by Laurie Gene
"Okay," she said at length. "If you weren't ready to settle down because you still have wild oats you need to sow, you probably shouldn't have asked Bonnie to marry you. Just because I have specific feelings regarding Bonnie does not mean she deserves to be treated like this. No woman should ever have to experience being betrayed because someone younger or better looking or wealthier comes along."
"Are you implying that I cheated on Bonnie?" Nick said.
He couldn't sit any longer and pushed himself in a standing position, one hand on the marble countertop. His face was pinched together in a shocked frown and if Gran were here, he knew she would tap him on the back of the head and tell him not to look like that because it would cause early wrinkles. However, he could not seem to control his body's reaction—which was a first for him—to what his mother was insinuating.
"Honey, I don't want to know what happened. It's none of my business. Trust me, when Bonnie came over and started crying about a waitress, do you think I honestly wanted to get involved? Of course not. But I can't help it if she won't be quiet about it, and on top of that, says specific things about my son that may or may not be true.” She took a deep breath. “Are they true?"
Nick shook his head. Not because he was responding to his mother's question, but because he honestly couldn't believe she was actually asking him this. In a way, he couldn't blame her. The fact of the matter was, he did have a reputation, but he was working hard to overcome it. He really did want to settle down, but the more time he spent with Bonnie, the more he realized that maybe she wasn't the best person to do that with.
"No, Mom," he said. He tried to keep his voice calm even though he wanted nothing more than to growl and snap and get defensive. "Look, nothing happened with the waitress. I just... it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't talking about the wedding and floating candles and how much money she was going to spend because she wanted to give the guests an experience."
"Floating candles?" his mother asked.
"If I'm committing to Bonnie, I promise you, I will follow through," Nick continued, ignoring his mother's interruption. "I have no intention of cheating on her. I didn't have to ask her to marry me."
"Are you sure?" His mother's voice was soft on the other line and Nick slowly opened his eyes.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"You think I don't know Gran has been asking when she's going to see great-grandbabies?" his mom asked. "You think I don't know you care about what Gran thinks about you more than anyone on this planet? You think I don't know one of your goals your whole life has nothing to do with making money or passing on your legacy, but simply to make your grandmother happy? I know all of these things, Nick. And I can tell you, if you aren't happy with Bonnie, she would not want you to marry her because let me tell you something—Gran's goal is to make you happy. And she thinks that settling down and having a family would do that. Granted, she's a traditionalist and she has no idea what you've been through or what you will endure as a businessman. But I know what you're dealing with, and now, so does Gran. She would not be upset or disappointed if you walked away from this. She would understand."
Nick released a shaky breath. He hadn't realized he had gotten so emotionally tied to what his mother was saying until he tried to speak.
"I just remember Dad," Nick said after another breath. "He taught me so many things but one thing he taught me was not to quit. I'm the one who chose Bonnie. Now I have to lie in that bed."
"Honey, you can put that bed on the curb and wait for the garbage man to pick it up," his mother said. "The only thing you really need to ask yourself is if you're happy, is if you want to spend the rest of your life with this person. And, more importantly, is this who you want to have children with? Because if you are unsure, don't do it. You will have to deal with them for the rest of your life, whether you're together or not."
Nick nodded even though she couldn't see him. "Thanks, Mom," he said. "I'll be over after work today."
He got off the phone with her and turned back to his now-cold food. He had a lot to think about before five o'clock that evening.
Chapter 8: Abby
When Nick came in to work that morning fifteen minutes late and an annoyed frown tugging his lips downward at a jagged angle, Abby ducked her head and tried to avoid eye contact. She did not think the anger was directed at her in any way because she knew she hadn't done anything to warrant it. However, she couldn't help but want to stay out of his way in order to ensure she didn't unknowingly agitate him even more.
Instead, she waited until the door to office slammed shut and then bolted up to grab him a coffee. According to Pamela, he preferred light cream, no sugar. She went to the breakroom and poured a cup for him, stirring in the French vanilla cream, before heading to his office and tentatively knocking. Pamela instructed her to have the coffee ready for him just as he sat down. Never pre-make it because no one knew when he would finally come in.
"Yes?" he barked.
Abby flinched and then chided herself. There was no need to act like a victim when she knew he wasn't mad at her. She was allowed to be slightly intimidated, but she didn't need to be dramatic.
She sucked in a deep breath, turned the doorknob, and popped her head inside.
"Mr. Strafford?" she said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks pinch. "Uh, I have your coffee, sir."
"Oh, yes, of course." He waved her in without looking up from the paper on his desk. "You make any headway on this masquerade gala Pamela was in the middle of planning?"
"The ball?" Abby asked, looking down at the paper.
This section of the periodical was excited about his company's latest endeavor that invited all of New York to attend a ball in order to raise money for the homeless in the city. It gave an excuse for women and men to dress up, hide their faces, and socialize. Before Abby had even come to work here, she was excited about the prospect of going. Granted, it was first come, first serve. Once the location hit capacity, they would have to turn away guests.
"Yeah." He nodded. "How's that coming along?"
"Well, uh." Abby set the coffee down and stepped back. She interlocked her fingers together, wishing she had brought Pamela's planner in with her. "I know that so far, everything has passed inspection. You have an interview later in the week regarding it. And I believe you have an appointment to get fitted for your tux next Monday with Will downtown."
Nick nodded. "What do you think of the idea?"
He finally picked up his head to look into her eyes, and she halted.
She slowly sucked in a breath and shifted her weight. "I think what you're doing is great," she said. "You're giving all sorts of people who would otherwise be unable to attend something like this the opportunity to do just that. I'm proud to be part of it."
He smiled. "May I ask you something?" he asked, and then took a sip of the coffee. "Oh, my God, that's great coffee. Don't tell Pam this, but I think it's even better than hers."
"Oh." Abby’s cheeks warmed. "Thank you."
"I'm being serious," Nick said. "Do not tell Pam. She would kill me." He took another long sip of the coffee. "Speaking of Pam, any news on the baby?"
"I think she's having contractions but they're too inconsistent to go to the hospital about," Abby said.
"What?" Nick asked, furrowing his brow. "I thought you either had contractions or you don't. There's no in-between."
"If only it were that simple," Abby said, pulling out her phone and trying to take as many notes as she could. "Actually, contractions can come and go at any point during the pregnancy. Sometimes, they're harmless and are preparing your body so when labor really comes, your body will be used to it. Other times, they could indicate dehydration. Other times, they do indicate labor is coming but until they increase in pain and they can be times to about five minutes apart, there's really no point in going to the hospital."
Nick gave Abby a long look. He was silent, and he shifted with discomfort. She didn't
like to be stared at so blatantly, even by someone as handsome as he was.
"Tell me, Abs," he said. "How do you know so much about contractions? I would ask you if you'd been pregnant before, but that might be a form of sexual harassment and I don't want to risk losing you when I just got you."
Abby smiled despite herself. "Actually, my mother was a vet," she said. "And animals—well, mammals, really—go through the same stages of labor we do. Obviously, there are some differences, but others are the same or similar."
"And Pam can't go to the hospital because..." He let his voice trail off and raised his brow.
"Because her contractions haven't been able to be timed," Abby said. "But the thing people tend to forget about contractions is, if it's true labor, they will get worse. My mom had it where she could time her contractions with me by four minutes but the intensity stayed the same, so she wasn't quite there yet. It's why she used to call my stubborn."
"Used to? I'd imagine being stubborn isn't a trait one loses over time. I figure it only gets worse."
Abby's breath caught in her throat and her smile felt more forced than natural.
"Oh, well, that's because my mother passed away," she said. "She doesn't call me stubborn anymore because she's not here to."
Nick’s expression dropped. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
"Why?" Abby asked, glancing up. She shrugged but instantly regretted it. The gesture was so simple, and yet, she felt as though she was completely dismissing the fact that her parents were gone. Like she was used to it. Like the fact that they weren't here was completely insignificant. In all honesty, she didn't like that she did that. She swallowed and looked down at her hands. She itched to start picking with her nails, but she pressed her lips together and forced herself to take a deep breath. "It's not like you had anything to do with their deaths. It's a part of life."
"If it happened naturally, sure," Nick said, glancing down at his planner. "It's okay to be upset either way."
Abby dropped her hands and put them behind her back. Her natural instinct was to react, was to tell him that she knew that, she had known it since they first died, and the last thing she needed was someone who didn't know her, who didn't know her family, try to explain something to her in a way that made it appear that she had no idea what she was talking about.
Instead, she breathed in and out and tried to remind herself that Nick was being sympathetic because, for whatever reason, he cared. He wanted to make her feel better. He was being polite. The least she could do was accept what he was saying, perhaps acknowledge the sentiment behind it, without coming across as rude or bitter.
"Anyway," Nick said, looking down at his desk. "Have I gotten Pam something for the baby? I feel like I have, but there's always more to get, you know?"
"From what she told me while she was still here, you got her the crib, the bassinet, and a bunch of diapers."
"Oh," Nick said, nodding once. "Good. Should I get her anything else?"
Abby thought for a moment. She didn't know much about babies and what they needed.
"Maybe you could see if she has a car seat?" she suggested. "I know they get paired with strollers a lot."
Nick nodded. "That sounds reasonable," he said. "Will you call her husband, Bruce?"
"Bill?" Abby corrected, hoping her tone was gentle. Her arms relaxed to her sides.
"Yes, Bill," Nick said. He turned to his computer and started talking. "I don't know why I keep mixing him up. Anyway, yes, Bill's number should be there. Just ask if they need that. He'll be stubborn and say they have everything they need, but see if you can, I don't know, read him. See if he's lying. Make sense?"
Abby lifted her brows, a small smile on her face. "Sure," she said. "I'll try to read a person I've never met before."
Nick chuckled, drumming his fingers on the surface of his desk. "Yeah, that seems like a tall order, doesn't it? Why don't we just get her the stuff then, whether they need it or not? We can include a gift receipt in case they want to return it."
Abby smiled.
"Okay," she said. She turned, ready to head out of the office.
“Oh, and Abby?” Nick called.
She stopped and turned to him.
"One more thing," he said, straightening his shoulders. "For the masquerade, do you have something you can wear?"
She cleared her throat. She hadn't thought about that in a while since she didn’t expect to go. She did have an old dress of her mother's that she wanted to wear.
"Here." Before Abby could respond, Nick slid open the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a credit card. "Just in case you don't. Why don't you take the time to go looking for one now? Take the next couple of hours. I'll manage on my own."
"I think I have one," Abby said, taking the credit card in her hand. It felt surprisingly weighted, which was silly.
"Nonsense," Nick said, waving her away. "Please. As a favor to me. You're really helping with this now that Pam is gone."
"Okay." The word was just as heavy as the card. "I'll be back after lunch then."
"No worries." He dropped to his seat.
Abby clutched the card and headed to her desk. She grabbed her purse. The first place she decided she would go was to the penthouse. She wanted to make sure her mother’s dress was in decent condition. If she needed to buy anything, maybe she could purchase a pair of shoes or makeup. She hoped her stepmother wasn’t there to catch her.
A thrill of excitement bubbled in her chest. She was actually going to the masquerade and there was no one there to stop her.
- - -
Abby knew her stepfamily wasn't the nicest of people. She tried to understand their cruelty even when it was hard to do so. Angelica wasn't the sort of woman who did well on her own, especially with two daughters. When her father died, the loss was a blow to her. Trixie and Saffron weren't obvious beauties and their insecurities manifested in bullying and laziness. They had no drive to be better because their mother taught them the world owed them everything.
But as Abby stared into her closet at the one nice dress she had in her possession, her eyes filled with angry tears and she let out a muffled cry of pain. Her mother's dress was completely tattered. It appeared as though it had been stuffed in the laundry, which was the worst thing to do with such delicate material.
Why? Why would they do something as horrid as this?
To prevent you from going to the masquerade, a voice in her head pointed out. Think about it, Abby. You mentioned wanting to go before now. You mentioned you had something to wear. This will prevent you from going—at least, in their minds.
Abby clenched her teeth.
No.
They would not keep her from going.
Not this time.
She opened her purse and felt around for the card. When she curled her fingers around the cool plastic, the tension left her body, if only slightly. She would buy a dress and shoes and makeup and whatever else she needed. Her stepfamily would not stop her from doing something she wanted to do, no matter how much they tried.
Chapter 9: Nick
After work that evening, Nick wanted nothing more than to go home—where his house was still blessedly empty—pour a cup of whiskey and watch ESPN. However, he knew if he did that and conveniently forgot about his mother's phone call from this morning, she would just keep calling earlier and earlier until she showed up at his place with Bonnie in the back.
He could not get out of this one, even if he wanted to.
He drove out of the city and to a small neighborhood for the deliriously wealthy, where houses sat on acres of land and neighbors did not know where the other actually lived geographically in relation to them.
Gran's house was one of the original mansions in Water's Edge and she paid a fraction for it at the time it was built than what it was worth now. In all honesty, Nick loved this area, especially considering he grew up here as a child, and even when he was a bachelor who preferred the fast pace of the city, he knew he wanted to settle down here
.
Except Bonnie didn't like Water's Edge.
"It's way too quiet," she had told him when she came here for the first time. "There's no way. It would be too much."
She didn't mean financially. That was never an issue. She would be overwhelmed because of the silence and space, she just couldn't handle it. Which meant he’d bought a penthouse he liked but didn't love and wasn't keen on starting a family there.
Apparently, as much as Bonnie hated it, she had spent the last couple of evenings here with Gran and Mom.
Nick stepped out of the Uber and paid the guy his fee. He would take one of Gran's cars home. When the driver left, he glanced down the long, dark road. Trees stood tall and ominous. There wasn't much lighting here simply because this wasn't a public road. Water's Edge was technically a gated community even though there was rarely ever anyone at the gate.
He headed down the slope of a rather steep hill. Gran liked to make the process of getting to her complicated for two reasons: she didn't think robbers were especially bright and highly-motivated, so the more complicated the hit, the less likely they would target her house; and it was a test to those who knew her to see how much effort people would put into getting to her.
Nick never minded the walk. He slid his hands in his pockets, whistling a song. It was a shrill sound, echoing through the silence. If birds were awake, they would probably have scattered into the darkness. His footsteps clattered on the pavement as he passed the driveway to the home. The closer he got, the more he could hear the gentle lapping of the water up ahead.
Gran got her money's worth, that was for sure. There was a view of the water and the valleys opposite where her house was located. People raced sailboats during the summertime and went fishing late into the night, floating on their boats and looking up at the stars. His fondest memories of his childhood always involved this place somehow. He wanted to be able to give those same memories to his future children. Now, it appeared as though he would give them congestion and attitude to look forward to instead.