by Jillian Dodd
I’ll be honest. Katie and I didn’t leave the hotel suite yesterday. We were either naked or wore the hotel’s robes, dined on room service, and feasted on each other. I now know every square inch of her beautiful body intimately. But we didn’t just have sex. We talked and talked and talked. About our lives. Our loves. Our passions.
This morning as we are eating breakfast on the terrace the doorbell rings.
“Did you order something else?” Katie asks me.
“Sorta,” I say with a smile. “I promised to take you to the museums, remember?”
“Is that why we’re here?” she teases. “I thought it was for mind-blowing sex.”
“That too. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
I go to the door and let Kym, who is both mine and Keatyn’s stylist, into the suite. She greets me with air kisses and then moves aside so the bellmen can wheel in the racks of clothing she’s brought with her. While Kym gets set up in the living room, I walk back onto the terrace.
“What’s going on in there?”
“That’s my stylist, Kym.”
“She’s Keatyn’s stylist, too. I’ve met her before.”
“That’s good, because you get to go shopping without leaving our suite.”
“Thank goodness!” she smirks. “I am so tired of being naked.”
“Did I mention that I get to watch you try on all the clothes?” I smirk.
“Do I really need a ball gown?” she asks a few minutes later as she’s pursuing the racks.
“Everyone needs a ball gown in their closet,” Kym replies. “You should always pack a party dress. You never know what fabulousness an invitation might lead to.”
“Okay. So, pick one?”
Kym puts her hand on her hip in frustration, so Katie points at me. “Blame him! He won’t tell me what we’re doing.”
“I am fully aware of your activities.” She hands her a sleek black gown. “Go behind the rack and start with this.”
I’m sitting on a low-slung couch and can see a sexy sliver of Katie naked between the clothes. I’m leaning over just a little bit more, trying to improve my view when Kym swats the back of my head. “Knox Daniels, you cad. Just because you brought me here, does not mean you get to peek. I would suggest you go make yourself busy while us girls play dress up. I want you to be surprised when you see Katie in her new clothes.”
“Does that mean you’re going to tell me when to wear what?” Katie asks, stepping from behind the rack. My jaw nearly drops to the floor.
“Um, I vote for that one,” I say, taking in her curves barely held in place by the slinky fabric. “Anytime. Anywhere. Now, would be fine.”
“Scat,” Kym says, looking a little scary. She hands Katie another gown and then rummages through her bag and hands me a stack of papers with a jewelry box underneath. “Why don’t you go over these sketches? They are tuxedo mock-ups for your next red carpet,” she lies.
I take the stack and go into the bedroom. After locking the door, so Katie won’t accidentally walk in on me, I open the box. Inside are ten sparkling diamond rings of different shapes and sizes. I look at each one carefully, but my eyes are instantly drawn to one in particular. I pick it up, somehow knowing this is the one. I look at the attached tag. Square Cut Diamond Leaf and Vine Platinum. Four carat solitaire. Five point five carat total weight. I study the ring, the leaves curling over the top, the vines twisting up the sides. I let out a chuckle. The twisted sides remind me of her warped sense of humor for some reason. I don’t bother to look at the price. It doesn’t matter. This is the one.
I remove the tag and place it into the single ring box. It’s perfect.
I can’t fucking believe I’m doing this. But when you know it’s right, you go for it.
Knox-style.
Captive Films — Santa Monica
DAWSON
“You’re in early,” I say, stopping at Riley’s office before going to mine.
“Yeah, couldn’t really sleep last night,” he says, running his hand through his hair. It’s a Johnson family gesture and means we’re upset. Frustrated. Trying to figure something out.
“How come?” I take a seat in front of his desk, remembering the advice I gave him just yesterday, wondering if it was the right thing to say. If he acted on it.
“If you feel guilty, does it mean what you did was wrong?” he asks.
“That depends,” Tyler says, joining us. “Did you indulge in something wonderful?”
“Yeah, I think I kind of did.” He pulls a photo out of his pocket and holds it up for us. “It’s . . .
“An ultrasound,” I finish, pulling the photo from his hand and studying it. “It is just incredible how small the baby is but yet it’s kicking and moving its little arms.” I hand the photo to Tyler.
“Aww! Things like this just make me want to cry. The gift of life. I have news,” he says. “Raul and I are going to adopt.”
“You are?”
“Yes,” he says, whipping out a photo of his own.
“It’s a dog,” Riley and I say at the same time.
“I know! Her name is Celine Elizabeth, and she’s a Yorkshire Terrier. Isn’t she precious? We’re so thrilled.” He rips the puppy photo out of Riley’s hand and says, “I’m off. I have so much to do today!”
After he leaves, I hand the ultrasound photo back to Riley. “You didn’t tell me you were going for an ultrasound yesterday.”
“She went without me on Tuesday.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?”
“I was out with Ariela.”
“Well, there will be other ones. Is that what you feel guilty about? Missing it?”
“Uh, no.” He taps his pen on his desk absentmindedly. “I took your advice. Asked her out for dinner. When I got there, she was dressed in sexy lingerie. Anyway, she ended up straddling me and, like, I was inside of her, when she handed me the ultrasound. She said showing me that way was a bit untraditional, but that it fit our relationship. And I was just so overcome by emotion. Then she said it, and I did too.”
“Said what?”
“I love you. And now I feel so guilty. For fucking her. For possibly leading her on. For not being faithful to Ariela.”
“But it didn’t feel wrong at the time, did it?”
“No, that’s the problem. It didn’t. And I don’t know what the fuck that means.”
“You shouldn’t feel guilty, Riley. You’re single.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like I am. I used to have no problem juggling women.”
“It’s different when your feelings are involved. Don’t put pressure on yourself. See where those feelings lead you.” He nods. “You know, I was talking to Mom yesterday. She wants to have kind of a going away party for the girls next weekend. And Whitney’s fundraiser is Thursday.”
“You’re not letting the girls go, are you?”
“No. It’s a school night, so I have an easy out. The girls are going to celebrate Halloween with their friends there, then Saturday Mom wants all of us to go to the Hamptons. She’s doing an early Thanksgiving since we won’t get back for it and wants you there. Any chance of that happening?”
“We’ll take my plane,” I suggest. “How’s that sound?”
“It sounds great. And you have a birthday coming up. Any plans? Want to go back to Vegas?”
“Honestly, I forgot about my birthday. I’ll let you know if I come up with some ideas.”
“You should celebrate. It’s the last birthday of your twenties.”
“Hey, don’t rub it in.”
Tyler interrupts us on the intercom, reminding Riley his conference call is about to start.
“I have to go anyway,” I tell him, looking at my watch.
I don’t tell him about Vanessa’s appointment. I’m not nervous about it because I really don’t think a missed period equals cancer, but she’s so worried that I can’t help but wonder if she knows something innately. I sure hope not.
I wanted to drive
her but she said she had a client appointment this morning and figured it would keep her mind off the waiting. So I meet her there.
I give her a quick kiss and a reassuring hug and tell her everything will be okay.
We’re taken into a room, spoken to briefly by a nurse, and fortunately the doctor quickly follows.
“Vanessa, it’s been awhile,” he says, causing her to cringe. “How are you doing?”
She doesn’t bother introducing me, she just launches into it. “I think I have cancer. I know I’m supposed to come every year, but it’s just so hard to see you after everything that happened. No offense.”
“None taken,” he says. “Why do you think you have cancer?”
She replies with the same list of reasons she gave me.
“Tell you what. I’m going to have the nurse come back in. Let’s do some basic blood work and get a urine sample. I’ll be back in shortly, hopefully to put your mind at ease. And we’ll do a pap test and send that off to the lab.”
She nods, but doesn’t reply. She’s a mess. Tense and on the verge of a teary meltdown. I try to rub her back, but she shrugs me off. “I can’t deal right now, Dawson. Please don’t touch me.”
I sit back down in my spot.
And wait.
First, a nurse comes in and draws blood, then she sends Vanessa off to the restroom with a plastic cup.
I’m running prayers through my mind. Because now I’m tense too and feeling a little like Riley. Surely the universe wouldn’t bring this wonderful woman back into my life, only to have her die.
When she comes back from the restroom, I can’t help myself. I take my hand in hers and gently caress it. “It will all be okay. Whatever it is, I promise you and I will get through it together. I love you so much, and you make me so incredibly happy.”
She gazes into my eyes, still teary, and says, “Don’t talk.”
“I can’t talk?”
“No. I’m too worked up. Just keep holding my hand,” she says, putting the death grip on it.
The doctor comes back in a long fifteen minutes later.
“Well, I have some good news,” he says, setting a file down on the counter.
“I don’t have ovarian cancer? Can you tell that already?”
“No, but I can tell you the cause of your missed period.” He grins. “Congratulations, Vanessa, you’re pregnant.”
“What?! Is that some kind of sick joke?” she yells out. “How could you even say that to me after everything I’ve been through?”
“What do you mean?”
“You told me that I couldn’t get pregnant.”
“No, I told you that due to the scarring that occurred with your miscarriage it was highly unlikely that you would get pregnant. You beat the odds.” He turns to me. “Would you be the father?”
“Uh, yeah,” I reply, still trying to recover from the shock.
“Well, congratulations to both of you then.”
“Wait,” Vanessa says, grabbing his coat. “Are you absolutely, one-hundred percent, positively sure that I am pregnant? You didn’t mix up my urine with someone else’s? Because I don’t believe you.”
“Tell you what. Let’s do it again, together.” He reaches in a cabinet and pulls out another cup. “Go see if you can get us a sample and bring it back in here. We’ll do the test together.”
“Uh, okay,” she says as she leaves.
“She seems a bit upset. Is the pregnancy unwanted?” the doctor asks me.
“She was under the impression that she couldn’t get pregnant.”
“When she had her miscarriage, she was understandably upset. I saw in the papers that her relationship with her husband didn’t survive the ordeal.”
“No, he handled it poorly. And she was devastated. She told me recently that she was hoping to adopt. She very much wants children, but she didn’t expect this.”
Vanessa comes back into the room. She has a haunted look in her eye—memories of her past mixed with being unable to even consider the happy news until she sees it for herself.
The doctor takes the sample from her, pulls a test out of the cabinet, and places the stick into the urine. “Of course, we’ll send your blood in for a full work-up, but since you should be about five weeks along, it will show up in the urine just fine.”
He sets the stick flat on the surface, and it nearly instantly turns positive. “See? You really are pregnant.”
“Um, I need a minute,” she says quietly, sitting down and staring at the pink line.
“Of course,” he says and quickly exits.
I wait for her to say something.
But she doesn’t. Tears stream down her face as she continues staring at the stick. I can’t wait any longer to speak. I place my hand on her knee. “Are they happy tears?” I dare ask.
She looks up at me, like she forgot I was in the room. “I think so,” she says.
The doctor comes back into the room. “Vanessa, I know you will be nervous about this one, and I don’t want you stressed, so we'll monitor you closely. In fact, I was thinking maybe you should take a look now.”
“Take a look?”
“Yes, let’s do a quick ultrasound.”
“Um, okay,” she says. He hands her a robe to put on and explains to her what a transvaginal ultrasound is and how it can detect things earlier than a regular ultrasound. He steps out while she changes, and I have to ask.
“Vanessa, would I be the father?”
Her eyes get huge. “Yes, Dawson. A million times yes. You are the only person I’ve had sex with in a while.”
I breathe a sigh of relief and nod. “Okay, good. I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
“Dawson,” she starts to say, but the doctor knocks and comes back in and gets everything all set up.
In a few moments we have confirmation. “See that?” the doctor says. “That circle is the yolk sac. And that there,” he points,” is the gestational sac. It’s too early to hear or see a heartbeat. That will be at least another week or two, but you are most definitely pregnant, and everything looks completely normal.”
I watch in awe.
“We’re having a baby, Dawson,” she whispers.
Then the doctor leaves the room with a promise to come back with prenatal vitamins and a bag full of other goodies.
She turns to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was even a chance I could get pregnant.”
“Yeah, I could tell.” I laugh. “When you accused the doctor of making a sick joke.”
“I don’t expect—”
“Don’t even say it,” I tell her. “I couldn’t be more thrilled.”
“Really?” she asks. And I can tell she wants to believe me, but she still can hardly believe it’s true.
“Yeah.” I place my hand across her belly. “Remember that night when you told me you felt like a genie in a bottle?”
“You asked if you could rub me and make three wishes.”
“Do you remember what you wished for?”
“Not really, why?”
“Because I do. I wished that you would get your wishes. That you would find big love—the kind of love that can’t be torn apart, the kind of love that heals and inspires, the kind of love that lasts forever—that you could have children, and that you would be happy.” I take her face in my hands and pull her into a kiss. “We’re getting our wishes, Vanessa.”
THE ROYAL SUITE — GEORGETOWN
KATIE
A limo picks us up and drives us around to see all the significant monuments. We have tour guides take us through the Natural History Museum. Then a private tour of the White House, where I even got to meet the President.
“It’s been such a fun day, Knox,” I say, swinging our clasped hands in the air as we make our way back to the hotel suite.
“You look adorable in your outfit.”
“I feel a little like Jackie O in this suit. It’s very D.C.” She leans in and gives me a kiss. “So what are we doing tonight?”
When we open the door to the suite, I find it looking much like my apartment did—covered with roses.
“Knox!” I screech.
He shrugs. “I had them flown here from your apartment. Didn’t want them to go to waste.” He plucks one of the roses from a large bouquet. “My dearest, Kathryn Katie Sugar Lips Colter, will you accept this rose from me and accompany me on a date tonight?”
I swoon. Dammit, but I do. “Of course.”
There are snacks set out on the dining room table, somehow all hot, waiting for our arrival. “Thought we could have a quick bite before we leave again. The symphony starts at eight,” he says, glancing at his watch. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“I know exactly what I’m supposed to wear tonight, even though Kym wouldn’t tell me where we were going. Get dressed and stay out here. I want to make an entrance.”
He agrees and I rush into the bathroom and freshen up my makeup, doing my eyes darker than I had today. I twist my hair into a simple up-do, spritz on some perfume, and within about thirty minutes, I’m remarkably dressed and ready to go.
When I make my grand entrance wearing a gorgeous gown, I find Knox sitting behind the large desk talking on his phone. His dimples flash as he breaks into a wide smile upon seeing me, but his beautiful eyes are full of desire. I bask in it. Knox Daniels thinks I’m sexy. Which makes me feel like the sexiest woman alive.
As I strut over to the desk, I think about our visit to the Oval Office today. How I whispered to Knox wondering how many blowjobs have been given from underneath the Resolute Desk over the years. And how I wished I could get him behind it.
I think he would have somehow made it happen had it not been for some last minute national security update that caused us to get kicked out of the room. But seeing Knox sitting there, I can’t help it.
He’s still talking animatedly on the phone, and he looks like the movie star that he is in his black velvet smoking jacket. I push his chair away from the desk, then drop to my knees and slip under it. He opens his mouth and gives me a look that says are you really going to?