Right by Her Side by Christie Ridgway Page A

said.
    â€œA very good day,” Rebecca replied. “I feel as if I’ve hitched a ride on an ascending balloon.”
    Sydney nodded. “Families can begin many different ways, but the happiness always feels the same, doesn’t it?”
    Those words didn’t leave Rebecca’s mind as she headed for Trent’s home. After today’s PAN meeting, optimism and joy filled her heart. She refused to let her doubts hold her back any longer. It was time to start her life as Trent’s wife.
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    Trent spent his first day as a newly married man not thinking about being newly married. Every time it crept into his thoughts, he booted it out with a kick worthy of David Beckham. At some point he was going to have to mention the change in his marital status to his coworkers and family members, but he decided that giving himself and Rebecca a few days to settle into the idea themselves was fair.
    By the time he drove home, it was after seven o’clock. A mix of pride and relief coursed through him as he realized that, though his schedule had been full, newlywed or not, he’d accomplished everything on it and more. As he pulled into his driveway and caught sight of Rebecca’s car, it was good to know that being married to her hadn’t affected him at all. And that was the way it was going to stay, he decided.
    The notion of sleeping with her had been a natural one, but he would put that on the back burner. The crucial step had been to get her married to him so that their baby was cemented into his life. He’d get through the next indefinite period of time the same way he’d gottenthrough today—by not letting this change in his marital situation affect his life or his routine.
    Meanwhile, Rebecca was totally moved in—in one of the spare bedrooms.
    He locked up the car, contemplating the evening ahead. A cold beer, and then he’d call the restaurant on 16th Street that knew his standing takeout dinner order—medium-rare T-bone steak, baked potato, hold anything the least bit green. There was the latest Sports Illustrated in his briefcase and he’d peruse that over his meal.
    The smell was the first thing he noticed when he unlocked the front door. It seemed to grab him by the tie and tug him through the pristine dining room and into the kitchen.
    Which wasn’t the least bit pristine. He stared about the granite countertops—what he could see of them, anyway—taking in all the items scattered about. The least surprising item in the kitchen was Rebecca herself, who had one foot on a chair and one knee beside the sink as she reached for something on the upper shelf of a cabinet.
    â€œGood evening.” Looking down at him from her perch, her face was flushed and her waist was wrapped in one of those thin towels used to dry dishes. “How was your day?”
    â€œMy day was…” He shook his head. “What do I smell?”
    â€œApple cobbler.”
    â€œApple cobbler.” He repeated the words to himself. “And what’s that?” He pointed to a covered pan atop the stove.
    â€œChicken casserole.”
    â€œAnd that? And that? And what about that?” His finger roamed around the room.
    â€œParsley. Broccoli. Green beans. The remains of them, anyway. They all went into the casserole.” Her face flushed deeper. “I’m not one of those clean-as-you-go cooks.”
    â€œYou made yourself dinner.”
    She climbed down from the counter holding a clear glass pitcher in her hand. “I made us dinner. I, uh, wasn’t sure when you’d be home, so I made something that I could warm when you arrived.”
    â€œYou didn’t need to cook for me. I was going to order a takeout steak from DeLuce’s.”
    â€œOh. Well.” She turned her back and hustled toward the refrigerator. “If you’d prefer that—”
    â€œNo, no. It’s just that I didn’t expect—I didn’t