I turned to Justin, and the words tumbled out of my mouth.
“I’m pregnant.”
Chapter 26
Justin
“You’re…what?”
I was in a state of total shock.
“I’m pregnant.”
I sat back, sure that she was screwing with me.
“This is a joke, right?” I asked. “You’re messing with me. Come on.”
The color drained out of her face. Her mouth opened slightly.
“That…wasn’t the way I expected you to take this,” Heather said softly, her disappointment clear in her voice.
“Then—you’re being serious?”
“Of course, I’m being serious,” she snapped, her tone sharp enough to attract the attention of a pair of servers who were standing nearby.
I shot them a hard look, letting them know this wasn’t a conversation to be listened in on. They quickly turned their attention away.
I said nothing, instead sitting back in my seat and staring off into the middle distance. I didn’t know what to say.
“Justin,” Heather said earnestly. “Say something—anything.”
“How…how far along are you?”
“About eight weeks, I think,” she said. “I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, so I’ll know for sure then.”
“I see,” I said. I did the quick math. It meant that she’d gotten pregnant pretty soon after we met up again for the show. I couldn’t believe it.
“Justin, come on. Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” Heather said, her voice soft and pleading. “I need to know how you feel about all this.”
But I didn’t know what to say. It was bizarre—I ran my own business worth billions of dollars, employed thousands of people, and frequently worked out deals with fortunes on the line. But here I was, reduced to total mental blankness by Heather with only two words.
“Justin. Say something, please.”
I knew I needed to reassure her, to tell that I wasn’t mad, that everything was going to be okay.
But that’s not what I did.
“I—I need to meet with a client tonight,” I said, spitting out what was possibly the worst, most transparent lie of my entire life. “Forgot he was coming in tonight. He’s, um, an old-fashioned kind of guy, wants to hang out with just another guy. You know how it is. And I’m going out of town tomorrow for a couple of days at least, so it’s probably best for you and Faye to stay at your place.”
Heather said nothing, a look of total shock on her face. I had to guess she was so dumbstruck by the lie that she didn’t even know what to say.
“Finish up here,” I said. “I’ve got the bill taken care of. And I’ll arrange for you for a ride back to your place. I’ll—I’ll be in touch. Talk to you soon.”
I hurried out of the seat, glancing back just long enough to catch sight of the look of total shock on Heather’s face, her eyes heavy with tears that were seconds away from pouring.
I rushed out of the restaurant, the evening air cool on my face. Once outside, I fired off a quick text letting my driver know that I was going to need a pickup at my place, and for him to tell me when Heather and Faye were gone.
I was still reeling from how bad my lie was. And even worse than that, it was a cowardly lie. I’d lied in order to get away as fast as possible from the woman who was pregnant with my baby.
I put all of that out of my head as quickly as I could as I walked around the block. I shoved my hands into my pockets as I tried to figure out what I was going to do next.
Out of nowhere, the idea of paying her off flashed into my head, like an option offered by the devil who sits on your shoulder. It wouldn’t be hard—I could easily pay her a yearly stipend of a hundred thousand dollars or so, maybe more. On top of that, I’d offer her and Faye and the new baby health insurance, a savings account, and even a college fund.
Maybe I could even buy them a nice big house somewhere outside of the city.
I came back to my senses almost instantly, pushing the idea out of my mind. To do that would be to abandon my own flesh and blood. I, of all people, knew the consequences of not having family around.
I walked on and on, trying to figure out what I was going to do.
Me, a father. It was an idea so crazy that I could hardly believe it. Sure, I’d considered the possibility that I’d start a family at some point, but it had always seemed like something far off into the hazy future, something that I’d do when everything was perfect and in order.
Still, Heather was beautiful and kind and wonderful to be around. Would it be the worst thing in the world if she had my child and we raised it together?
And what about marriage?
The “M” word sent shivers up my spine. Back in my twenties, the idea of getting hitched was like some kind of joke to me. After all, who would want to settle down with only one woman when the world was full of beautiful girls?
After an hour of walking the blocks of my neighborhood, I got a text from my driver, letting me know that Heather and Faye were in the car with him, headed back to her apartment. Part of me wanted to follow up, to ask him how she was doing. But I thought better of it.
I returned to the penthouse, which was empty and quiet. Heather had taken her things, and the nursery was dark and empty, nothing inside but a lonely crib.
This was my life without Heather.
Chapter 27
Justin
Days passed. In front of me, the oversized TV played reruns of some sci-fi show that I’d seen a million times before. An open pizza box with a few slices remaining was on the coffee table in front of me, a few empty beer bottles next to it. I was dressed in sleeping pants and a plain white T-shirt—the same thing I’d worn for the last couple of days.
On the TV, the captain of the spaceship was going on about some kind of alien infestation in the engine room. I wasn’t sure—my eyes were glazed over, and the TV show was little more than a loud blur off in the distance. I reached forward and picked up a slice of pizza, bringing it to my mouth and taking a bite without even really thinking about it.
After that, I picked up one of the beer bottles, only to find that it was empty. Letting out an annoyed grunt, I tossed the pizza slice back into the box and heaved myself up off the couch, making my way to the kitchen. Once there, I started the quest for booze.
A red bottle on the counter caught my eye. My interest piqued, I headed over to it and picked it up with a sloppy swipe. But my stomach tensed when I looked at the label.
Duck wine. The wine Heather and I had bonded over.
I sighed, figuring booze was booze. After fumbling around with the wine key, I soon had it open, pouring myself a full mug. I gave it a sip, and it tasted…fine.
In reality, it was a pretty okay wine—nothing amazing, but about what you’d expect from a fifteen-dollar bottle. As I swished it around in my mouth, however, I realized instantly why it was that I’d thought it was so special.
It was because of Heather.
It was sharing it with her, sipping together at the vineyard during our trip up Long Island, sitting curled up next to each other as we watched the sunset, my arm wrapped around her delicate shoulders.
I looked over the mess that I’d let the penthouse become in Heather’s absence. It’d taken only two days for it to become a total bachelor pad with food containers here and there, empty beer bottles, and nothing but bad movies and video games on the TV.
I hated it. I missed Heather. I missed snuggling up to her first thing in the morning. I missed the way she tasted, and I missed the way she smelled.
I missed Faye’s giggle. I missed the way her big blue eyes lit up when she saw me, the way she reached her chubby little fingers out for me when she saw me in the morning.
My life without those two was as flavorless as the pizza. But I’d sent them away, all because I didn’t know how to handle it when I’d received the most important news of my life. I could’ve been there, made it all better with a few simple
words: It’s okay—it’s all going to be okay. I love you.
Love. The word had been in the back of my mind for some time, but I’d been afraid to say it, afraid of what it’d mean to breathe it and give it life. One word would make everything change for me, and I was scared to do it.
Grumbling, I finished the wine and tossed the mug into the sink. I looked over the penthouse, realizing that I had it all. But without love, it was nothing.
What could I do? When Heather opened herself up to me, she told me that Faye’s father had let her down and showed his true colors when he decided to leave. Sure, I hadn’t done anything so final to Faye, but what else had I done other than show what kind of man I was? She had told me the news and I panicked, acted like a scared, stupid kid.
I couldn’t imagine her forgiving me. Not only had I burned her, but I’d also burned her in the same way she’d been hurt before. I couldn’t imagine her forgiving me.
Well, if I couldn’t have Heather, I could at least have booze.
I snatched up the wine bottle and trudged back to the living room, where I plopped down onto the couch and prepared myself for a night of booze and pizza and bad TV. I’d told my executives that I’d be taking a few days off, and I planned to take advantage of it.
Right as I attempted to get back into the show, however, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and saw that it was Andrew. Was he in the city? If so, maybe a booze-soaked night out would help me forget my troubles.
Not likely, but worth a shot.
“What’s up?” I asked before taking a pull of wine.
“Hey, buddy!” he said. “Just wanted to see what you thought about the show so far?”
I was confused.
“What are you talking about?”
“Uh, the show we made together?”
I shook my head, bringing the memory back. It seemed like I’d done the reality show years ago.
“Yeah, I know. But what about it?”
“Tonight’s the premiere!” he said. “You don’t remember?”
I guess I didn’t. I’d been so wrapped up in Heather that I’d almost forgotten about everything else.
“Um, just been really busy,” I said, searching around for the remote.
Once I located it, I turned off the sci-fi junk and searched around the listings. Sure enough, there it was—Baby in the Penthouse.
“Too busy for your starring role?” he asked. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. We’re on our first commercial break now, and the reviews are killer. Internet buzz is out of control. They love you, they love Faye, and they love the hell out of Heather. She’s got something, man—I mean that.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
“And on top of that, ratings are awesome. If we finish strong, I’m thinking we’ll have a winner on our hands. And that means for us both—good press means your baby line’s going to be flying off the shelf. Every mom’s going to want to be dressed like Heather, and they’re going to want their baby dressed like Faye.”
I didn’t care about any of that. All I wanted was to see Heather and Faye again.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m going to watch. Let me know if there are any new developments.”
“You bet, J,” he said. “And get excited—this is going places.”
I hung up and tossed the phone onto the couch, eagerly waiting for the show to return.
Soon it did, the title screen imposed over a shot of the New York skyline, and then my penthouse building. The shot changed to one of inside my penthouse, during the part when Heather first arrived.
Damn, she looked beautiful. I knew right away what Andrew had seen, what everyone watching was seeing. Heather had effortless, radiant beauty that made your eyes lock onto the screen. Even through my fog of junk food and booze, my mind was crystal clear and totally focused on her.
I watched as TV-me led her around the penthouse, her gorgeous green eyes wide as she took in the luxury I took for granted. She looked like a damn princess.
I sat totally gripped by the show. In scene after scene she led me patiently through all the ins and outs of baby care, teaching me how to feed Faye, how to hold her, how to soothe her when she was upset. And Faye looked adorable, too. I couldn’t have hoped for a better model for my baby line.
The show soon ended, a quick montage of clips showing the viewer what they could expect for the next episode. As soon as the credits rolled, I got a text on my phone from Andrew.
Ratings are off the chart! We did it, J!
It was funny. Months ago, making this show a success would’ve been all I gave a damn about. But now, that only thing I wanted was to have Heather and Faye here next to me.
This couldn’t stand. There was something wrong with me, something that made me stupidly throw away a woman I loved.
And I needed to get to the bottom of why.
My mind raced. What would be wrong with me that would make me act such a way? How could I begin to find out?
Then it hit me—this went all the way back to my childhood. There was one place to start, and it was with my mother.
Tomorrow I’d go see her, to find out what she and my father had done, or not done, that had made me so wary of love and family. I’d have answers, and maybe if I was lucky, I could start the process of doing whatever it would take to love not only my girls, but the baby still to come.
Chapter 28
Justin
I sat on the antique couch in the cavernous living room of the mansion where I grew up. It was the first time I’d been back in years. The place was silent aside from the steady ticking of the imposing grandfather clock. My eyes tracked over the place, taking in the towering bookshelves packed with colorful spines, the enormous paintings of forested and mountainous landscapes, and the massive, marble fireplace.
I’d always heard that when you go back home as an adult, everything seems smaller. But that wasn’t true in the slightest in my case—my home was just as imposing and museum-like as I remembered it being.
My hands wrapped around a drink, I waited for my mother to come down from upstairs. The drive from the city to Westchester had only taken a couple of hours, and I’d spent it wondering how this conversation was going to go.
I wasn’t even sure what I was hoping to accomplish. All I knew was that there was something in me causing me to throw the best thing in my life away, and I had to get to the bottom of what could possibly make me act this way.
“Something else I can get you, Mr. Donovan?” asked one of the members of the staff that flitted around the place.
“No, thank you,” I said, drumming my fingers on my glass. “This is fine for now.”
I was of two minds. Part of me wanted to down this drink, then another, then another, and let out whatever happened to be lurking in the deep recesses of my mind. Another part of me wanted to set aside the drink I currently had and approach my conversation stone-sober.
Before I could give the matter too much thought, I heard the familiar echo of heels clicking on the parquet floor. It was a sound from my childhood.
I swallowed, a tingle of nervous anticipation spreading outward from my stomach. Then I sensed the presence of someone in the room, someone behind me and out of sight.
“There’s my baby boy.”
I turned around in my seat and there she was—my mother.
Despite the years, she was just as larger-than-life and glamorous as I remembered her. She was dressed in a designer jumpsuit of black and gold, her silver hair in a stylish bob. She was as slim as ever—I’d always chalked her slender shape up to the fact that she was so constantly on the move that calories didn’t have a chance to stick to her.
“Mom,” I said, getting up.
She stepped over to me, martini glass in hand, and wrapped her skinny arms around me. The scent of expensive perfume was almost overpowering.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she said.
“Yeah, you too,” I said, realizing I meant it. Despite being more-or-le
ss estranged from my mother, it felt good to be back home.
She let me out of her hug and stepped back, taking in the sight of me.
“Look at you,” she said, shaking her head. “Just the most handsome thing there is.” She reached down and took my hand, giving my left ring finger a close inspection. “Not married, I see.”
“Never one to mince words,” I said.
She let my hand drop back down to my side. “It’s just surprising, is all,” she said, stepping over to the French doors that looked out over the sweeping back porch and the garden beyond. “I would’ve thought a catch like you would’ve been snatched up years ago.”
“Not that you’d know if it happened,” I said.
She glanced over her shoulder at me, her piercing blue eyes narrowed. “Staying in touch is a two-way street, you know,” she said. “Nothing’s stopping you from picking up that phone.”
She was right, and I knew it.
“You always seemed too busy with your traveling all over the world and friends and all that,” I said.
“Justin, please,” she said. “Are you really going to scold a widow for keeping busy in her golden years? Would you rather I putter around in this mansion, watching TV and waiting to die?”
Again, she was right.
“I make sure to send you and other family and friends pictures of what I’ve been up to so you’d see that I’ve been happy and healthy and having fun in the years since your father passed. And there’s been nothing stopping you from replying to any of them, or—how about this—giving me a call.
“It’s hurt that you haven’t been in touch,” she went on. “And I can’t for the life of me figure out why you’ve been so distant. It’s like a part of me has been missing without you in my life, Justin.”
She waved her hand through the air, as if dismissing the subject. “But that doesn’t matter now. What’s important is that you’re here at home. But…” She tapped her French-manicured nail to her chin. “…I can’t help but wonder why. Any other mother would suspect that a child coming back after so long would only be doing so because they’ve hit rock bottom in one way or another. But not you, Justin—I’ve been keeping up on how successful you’ve been.”
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