I reach around and slap his ass. “You’re really important to me too,” I say.
John’s hand starts sliding down my back and his strong hand cups my ass and squeezes it.
“Someone’s amorous today,” I say.
“I’m like this everyday,” says John.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m not in the mood today.”
John seems disappointed but he takes it well. Frankly, my mind is getting too distracted by thoughts of telling or not telling John about his baby to make love right now.
If I tell him, he’ll be mad. I’m sure of it. I’ve never seen him truly mad, and I don’t want to.
My greatest fear is that I’ll tell him and then he’ll leave me out of anger—that he’ll leave me for some young supermodel with tits the size of mountains and a face that’s on every cover of every magazine around the world.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?” says John, suddenly.
We’re just sitting around my admittedly crummy apartment (but it’s mine, all mine), looking at the wall, since I still don’t have TV and I won’t let John buy me one.
“Sounds good,” I say, eager to get out of the house and to get some distraction from my cycling thoughts.
You’ve got to tell him today, I tell myself. It’s now or never.
“Just wait for me. I’ve got to tidy up in the bathroom a minute.”
“I know what a minute means in lady language,” says John, slapping me gently on the ass as I walk by him.
I head into the bathroom where I take my secret stash of pre natal vitamins that I’ve hidden by the pregnancy books. I’ve got everything hidden in an old towel in the bottom of the chest of drawers John bought me. I unscrew the caps and consult my checklist of vitamins, making sure I’m OK for today. Not a day goes by that I don’t take the vitamins I’m supposed to. Today is follate, Vitamin D, and a B Vitamin Complex.
“Ready,” I say, taking John’s hand and we walk together through the crummy interior of the apartment building until we’re outside in the cold air. John turns his collar up and I hug my body close to his.
People look at us as we walk down the street.
It’s been a while since we’ve been out like this, just walking down the street, rather than entering a fancy restaurant or inside a museum. I hadn’t quite realized how famous we are and how many ordinary people recognize us. When we’re in a fancy restaurant, people look at us, sure, but inside those restaurants there are also a ton of other more famous people who get their own stares, including mine, I’m willing to admit.
“Hey,” someone whispers. “That’s John Clark and that cleaner.”
That makes me mad.
“I’m not a cleaner anymore,” I shout.
But John tugs me along, eager to avoid a confrontation.
“The paparazzi could be anywhere,” he says. “We’ve got to keep a cool head when we’re in public.”
John shows me how he breathes deeply. “This is the secret to my success,” he says, without a note of irony in his voice. “This will keep away the anger and the frustration.”
I breathe in deeply, following John’s example, and to my surprise, everything starts to seem calmer.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think it’s working. Hey, aren’t the trees pretty up there.”
We’re approaching a park where people are playing with their kids. The kids are all bundled up against the cold and the leaves on the trees are long gone, but the park still has a charming feel. I wonder if someday John and I will come to a park like this with our kid.
I’ve got to tell him, I think to myself, and suddenly the anxiety is back, double-force this time, stronger than ever.
My phone rings.
“Hello?” I say, taking off my gloves in order to fish the phone out of my coat pocket.
“Where the hell are you?” says Janet, her voice coming in loud and clear through the phone. She sounds upset, and strangely similar to my mother.
“What are you talking about?” I say, taking a couple steps away from John, who wears a bemused expression on his face. I don’t want him to overhear anything about my pregnancy in case Janet mentions it, and I know how loud her voice can be, even over the phone.
“I’m at your apartment right now,” says Janet. “You have your appointment in twenty minutes. We’re supposed to go together. Remember?”
“Oh shit,” I say, unable to help myself.
“What’s wrong?” mouths John.
“I’ll be right there,” I say into the phone, before hanging up.
I can hear Janet cursing before the phone slams shut.
“I’ve got to go,” I say to John, quickly, not giving him a chance to react.
But he does anyway. Of course he does. Because he cares about me.
I’ve got to think fast to come up with a lie. I’m terrible at lying, which you might not expect from someone who’s spent so much time hiding her pregnancy from her boyfriend.
“Janet’s in trouble,” I say.
“I’m coming too,” says John. “I don’t like her much and don’t think she likes me, but maybe there’s some way I can help.”
“Oh,” I say. “It’s nothing like that. Just boyfriend problems. Her boyfriend is giving her a hard time.”
“I didn’t know she even was dating anyone,” says John.
“Oh,” I say. “She keeps everything on the down low. Even though you wouldn’t expect that from her personality, that’s what she does. Sorry, baby, but I’ve got to run.”
I give John a quick peck on the cheek and take off running in the direction of my apartment. I don’t dare turn around since I know John’s going to be a little hurt with me running off like this.
“Took you long enough,” says Janet, who’s waiting outside her car in front of my apartment.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Having so much fun with your billionaire boyfriend that his baby just slipped your mind?” says Janet, getting into the car, a horrible expression on her face.
“Sorry,” I say. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Janet drives in silence to the doctor’s office, which is in downtown Manhattan.
“I’ll pay for parking,” I say.
Janet doesn’t say anything. She’s pissed at me and remains pouty and silent all through the appointment.
“Well,” says the doctor, who wears a white lab coat and has a goatee. Unfortunately I’ve already forgotten his name, even though this is the third appointment I’ve had with him. “Everything looks good. Blood work is fine. I can see you’re taking your vitamins which is great.”
“See,” I say to Janet, who’s sitting in the room with me. “I’m not such a terrible person after all.”
Janet rolls her eyes.
The doctor gives Janet a strange look and turns back to me. “So everything is going great. Congratulations on a healthy pregnancy so far. Just check in with the receptionist for your next appointment. They’re going to be getting more and more frequent and you’re going to have to start thinking about doing birthing classes with your husband.”
“Oh,” I say. “I’m not married.” I hold up my ring finger to show him.
The doctor remains unfazed. I figure he must deal with these kinds of “delicate situations” all the time.
“You’re welcome to attend alone,” he says. “Sometimes it’s good to bring an understanding friend.”
He gives Janet a look again, and then winks at me.
I almost laugh but resist.
Janet’s back to talking to me again after the appointment. “So am I going to be like the Godmother or anything?” she says, twirling her hair, as we stand in the elevator on the way down to the first floor.
“I haven’t really worked that out yet,” I say. “But you’ll be the first on my list.”
“John’s got a list too? He doesn’t even know? I still can’t believe you haven’t told him… I know I say it over and over again but it’s just completely crazy.”
> “I know, I know,” I say. “You know what. I’m going to tell him tonight. I promise.”
“You sound serious this time,” says Janet.
“I am,” I say. “I’ve got to tell him.”
We step outside into the cool air and I know it’s just my imagination playing tricks on me, but I think I feel a kick inside my belly. This imaginary kick sends my imagination reeling—I already love my unborn baby so much, and I know John will love him or her too. Scenes of the three of us playing in the park and relaxing in far away foreign places flood my mind.
The flash of a dozen cameras snaps me out of my fantasy.
“Get away, get away,” screams Janet, swinging her purse at them on its long imitation leather strap. “You vultures.”
“Come on, Janet,” I say, grabbing her my the sleeve and practically dragging her through the pack of paparazzi into the parking garage.
“You get used to it,” I say, once we settle into the car.
“They’re animals,” she says.
“It’s fine,” I say. “They’re always taking pictures of me now. I just have to remember not to read the tabloid newspapers or look online at the celebrity gossip.”
“Easy for you to say,” says Janet. “The whole world is watching your every move.”
John
I wake up in something of a daze and throw my two pillows to the other side of the bed. I sit up a little, resting myself
I pull out my phone and check the news sites as I always do before even getting out of bed. I have a number of alerts set to myself and my company. It’s one of the ways I stay on top of the competition.
The annoying thing is that occasionally the news alerts bring up some gossip stories about me and Sarah. There’s nothing that I haven’t seen before, though.
Nothing I haven’t seen before, that is, until today.
The headline catches my eye and I can’t get it out of my head.
“Billionaire’s Girlfriend Pregnant. Who’s the father?” reads the headline.
My head starts spinning. This isn’t going to make the morning any easier. I haven’t even had my coffee yet. I take a deep breath and clap my hands, turning the lights in the bedroom on.
I hold the phone closer to my face and keep reading. The brightness of the phone is somewhat jarring this early in the morning, so I turn it down on one of the settings.
“Cleaner girlfriend of billionaire spotted coming from prenatal visit. You’ll note from the pictures that she’s been wearing less and less revealing clothing over the last few weeks. Sources confirm that her baby bump is developing nicely. The doctor in question has refused to comment at this time…”
I’m just scanning the article.
My heart feels like it’s hit the floor.
I’m good at interpreting news. You have to be in my line of work. And while this article comes from one of the least reputable online sites, it still has the ring of truth to it. Or, in this case, the stink of truth.
Following the article are a series of pictures that show zoomed in shots of Sarah’s belly. There’s an unmistakable bulge, like the one I noticed yesterday. This isn’t indigestion, that’s for sure.
I’m not 100% certain Sarah’s pregnant, but right now I’d wager that there’s a 90% chance that she’s pregnant.
I take a series of deep breaths before calling Sarah.
“Hello?” says Sarah.
“Did you see the article?” I say, somehow unable to make my tone sound friendly and caring.
After all, how could she be hiding this from me? Is she seeing someone else on the side? Was she seeing someone right before me, and got pregnant with his kid? What the hell is going on?”
“What article?” says Sarah.
“There’s a new article about you,” I say.
“You told me it’s probably better not to read what the tabloids have to say about me.”
“Did you get a paparazzi attack yesterday?” I say.
Sarah pauses for a moment. “Yeah,” she says. “I was with Janet and I had to stop her from killing them all with her pocket book.”
Sarah laughs but I don’t.
“Where were you coming from?”
“Oh,” says Sarah. “A doctor’s appointment.”
“Are you pregnant?” I say.
I finally just say it. I don’t know how to skirt around the possible truth any longer.
There’s an incredibly long pause on the other side of the line.
“Yes,” comes Sarah’s answer, incredibly faint. Her voice sounds like it’s fallen off a cliff. It barely reaches me.
“I don’t know what to say,” I say.
“It’s not what you think!” says Sarah, her voice becoming livelier again, but sounding frantic.
“I don’t know what to say,” I say again, before hanging up the phone.
I’ve never hung up on Sarah before and she’s never hung up on me.
I look around the room and it suddenly appears incredibly bleak, as if nothing has ever lived in this room, including me. I feel horrible dead inside. My world is crashing around me. There’s nothing… My thoughts are jumbled.
My eyes close and I fall into a world of anxiety. No amount of deep breathing will help me now. No amount of meditation will help me.
My eyes open and the room appears again, but it looks fuzzy this time.
The cell phone lies on the bed where I dropped it. Sarah’s name is on the “most recently called” list.
I want the lights out. They’re too bright, even though they’re soft. I don’t have the energy to clap my hands.
All my fears about dating woman are rushing through my anxious mind. With good reason, I’ve always been worried that they’re just after me for my money. Everyone knows the best way to get a billionaire’s money is either marry him…but, what’s actually the best way is to have his baby. Countless lawyers have counseled me on the possibility.
What am I suppose to think? Sarah doesn’t seem like that at all. But has she been playing me all along? She got pregnant by me. I remember we’ve never once used a condom. She always told me she was on the pill. And I trusted her.
But, maybe it’s not my baby. Maybe Sarah knew she wouldn’t get pregnant from me because she was already pregnant.
But isn’t that possibility much, much worse? Sarah pregnant with another man’s child.
I don’t know what to think.
I spend at least an hour lying in bed not knowing what to think or how to think it. The phone rings more than a few times and I don’t check it, but I know that it’s Sarah calling me, trying to explain things. But I don’t know what to say to her and I don’t want to listen to her explanations right now.
She’s pregnant and she didn’t tell me.
My head is getting a little clearer now. If she has my baby, that’d be great. If she’s going to have someone else’s baby, that’d be OK too, and I’d be willing to help Sarah raise the kid…just like it was my own.
The part I can’t get around is that Sarah lied to me. And lied to me about such a big thing. This isn’t a little lie. This isn’t her telling me that she had something else for lunch when she really had a box of doughnuts. Not that I would care about that either.
The phone rings and this time I pick it up.
“Hello?” I say, my voice sounding strangely weak.
“The stocks have tanked again,” says Jeff.
“What?” I say, unable to comprehend what he’s saying.
“It’s bad this time. I read the news. I know you’re going through a lot…”
“Going through a lot? Is that all you have to say to me. I don’t give a damn about the fucking stocks, you asshole.”
“I just thought we had to keep the business going…after all, people’s jobs depend on those stock prices… people have their entire retirements in those stocks…”
I hang up the phone, and it doesn’t ring again.
Jeff is right but I can’t deal with that stuff now. Stock
prices are the last thing on my mind.
The phone rings again and I look at it, this time actually hoping that it’s Sarah so I can talk to her.
“Hello?” I say, my voice still faint.
“John, I want to explain everything,” she says, her voice sounding frantic. “I wanted to tell you. I really did. But everything was going so well. I didn’t want to ruin it.”
I let the phone drop to my side and Sarah’s voice continues talking. But I can’t make out what she’s saying because the volume isn’t loud enough to reach my ears.
I just stare at the phone, which is now on the floor, the battery case having fallen away. Sarah’s very faint voice continues to chatter away. I can just barely hear that’s there but I can’t even hear the tone of her voice. Eventually she stops talking and I see that the screen of the phone goes blank and black.
Somehow, I fall asleep. That happens to me sometimes with anxiety. The world goes dark despite the lights in the luxurious bedroom that now means absolutely nothing to me. I’d give all my worldly riches away and live in a cardboard shack if it meant Sarah and I could be happy together, but how can that be when she’s been deceiving me this entire time? Our whole relationship is built on a huge lie.
My dreams are terrifying I awake when it’s dark outside, shivering, in a cold sweat.
Sarah
“What am I going to do?” I say, sitting on my busted up hard wood floor.
“I don’t know,” says Janet, sitting on the sofa, looking about as concerned as I am.
“Isn’t this where you tell me it was going to happen? Isn’t this where you tell me that you were right all along and that I should have been more honest with him?”
“I don’t really feel like it,” says Janet. “You’re in enough trouble as it is.”
“I know,” I say, my voice sounding faint. “He’s not answering his phone.”
“He’s probably upset,” says Janet.
“Don’t you think I know that?” I say, snapping at her angrily.
“There’s no need to get upset with me,” says Janet. “I’m not the one who did this.”
SEAL'd Lips: A Secret Baby Romance Page 27