Strange Addiction

by Alexis Nicole

  “Does shopping for babies give you anxiety too?”

  I turned to face the woman next to me. She was tall and slender, with a short, asymmetrical bob. With her smooth, flawless skin and perfect smile, I was sure she was some kind of model.

  “I’ve actually never done this before,” I said and turned my attention back to the rattle.

  She picked up a chrome rattle and began inspecting it. “I actually hate shopping for babies, and my little sister keeps having them just to spite me.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle, even though her comment seemed rather cruel to me.

  “I’m Leslie, by the way.” She stuck out her hand.

  “Heiress Montgomery.” I shook her hand firmly; then I turned away again. Really, I was not in the mood to hold a conversation, but that wasn’t going to stop Leslie.

  “So who are you buying a gift for?” she asked. Dang, that seemed like kind of a nosy question to me, but I decided to tell her. “I just found out I was pregnant.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “So I’m trying to find something to give to my boyfriend, a little gift to break the news.” My words were interesting, even to me. I wasn’t one who usually told my business to anyone, let alone a stranger. But, for some reason, I wanted to hear myself saying this out loud.

  “Oh, wow. Well, congratulations. Are you excited?”

  I shrugged. “Actually, I’m still in shock, so the excitement hasn’t quite kicked in yet.” What was wrong with me? It was like I was word vomiting. My personal business wouldn’t stop coming out.

  Maybe it was the look on my face that made Leslie say, “I’m sorry. I know I’m asking a lot of questions. I guess that’s the therapist in me. I’m always in somebody’s business.”

  Ah! So that was it. I knew there had to be something that made me open up to her so easily. Well, she was definitely in the right profession.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to apologize. I guess it’s just easier sometimes to talk to strangers than to people you actually know.”

  She chuckled. “Well, that’s a good thing. I guess that’s why I stay employed.” She returned the rattle to its shelf. “Look, I won’t keep bothering you, but I do want to give you my card. Not saying you need a therapist or anything. Just in case you ever want to talk easily.”

  She handed me her business card, and I read the embossed words: LESLIE HUNTER, RELATIONSHIP THERAPIST. I stuck her card in my pants pocket and thanked her.

  “Congratulations once again on your baby. I hope the excitement sets in soon.”

  Just as fast as she appeared, she was gone. For a moment, I thought about how strange it was to meet her here, but I put Leslie out of my mind and settled on the rattle that I was going to give King tonight.

  The sales clerk wrapped it for me, and no more than thirty minutes later, I was pulling into our driveway.

  Inside our kitchen our chef was already making dinner, but I stopped him.

  “I want to cook tonight,” I said.

  He looked at me as if I’d lost my mind, and I couldn’t blame him. There weren’t many days when I took over in the kitchen, but I wanted to cook for King tonight.

  “I want to make a romantic dinner.”

  “I know. It’s your anniversary. Mr. Stevens told me.” He smiled. “I’m going to cook something really good for you.”

  “Thanks, but I want to do it tonight,” I said.

  “Or I can do it, and we can say that you did it.”

  I laughed. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

  He shrugged, but I convinced him to go home. I mean, I was no Paula Dean or anything, but I could handle myself in the kitchen. With the few skills that my mama had passed on to me, and the right cookbook, I was sure that I could make something happen. I decided on my mother’s favorite: barbecued salmon. When I found the salmon fillets the chef had planned to cook in the refrigerator, it was on.

  The sun was setting by the time I had everything ready: the dinner, the dining room, me. The food was cooked, I had the candles lit on the table, and I was wearing the red dress that King had just bought me.

  King’s favorite Sade CD was playing in surround sound, and I was ready. When I heard the key in the door, I said a quick prayer that tonight would be the beginning of a new adventure for me and King. There would be no more stress. He would be my king, I would be his queen, and we would get ready to have a little prince or princess.

  I stood at the base of the stairs and waited for King to step through the door. As usual, I had only one word for that man—handsome. And he looked even better because of the two dozen white roses he held.

  Before he could say, “Hey,” I was in his arms, kissing him passionately.

  “Happy anniversary, babe,” I said when I finally had pulled away.

  “Wow! We should celebrate like this every night.”

  “That’s what I’m saying.” I took his hand and led him into the dining room.

  “Something sure smells good. Chef did his thing, huh?”

  “Nope,” I said as I presented the dining room table to him. “I cooked.”

  His eyes got wide. “You?”

  I grinned and nodded. “I wanted to. Because this is our celebration.”

  He smiled as if he was very impressed and wrapped his arms around my waist. “This looks wonderful, baby. Thank you for doing all of this for me.”

  “For us.”

  I took the roses, which he still held, and stuffed them into a vase. I didn’t want to take the time to cut them right now; I’d do that part later.

  I led King to the head of the table, then served him before I sat down in the chair next to him. As we ate and chatted, the night felt magical. Like this was a fairy tale life. A fairy tale that I had a feeling would always last.

  When his plate was empty, King reached for my hand. “Heiress, this was really nice. Just wonderful.” He kissed my palm, and I got a tingle in my spine. “I have something for you.” He leaned back in his chair, and from his jacket pocket, he pulled out the famous blue box.

  I started to clap before he even gave me the box.

  “This is for you . . . because I love you so much.”

  I took a deep breath before I opened the top of the Tiffany box, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the twenty-four-karat canary-yellow diamond necklace.

  “Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “Baby . . .” There were tears in my eyes when I looked up at him. “This is gorgeous.”

  “I thought you’d like it.”

  “I’m scared to put it on,” I said. “This is just so beautiful.”

  “It’s no more beautiful than you are,” he said as he pushed back his chair and came around to where I sat. He lifted the necklace from the box and hung it around my neck. “You deserve it.” He kissed my cheek before he returned to his chair.

  I fingered the necklace for a moment as I thought about the fact that now it was my turn to give him a present. From the moment I’d found out about the pregnancy today, I’d talked myself down from being scared. But I felt the flutters in my stomach now, not having any idea how all of this was going to turn out.

  My hands were trembling when I pulled the box from under my chair and slid it over to him.

  “I, uh, got you something too.”

  His smile was wide and bright, as if he was delighted that he had a gift. He opened the box, and it seemed like we both held our breath at the same time. Slowly, he lifted the rattle.

  “What’s this?” he asked, frowning as he twisted the small microphone shape in his hand.

  I took a deep breath, hoping that I took in enough air, because I didn’t know when I’d breathe again. “Well . . . ,” I began and then kept going. “I went to the doctor today because I’ve been feeling a little funny lately, and he told me that I was . . . I was . . . I was . . .” I couldn’t get the rest of the statement out. But I guess I’d said enough, because his face registered that he’d received the message.
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  As his lips spread into a slow smile, I said, “Congratulations. You’re going to be a daddy.”

  The silence that followed felt like it lasted a lifetime, and as I waited for him to respond, the flutters returned. Maybe I had read his reaction wrong. Maybe that wasn’t a smile. Maybe that was a grimace of disgust. Finally, King looked up at me and his face was as bright as a Christmas tree and then I breathed.

  “I’m going to have a son?” he whispered.

  Even though his voice was low, I could hear his excitement, his joy.

  “Well, it’s way too early to know what we’re having, but I guess having a son is a fifty-fifty possibility.”

  Another second, and then he jumped up and hugged me.

  “Oh my God,” he said, pulling me up from my chair. “Oh my God,” he repeated. Then he kissed me as if it was our first time. So gently, so lovingly, so full of love.

  I have to admit, his reaction was overwhelming . . . in a positive way. I was beyond happy.

  “Baby, this is the best gift you could ever give me.”

  I squealed when he lifted me up and carried me from the dining room to the stairs, and then up the stairs to our bedroom. The entire time we kissed, and he broke away only long enough to say, “Thank you.”

  All through the night we made love. All through the night he said, “Thank you.” And all through the night he told me how much he loved me.

  By the time I laid my head on his chest, I was exhausted. . . exhausted from happiness and joy.

  King’s reaction was better than anything I could have ever imagined. As I closed my eyes, I tried to see into our future. We were going to be parents, and that meant a wedding was very near in our future too.

  Chapter 16

  I never understood what people were talking about when they said that a pregnant woman had a glow, that is, not until now. It was hard to explain the way I was feeling. All I could say was that I was loving every minute of every day.

  It was like our baby had created a whole new King. The man treated me like a porcelain baby doll that he made sure would never break. He met my every need—things I asked him for, and things I didn’t. Like the parties . . . he wasn’t interested in having any more at our house. He was home much more, doing fewer interviews and having fewer meetings. And when he was gone, he checked in on me every minute that he could.

  “How are you doing, baby?” he asked me over and over again.

  I could hardly believe that this was the same man. If I had known this baby was going to change him in this way, I would’ve gotten pregnant long ago.

  As much as I loved the attention, it was nice when I had a break. Just to bask in the truth of this pregnancy myself. So when King told me that he had to go back to the set to reshoot a scene for the movie that had just wrapped, I was thrilled. He’d be gone for the whole day, and I’d be able to do something that I’d wanted to do for a few weeks now.

  Talk to his mother.

  I hadn’t spoken to Mrs. Stevens since the night she predicted my pregnancy, and I felt like I owed her this announcement in person. So as soon as King left, I called his mother and invited her for lunch.

  “You’ve just been over here that one time,” I said to her. “It would be nice if it was just you and me this time.”

  “I’d love that, Heiress,” she said.

  She agreed to be at our home at noon, and I had our chef set up lunch by the pool. As I sat and waited for King’s mother, I let my eyes wander through the backyard. I’d always loved this spacious backyard with the pool. This was my favorite part of the property.

  I smiled; this was going to be the perfect place for our child or children to play. My smile widened as I thought about children in the plural. Resting my hand on my belly, I whispered, “You’re the first, baby.”

  I heard the doorbell and rushed to the front of the house. When I opened the door, we both smiled at the same time. Mrs. Stevens had arrived, looking absolutely flawless, as usual. Today she wore a black-and-white dress that flattered her petite frame, and like always, her hair and her makeup were perfect, natural.

  Right then, I said a quick prayer that I would look half as good at her age.

  “Heiress dear, you are glowing.”

  She kissed me on both cheeks, and I thought, See? There’s that glowing remark again.

  “Thank you. You look beautiful too, as always.”

  “This old thing? It’s just something I threw on.”

  As we walked through the house, I informed her that since it was such a beautiful day, we’d be eating outside. We sat down at the patio table, and the chef brought us our salads. Mrs. Stevens looked around as if she was impressed with the way I was keeping her son’s house. That was good. I wanted her to like me. Like I said before, I wanted her to think of me as a daughter, especially since I was carrying her first grandchild.

  “So tell me, dear,” she began without looking up from her plate, “how’re you feeling?”

  I really didn’t know where to begin with that question. I was feeling so many different things, all of which were hard to describe. “I’m doing well,” I began, knowing this was the perfect way to tell her the news. “I’m in . . . my morning sickness stage.”

  Now she looked up with a smile. “So I was right.”

  I nodded.

  “Well,” she said as she wiped the corner of her lips with her napkin, “how do you and King feel about that?”

  “We’re happy. We’re really happy about this.”

  “That’s good.” She nodded.

  “King has been really wonderful. When I told him, he was so excited.”

  Her smile widened, as if she was proud of her son. “I’d hoped that he would be. I’m glad to hear that.”

  She lowered her head once again, but even without her eyes on me, I could tell that there was a lot on her mind. I wasn’t sure if her thoughts were about me or herself or what I’d just told her. Whatever it was, I could tell that she was thinking hard. It was like she was watching a movie and reacting to scenes in her head.

  In that instant, I wanted to know everything about King’s mother. I wanted to hear all that she had to teach me. She had to have an interesting story given her own success, and then being married to King’s father. Whatever she had to tell, I wanted to know it all.

  “Mrs. Stevens, can I ask you something?”

  She glanced up. “Sure, dear.”

  “What exactly did you mean when you told me it takes a lot to be with a Stevens man?” I’d thought about those words quite a bit over the past few weeks, and now that I had her here, I was glad to have the chance to have her clarify.

  Slowly, Mrs. Stevens let her fork fall to her plate. Again, she wiped her mouth with the napkin and then finished chewing her food before she spoke. “My husband used to say, ‘Nothing else matters but the arts.’” She paused for a second, while she pondered the hurtful nature of that statement. “My husband has been acting since he was three years old. That’s all he knows and all that he knew when he met me. Making your family a priority was not an easy concept for him.”

  Already I could hear her pain, and I began to wonder how deep I really wanted this conversation to go. Maybe it was best to change the subject. To keep this conversation and this visit as light as I could. But I didn’t have a chance to make that decision.

  Mrs. Stevens continued, “When you love a man who immerses himself so deeply in his craft, you begin to live with some interesting characters. Your life becomes very dramatic.”

  Who was she telling? I knew exactly where she was coming from. Every time King took on a project, his mood changed. It was as if he was living the role, even at home, even with me. So did that mean it was always going to be that way? No, it couldn’t be. Because if Mr. Stevens had been like that all these years, I was sure Mrs. Stevens would’ve been gone by now. I mean, she had been married for almost thirty years, so something had made her stay. My first thought was that maybe she stayed because of the money, but
then she had her own success.

  “I’m not sure if King is like that,” I said, trying to reassure myself that he was different. I mean, really, he was. He never put his career in front of me. That wasn’t our problem.

  “King is a good man, but as his career grows, I see more and more of his father in him.”

  My heart felt like it didn’t know whether to stop beating or to beat faster. For some reason, that statement seemed so eerie to me.

  “Just be strong, Heiress.”

  It was time to change the subject. Mrs. Stevens had taken me way past the answer I was looking for. She’d gone deeper than I’d wanted.

  I turned the conversation to her. “So how did you get started as a singer? Did you always want to sing?”

  The melancholy on her face fell away. Her smile went from stiff to bright, and after a few minutes, I knew why. Mrs. Stevens laughed as she told me about how she began at the age of two in church, singing “This Little Light of Mine.” Then she reminisced about her European tour when she was just nineteen, and I saw the bliss on her face when she recalled an affair she’d had in France with a French record executive.

  The way she talked so fondly about motherhood and all the precious moments she could remember with King made my heart warm. I was ready for this.

  Then she turned the conversation to me. She asked me about my family and where I’d grown up. I told her all about my upbringing and how my father made sure he attended everything I ever did, all my dance recitals, the school plays, and every reception in which I received an award at school.

  By the time she left, I felt like I’d achieved my goal, to get closer to King’s mother. In just one afternoon we’d done that. Hours after she was gone, I couldn’t get some of her words out of my head. I replayed the beginning of our lunch over and over again in my head. Phrases like “interesting characters,” and “be strong,” stuck out in my mind. She had made it sound like the Stevens men never stopped acting, even when the cameras stopped rolling. I didn’t want to dwell on that, though. King and I were in a different place, a blissful place. He completely put his family first; he was nothing like his father in that way.