up his mind about you.”
My eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Jeff suggested that you shouldn’t do this job as a mother. That says it all. He won’t fire you because he can’t; he will just try to make you miserable until you throw in the towel.” His tone grew very serious. “I want you to get through this pregnancy and then quit. You are miserable.”
A wave of defensiveness clothed me. “I’m not quitting.” Instinctively, I balled my fists. I did not realize I was shivering until Andrew tucked me into my jacket.
“I know you don’t want to.” Andrew bent down to start a fire. “If you won’t quit, you need to do something about it. No amount of money is worth you putting up with this treatment.” He paused, sounding like his mother again.
I sensed it wasn’t the time to bring up the fact that his greedy employer would not cover Calla’s or my insurance. Andrew worked hard to take care of us, and I did not want to hurt his pride. And there was no way I would let the Cooks help us out.
I changed the subject before I upset myself to the point of no return. “All of this ruins my night, and you’re right, there’s nothing more I can do.” I silently cursed my fears and forced a smile on my face. “I’m excited about our baby coming.”
Andrew stood up and wrapped his arms around my neck. “Me, too.” He kissed me gently on the cheek, letting his lips linger momentarily, giving me comfort. “I can’t wait.”
It was completely dark now. “I can’t wait to take her to the park, and take her swimming at Mama’s,” I said in almost a whisper. “Or, should I say, Mimi and Pop’s!” My parents had already picked out their grandparent names. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mama so excited.”
Andrew groaned dramatically. “Calla is going to be one spoiled little girl … our first child, their first grandchild. We’re going to have to make sure your parents don’t spoil her to death.”
I ignored his jab at my parents. If anyone was spoiled, it was Andrew Cook, who grew up the center of attention in the midst of his father’s political success and his mother’s Sports Illustrated career. “Knowing that we have a child on the way makes me want to be a better person even more. You know?”
“I agree.” Andrew gazed out into the darkness. “It’s a big
As I closed my serene prayer, relieved to feel better, Andrew stepped outside, tossing me my pink North Face jacket. He whipped his other hand out from behind his back, presenting me with a tall, steaming glass of hot cocoa overloaded with fluffy, sweet marshmallows. “Hi, sweetheart,” he breathed huskily. “What are you doing? Please tell me you are not working.”
I glanced down at an array of papers scattered across the table where I was seated. “Hey, babe. Ummmm … not anymore.” I took a quick sip of my hot cocoa. “I’m done.”
Rolling his eyes, he pointedly gathered up the papers and pushed them aside. “It’s Sunday night; this is your time off,” he ordered. “No more work. I’m sure you’ve already over-analyzed the week.”
I sighed. “I know,” I admitted resignedly. “In the back of my mind, I think that if I can figure out what stepping it up a notch means to them, maybe the situation will start to improve.”
“You’ve done everything you can do. Baby, I just think you need to realize that your boss is not going to give you any opportunities to stand out.” He paused and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I think … I think he’s already made up his mind about you.”
My eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Jeff suggested that you shouldn’t do this job as a mother. That says it all. He won’t fire you because he can’t; he will just try to make you miserable until you throw in the towel.” His tone grew very serious. “I want you to get through this pregnancy and then quit. You are miserable.”
A wave of defensiveness clothed me. “I’m not quitting.” Instinctively, I balled my fists. I did not realize I was shivering until Andrew tucked me into my jacket.
“I know you don’t want to.” Andrew bent down to start a fire. “If you won’t quit, you need to do something about it. No amount of money is worth you putting up with this treatment.” He paused, sounding like his mother again.
I sensed it wasn’t the time to bring up the fact that his greedy employer would not cover Calla’s or my insurance. Andrew worked hard to take care of us, and I did not want to hurt his pride. And there was no way I would let the Cooks help us out.
I changed the subject before I upset myself to the point of no return. “All of this ruins my night, and you’re right, there’s nothing more I can do.” I silently cursed my fears and forced a smile on my face. “I’m excited about our baby coming.”
Andrew stood up and wrapped his arms around my neck. “Me, too.” He kissed me gently on the cheek, letting his lips linger momentarily, giving me comfort. “I can’t wait.”
It was completely dark now. “I can’t wait to take her to the park, and take her swimming at Mama’s,” I said in almost a whisper. “Or, should I say, Mimi and Pop’s!” My parents had already picked out their grandparent names. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mama so excited.”
Andrew groaned dramatically. “Calla is going to be one spoiled little girl … our first child, their first grandchild. We’re going to have to make sure your parents don’t spoil her to death.”
I ignored his jab at my parents. If anyone was spoiled, it was Andrew Cook, who grew up the center of attention in the midst of his father’s political success and his mother’s Sports Illustrated career. “Knowing that we have a child on the way makes me want to be a better person even more. You know?”
“I agree.” Andrew gazed out into the darkness. “It’s a big
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