Nikki Benjamin - The Baby Bind

She was stuck in the town house with him for the night, so why not relax and enjoy the companionship Sean now seemed willing to offer her? With the rain still thundering down outside, the small kitchen, light and bright, provided a warm and cozy haven for the two of them.

Only by Sean’s choice they weren’t really a couple anymore—at least not in the same sense that they’d once been. If she allowed herself to pretend otherwise even for an evening, she knew that she would find it even more painful to face the reality awaiting her in the not-too- distant future.

Better to think of her husband as a business partner from now on, Charlotte warned herself as she took the sheaf of paperwork from the envelope and laid it out on the island countertop. A temporary partner with whom she would have dealings for only a short time before he walked out of her life for good.

“You’re looking just a mite grim all of a sudden,” Sean observed as he set two steaming mugs of café au lait on the counter, then sat on the stool across from her again. “Have you come upon something disturbing among all those papers from the adoption agency?”

“The number of forms alone that we’re supposed to complete is daunting,” Charlotte replied, glad to have something to use as a blind for her disquieting emotions.

She took a swallow of the hot, sweet, creamy coffee laced with chicory. Then she spread the various forms out in front of her, reading headings aloud as she turned them toward Sean for his perusal.

“To start, we need a written referral from the adoption agency in New Orleans, criminal background checks from the local and state police, and clearance from Immigration and Naturalization to bring the child into the country. Then we have to apply for approval from the adoption agency’s sister agency in Kazakhstan, as well as from the orphanage there. There’s also a form requesting a formal invitation from the orphanage to adopt the child and another one requesting a visa from the Kazakhstan government allowing us to travel to the city of Almaty where the orphanage is located.”

Charlotte risked a quick glance at her husband. She was afraid that the sheer volume of paperwork required to set the adoption process in motion would be enough to make him change his mind. Even with the agency’s help in assembling the necessary dossier—a service they offered that had been included in the fees she and Sean had already paid—the work involved would be time consuming.

Then they would have to spend approximately four weeks in Kazakhstan, meeting with agency and orphanage personnel and bonding with the child. Only after significant bonding between the adoptive parents and the child had occurred would their request for adoption be presented to the court and approval finally be given.

“They’re quite thorough, aren’t they?” Sean glanced at her, then focused on the forms again, adding, “That’s reassuring, at least to me.”

“Me, too,” Charlotte agreed, releasing with relief the breath she’d been holding.

Sean hadn’t sounded as if he’d been thinking about backing out of his end of the bargain they’d made…at least not yet.

“With so many checks and balances in place, once the adoption has been completed and we’re home again, there shouldn’t be any problem with anyone challenging our rights as the child’s parents,” he continued, surprising Charlotte with his use of we and our , and the plural parents .

Just a slip of the tongue, she told herself, trying hard not to get her hopes up again. But she had to admit that Sean wasn’t distancing himself nearly as much as he’d led her to believe he would earlier. Especially considering the fact that he wasn’t planning on sticking around to be a full-time, or even part-time, father once they’d finished with the business of adopting the child.

“That was one of the things that impressed me the most about the Robideaux Agency when we first began looking into the possibility of adopting a child,” Charlotte said. “They have an excellent and well-established reputation for setting up successful legal adoptions of healthy foreign children. They also provided us with a lengthy list of references from other adoptive parents who had used their services.”

Sean shot her a long, measuring look, his pale gray eyes seeming to assess her response in a calculating manner.

“You’ve certainly done your homework,” he drawled, his tone not altogether approving.

Charlotte’s initial response to his comment was to blink at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. Then she realized he was once again inferring that she’d gone behind his back somehow by contacting the Robideaux Agency without his knowledge.

“Yes, I did,” she admitted, eyeing him narrowly as she barely controlled her anger. “But that was over a year ago when we first talked about the adoption option and we realized that at our age we had a better chance of adopting a baby from a foreign country. You told me then to be very careful not to get involved with a fly-by-night organization, and I was. In fact, I told you quite a lot about the Robideaux Agency before we had our first meeting with our counselor there, and it was my understanding that you approved of the way they handled their adoptions. Although I’m thinking that you must not have paid much attention to what I told you or you would have remembered it now.”

“There was a lot going on in our lives a year ago, Charlotte,” Sean retorted defensively. “My business had almost doubled as companies around the city and state began to see the need to increase their on-site security following the hurricane. You were in the midst of another round of fertility treatments then, too, and miserable most of the time as a result. You’d end up in tears during just about every conversation I tried to have with you—”

“Probably because you so obviously resented taking any of your precious time to actually listen to me,” Charlotte cut in, no longer able to hide her ire. “How was I supposed to respond when you were constantly rattling the change in your pockets, checking your watch or staring out the window like a condemned man hoping for a reprieve every time I turned to you for comfort?”

“All you talked about was how tired you were, how sick the drugs made you feel and how depressed you were. Then there were the twice-daily reports on how your temperature had either gone up or down, and how we had to schedule down to the exact minute when I’d next be expected to perform sexually. That was really something to anticipate, too,” he snapped sarcastically. “You lying in bed about as relaxed and willing as a terrified virgin, hands gripping the sheets—”

Charlotte looked away from him, remembering how her confidence in herself as a woman had dwindled more and more as one barren month followed another. Then, smiling ruefully, she shook her head as she spoke her next thought aloud.

“Then I find out that the whole time I’ve been beating myself up for my inability to get pregnant you actually weren’t all that thrilled about the prospect of fatherhood.”

“Not the whole time,” Sean insisted quietly.

“So I was only making a fool of myself for what—six to eight months before you finally spoke up? That’s such a relief to know,” Charlotte allowed, taking her own turn at sarcasm as she gathered the forms from the adoption agency and started to stuff them into the envelope.

“I never once thought you were making a fool of yourself, Charlotte,” Sean said, his tone softening unexpectedly at the same moment she felt the touch of his hand on her wrist. “But I was worried about you—the way you kept obsessing —”