Roll of a Lifetime

by Melanie Greene

  “Dr. Saavedra?”

  “It’s looking good. Uterus is good, cord doing its thing. Heartbeat great.” She checked her notes, smiled at Rachel, then went about putting away her ultrasound. “Based on what you said, even with your irregular cycle, you should be a bit over seven weeks. I’m checking my measurements, but that’s not right. The embryo’s too big, too developed. I’m calling it nine weeks, three days. Which puts you back in line with your last menstrual. Does that fit with your experiences? If you conceived about two weeks before the night of the emergency contraceptive?”

  Well, there went her toes again. She understood that the subtext was, “Do you feel the same about the pregnancy if it’s two weeks further along than you thought?” But all she could ask was, “Is it dangerous for the baby? The morning after pill?”

  “No. It was a great deal of progestin, but well past the time that would have stopped pregnancy. Obviously. The timing was fine.”

  She nodded, sinking back enough for the paper under her butt to rustle. “Cool.”

  Dr. Saavedra took her relief as confirmation that the essential nature of the conversation hadn’t changed. Which, it hadn’t. Not that every other damn thing was clear to her yet. But confirmation that the pregnancy was real, and healthy, settled something within her. Smoothed down all her prickles, so even her toes managed to relax.

  It didn’t ease all those Sergei-snide fears about how Theo would react to the news. Or how she might manage the whole single parenting two preschoolers aspect of her next few years. Or what long-term fallout the decision to keep this baby would have on it, on her, and on Hannah.

  But knowing she contained a fast new heartbeat and over an inch of busily multiplying cells working away within her? Even the scariest questions lifted up and away and gave her room, for now, to process one thing at a time.

  Almost immediately after Theo opened the door to her, she was gaga for his son. Probably hormones or something. He was ferociously cute, and spent her first three minutes there hiding behind Theo’s legs, big brown eyes sparkling like he was giggling to himself the whole time. By the time he crept out to take the box of toy cars she’d set on the coffee table, he was flirting with her. But still not saying a word. She could tell from Theo’s smirk that he knew the kid was playing her.

  Call her a guitar, then, cause Andres had no trouble strumming her heartstrings. By dinnertime, they were all friends. By dessert, he’d offered to give her some of his duplicate Pokémon cards so she could start her own collection. Not too many. But a few. She declined, but it didn’t seem to faze him. Theo left her watching a movie while they disappeared for bedtime.

  His mistake. She was more than half asleep herself when he returned. Way too fuzzy-brained to start a serious conversation. Way too lethargic to get intimate. They snuggled and stroked and spoke idly for a bit, long enough to wake her up.

  “I should head out.”

  “Mmm.” His tongue had other ideas.

  “Theo. If you lure me to your room, you’re not getting rid of me tonight.”

  He wrapped a leg over hers. “Right.”

  She laughed. “So that’s what you want? Your son to find me here in the morning?”

  He withdrew his mouth, but his hands didn’t get the message. Her body kept trying to convince her to jump in on the action, too. Ridiculous body. Good thing her mind still knew how to be stern. She scooted to the other end of the sofa.

  “I could wake you up early and sneak you out.”

  “And what’s your son’s track record on sleeping in?”

  “It’s been known to happen.”

  “On the morning y’all head to Galveston? When he’s already got his beach toys and boogie board stacked and ready to go by the front door?”

  Theo snorted. “That’s my proof I’ve got a real influence on him.”

  “Excessive planning? I’d say so. Have you introduced him to spreadsheets yet?”

  He rubbed his neck. “Well. I mean. Checklists are so useful.”

  This man. Her gut really needed to stop tugging her towards him. They were so much more bound up in each other than he even knew, and until they talked.... She stood. He deserved to enjoy his vacation without all this future hanging over his head. Discussing it now, too tired and too cautious about being overheard by a wakeful child and too close to days upon nights with no follow-up time. No. Bad plan.

  “Thanks for dinner.”

  “Thanks for dessert.”

  “Your son’s super.”

  “Thanks, I think so, too.”

  Oh, the hidden messages in all their words. She was too sleepy to read it. Dreadful to imagine how much more exhausted she’d be trying converse during the second trimester. She covered her yawn and leaned against the warm welcome of Theo’s chest. “Okay, I’m off. Have a great time on your trip, drive safe. Text me.”

  “I will, if you’ll text me tonight when you get home.”

  She squeezed him to her. She’d miss touching him so often, now he’d gone and gotten her used to it all the time. “Promise.”

  Another kiss. Damn he tasted sweet. Another. Palms on backs. Shoulders brushing. One last kiss.

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “Have too much fun to miss me.”

  Another kiss. “Not sure that’s possible. But we’ll try.”

  “Night, Theo.”

  He watched her to her car, waved as she pulled away.

  Next time they saw each other, everything would change.

  Chapter Thirty

  The AR balance didn’t mesh with his receipts.

  He scrubbed at his face and checked he’d run the right dates on the report. Scanned the credit card reconciliations. Went back to the start of the month and highlighted each row on his spreadsheet as he compared it to the daily sales.

  Despite his haste to finish this report, get through the monthly meeting, and steal some time with Rachel before picking Andres up from his aunt’s house, it wasn’t his sex-starved brain. The receipts were off. The cash deposits to the bank were short almost five grand.

  Fucking. Hell.

  He’d spent their nights at the beach with his laptop open once Andres was crashed out, compiling everything for the monthly meeting and the reports to their lender. He’d expected to show up long enough to reconcile the reports with the paper receipts, email off a pile of papers, sit around checking off lists during their meeting. It should have been rote. Same thing he did every month, so no matter that he was away from the office. Sunburnt neck and too much fried seafood in his gut and the laughter of the people around the hotel pool made no difference to his ability to power through this part of his job. But then he showed up at his desk, lined up his piles of paper, and ... the balance didn’t mesh.

  It wasn’t the tips. The ins and outs of reported tips all lined up. The missing cash came out of four day’s totals, three weeknights and one hefty Saturday. Each day’s deposit showed up on his general ledger correctly, but the cash never made it to the bank.

  Which meant ... well, it meant one of only a few possibilities. A shift manager—two shift managers, due to who was on duty on the dates in question—recording sales but still pocketing the money without anyone noticing. Something hinky at the bank. Or straight-up malfeasance on the part of the man in charge of ferrying the deposit.

  Sergei.

  Unbidden, an image of that flower garden drawing on Rachel’s fridge flashed in his mind. He’d gone out of his way to censure Sergei about his child support arrears, and now this. The missing cash would have gone a long way towards what the man owed Rachel. The money she needed to get a safer, more reliable car. The reserves that, he sensed, would give her a feeling of security and independence. Draw the lines she needed to be less susceptible to Sergei’s and his mother’s manipulations.

  And if he didn’t act, what kind of funds would go missing in three weeks, when he took Andres to visit his parents? What’s to say Sergei wouldn’t take the chance to pocket everything that came
in. Two summer weekends of receipts, on top of the weeknight happy hours and trivia night? Could he keep the man on, after this? Would Rachel blame him for firing her ex, right when she’d gained the financial security she so craved?

  No, she wouldn’t. Her fair-mindedness would put the guilt on Sergei’s shoulders. But no matter that she had nothing to do with it, she would also censure herself for having mentioned how much Sergei owed. As if she was the one who’d pressured the man over it. Meanwhile, she’d be wondering how she would manage Hannah’s expenses with Sergei unemployed again. And probably keeping her worries to herself because of his track record of overstepping.

  What a crappy impulse. Not wanting to confront Serg in order to preserve Rachel’s peace of mind. And pretending it was for her benefit, as if she was incapable of separating everyone’s actions. As if his lies could build a solid foundation for the future he craved with her.

  Fucking, fucking hell.

  Ron picked up on the fifth ring, curt and resistant when Theo asked him to join him in the office.

  “No, it needs to be now.” Theo closed his eyes against the color-coded sheet on his screen.

  “Fine.”

  Two minutes later, Ron shut the door and hefted himself into the chair across from Theo.

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” He lounged in her doorway, looking all cute and calm and not one bit like there was life-changing news hurtling towards him.

  Not that he knew there was.

  She stood back to let him in, managing to get the door shut before he plastered her against it. She knew he’d left the beach the day before, so it made zero sense, him still carrying salt and breeze and wild, churning undercurrents inside her apartment. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe she was projecting.

  He didn’t give her tons of time for analysis, though. Tugging her to the couch, kicking his shoes towards the door, yanking off his shirt.

  “Got a little UV exposure, I see.” See. Felt. Her palms had their own agenda, searching out the sun-kissed planes of his chest. Goddamn greedy sun, kissing him when she wasn’t there to stop it.

  “Yep. Let’s see if you did, too.”

  Ah, hell. She wanted his hands on her. His hands, his eyes, his mouth. And it wasn’t like she was so very different yet, so early in this pregnancy.

  It wasn’t like he was such a connoisseur of her particular body he would detect any differences anyway. Even if she did feel a little tight in the midsection when she wasn’t in her scrubs. One of the other daycare moms had given her an interested look the other day, but didn’t blurt out any questions about how occupied her uterus was, so it could have been anything.

  The main problem was the life-changing news thing. Sex with Theo counted in general as a superb idea, but not when it filled up the limited time she had to break it to him.

  Never mind if the news would maybe also break her heart. Silly thing was thudding up a storm, and only the knowledge that the baby’s heart was beating even faster grounded her, calmed her down. “Theo. Hang on.”

  He moved his hands to bracket her hips. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

  She snorted. “Oh, that’s a trick question. I think so, yes. But also, everything is complex.”

  Because the world was funny like that, his phone buzzed then. Twice. And then rang. The stretch of tension she thought she’s spotted in him at the door returned. “That’s Ron. Um. Hang on.”

  He glanced at his discarded shirt, but left it alone as he scooted a bit down the couch. “Hi.... Sure. I’m a few minutes away, but—no. Right. I appreciate that, but I think we should both....”

  She moved into the kitchen. Not that she couldn’t still overhear the tension in his voice, couldn’t make out the words. But it maybe gave him a sense of privacy, because he sank into the sofa cushions, ran his hand through the hair she’d just mussed.

  He was talking about Sergei.

  Not that she was eavesdropping on purpose. But the name was too bound up in her life, like kudzu vining its way through every facet of her world. Ridiculous and invasive and clingy. Too hard to escape. And too ugly to bear. How she would navigate his heaps of scorn when he heard about this pregnancy, she didn’t want to consider.

  Whatever Theo and Ron had to say, they were done now. And so was her view of Theo’s chest. He tugged his shirt’s hem into place. “Sorry. I ... things are a little....”

  “Something up with work?”

  “Yeah. I need to see if my aunt can keep Andres a bit longer. Hang on a minute?”

  She nodded, and got him a glass of iced tea while he talked to Tomás’s parents. When he pulled out the stool beside her and sat, she linked their hands on top of the breakfast bar. He’d spread all those purchases out across it—the painkiller and the crackers and the new box of condoms. Such a caretaker. Such a researcher. She’d had no clue that particular combination of sweetness would melt away so many of her barriers.

  He blew out a long breath. “Okay. So. This isn’t something we’ve resolved yet. Or even decided on a plan of any kind. Except Ron suggested, and I agree, no police.”

  “Wait. Police? What’s going on?”

  “I haven’t even finished all my accounting yet. And there could be some other explanation. It’s weird, is all. Normally I would be doing this directly with him, and I know he’s got Hannah another few nights, and that doesn’t affect anything. But.”

  All those undercurrents in her apartment were from him after all. “Theo. I think you’re trying to soften a blow somehow. But you’ve been talking about Sergei and cops and my daughter and I need you to be extremely up front with me right now.”

  “Shit.” He scrubbed at his beard. “She’s safe, I would never hide that from you. I’m not clear exactly what’s happened, and it makes it hard to explain everything. At the office today, I was matching up the work I’d done in Galveston with some paperwork on site. And we’re short a few grand in cash. And Sergei’s the one who takes the night deposits.”

  She slipped her hand away so she could cradle both chilled arms at once. “I don’t know what you mean. Are you saying Sergei embezzled from you?”

  Theo slumped. “I think so, yes. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize to me, he didn’t steal from me.”

  “I know, but....”

  Sometimes undercurrents ripped you right off your feet and dunked you underwater. Riptides. She remembered Aunt Johnston telling her about them, so full of her knowledge as if she didn’t live in a landlocked area. But Aunt went on about the tumult, the sucking of seawater into lungs, the dizziness of not knowing which direction was safe. So many details, and still Rachel hadn’t grasped how all that was bound up with a slap of betrayed surprise. “Oh. I see. You think he took the cash for me. For Hannah, I mean. Her account.”

  “We don’t know for sure it was even him. Or that I didn’t make a mistake with my books.”

  She snorted. “Yes, out of nowhere you are a terrible accountant now.”

  His shrug was a small thing. Imperceptible, almost. She buried her head in her hands. “Okay, so I’ll pay you guys back.”

  “The fuck?” His vehemence made her jump. “Rachel, no. That’s ridiculous.”

  Oh hell oh hell oh hell. Her stomach was flipping and curling in a way she’d have blamed on the baby, a few weeks down the road. Except it was all too familiar from her marriage, well before Hannah made the scene. That ‘you’ve made him mad so now you have to placate his anger’ feeling. But screw him. She hadn’t gotten clear of Sergei just to fall into the same goddamn patterns. “Do not call me ridiculous.”

  Whatever he heard in her voice sent him back against the sofa, speaking at her with fucking condescending exaggerated care. “I didn’t mean you are ridiculous. I only meant whatever happened, your money is yours. Hannah’s. It’s not on you to return it.”

  Right. Easy to say now. Easy for him to ignore the truth of how Sergei operated in favor of some fantasy of fai
r play. It wasn’t like he’d be the one Sergei belittled and browbeat to redirect any blame.

  “And we don’t know for sure it was him.”

  “But you don’t have a better explanation.”

  “No. That’s not proof though.”

  She shook her head. Her damn jaw was trembling, and she was almost proud of herself for not curling into a ball. “When you fire him, can you make sure his August child support is taken out of his final check? I know it’s the start of the month, but I think the OAG allows for that.”

  “Sure, but. We might not fire him.”

  Weird, how her head was still shaking. Some sort of perpetual motion action, back and forth, back and forth. Must be hypnotic to watch, to go by Theo’s expression. “Good thing I canceled that car appointment.”

  “You did? Why? I thought it was a great deal.”

  Oh. Hell. Inadequate hands, no good at making a barrier between her belly and the whole invasive terrible world. Inadequate shoulders, freezing halfway through a shrug to hunch around her neck. Inadequate lips, not curving around a convincing lie. She was, head to toe, not good enough to deal with all this. A failure throughout. “Didn’t work out. Not important now.”

  “The money’s yours,” he insisted. Because of course he did. Living in his dream world, where rightful things worked out and no surprise children came along to wake him to harsh reality.

  She nodded. The abrupt change from shaking sent a throb up through her skull. “Hannah’s.”

  He nodded, too. She was not placated. “Right. Hannah’s. But no matter what, not your problem. You could still get the car.”

  “Right.”

  “Rachel, listen.” But he stopped talking when his phone got buzzy again. “Shit. I have to go. This isn’t your problem, okay? It wouldn’t have been fair to hide the truth from you, and I could be wrong anyway. I’m sorry if telling you before I know all the facts was a mistake.”

  That knife twist, she knew, was in her heart, not her belly. Her goddamn impulse to reassure him. To say she’d rather know now even if things changed. To not be treated with evasion or kid gloves either one, like everyone her whole life. Rachel won’t understand the menu, you pick for her. Rachel, Dad and I discussed this and decided it’s best. Rachel, what’s the point of trying to explain things to you? Rachel, do your little assignment and let us handle all the rest. Rachel, I’ll let you know when I need something—go away until I ask. Rachel, don’t you think you’re at capacity already?