“Shame on you! You should encourage your daughter to succeed. I truly hope she surprises you. And when she does, I’ll be delighted to have her work for me.”
He didn’t recoil from the bite of her words. Instead, his lips curved into a wolfish grin. “I do, too, Miss Connelly. In fact, I may pay for her tutor to come every night before the final exam in two weeks so she does well on it.”
Annabeth tried to stalk past him, but he stopped her at the door.
“Aren’t you curious about why I want her to succeed?” he breathed into her ear.
She turned her neck to meet his gaze, but said nothing.
He pulled the door open. “Because then I’ll have an excuse to spend my weekends in Chances Inlet with its extraordinary . . . scenery,” he murmured as she stepped over the threshold into the foyer.
Annabeth didn’t dare look back. She was torn—on the one hand, hoping Sophie would surprise her father, but on the other, wary of having Hank Osbourne pursuing her. Hank was a part of her son’s world, not hers. He’d quickly realize that fact when he arrived in Chances Inlet.
Nine
The small jet landed smoothly on the runway nestled between the berm and sand. Will had wasted no time getting them to North Carolina once Dr. Ling had discharged Owen that morning, swiftly whisking them off to Reagan National Airport, where a private plane waited. He’d arrived at the hospital with a state-of-the-art infant carrier, insisting their son be properly strapped in his seat the entire time they were in the air. Julianne was relieved that Owen slept peacefully during the forty-minute flight because, had he been fussy, there was no way she was leaving him in that car seat. Her arrogant, domineering husband could bluster all he wanted.
It had been two days since their marriage and that encounter in the powder room. She’d managed to keep her interactions with Will brief and always in front of witnesses. Once on the plane, however, he was difficult to avoid. He took up most of the cabin, lounging in one of the wide chairs across from Julianne and Owen. It was the first time she’d seen him dressed casually, wearing jeans, sneakers, and a tan golf shirt that brought out the green in his eyes. Not that she saw much of them since he’d spent the trip perusing his iPad while Julianne feigned sleep.
“I made an appointment with a pediatrician in Wilmington next week for Owen’s well-baby visit,” he announced, apparently fully aware she wasn’t sleeping. “I interviewed him yesterday. He comes highly recommended.”
Julianne cracked an eyelid open. Will was watching her, waiting for a reaction, that cool defiant look on his face. His presumptiveness was really starting to rub her raw. Dr. Ling had already referred her to a pediatrician located in Chances Inlet, a former medical professor of hers at Duke, now in private practice in the small town. Julianne had the woman’s name tucked in her purse.
“I’ve already taken care of it,” she said, closing her eyes again. Not exactly true, but she planned on taking care of it once they landed.
She heard Will snap the case of his tablet closed. “Really? Because you weren’t even taking notes when Dr. Ling was discharging him. Do you even have a vague idea of the number of checkups and inoculations Owen needs in the next several months? Or do you plan to parent the same way you live your life, by the seat of your pants?”
Julianne was thankful her seat belt was still securely snapped around her waist; otherwise, she might have flown out of the chair and throttled him. Her eyes were wide open now, and she could only imagine what he saw reflected in them. Not that he registered any reaction. His opinion of her stung, however. She wasn’t the flaky artist her brother constantly made her out to be. But she didn’t live her life encumbered by rigid rules prescribed by society, either.
“I didn’t need to take notes, because you, Mr. Ivy-League-brownnoser, were doing such a great job at it. And yes, I know exactly the protocol for well-baby visits. I had several months of pregnancy to memorize it.” She reached down to pull on a sock Owen had kicked off in his sleep. “Our deal was that I’d be the dutiful wife in public, but you aren’t dictating how I mother my son.”
Will’s jaw clenched at her slip, but Julianne reminded herself she was trying to get along. She flailed a hand in the air before he could correct her with some acerbic rebuttal.
“Pardon me. When our son”—she was gratified she didn’t choke on the word—“has an ear infection or a fever, I’m not hauling him off to a doctor forty minutes away when I can push him in a stroller to a well-qualified, well-liked physician two blocks down the street.”
Will hesitated, concern briefly flickering in his eyes, before opening his iPad once again. “I have an article on homeopathic remedies for ear infections.”
She slumped back against the seat. Undoubtedly he had entire research manuals on childcare loaded onto his tablet. He was apparently trying to debunk the dumb-jock myth single-handedly.
“You aren’t going to be able to develop a game plan for your son. He’s a living, breathing entity and things are going to happen, as we’ve already discovered. We’re going through with this ruse so you can bond with Owen. If you’re stressed about every little thing, he’ll sense it.”
His only reaction was a brief tightening of his fingers on his iPad. “I’m organized and efficient. Having a plan leads to less stress.”
Julianne rolled her eyes. “Right! You’re wound so tightly . . .”
Will tossed his iPad onto the chair beside him. Julianne’s breath caught in her throat as he stretched forward in his seat, his mouth hard. She should have known better than to bait him, but she was tired of his domineering manner and, well, she was just plain tired. And alone. And, truth be told, a little bit scared. In theory, marrying Will and returning to the small town where he grew up sounded doable. But now that she was actually living it, without the protective cocoon of her friends—Sebastian, Carly, and even Nicky—she wasn’t sure how she was going to pull it off. The ever-present sexual tension simmering between her and Will certainly didn’t help.
“If I’m stressed, Princess, it’s because I find myself having to totally restructure my off-season with a kid I didn’t know I had and a wife I don’t want.”
The force of his words sent her pressing further against the seat back. Of course he didn’t want her as his wife. It hurt to know that here was another man who didn’t envision her as a permanent part of his life. She turned her gaze to the window so as not to let him see how he could wound her. He already had enough power over her.
The pilot’s voice came over the intercom, shattering their stony silence.
“Hey, Will, we’re five minutes from wheels down, so make sure everything is secure back there, will ya?”
Will was quiet for a moment before switching on the intercom and answering. “Thanks, Ron.”
The ocean stretched out beneath the wing of the plane, and Julianne’s stomach did a flip-flop. She knew Chances Inlet was a small town located at the junction of the Cape Fear River and the Atlantic Ocean, but she hoped Will’s house was at least a few blocks inland. She didn’t do well near the sea, not since it had taken her mother from her.
“He’s still strapped in?” Will asked.
She forced herself not to roll her eyes again as she peeked over at Owen, still sleeping peacefully, a bubble of spit dancing on his pursed lips. Her heart melted as she looked at her beautiful son. Gratitude for Will’s contribution to Owen’s creation and saving his life dulled a little of the animosity she currently felt for him. She pulled the blanket up over the blue onesie decorated with Clifford the Big Red Dog, and suddenly a vision of a lace christening gown danced before her eyes. She blinked, but the gown remained fixed on her brain. Relief flickered through her limbs. Perhaps her gift wasn’t gone, after all. It was the first time in months she’d conjured up a design, and her fingers itched to sketch it. But just then, the plane’s wheels hit the runway with a bump and Owen woke up howling.