“Shoot.” I kicked off my heels and tucked my feet beneath my body and the glitzy dress I’d chosen for the performance tonight. Total waste. Thankfully, I hadn’t thrown up on it.
Kathy handed me a Sprite, and I took a sip.
“When last did you have your period?” Kathy asked.
I ejected a thin stream of fizzy drink, my nostrils burning. “Oh my god, what?”
“Ooh, sorry. I timed that poorly.” Kathy sat down next to me and popped the tab on her soda. “But seriously, though. When last did you, uh, get it? The visit from the evil red witch?”
“Kathy…are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I’m just wondering.”
I sat back and thought about it. We’d used protection the first time, and the second, well, that had been without a condom but I was on the pill. Birth control methods fail all the time. All the friggin’ time. It’s super possible.
Butterflies started up in my belly.
“No, come on. That can’t be true.” But I bit the inside of my cheek. I counted back in my mind. The last time I’d had my period was before the trip to Paris. Two weeks before. “That’s… It must be stress, that’s all. The stuff that happened in Paris freaked me out. That’s possible, right? I mean, I’m on the pill.”
Kathy and I stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.
I exhaled slowly, inhaled, and held the breath. But you might be. It’s possible.
“Do you want me to run out and get you a test?” Kathy asked.
My heart did a backflip. “We’ll go together,” I said. “And we’ll pick up some more water on the way, and food. Lots of comfort food. Just in case, you know?”
Kathy nodded. “Yeah. Just in case.”
* * *
Just in case was the case, after all. The whole entire case.
“I can’t think,” I said, holding the pregnancy stick in both hands. It rested across my palm, the two pink strips staring up at me. “It can’t be real.” I closed my fingers around it. “We were safe.”
“Honey,” Kathy said and peeled my fingers open again. She removed the stick, holding the non-peed-on end between her forefinger and thumb. “You’ve done five tests, and they’re all positive. I don’t think it matters if you were safe at this point or not.”
“But it doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s real, honey, whether it makes sense or not.” Kathy got up and disappeared. She swept up the other four tests off the side table and took them with her. “That’s life. It never fucking makes sense, and just when you think you’re in control of it, it bucks you right the hell off its back and kicks dirt in your face.” Her voice faded and returned. “Or, you know, kicks you in the head.”
“This is all very comforting.” I stared at the muted TV. I couldn’t fathom what was on it, other than moving images of people. It was a show or the news. What did it matter? “It’s real. I’m pregnant.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“With Jacob’s baby. Oh my god. Oh my god. This is going to change everything.” I choked on emotion. “Fuck!”
“I’m here with you,” Kathy said and looped her arm around my shoulders. “You’re going to be OK. You’re going to work this out. I promise.”
“OK,” I whispered. “OK? God, none of this is OK. It’s not OK that I’m pregnant with Jacob’s baby, the guy who just so happens to be the man I fell in love with who never wanted me back, no matter how badly I wanted him. It’s not OK that I slept with him again, in the first place. Or that I’m going to have to tell him I’m pregnant. Or that, for the life of me, even after the shit that went down, I can’t stop thinking about him.” I clutched my arms to my belly. “Charlie is going to flip. Addy’s going to be in a state of permanent shock. I have no real means of supporting myself other than singing for my goddamn supper.”
“Hey, you still have your day job as a receptionist, even though it sucks. And did you forget me?” Kathy asked. “I’m here to help too, you know. We could redecorate this whole place, put in a special section for the baby and everything.”
“The baby.”
“Yes, your baby. That’s the good part in this. You will have a little son or daughter of your own. Right?” Kathy asked. “Unless you’re thinking that you want to, uh, not have the baby?”
“No,” I said. “That’s not me. I couldn’t do that. I need to think.” I lay back, gripping the soda between my hands. I shut my eyes and images drifted in front of them. Jacob smiling at me. Jacob turning his back on me. Both were possible. One was more likely than the other if our last conversation was any indication of how he would respond to this news.
It had been weeks now. How fucking horrible would it be to have to tell him this after all this time?
Stop it. Stop thinking about him. Think about you and the baby.
“The baby,” I said, and this time it felt more familiar. “I’m going to have a baby.”
“Yeah, you are. And it’s going to be great.” Kathy removed the Sprite from my grasp and set it on the coffee table. She held my hands in hers and squeezed. “Listen, honey, no matter what happens I’m going to be here for you. Let’s say Jacob is a total douche and decides not to be involved. I’ll be here. I’ll help.”
“It’s not your baby,” I whispered. “You can’t—”
“I’m not going to let you do this on your own.”
And I took comfort in that. In her words, even if they were as impossible as the rest of the situation. I’d have to contact Jacob. That would probably mean calling his office.
“I need my phone,” I said.
“Now?”
“Yeah, now.”
Kathy was gone and back in what had to be two seconds flat. She presented the phone to me, and I scrolled through it, found the number for Jacob’s office, which I’d shamefully saved weeks ago. I hit the green button and pressed the phone to my ear.
It rang three times, and a woman answered. “King Aero Supplies, how may I help you?” She sounded sweet, at least.
“Hi there,” I said. “Hi. I’m calling to speak to Jacob King. Could you put me through to him please?”
“I’m afraid not, ma’am. He’s not in the office, currently.”
“OK, then could I please have his cell number?”
“It’s against company policy for me to give it out. But I can take a message for you and forward it to him. He’ll return your call next week.”
“Next week?” I managed.
“Yes. Mr. King is currently out of the country.”
“Oh. Oh, OK.” I looked over at Kathy, who shrugged at me. “I—never mind then.”
“Would you like me to take a message for you, ma’am?”
“No. No, thank you.” And I hung up before she could ask again. Telling him I was pregnant via message definitely wasn’t part of the plan.
“What now?” Kathy asked.
I didn’t have an answer for her.
Twenty-Nine
Jacob
I sat at the quaint café in Paris that I’d visited with Chloe, sipping from a coffee mug. The view was lost on me, the chatter, the excitement at the fact that I’d landed a major contract with a company that specialized in photogrammetry in the agricultural industry.
“It was so wonderful to finally meet with you,” the head of that company said.
Her name was Alphonsine, and she was about my age. Pretty, a go-getter, and as amped about business as I was. I never mixed business and pleasure, but before Chloe, I might’ve thrown the rule out of the window for this woman.
Now, she left me cold. “And you,” I said, keeping my tone brisk and professional. “I anticipate a long and happy relationship between our companies.”
“Oui,” she purred and tilted her head to one side, scrutinizing me. “Pardon me if I’m rude, Mr. King, but are you feeling…all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, just a feeling. A woman knows when a man needs
a shoulder to lean on.” Alphonsine brought her cell phone out of a sleek clutch handbag, then tapped the screen. “My driver is on his way.”
I searched for a platitude that would satisfy her. Nothing presented itself.
Alphonsine removed a few euros from her wallet, but I waved them away. “Please,” I said, “I invited you here to discuss business. I’ll settle it.”
“If you’re absolutely certain.” She tucked the money away as a black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb. “Ah, here he is.” She rose, and I did too, presenting a hand to her.
Alphonsine spared it the briefest glance, then took it and drew herself toward my body. She planted a chaste kiss on either of my cheeks, then stepped back. “A pleasure, Jacob. A true pleasure.” She didn’t walk off. “Perhaps, and I hope you do not consider me too forward, but perhaps you would like to enjoy dinner with me at some point?”
Any hot-blooded single man in Paris would have jumped at the offer. “That’s very kind of you, Alphonsine, but I’m afraid not. I think it would be better if we kept our relationship strictly professional.”
“Understood, monsieur,” she said and granted me a smile. “Have a lovely afternoon and a safe flight back to your country.”
“Thank you.”
She strode off, heels clicking on the sidewalk, but I didn’t watch her go. I sat back down at the table and brought my cell phone out of my pocket. I tapped out a quick email to my assistant, requesting that she cancel any appointments for the rest of the afternoon, then waved for a refill on my coffee.
It was Chloe.
Everything had lost its flavor without her around to comment on it.
My life was now split up into Before Chloe and After Chloe, and the latter had proved to be depressing. I pinched my fingers to the bridge of my nose, silently cussing myself out.
She’d called me weeks ago, and I’d thrust her away. I’d decided to do the thing that went against my gut because of how it would affect my relationship with Charlie, hell with myself. I liked her, more than liked her, and that scared the living fuck out of me.
The waiter refilled my coffee, and I sipped it, seeking clarity.
None came.
I accessed one of my social media apps, and typed Chloe’s full name into the search bar. It was a creepy practice I’d taken to in recent weeks.
The ability to see her face once in a while comforted me. It reminded me of the good times we’d had, and the reasons that I’d kept my distance.
She had the potential to destroy me.
Chloe’s profile was pretty much up to date. The most recent picture was one she’d been tagged in by a friend, some chick named Kathy, and featured her on a stage, grasping a microphone. She wore a sparkling green dress that sat close to her curves and matched her eyes exactly. Her hair fell past her shoulders, chocolatey brown, begging for my fingers.
“Idiot,” I murmured.
Nothing good could come of obsessing over her like this, especially not with the wedding coming up next week. Charlie was determined that this one would go off without a hitch. Me mooning after his sister didn’t fit into that category.
My phone buzzed, and I answered. “This is Jacob King.”
“Well, hello, Jacob King.” Charlie loved teasing me about how I answered the phone. “Do you have a minute to talk, Jacob King?”
“I do.”
“Hey, that’s my line. Speaking of which, I’m assuming this last-minute trip to Paris won’t interfere with my nuptials this coming week? ’Cause I kinda need you there.”
“I’m touched.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole. You’ve got the rings, remember?”
I laughed. “Yeah, right. No, I won’t miss it, don’t stress. I’ve already wrapped up everything here. Deal in the bag.”
“For real? That’s great news,” Charlie said. “Because we’re getting together tomorrow to have dinner. A wedding party dinner, you know? After rehearsal?”
“Rehearsal,” I said. “Oh, for the walk during the wedding?”
“Exactly.”
I hesitated. If I went to this thing, it would mean seeing Chloe, and my constitution would crumble. I couldn’t afford that. Couldn’t afford to want her when it would fuck up the wedding again. Maybe, if I pull her aside, ask her to dinner to talk?
But no, I’d pushed her away hard. There was no chance she’d want to talk to me now.
“Hello? Are you there? Shit, did I lose the signal?”
“I’m here,” I said. “The dinner thing sounds awesome, Charlie, but I’m not going to make it. Don’t worry, though, I’m sure I can figure out my marks for the big performance next week. You can lecture me about them when I’m back.”
“Seriously? I thought you were done in France.”
“I am, but my flight isn’t until late tomorrow afternoon.” It was a lie, but what the hell else was I supposed to do? Go and see Chloe? It would be easier to see her at the wedding. Minimal chances to talk, we’d ignore each other, and I’d be fine with being around her. Wouldn’t make an ass of myself.
“You can’t get one sooner than that? Come on, dude, this is my wedding.”
“It’s a dinner, Charlie, not your actual wedding. Besides, you remember what happened the last time I was at your wedding.”
“I feel like it’s too soon to make that joke.” But Charlie still chuckled because he got me and my fucked-up sense of humor.
“I’ll see you at the wedding.”
“All right, well, have a good day. Don’t knock up any Frenchwomen while you’re there.”
“Charming.” I paused. “Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
How was I supposed to broach this topic without raising his suspicions? “How is everyone? How are Addy and Chloe? You know, after what happened in Paris?”
“Oh! Yeah, they’re good. Chloe’s doing her own thing, and Addy seems the least concerned about what happened. She’s strong like that.”
“That’s good.” But it wasn’t exactly the information I’d been seeking. “Good. Then I feel a little less guilty about it.”
“Hey, I didn’t say I was doing OK.” Charlie chuckled again. “Yeah, the women are awesome. Chloe’s been singing at this new club, and she’s got herself a new boyfriend. So she’s happy.”
A new boyfriend. My insides turned leaden. Fuck! Fuck, that can’t be right. She’s got a boyfriend.
The news shouldn’t have pissed me off, but it did. To the core. She couldn’t have a boyfriend. She was meant to be mine.
Except you’ve just been sitting on your ass, doing nothing.
“Cool,” I managed.
“Yeah, yeah. All right, dude, see you next week!” Charlie’s voice was cheery. He hung up.
I dropped the phone from my ear and stared at it, shaking my head. I had to get it together. Chloe was the past, and she had to stay there, no matter how much I wanted things to be different. I could not trust that it would work out. Nothing had in my life. Not when it came to love or romance.
Thirty
Jacob
After high school, later at night
I hit the button on the gates to Charlie’s mansion and revved my bike, fury pumping through my veins. Why tonight, of all nights? Why couldn’t they just fucking… God, my parents were assholes.
The gilt gates swung inward, and I roared up the drive toward the front porch. I parked, whipped my helmet off, then set it on my bike’s seat.
Charlie wasn’t home tonight, the lights were off, and his parents were absent as per usual. But Charlie had given me permission to sleep over long ago, whether he was there or not, if I had an emergency.
Tonight constituted as one.
I needed an escape, and this place would be it.
The night was quiet, the chirp of crickets muted in the grass. The moon hung low in the sky. One o’clock in the morning, witching hour, whatever the fuck it was called. This time was supposed to be mine, but they’d snatched it away from me again.
&n
bsp; I let myself into the house quietly, then went for the alarm pad and punched in the code. I set it again, to stay, and shrugged off my leather jacket in the hallway. I didn’t bother clicking on the lights.
The moon’s rays slanted across the staircase that led to the second floor, where the guest bedroom waited. I walked up the stairs, the old wood creaking beneath my heels.
My brow wrinkled. A light was on down at the end of the hall, glimmering from the crack beneath a door. The soft hum of music came from behind it.
“What the hell?” I was instantly on guard.
But fuck, what type of criminal would break into a house to play music? It hit me about two feet from the door.
It was Chloe’s room. Chloe was home. Alone.
Concern mingled with frustration.
I didn’t need her here tonight. I needed alone time, and that was what this place had promised.
The door latch clicked, and Chloe appeared, her head bent and focused on the pages of a book. She walked out and slammed right into me.
I caught her arms.
Chloe shrieked and threw the book at me. She balled up her fists and slammed them into my chest, jerking backward.
“Chloe!” I yelled. “Chloe, Chloe, it’s me. It’s Jacob.”
She stiffened, then glared up at me from under thick eyelashes. “Jacob? Jacob, what the hell are you doing?” She hit me again, softer this time. “You scared the pants off me.”
“If only,” I said, unable to resist a quick scan of her body.
Chloe’s tight pj shorts and matching cotton shirt were temptations—they showed off her body, and my cock stiffened, twitched in my pants.
“I have a face, you know,” Chloe said.
“Sorry. You’re just distracting in shorts.” I hadn’t meant to say it, but Chloe did that to me. “Here.” I let go of her, smoothed my hands over her arms. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. “Charlie’s not home. He’s—”
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