British Bedmate (A Series of Standalone Novels)

by Penelope Ward

  “No. I need to know as soon as possible.”

  I nodded but knew something was still bothering her. She looked like she was mulling over saying something on her mind. “Did I upset you by texting her and putting the wheels in motion?”

  “No. Not at all. I appreciate you handling everything. I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with all of it. But…”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “What time are you meeting her?”

  “Five o’clock this afternoon. Why?”

  “I’d like to do it myself. I’d like to meet Gina to collect the sample and meet her daughter.”

  I thought that was a terrible idea. “I’m not sure that’s so wise, Bridget.”

  “Maybe. But I need to do it, Simon. I need to talk to her.”

  “Bridget—”

  “I’m serious, Simon. I need to do this. I’m never going to have closure from Ben because he’s not here anymore.”

  As much as I hated the thought, I could understand her needing some answers directly from the source. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

  “No. I need to do this alone—woman to woman.”

  “I’d really like to come along. I want to be there just in case you need me.”

  Bridget reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. “You are here if I need you. You were here last night, you made all of these arrangements this morning, and you’re going to be there for me even if you’re not physically with me. But this is something I need to do by myself, Simon.”

  I looked back and forth in her eyes and saw sheer determination staring back at me. I fucking hated the thought of her going alone—but I thought about what I’d needed to do with Blake. Some ghosts we just need to exorcise ourselves. Against my better judgment, I finally nodded. “I’ll let Gina know you’ll be the one coming.”

  Bridget shook her head. “No. Don’t. I don’t want her to be prepared for me. No different than I was to find out about her. I want honest answers, not something manufactured. It’s better that she be surprised.”

  I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking.

  Simon had arranged to meet Gina at the McDonald’s near the hospital, which had a children’s PlayPlace. I parked next to the tall windows and looked inside at a half-dozen little girls running around. One of them could be my husband’s daughter. My son’s half-sister. The thought made me feel like I might throw up right there in my car. I had to roll down the window to get some fresh air, then shut my eyes for a full five minutes in order for the overwhelming urge to vomit to pass enough to go inside.

  Luckily, my feet were able to move me forward, even though my brain was screaming to run the other way. Opening the door from the restaurant to the kiddie area, I looked around the giant PlayPlace for a woman who fit the description that Simon had given me. To the right, there was a brunette sitting with a redheaded woman chatting—that could be her. Although I figured she would come alone. To the left was another brunette with her back to me, but she was sitting with twin boys who looked to be about three. I was beginning to breathe a little easier, relieved that maybe she hadn’t shown up, when I spotted a woman off in the corner near the ball pit sitting with a little girl. My heart started to hammer in my chest as I walked toward her. She was stunning. Simon had failed to mention that.

  I considered turning around and leaving, but then a little boy about Brendan’s age walked by holding the hand of a little girl about Gina’s daughter’s age. They were probably siblings. My chest squeezed, and I knew I had to go through with it. I needed to know for my son’s sake, even if not for my own sanity.

  Without giving myself another opportunity to back out, I walked over to the table where they were sitting. The woman looked up at me and smiled at first.

  I stared until that smile morphed into concern. She wrapped her arm around her daughter protectively. “Can I help you?”

  My voice was barely a whisper. “Are you Gina Delmonico?”

  “Yes?”

  When my gaze shifted to her daughter, searching for signs of my husband, signs of my son, she must’ve figured it out. Closing her eyes briefly, she nodded. “Yes, I’m Gina. You’re Bridget, aren’t you?”

  I stood frozen while the woman spoke to her daughter. “Do you want to go in the ball pit?”

  The little girl jumped up and down. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  “Okay, baby.” Gina stood and looked at me. “Excuse me a moment.” She disappeared to help her daughter into the ball pit, and then came back. Motioning to the side of the table she’d been sitting at, she said, “I need to be able to keep my eye on her while she’s in there. Do you mind if I sit on this side?”

  I just kept standing there. After she settled into her seat, she looked up at me. “Do you want to speak to me, or did you just want to swab Olivia?”

  “Olivia?”

  “My daughter. I assumed that’s why you were here instead of Dr. Hogue.”

  Blinking a few times, I finally snapped out of it and sat down. I don’t know what I’d expected—perhaps it was me screaming at her, or her running away from me when she realized who I was, but sitting down to speak in a civil manner was not it.

  Gina at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Staring down at the cup of coffee on the table in front of her, she shook her head and let out a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I didn’t come for an apology. I came because I need to know why. Why did he turn to you?”

  “He didn’t love me. It was…just an affair…just…sex.”

  Ben and I’d had a normal sex life; at least I thought we did. Sensing her answer wasn’t enough for me, Gina continued, “The only thing he ever told me about your marriage was that you were trying to get pregnant again. He’d told me that you guys struggled the first time and…well…he alluded to the fact that you had stopped having spontaneous sex and that it had become something more planned. I guess around your cycles and all. He didn’t go into details or anything.”

  Ben and I had struggled to conceive Brendan, which resulted in fertility testing and my eventual diagnosis of polycystic ovary syndrome. A few years ago, we’d tried to get pregnant again. It was probably about a year before he died—which would have coincided with the start of his affair with this woman. During that time, our sex life was sort of scheduled in order to try and increase the chances of my conceiving at certain times. That was enough to make my husband stray?

  I shook my head. “You knew he was married from the beginning?”

  Gina’s face turned red, and she looked nervous to answer. “Yes.”

  “How could you? How would you feel if it were your husband?”

  “I don’t have any excuse, other than to say I wasn’t a good person before the accident. And it wasn’t just what I’d done to you. When my father was sick, I didn’t visit him often. When I was up for a promotion at work, I spread rumors about the other candidate having a drinking problem in order to win the position over him. I put myself, and my wants and needs, above everything. Basically, I was selfish and didn’t think about the effect I was having on other peoples’ lives.”

  “And now? Are you saying that’s changed?”

  She looked down. “It has. At least I’m working on it.”

  I stared out the window for a few moments. Oddly, I didn’t want to scream and yell anymore. I just wanted to put this whole thing behind me. “Does she look like him?”

  She shook her head. “No, she doesn’t. And we always used condoms. Ben was really good about it.”

  I scoffed. “How big of him.”

  “Like I told your boyfriend, I really don’t think she could possibly be Ben’s. But I can’t be one-hundred percent positive because…you know.”

  “Because you were sleeping with my husband at the same time you were cheating on your boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d like to swab her now. Perhaps we can do it in the ladies’ room. It will only take me a minute.”

  “Yes,
that’s fine.”

  It was bizarre to go into the ladies’ room with my husband’s mistress and swab the little girl. Gina simply told her daughter to open her mouth so that the nice nurse could check her cheeks. The innocent little thing was none the wiser. By the time I was done, I was anxious to get the hell out of there. Gina, on the other hand, thought we’d become friends and could talk about boys while I packed up the test kit into my purse.

  “So, you’re dating Dr. Hogue now?”

  I glanced up at her in the mirror as I washed my hands in the sink.

  She continued, “He seems like a good catch. Was pretty upset when he realized who I was and the connection we had.”

  I grabbed a paper towel and attempted to ignore her. She still didn’t take the hint.

  “Plus, he’s a doctor and all.”

  I wanted to smack that man-eating smirk off her face. But I wouldn’t do that in front of her daughter. Finished with what I’d come to do, I knelt down to the little girl. I took her hand into mine and squeezed gently. “It was very nice to meet you, Olivia.”

  She smiled, and I took once last opportunity to study her face for any sign of Ben. I couldn’t find any.

  Standing, I pulled my bag onto my shoulder and leaned into Gina so that her sweet daughter couldn’t hear. “Keep the fuck away from Dr. Hogue, you home wrecker. You haven’t changed at all.”

  It was the longest three days of my life.

  The day after I met with Gina, I brought Brendan to the hospital at the end of Simon’s shift for a quick swab. I hated lying to my son, but there was no reason for the memory of his father to be soiled. In just another day and a half, I’d know the truth.

  Oddly, for the last day, the object of my obsessive thinking wasn’t my cheating, dead husband. It was something his mistress had said that I hadn’t been able to shake. She’d reminded me of the struggle I had getting pregnant. I wasn’t even sure if Simon wanted kids. But it wouldn’t be fair of me to not warn him there was a distinct possibility I wouldn’t be able to give him any. It was hard enough almost ten years ago, and now I was getting older.

  Simon had taken a quick shower after dinner and went to his room to get changed while I put Brendan to bed. I found him in the kitchen pouring two glasses of wine. “You read my mind,” I said.

  “I figured you could use it.”

  He’d slicked back his wet hair after the shower, but a long, blond piece fell into his eyes as he handed me a glass. I eyed it and brought my wine to my lips. “Brendan has an appointment with the barber next week. I’m thinking I should bring you along with him.”

  “I’ll cut my hair if you don’t like it.”

  “You will?”

  “Absolutely.” He shrugged. “You just have to show me a boob.”

  I sputtered swallowing my wine. “What?”

  “You heard me. I’ll trade you a haircut for a peep show.”

  “You’ll cut your hair if I…flash you a boob?”

  “Deal?” He arched a brow.

  I reached out my hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Dr. Hogue. Maybe Brendan will stop complaining if you get yours cut, too.”

  Simon took my hand in his, and then used it to yank me flush against him. He whispered against my lips, “I had an appointment set for this Saturday morning, but now I’m gonna get some tit, too.”

  “You tricked me!” I laughed.

  “Sweetheart, I’d shave my damn head just to get this smile for one minute.” He traced my bottom lip with his pointer finger. “I’ve missed it.”

  I took a deep breath. “I know. I’m sorry. Why don’t we go sit in the living room? There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “If that’s code for you’re gonna unbutton your shirt and let me lick a nipple, I’m in.”

  I shoved him playfully before taking his hand and leading him to the couch.

  Simon figured out that something was up when I let out a long breath and rubbed my palms.

  He placed his hand on my knee. “Are you nervous about the test?”

  “I am, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  His expression turned serious. “Alright.”

  It took almost a full minute for me to gather my thoughts.

  “I feel a little embarrassed to be bringing this up to you now, and I’m certainly not looking to freak you out…”

  “The only thing freaking me out is not knowing what in the bloody hell is bothering you if it’s not the DNA test. Whatever it is, say it.”

  “I’m going on thirty-five…”

  “Total MILF, yes. I’m aware of your age.”

  “What I mean by that is…I’m really getting to a point where it’s going to be more and more difficult to conceive with each year that passes. I’m worried that I won’t be able to give you a child of your own, if that’s something you want.”

  “This is what’s been on your mind?”

  “Yes. Well, it’s something I should’ve given more thought to earlier, but it wasn’t until my conversation with Gina that I was really reminded of the struggle Ben and I had trying to have a baby. I have polycystic ovary syndrome. That means that my hormones are out of balance. Add in the factor of my age now compared to then and—”

  “Whoa!” He interrupted. “This is all too much for you to be worrying about right now on top of everything else.”

  “I know. I can’t help it. It’s a serious concern. It feels so premature even bringing this up to you, but I feel like you need to figure out if you’d ever want a baby of your own. Because I may not have much time left to give you one—that is, if I’m even able to give you one at all.”

  Simon blinked several times in a row and seemed to be absorbing my words. “Wow. Alright. I’m going to be honest here. For many years, I was convinced that I didn’t ever want to bear the responsibility of a child. Part of that had to do with my maturity level at the time and an even bigger part had to do with guilt feelings over Blake—fears of inadequacy, things like that.”

  Interrupting him, I said, “I feel awful bringing this up now. I know it’s too soon to even be thinking about this.”

  “Why are you feeling awful? I always expect you to tell me exactly what’s on your mind. We need to always be honest with each other.”

  “I don’t expect you to make any decision now or anything. But I do want you to ponder it. Because if a baby is something you do want, I can’t be sure it will happen, and we don’t have forever to try.”

  “Okay…I’ll think about it. Give me a few.”

  “A few months?”

  “No, a few seconds.” He closed his eyes tightly before his eyes flashed open. “Okay, I’ve thought about it.”

  “You have?”

  “And my conclusion is that I don’t need to think about it. Because in my heart, I know that I would love to have a baby with you. But not if it’s going to cause you stress and anxiety. Do I want it? Yes. Because I love you, and I would love to experience that with you. And of course, it’s crossed my mind before, Bridget—often, actually. So…as long as it’s not putting you in any danger, I would be open to whatever you want. But I’m going to make it very clear that I don’t need a child of my own blood to feel fulfilled. So if it doesn’t happen, that’s fine, too.”

  “I think you say that now, because you’re still young. But you’ll regret it if you don’t. You’re such a beautiful man. I couldn’t imagine you not procreating.”

  “Let me ask you this. Do you want another child? That’s just as important as whether I want one. I wouldn’t be the person carrying it, you know.”

  I didn’t have to think about the answer to that question. “Yes. I do. I just never thought that would be possible for me again.”

  Simon pulled me into him, caressing my hair as I rested my head on his chest. He spoke softly. “This entire year has felt like fate to me—the way we met, how I ended up here of all places in the world. Why not leave this up to fate, too? Let’s not worry about i
t so much that it causes stress but rather take the attitude that if it happens, it happens.”

  “Well, I’m on the pill…so it’s not going to happen if—”

  “Why don’t you throw those out tonight?”

  I looked up at him. “Are you serious? You…want to start now? Would you be ready if it happened?”

  “This baby would be a part of you and me. I don’t even have to think about whether I would want it. I am prepared for it to happen. We would also have to be prepared to deal with things if it didn’t happen, either, I suppose.”

  “Yes. I’ve been down this road before, and it can be very devastating when you’re expecting it to happen and it doesn’t.”

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “We’re gonna fuck each other a lot and love each other a lot—like we always do. And we’ll leave it up to fate, okay?”

  I smiled, so relieved that we’d had this conversation. “Okay.”

  The next day, I’d just gotten home from picking up Brendan from school. Simon was in the kitchen making us an early dinner before his shift later that night.

  “You think the results might be in?” he asked.

  “I’m gonna head to my room and check.”

  He put down his pasta tongs. “Want me to come with you?”

  “No. I’ll be fine. Be right back.”

  Once in my room, I opened my laptop and logged into the DNA testing company’s secure online portal. I punched in my password. To my surprise, the status had changed from Processing to Results to Available. I knew if I clicked, that was going to be it. I would find out if my son had a half-sibling.

  Should I wait?

  Was I ready?

  Without thinking it through too much, I clicked and scrolled down to find the words that would completely change the tone of my night.

  Results: Brendan Valentine is excluded as a relative of Olivia Delmonico.

  I looked up at the ceiling and screamed, “Yes!”

  I could hear Simon running from the kitchen.

  He appeared in the doorway in a matter of seconds. “Bad yes or good yes?”