Her vulnerability made me feel even worse. “Cheyenne, he’s Drew’s father.”
Her eyebrows almost hit her hairline.
“He came to see me in the fall. Sydney had left him a note before she died. Before that visit, he didn’t know Drew existed.”
“Why have you been keeping that a secret?”
“I’m sure you’ve seen on the news that he’s running for office. If it gets out now, Drew is going to become a pawn in a sick political game and I won’t let that happen. And despite Sydney’s failings, I won’t let her name be fodder for the presses. Drew doesn’t even know the truth. He only thinks of Andrew as his friend.” It was my turn for tears. I hated keeping all these secrets, even though I felt like I had to, and I hated that I hurt my friend. I took Cheyenne’s hands. “I didn’t know you felt so deeply about him. And believe me, I didn’t mean to get involved with him. I meant to hate him, but he kind of steamrolled over that.”
“I wouldn’t have minded getting some of that action.”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I haven’t seen him in weeks and I can’t even call him without his campaign manager getting involved. I really am sorry, Cheyenne. I didn’t think you were serious about pursuing a relationship with him.”
A tear escaped her eye and she brushed it off with a ferocious flick. “I just don’t get it. I always seem to be on the losing end.”
“What do you mean? You date more than anyone I know.”
“No one that takes me seriously.”
“I didn’t think you wanted a serious relationship.”
“Yeah, well, neither did I.”
I reached out and placed my hand on her arm. “Well, maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.”
“No. It’s just men like Easton and Andrew don’t give me a second look. I don’t get it. I’m successful and beautiful. I don’t even come with any rules, like most of those prissy women.”
I loved that she could so easily see that she was gorgeous. Not many of us do, me included. “Are you calling me prissy?”
She smiled closed-lipped.
I took that as a yes. I wasn’t offended. “Cheyenne, maybe your problem is that you give men the impression they can get away with anything.”
She arched her eyebrow like a Hollywood starlet.
“I’m not talking about sex. Men need to know that you have expectations and that you actually care. Don’t get me wrong, over the years I’ve admired your ability to move through men like you do so easily, but if that’s not what you want, then you need to set the bar with them, and don’t expect anything less. You deserve the best.”
“How about Andrew?”
We both laughed.
“He may be up for grabs depending on how we survive the election.”
She rolled her gorgeous eyes. “By the size and quantity of the floral arrangements I’ve heard about, I would say he’s taken.”
I rubbed my face. “I don’t know. I always planned on being single, definitely not seeing a baseball player, or worse, a politician.”
I could see the longing in her eyes. Andrew was her kind of man. I was still surprised he had been put off by her. “Maybe he could set me up with one of his friends.”
“I’ll get a list and start screening them.”
“I usually would say no, but I’m impressed with you snagging Andrew.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Don’t get me wrong, under all your mom garb you’re gorgeous, but you don’t exactly scream his type.”
Direct hit to my heart. “I know. We better get back to cutting my hair.” I walked toward her office door.
She grabbed my arm on the way out. “Andrew Turner would be so lucky. Now let’s go give you a rockin’ haircut. We’ll show up all those Denver socialites.”
I walked out of Cheyenne’s salon looking like a million bucks. Cheyenne had a gift. She added in long layers that gave me some bounce and she convinced me to do some subtle highlights. She was a hair genius.
I may have felt a little guilty, too. I had no idea Cheyenne was so serious about Andrew. And maybe she wasn’t serious about him, but she wanted someone like him. She wanted what everyone in our group had, besides me—a person she could build a life with. I think the news was as much a surprise to her as it was to me. I didn’t even know she had working tear ducts. Maybe Jessie and Abby did, they were the closest to her.
Regardless, I hoped she found what she was looking for. That man, whoever he was, was in for the ride of his life.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“You’re really talented.”
Every time Eric complimented me I was worried that he meant more, or that he was angling for more. Cheyenne’s words kept ringing in my head. I kept watching him as we ate lunch together again in the school cafeteria. He smiled at me a lot, but it could be that he was a happy guy in general. “Thank you,” I replied. I tried to keep it bland. I wasn’t in the mood for men. It was Valentine’s Day, and all I got was a text saying, Happy Valentine’s Day. I’ll call you tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow after you’ve done the bachelor auction for Children’s Hospital. So what if it was a worthy cause and it meant nothing? How would he like it if I auctioned myself off, or maybe even flirted with the attractive man in front of me?
Eric kept studying my flyer. I had to say I was pleased with how it turned out. “So, were you an art major in school?”
“No. I have a degree in business.”
“That makes sense. Maybe you could come and show my class some of your techniques.”
I thought about how that would look. I already guessed we were probably gossiped about in the teacher’s breakroom. The rumor was that Eric was the one who had sent me the flowers last month, even though no teacher’s salary would allow for that. “I’m not a professional, and I haven’t taken an art class in years.”
He held up the flyer with depictions of Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, and the Leaning Tower of Pisa. “You look like a pro to me.”
“You’re being kind.”
He reached across the lunch table and ran his fingers across my hand. “No, I’m not.”
I placed my hands in my lap. Why did he have to make it awkward? “I should probably head over to Drew’s classroom. I’m helping with his class party today.” I stood up.
He followed my lead. “I should head back to my room, too.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a children’s Valentine with a lollipop through it. He held it out for me. “This is for you.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and his face broke out in red splotches.
I took the Valentine as quick as I could. Less prying eyes to see that way. “Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s only a sucker.”
And the only gift I was getting on Valentine’s Day. Not that I expected anything—well maybe some flowers or a phone call would have been nice. I took the wrapping off the small treat and popped it in my mouth. “Cherry is my favorite. Thank you.”
He met my eyes this time. “You’re welcome. Maybe we can meet next week to discuss how and where we want to distribute the flyers?”
“I’ll check my schedule and let you know.” I hustled out of there to the stares of many adults in the room. So much for flying below the Merryton radar. Why did men have to complicate everything?
Drew’s class party was the typical sugarfest interspersed with silly games like heart-shaped tic-tac-toe and “Love” bingo. I was enjoying watching Drew interact with his classmates, especially Gage, who still wasn’t always used to the simple pleasures in life. He had never even played tic-tac-toe. Drew was helping him and then letting him win. So maybe I was doing an okay job as a mom.
I was almost out of my sour mood until Drew’s teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, approached me when there was a lull in the activity—meaning the cupcakes had been served. She handed me a piece of paper. “Drew’s a great kid. And he’s so excited about you getting married. I didn’t know you and Eric
were so serious.”
I dropped the paper before I could even look at it. I was in shock. Where was this coming from? I bent down and picked up the paper. I noticed the title—My New Dad. My heart stopped, then broke as I read part of it.
I can’t tell who he is, but he is awesome. He plays with me and buys me lots of cool stuff. Right now he is busy with his job. He helps people. When I get older I want to be just like him.
I had to stop there and wipe the tears out of my eyes before it got out of control. I looked up to find Mrs. Jenkins staring at me with interest. “Eric and I aren’t dating. This paper isn’t about him.”
She looked mildly surprised. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“I’m not getting married.”
Her surprise turned to concern. “I wonder why Drew would turn in this paper. I asked the children to pick one of their parents or guardians to write about.”
That killed me. Now Andrew, who Drew didn’t even know was his dad, ranked above me. And why did Drew think Andrew was going to be his dad? I looked over to Drew to find him stuffing a chocolate cupcake in his mouth. What could I tell his teacher? I was so over the deception. “He wrote this paper about his biological father.” I was going to let the cards fall where they may. I was telling Drew the truth.
I thought her eyes might pop out of their sockets. “I wasn’t aware you knew who that was.”
“We didn’t until recently. Excuse me. I’m going to check Drew out early.” I didn’t wait for her response. I coaxed Drew into leaving with a promise of a movie and pizza. He would be my date for the night. I was thinking permanently.
I left Andrew several messages on his personal cell phone. I was going to give him one more opportunity to come clean with our son before I did.
I did my best to remain unemotional about the day’s events. I wanted a fun evening with my son before the chaos ensued. I hoped the Merryton vine didn’t reach outside of our sleepy town, but Drew was going to know the truth.
I kept staring at my son through dinner, wondering how he was going to take the news and why he thought Andrew was going to be his new dad. Had he overheard us talk? Did we only think we were being covert? As the evening wore on, I was more and more upset with myself and Andrew. I thought I was protecting my son, but in the long run, it wasn’t him I had been protecting at all.
I checked my phone several times during the new animated movie in theaters that was out. No response from Andrew. I rudely texted during the show that he needed to call me as soon as possible. Crickets on his end.
I debated that night while I tucked Drew in if I should tell him, or if I should give Andrew one more day. I knew he was busy at the bachelor auction, so I decided to give him a little breathing room, but the oxygen was about ready to run out.
I kissed Drew’s brow extra-long. “I love you more than infinity.”
“You said it wrong.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I love you more than infinity plus one.”
I was glad to hear that. My eyes watered. “Goodnight, bud.”
I sat in bed that night. Sleep was not coming. I already had texts from my friends that the word was out—Drew had a father. The only question was who. The ones who already knew gave their condolences. What had I done?
I peered down at the sketch I had been working on. I took it from the picture I had taken over Christmas. Andrew and Drew were sleeping soundly amongst all the unwrapped gifts and torn wrapping paper. Andrew was holding onto the ball Drew had given him. It was the sweetest scene ever. I was planning on giving it to Andrew for a Valentine’s Day gift, but I wasn’t sure our already fragile non-existent relationship was going to survive. All I cared about at the moment was my son. My son who longed for a father.
I thought about turning on the television for noise, but I wanted to avoid any coverage of the bachelor auction. Instead, I stared at the sketch. I remembered thinking that Christmas Day that we could really be a family. That we could make our worlds come together.
My door creeped open at eleven. I could tell right away I had a sick child on my hands. Drew was holding his stomach and moaning. My first thought was that he had eaten too many sweets at his party today, but as he neared, I wasn’t so sure. He climbed into bed with me and I felt the heat coming off him. I kissed his forehead and it was hot to the touch.
“Mom, I don’t feel good,” he moaned.
“Do you feel like you need to throw up?”
He nodded. “It hurts so bad.” He placed his hand over his bellybutton region.
“Let’s go in the bathroom.” I didn’t want to clean vomit out of my bedding.
He could barely move and collapsed on one of my bathroom rugs as soon as we entered.
I grabbed our thermometer and placed it in his ear. It beeped almost instantly. The result, 103.1 degrees. Not good.
“I’m going to run a lukewarm bath for you.”
“No, Mom. I don’t want to move.”
I lay down next to him and stroked his hair. He was shivering from the fever. “Honey, we need to get your fever down.”
“It hurts, it hurts,” he wailed.
Maybe he just needed to vomit, but he wasn’t acting like this was a run-of-the-mill stomach bug.
“I’m going to call Dr. Cole.” I hated calling him at home so late, but I knew he wouldn’t mind. I only hoped I didn’t disturb any of his family.
“Don’t leave me, Mommy.”
I knew it was bad. He never called me mommy anymore. “I’m right here baby, I’m just going to grab my phone.” I ran to my bedroom and back to my son. I sat down next to him and stroked his hair while I dialed with my free hand.
My poor baby kept moaning in pain while holding onto his middle section.
Within two rings, Easton answered.
“I’m sorry to call so late, but Drew is really sick. His fever’s over 103, and he’s complaining that his bellybutton hurts.” That all came out in a rush. I hoped he got it.
“Check his abdomen. Does it look bloated? Have him point to the pain.”
I lifted up Drew’s shirt and checked out his belly. “I think it is. Drew, can you point to where it hurts the most?”
He was barely able complete the task.
“He’s pointing to the right side of his bellybutton. He says he feels like he needs to vomit, but he hasn’t yet.”
“Sounds like he may have appendicitis. You need to get him to the hospital.”
It was times like these when someone else who wasn’t me kicked in. If it were me, I would have panicked. “I don’t know if I can get him to the car. He doesn’t want to move and I can’t lift him anymore.”
“I’ll be right there.” Easton didn’t even have to think about it. He was a good man.
“Thank you,” I eked out.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Dr. Cole worked his physician magic and we were ushered right back in the ER. Easton was sure it was appendicitis. He had done a physical exam on my bathroom floor and said it was consistent with an infected appendix. He ordered an ultrasound to be sure.
I sat there and held Drew’s hands while we waited for the ultrasound tech to arrive. I hated seeing him like this. He had never been so sick. He was still shivering and he looked so small all of a sudden.
“I wish Andrew was here,” he said into the quiet.
Me too. I could use a hand to hold. I had never been so frightened. I texted Andrew as I held onto my son. Please call me as soon as you see this. So far all my other texts and calls had been unanswered.
The ultrasound confirmed Easton’s prognosis. They wasted no time prepping my baby for surgery in a sudden flurry of activity. I was a little overwhelmed by it all. I watched as the nurse poked and prodded my son and placed an IV in his arm. He took it like a champ; either that, or the abdominal pain overshadowed the needle.
The surgeon came in next to explain the ninety-minute laparoscopic procedure and what I could expect. It all sounded routine, but when it’s you
r baby, nothing is ordinary.
The anesthesiologist followed the surgeon. He administered some sort of happy drug that made Drew sleepy before they wheeled him away from me. Drew started to giggle uncontrollably before his tired eyes shut. It was just what I needed to hear as they took my baby away.
Though Easton wasn’t performing the surgery, he went back with him. It made me feel better—I trusted Easton.
I sat there in the waiting room feeling very alone. I’m not sure I had ever felt so alone. My parents were still in Tucson, and the one man I wanted to have there with me was out of reach in more ways than one. I prayed silently as the tears streamed down my face. I prayed for Drew’s health and safety, and for the surgeon that was operating on him. I prayed for strength to withstand the firestorm I started, and I prayed for guidance on what I should do with the man in the center of it all.
Thirty minutes into Drew’s surgery, my phone buzzed. I was annoyed it was Bryant’s number and not Andrew’s, but regardless, I needed to hear his voice. I needed him to come and hold my hand.
“Rachel, what’s up with all the phone calls and messages? Is everything okay? And why didn’t you use Bryant’s phone?”
I would deal with his insensitivity later. “Drew’s in surgery.”
“What happened? Is he going to be all right?” That was the reaction I needed from him.
“He’s having his appendix removed. Will you please come up here? He wants to see you and I … I need you here with me.”
His silence was more than deafening.
“Andrew, please.”
“Rachel Laine, don’t you think I want to? We are so close to the finish line. I promise you, he will be okay. I had my appendix out when I was his age. It was no big deal. I’ll call him as soon as he comes out of surgery.”
I sat stunned. My tears ceased, but my heart tore. “Don’t bother.”
“Rachel, come on. Four more weeks. We can do this.”
“No, we can’t. I should have never agreed to this in the first place.” I placed my arm across my stomach for comfort as I sat there alone in the sterile waiting room.
Rachel Laine (The Women of Merryton Book 3) Page 25