Chapter 2 – Everything Has Changed

“The wine was a bad, bad idea,” Adeline said as she took another sip of it from her glass.

“It's been a long day,” Lance said with a smile. “You needed to relax.”

“Mission accomplished,” she said, setting the glass down on the concrete behind her. “I definitely feel relaxed.”

After the stressful day at court, he had convinced her to spend some time in the complex's hot tub, outside along with the swimming pool. It was already dark, the only light coming from the pool lights and what little street light shined on them. They were completely alone, with almost everyone else in bed or inside their own apartments, not willing to brave the chilly April air for a dip.

She leaned into him, nuzzling the back of her head into his chest. He rubbed up and down both of her arms softly with his hands, making sure she stayed relaxed.

“I'll miss this hot tub when we move back to New York,” she said, enjoying his treatment.

“Maybe we should look into getting one of our own,” he said.

“And put it where?” she said with a chuckle. “There's no space for a hot tub in either of our apartments.”

“I don't know,” he said lazily. “Maybe we should look into buying a house first.”

“For just the two of us?” she asked. “Seems a little silly to me.”

She expected a comeback, but he stayed quiet like he had been most of the night, only lifting his own wine glass to his lips.

“I can't believe it's finally over,” she said, putting her hand through his. “I'm finally rid of him. I can move on with my life now – I hardly know how to, but yet I know exactly how I want to.”

“And how's that?” he asked.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Dress shopping. Picking out colors. Setting a final date.”

He only chuckled at her.

“I know it was me who wanted to wait at least a year after the divorce to get married,” she said. “And I know that you agreed it's best because it's too soon after the divorce – but it feels so unfair. We've been waiting for this a long time already.”

He nodded in agreement as he took another drink.

“We've been together over a year and I haven't even been divorced twenty-four hours yet. It's like we have to restart the clock all over again.”

“We don't have to,” he said. “We haven't hidden the fact that we were together after you filed for divorce, just before. And we can thank him for bringing those pictures of us into the divorce proceedings – I'm sure it won't be long before he goes to the media about that and it comes out anyway. If you want to move the wedding up a few months, we can do that.”

The thought of waiting until May of the year following to get married tortured her – but the idea of moving it up any sooner brought mixed feelings.

“I just don't want it to look like I couldn't wait to get away from my husband,” she said.

“Even though you couldn't, right?” he asked with a smile.

“Of course I couldn't,” she said, returning the smile. “But I don't want it to be distasteful. Media is already talking, they've seen my engagement ring – you have a reputation to look out for, and apparently so do I now.”

Stories about the divorce had been making news for months, of course because of Marc's success in his career and in Hollywood. She had gone from nobody important to a fairly well-known name in very little time and somehow, Lance always landed in the middle of it. Even before they decided to steer into the skid and allowed themselves to be photographed holding hands last summer, his name had come up in the articles because she worked for him. Her and Lance had been news for about a week after a photographer from TMZ had taken the infamous picture, until a new story came along that was more exciting.

But there was still talk about them and she had become a pseudo-celebrity for a different reason now – because she was the girlfriend. Rumors had circled since then, remaining low on the radar until a photographer had noticed the ring on her finger. She had heard everything from the obvious story that she had gotten pregnant from a one-night stand with him, to ridiculous theories that she was a polygamist – for which she had Perez to thank.

Each one was sillier than the last and Lance had dispelled all of them on his radio show, but people still talked about them. Anytime she realized a photographer had caught her, she wondered what they had taken photos of and how they would use them to make up a new story. She had learned to stay away from certain places – the pregnancy test aisle at the drug store, the maternity clothing section, and baby stores, which had caused issues a few months ago when a friend of Lance's had a baby and she had to send a gift on his behalf. They still managed to get plenty of shots – and how they took a picture of her buying milk at the grocery store and turned it into a web of lies still mesmerized her.

The process made her appreciate what Lance went through more, as a celebrity. She couldn't go anywhere anymore without wondering if she would end up on an article or blog the next day. He told her to ignore every single story, even to stop checking the websites and magazines to keep up on possible bad PR, but she couldn't help herself. During her marriage, she had stayed away from the spotlight for a reason, and now she was realizing how good of a decision that was.

“I don't want to jeopardize any of that,” she said to him.

“Then we can wait,” he said with a shrug. “I'll do whatever you want – if you want to move the wedding up a few months, we can do that. I don't care; whatever makes you happy.”

“You know what makes me happy?” she asked as she shifted her body around to face him.

“What?”

“You.” She sat in his lap, straddling him as he sat on the ledge of the hot tub and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That's all I want – you.”

She leaned down to place her lips on his softly, and all at once the rush of the day took her over. The wine, the lighting, the warmth of the water – the freedom.

“Let's go upstairs,” she whispered.

She was sure they looked like two teenagers while they climbed out of the hot tub as fast as their bodies could carry them – him slipping against the smooth surface of the bottom and her giggling as she grabbed his hand to give him leverage to push himself out. Dripping wet, they grabbed their towels and haphazardly wrapped them around their bodies as they headed up the stairs, not stopping to dry themselves off.

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“I think...we just need to...lay here...”

“Yeah,” she whispered, her head resting on his chest as he ran his fingers lazily along her spine. They were both short of breath and covered in a slight sheen of sweat, but she relished these moments.

It took them a few minutes to catch their breath. When she moved to his side, Lance pulled her to him, their limbs tangled up together with the sheets.

“Did you mean it?” he asked after she wrapped her arm around him, her hand moving up to run up through his hair from the nape of his neck.

“Mean what?” she asked.

“That I make you happy.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

She could tell, even in the near dark, that he had something on his mind. Before she could say anything, he leaned in to kiss her.

“You know what would make me happy?” he asked.

“What?”

“Let's have a baby,” he whispered against her mouth.

She disconnected from him for a moment, but not out of shock. She might have been shocked – if this had been the first time he asked.

“No,” she said firmly.

She grabbed a loose sheet from the bed and wrapped it around herself to get up, walking towards the dresser for clothes. He leaned up and sighed.

“We can at least try, Addy.”

“You know this is always a no, Lance,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, sounding discouraged. “What I don't know is why it's always a no.”

“No, you wouldn't, would you?” she asked as she grabbed an old t-shirt and shorts to put on.

“I know what the doctors told you.”

She froze mid-air, hoping it wasn't too noticeable to him in the dark. The fact was, he didn't know everything. Like most women, there were things she still held tightly to her heart and didn't let go to him, even though she loved him.

“But we're still young,” he said. “We have a couple of years to spare, for the sake of trying. I want to try before we jump right into adoption.”

She knew it would come up eventually. In fact, she had told him that once he became more comfortable in their relationship, his feelings on having children would change. And it had taken only a few months to get to that point.

What she hadn't known was that, somewhere along their path, there would be a breakdown in communication that made him think she said one thing – when she meant another.

“I can't talk about this right now,” she said. She adjusted the shirt she had pulled over her body and turned on her heels, walking right out of the bedroom door.

He rolled his eyes and let his head fall back to the pillow, sighing.

“As stubborn as the day is long,” he whispered to himself before throwing the covers back.

When she reached the living room, she hastily sat down on the couch and grabbed the closest thing she could to occupy her hands – the knitting needles connected to a half-done project she had been working on. Her therapist had thought it beneficial for her to pick the hobby back up, and she found it helpful when she was distressed – like she was now, almost in tears.

As she threw the yarn over the needle and brought it through the first stitch, she contemplated her first mistake – not telling him the truth all along. When she had told him about her history, she never assumed he would think she was incapable of getting pregnant. It took her months to realize it, until one morning he caught her off-guard.

“Why do you take those?” he asked one morning after brushing his teeth, watching her pop a birth control pill out of the little disk.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, you can't get pregnant.”

She had frozen in place for a few seconds while it sank in what he meant.

“Why do you take birth control if you can't get pregnant anyway?” he asked.

When she realized that they were in two different mindsets, fear had taken over and she didn't have the courage to tell him that he had misunderstood her.

“It uh...it levels things out,” she muttered as she put the pill in her mouth and swallowed it with a glass of water quickly.

“Levels things out?” he asked, confused.

She smiled through her panic. “That's the womanly way of saying that it keeps my periods regular.”

He immediately threw his hands up and turned.

“Too much,” he said as he walked out of the bathroom. “Sorry I asked.”

And now, she simply couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell him the real reason she took birth control; that the fear of getting pregnant again and repeating history kept her from entertaining the idea of trying to have another baby. He wanted to hang onto the idea that even if it failed to give them a result, trying couldn't hurt – when she knew better.

“Uh oh,” he said as he entered the room and saw her working. “I struck a nerve.”

“I don't want to talk about it,” she said.

“We don't have to,” he said, walking over next to her. “I surrender, okay? It's not my place to push you into a big decision like this, even if I want it. I'll stop.”

“You don't surrender,” she said with a scoff. “You don't know the meaning of the word. In fact, you don't even own a white flag – physical or metaphorical.”

“That's why I brought this with me.”

She looked up to see him holding one of her clean white t-shirts, dangling it from his finger. She snatched the shirt from his hand, not knowing whether she wanted to tear up or laugh – but she started to do both at the same time. He sat down next to her, throwing his arm over the couch around her shoulder.

“I'm here, ready to talk about it whenever,” he said. “Even if you only want to tell me why the answer is and always will be a firm 'no'. You're stubborn, but I can out-wait you – I have before.”

“Unfortunately,” she said with a chuckle, wiping away a tear. Then she groaned as her therapist came to mind. “I guess a trip to Dr. Little is in order for this week, huh?”

“Yeah, it sounds like that would be a good idea,” he said. He picked up the fabric hanging from the needles in her lap. “What is this supposed to be anyway?”

“If you keep pissing me off, it will be a scarf before winter,” she said with a smile.

“As long as you don't use it to strangle me when you're done,” he said with a laugh before kissing her on her cheek.