The Baby Scandal

by Valentine, Layla

  He came into the room, concern furrowing his brow. “You don’t seem like yourself, Grace. What’s wrong?”

  I’m having your baby and your wife knows. She wants to destroy us both and she will if I tell you. The words bubbled up in my chest and tangled themselves in knots in my throat. I can’t, I can’t.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  He was puzzled, then looked ashamed. Nodding, he stepped away from the door and into the room.

  “I mean, I can’t find my phone,” I said desperately. “You haven’t seen it anywhere, have you? I mean, I suppose I could replace it, but that seems silly since I know it’s here. I mean I think it is anyway, not in this room though, I haven’t worked in this room since Thursday. I don’t know why I thought it was in here.”

  I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t seem to stop. The urge to tell him about the baby—his baby—was so overwhelming I was afraid that if I let my guard down for a second, it would just spill out. Would that be so bad? I looked up into those beautiful, sorrowful eyes and thought it could be the best thing I ever did.

  But as I opened my mouth to tell him, Amelia’s cold glare rose up in my mind. I could almost feel icy fingers around my throat, crushing the words before they could escape. She would destroy us. If she even knew I was here with him right now, she would jump to conclusions and ruin us both. I couldn’t let that happen.

  He was gazing at me with a softness that broke my heart.

  “Grace, are you really all right?”

  “I—yes, I’m fine. I just—I have to go, I’m sorry.”

  “Your phone!” he called after me as I hurried down the hall.

  “Oh! Damn.” Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes.

  He was by my side a moment later. He lifted his arm to pat my shoulder, then let it fall again before making contact. “I’ll call your phone,” he said. “I’m sorry to have upset you.”

  I couldn’t speak, so I nodded. My phone began to ring and I followed the sound to David’s door, then looked at him helplessly.

  “Is it in there?” he asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Well come on, then.” He opened the door for me and gestured me inside.

  Don’t do it, don’t do it. But my feet were already moving inside.

  I found my phone on the nightstand, but I didn’t pick it up right away. Instead, I took in the sight of my phone beside his warm, masculine bed. If a person didn’t know better, they would assume that I had stayed the night. It was a comfortable sort of misery, and I allowed myself to wallow in it for a second longer than I should have.

  “Here it is,” he said, sweeping past me. “Isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Our fingers touched as I took the phone from him. Electric warmth shivered over me, and all I wanted to do was fall into his arms.

  “I’m glad you stopped by,” he said, a little too casually. “I wanted to tell you how much I love what you’ve done with the place.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” I snatched my phone to my chest and turned around. “I’m glad you like it. It was great to see…the finished product. I have to go.”

  He followed me out of the room. “Are you certain you won’t have a drink before you go?”

  “Got to drive to Queens. Bye!”

  The front door barely closed behind me before I burst into tears. The elevator was down on the first floor and I couldn’t just stand there and wait for him to find me looking like this. Choking back sobs, I ran for the stairs.

  As I ran, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had missed my only chance.

  Chapter 22

  David

  The temptation to run after Grace had been nearly overwhelming. Something was wrong, I could feel it. Something beyond what happened between us in London. Had Amelia been filling her mind with lies about me? She had nearly jumped out of her skin when our fingers inadvertently touched. Perhaps Amelia suspected something and threatened her?

  No. Blaming Amelia was the easy way out. It removed my own responsibility and allowed anger to replace reason in my mind. It would not do, I refused to allow myself to ignore the part that I had played in all of this. Grace fled because I had shown her that she should, that was all. Would I have done differently if I had been in her shoes?

  I shook my head. Of course I would have. I wasn’t strong enough to fight the riptide of my desire for her on my own. If she had given me an opening, any indication that she still wanted me, I would have allowed myself to be swept away. I had done my best to quell these emotions but had only succeeded in shielding myself from them until the moment I saw her face.

  I can’t let Amelia see me like this, I realized. I must get myself under control.

  Amelia had taken ill at a party a few weeks prior and hadn’t been able to get out of bed, despite the source of her affliction being unclear. Her friends were nice enough to host her until she felt better, and I had been playing the part of the devoted husband at her insistence. I suspected it was a ploy of some kind, some sort of social one-upmanship, but I did as I was told whenever I didn’t have business to attend to.

  It had not been enjoyable. I despised those people. They had inherited their wealth as teenagers and had never managed to grow up. They had absconded with Amelia to Spain the year before without a word to me. She had reappeared a week later with a deep tan and seventeen new pieces of luggage, giggling with her friends like a schoolgirl playing hooky even after I informed her that I had the authorities looking for her in three different countries.

  My phone chimed with a text message just as I was steeling myself to return.

  “Jen is taking me to her physician.”

  No other information.

  “Are you leaving now?” I wrote back.

  “Yes. We’ll be back tonight.”

  I shook my head, believing none of it. By midnight, I assumed she wouldn’t be coming home at all. There was no telling where in the world she would be in the morning. She had been gone long enough to get anywhere on Jen’s private jet. The blessing was that I was left alone to wrestle my own heart. The curse was that I had no distraction from the ever-widening wound in my heart, no reason to put a mask over my pain.

  Amelia lay at the core of it. The lifestyle to which she was accustomed was exactly what kept her from ever considering granting me a divorce, let alone an annulment. The money and power, and the status that came along with having a wealthy businessman for a husband, were too intoxicating for her to surrender lightly. I knew if I could just talk to Grace for a moment, I could explain all of that to her.

  I pulled out my phone, then put it away again. She wouldn’t answer. Why would she? She hadn’t before. I thought about how she had behaved that day and shook my head. Her feelings on the matter hadn’t seemed to have changed.

  She must have an office, I thought. If I could just get the address. Spurred by a wave of hopeful desperation, I logged on to the computer. My fingers flew over the keys, tenderly summoning her name into the search bar.

  A phone number, fax number, an email address. None of those would help. I had to speak to her in person; I had to look into her eyes. Where the hell was her office?

  I searched this thing and that, arranging the words differently, opening maps, and chasing down rabbit holes for hours. I thought I would explode with frustration.

  I was considering whether or not to chuck the computer out the window when I recalled how many times she had mentioned her mother’s place in Queens. Perhaps I had simply been looking in the wrong place. I had assumed that her office would be based in Manhattan and had designed my searches to reflect that. I rubbed my face hard and tried once more.

  “Grace Baker designer Queens street address,” I ordered the machine. A story popped up instantly and I clicked on it.

  It appeared to be from several years ago. There was a photo of her, just as beautiful, but with a naiveté shining in her eyes which had since been replaced with determination and understanding. She stood beside an older wo
man who only resembled Grace in her smile and the soft angle of her jaw, but who would have been a handsome woman in her day.

  “Queens’ Favorite New Up-and-Coming Interior Designer Graduates Today!

  Grace Baker, winner of the DIY Design Awards three years in a row, is finally prepared to bring her talents to the world.”

  I skimmed the article, looking for anything that would shine some light on the situation.

  “Of course the DIY Awards aren’t Grace’s only achievements. When she was still in high school, she put her parents’ house on the map with the Cherry Street HOA Awards. Her renovations were so unique and inspiring that she was given a full spread in Interior Design magazine at the tender age of sixteen.”

  The article included a picture of the house. I had the neighborhood, the street, and a picture. I leaned back in my chair with a frown. I couldn’t imagine that she still lived at home with her mother, and I couldn’t possibly bring myself to harass an old lady without pretense. Besides, Grace’s mother had probably heard all about me. She would toss me out on my rear if I wasn’t careful.

  I needed common ground. Something to offer.

  I was still thinking in transactions, searching for a way to buy an hour of Grace’s time so that she would be obligated to hear me out. But that was wrong and I knew it. Grace didn’t owe me a damn thing, especially after everything I had put her through. I knew I could never really make up for what I’d done, but perhaps there was some way I could ease her burden now.

  “She left her mother’s house half-finished,” I murmured, in half a daze from staying up all night. “She hasn’t had time to go back to it.”

  Determination steeled my spine and a boyish hope put a spring in my step. That was it. If I could help Grace and her mother in a single stroke, she would be forced to talk to me. At least long enough to scold me for interfering, but I could work with that. I’d negotiated from less pleasant starting ground before.

  Heart racing, I grabbed my keys and rushed out the door to my car.

  “Cherry Street, Queens, New York,” I told my GPS.

  Its feminine, robotic voice responded, “Routing you now.”

  The sun was rising as I pulled out of the parking garage. I grinned for the first time in weeks. Today was going to be a good day.

  Chapter 23

  Grace

  I had spent the night wishing he would call, knowing that my emotions would sweep my better judgment away the instant I heard his voice. Eventually, I cried myself to sleep. When he still hadn’t called by morning, I was convinced that even if he did know, he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me or the baby. I held onto the thought like a life preserver.

  It was fine. I didn’t need him anyway, did I? He and Amelia deserved one another. I didn’t really believe it, but I held it up like a shield. I was finally finished with them for good, and now I was determined to get my life back in order.

  I would start with my mom’s house, I decided. It was still bright and early. I would just have a cup of coffee and then drive on over to finish what I’d started.

  I began brewing the coffee and texted my mom.

  “You ready to have a fully decorated house?”

  I set the phone down to make my cup before she replied. It wasn’t until I was half-finished with it that I remembered what coffee had been doing to my belly recently. I heard the phone chime as I raced—waddled, really—to the bathroom.

  I emerged a few hours later, begrudgingly refreshed by a long shower and a short nap. Nobody had ever told me how exhausting pregnancy would be, though I probably should have expected it. “It’s not like I’m creating a whole new life or anything,” I grumbled to myself.

  My phone was ringing when I made it back to my little kitchen. It was Mom. Groaning internally, I prepared my apologies as I answered.

  “Hey, Mom, about the house—”

  “Don’t worry about it at all, honey, they’re doing a great job. You picked some good people. I was just calling to check on you. It’s not like you to leave a crew under someone else’s supervision. He’s cute! If I were thirty years younger…”

  “Wait, what?”

  “The foreman or whatever you want to call him. Good body, right? And he sounds just like James Bond.”

  “Mom,” I said with an embarrassment which quickly faded to concern. “Wait, are you telling me that there’s a crew of people at your house right now?”

  “Clean out your ears, kiddo! Yes, they got here just fine and went right to work. The stairs are all done, and the living room is coming together nicely. Oh, it’ll be so good to have a living room again! Thank you, sweetie. I know you’ve been swamped lately. I didn’t want to ask you to do this yourself.”

  I was panicking, but I couldn’t bear to worry her needlessly. I hadn’t ordered any crew to her house.

  “I could have used a bit more heads up, though,” Mom said with a chuckle. “They were here as soon as I read your text. I still had my curlers in! Oh, well, it’s not like anybody looks at my hair these days anyway.”

  “I’ll remember that for next time,” I promised absently. “Actually, I had a few ideas that I don’t think I communicated properly, so I’m going to drive over and talk to them. Okay?”

  “Well, okay dear, but don’t change too much. They’re doing a great job. Besides, the sooner this gets done, the sooner I can have the girls over for brunch.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll handle it. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

  “All right, honey. See you soon!”

  My heart was pounding in my throat as I hung up the phone. Who on earth was working in my mom’s house? Would they be billing her? She certainly couldn’t afford it. I could barely afford to hire crews for the jobs I was getting paid for. I would have had to spend so much of what Amelia paid me to hire a crew for Mom’s place that I hadn’t even considered it.

  What if they were thieves, just waiting for her to step away for a moment before clearing out the house? She wouldn’t leave while people were there. What if they got impatient and hurt her, or worse? Darker and darker scenarios ran through my brain as I sped down the road.

  I recognized the name on the crew van when I pulled up to the house. Sure enough, they were interior design contractors. Good ones, too. I had worked with them myself a few times, but only for projects which had limitless budgets. My heart sank. I might as well just sign Amelia’s entire check over to them.

  But where did they come from, and why?

  I pulled into the only free space in front of my mom’s house. As I did, three men stepped out of the front door. Two vaguely familiar contractors…and David.

  I froze. He met my eyes and his face lit up with the most beautiful, genuine smile I had ever seen. My heart melted into a buttery puddle, then began to soar. Of course he did this. The silly, reckless, generous fool heard every word I said and decided to help me just because he could.

  I wanted to run to him, belly and all, and tell him everything. But as he took a step toward the car, I hit the accelerator as hard as I could. This was my last chance to protect my baby’s future.

  “I don’t want to gamble with your prospects, kid,” I said to my bump. “But you know, there are other things I can do. I minored in business, you know. I could open a spa or something. I have enough saved to launch a small business in an entirely different sector. Something creative, but not necessarily design. It would take a lot of work. I wouldn’t have a lot of time with you. Probably couldn’t afford daycare, at least not at first, but your grandma would take care of you.”

  The thought of burdening my mother with the task of raising a baby at her age steeled my resolve. I wasn’t going to let this go without a fight.

  “Everybody deserves a chance at happiness,” I said, still mentally talking to the baby. “Everybody deserves a chance to be loved. David would love you so much, I just know he would. Even if he couldn’t be there all the time. Trust me, if he knew about you, he’d be over the moon. I know
I said he wouldn’t, but I was wrong. I know I was wrong. He’s a romantic at heart, and he wants a baby. It’s not fair to you or to him to keep this a secret. She just has to see that.”

  I had logic, reason, and appeals to emotion on my side. I would promise discretion and convince her, somehow, that it was for the best. If she had a humane bone in her body, she would see things my way.

  The thought comforted me as I pulled into the familiar visitor’s space at Amelia’s penthouse. I barely noticed that all of the other spots were full. The doorman greeted me familiarly and waved me to the elevators. I gave him a grateful smile and bolted toward them.

  My mind was so full of arguments and pleas that I didn’t have room to spare for small talk. The elevator attendant didn’t seem to mind. It was a different person again, and a tiny corner of my brain wondered what the turnover rate on a job like that must be. I briefly thanked the girl as I hurried through the foyer and rang the bell with a shaking finger.

  “Amelia! The door—oh, I’ll get it.” An unfamiliar feminine voice floated through the door.

  My stomach lurched. I couldn’t bring this up in front of company, could I? But before I could turn around and run, the door had opened.

  “Come in, come in! Amelia’s around here somewhere. Are you a member of the Manhattan club, or are you one of her overseas friends? Oh, never mind, there’s Charlie! Charlie, be a dear and get me a drink, would you?” The blond, bejeweled woman turned back to me with a bright, but somewhat sloshy smile.

  Oh, no. Not just company. Amelia was throwing a cocktail party for what looked to be all of Manhattan’s VIPs.

  I began to back away, but the blond woman caught my elbow.

  “Come in, dear, come in! Have you met Bert? Bert! Look at this pretty girl I found, come say hello!”

  “I’m sorry, excuse me, I’ll just—”

  “Bert, this is—oh, what did you say your name was, dear?”