Dollhouse

by Kim; Khloé Kardashian Kourtney

  “Kass, what’s going on?” she said, calmly and patiently. “You’re totally not into this. The wedding, I mean. And every time I try to talk to you about it, you just get all weird and quiet.”

  Kass said nothing.

  “Kassie! Talk to me!” Kamille’s voice grew more shrill. So much for calm and patient. “I can’t stand this anymore! What is wrong with you, anyway?”

  Kass lifted her head. “You can’t marry Chase,” she stated simply.

  “What?”

  “You can’t marry Chase. He’s no good for you.”

  Kamille balled up her fists. Was her sister out of her mind? How dare she? “What kind of horrible, bitchy thing is that to say?” she shouted. “You’re just jealous because Chase and I are madly in love and you don’t have a boyfriend! That Eduardo guy dumped you because you’re totally uptight about sex! You need to see a shrink! You need to—”

  “I’m pregnant,” Kass blurted out.

  Kamille started. “W-what did you say?”

  “I’m pregnant. I’m five months along.”

  Kamille’s gaze dropped to Kass’s stomach. She couldn’t make out a baby bump. On the other hand, she had noticed that Kass was into even baggier-than-usual clothes recently.

  “Oh . . . my . . . God!” she gasped. She reached over and hugged Kass, then immediately backed off. “Ohmigod, I’m sorry! Did I hurt the baby? Ohmigod, congratulations! Why didn’t you say anything before? Are you happy? Is Eduardo happy? I’m such an idiot, I thought you guys had broken up, but obviously I was—”

  “He and I aren’t together. And he’s not the father,” Kass interrupted.

  “He’s not? Then who is?”

  Kass shook her head. “Never mind.”

  Kamille stared at her sister. Her head was reeling. This explained so much about Kass’s behavior lately. It was the pregnancy hormones. Kamille had heard that they were way, way worse than the usual period ones.

  “Does Mommy know?” Kamille asked her. “And the rest of the family?”

  “Nope. Not yet. You’re the first.”

  “Wow, really?”

  “Really.”

  Kamille smiled and hugged Kass again, more gently this time. “Sweetie, I’m so glad you told me. And I’m totally going to be there for you! I’ll be your labor coach. Can I be your labor coach? And I’ll go to Lamar classes with you!”

  “You mean Lamaze?”

  “Yeah, Lamaze! And we can go shopping for baby stuff together! There’s that supercute baby store next to the Starbucks in our neighborhood. You’ll need a crib and a high chair and a stroller and lots and lots of baby clothes. And all those random little things, too, like bibs and sippy cups, and what did Kyle used to call them when she was a baby? Kikis and nanas and babas.”

  As Kamille babbled on, she was vaguely aware that Kass didn’t seem all that psyched about Lamaze classes or baby clothes or kikis or nanas or babas. But that was okay. Kamille understood now why her sister seemed so out of it. Single motherhood, raging hormones, getting fat . . . it couldn’t be easy.

  Kass had always been there for her, the perfect big sister (except these past few months . . . but she had a good excuse). Now it was time for Kamille to take care of Kass. She would see her through this pregnancy, even help her raise the baby as much as she could. Of course, Kamille would have a new husband and their children to think about soon enough. But for the moment Kass would be her priority. Kass and her beautiful new baby. Kamille’s niece or nephew.

  Unless . . . the father planned to be in the picture? But Kamille didn’t think this was the right time to ask. She would wait for a better opportunity, when Kass wasn’t acting quite so moody.

  Chapter Thirty

  Kass

  “You’re pregnant?” Kat gasped. “As in, babies-pregnant?”

  “Yeah, that’s what pregnant usually means, Mom,” Kass replied. “I’m keeping it. It’s due in August. And that’s about all I’m going to say on this subject.”

  She peered at her watch. “We should get to work. The rest of the staff’s going to start arriving any minute now, and we’re booked solid through ten o’clock.”

  Silence. Kat and Beau stared at her with stunned, deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes. Kyle pulled out her phone and started texting—probably to Benjy (who along with Bree was spending a rare weekend with their mother, Angie, at her Brentwood house). Kamille squeezed Kass’s hand under the table and smiled encouragingly.

  Kass wondered why no one was saying anything. And why did she have to pee again? Did all pregnant women spend their entire days peeing? She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and glanced around the dining room, trying not to feel like a complete freak. She could hear Fernando prepping back in the kitchen; other than him, they were the only ones there, at least for the next few minutes when more employees started arriving.

  Kass had picked this setting to break the news to the family, for precisely that reason. It limited their ability—specifically, her mother’s ability—to have a nervous breakdown and/or ask a million personal questions that Kass had no interest in answering.

  Beau was the first to break the silence. “Well, you know we’re all one hundred and ten percent here for you, honey,” he said awkwardly. “Money, TLC, help with the baby, a place to live . . . whatever you need, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I think it’s totally cool,” Kyle said, continuing to text. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Kass. You’re like the family slut now!”

  “Kyle, that’s quite enough!” Kat snapped. “Kassidy, who is the father? Is he going to take responsibility?”

  Oh, God. Kass wondered how many times she was going to be asked about Annabella’s dad. Annabella Grace Romero. She’d had a vivid dream last night that the baby was a girl, and that she had named her after Grandma Romero and Grandma Ferguson.

  “That topic is way off-limits,” she stated firmly. “Anyway, I have a plan. I talked to my adviser, and we figured out that I can take the fall semester off and still have enough credits to graduate with my class next June. Of course, I’ll have to hire someone to take care of the baby spring semester onward. I’ve already signed up for this website that has a database of qualified nannies.”

  “Oh, really?” Kat folded her hands on the table, which meant that she was about to give a lecture. (Kass and her sisters knew that gesture well.) “I’m not sure if you’ve thought through the economics of having a child on your own,” she went on primly. “How do you plan to finance this nanny? We pay you a good hourly wage here, but you only work part-time, and that’s not enough to cover child-care costs. And what about health insurance premiums? And grocery bills? Are you planning to breast-feed or bottle-feed? Do you even know what formula costs these days? And don’t even get me started on the price of disposable diapers, especially the so-called environmentally responsible ones—”

  “Mom, I’ve already thought through all these things. And more,” Kass cut in. She adjusted her glasses, which she’d had to wear these last few months because the pregnancy hormones were wreaking havoc with her vision and she couldn’t see as well with her contacts. “I know this isn’t going to be easy. It will probably be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But this baby is coming in four months, and she—I mean, she or he—is my responsibility. Yes, I’ll have to make sacrifices. But I will make it work.” She added softly: “I have to.”

  But her mother wasn’t finished. “Have you been seeing Dr. Chen regularly?” she rambled on. “Are you taking prenatal vitamins? Have you had an ultrasound yet? Are you getting enough calcium and protein in your diet? And folic acid? What about pregnancy yoga classes? They offer those at the gym, you know? And what about—”

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. Was that enough yeses? Mom, please don’t worry, I’ve got this under control.”

  Kat sniffed. A tear rolled down her cheek. “How can you say that? You’re going to have a baby! Ohmigod, I’m going to be a grandma!” she exclaimed.
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  “Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Beau said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Kass sounds like she knows what she’s doing. She always does.”

  Yeah, well, not exactly, Kass thought. Her sexual awakening aside, the SHE had been her lowest moment, ever. And now she would pay for it for the rest of her life.

  She had considered terminating the pregnancy. It was just after Christmas, when she realized that not terminating would mean the end of her education, her career, and her ties to the family. To Kamille, especially. She kept picturing Kamille’s face—all their faces—when she announced that she was pregnant with Chase’s baby. The image of it made her want to curl up and die.

  But she couldn’t go through with an abortion either. She just couldn’t. It was an impossible dilemma. She stayed in bed through New Year’s, telling everyone she was sick. The fog of despair and indecision had actually lasted for several weeks. Kamille kept asking her what was wrong, and Kat, too; she told them both it was a lingering bad cold.

  Then, slowly, gradually, she came out of the darkness. She decided to keep the baby. She formulated a course of action: how to juggle her classes, her job, and being a single parent. This was what she did best: organizing, strategizing, making lists. The start of the new semester and being back at school helped to sharpen and focus her mind.

  Her other big decision had been to not tell Kamille (or anyone else) about the baby’s paternity. She would keep Chase’s identity a secret. Of course, it meant that Kamille would marry him not knowing what a complete and total scumbag he was. But if that was the price to pay for Kamille and the family not hating Kass forever and ever . . . well, then, so be it.

  And then there was Eduardo. Who had called . . . and called and called. She hadn’t returned any of his messages for a while, and then finally gotten her act together long enough to e-mail him and say that she had met someone else over the Christmas break. It was a cruel, horrible lie, and sure to make him never, ever speak to her again. But she didn’t know how else to break things off with him. She cared about him so much, but there was no way she could be with him when she was pregnant with Chase’s baby.

  As for Chase . . . thankfully, he had stopped coming by her and Kamille’s house altogether. He had even stopped coming to the Sunday Night Dinners. It was easy enough for him to avoid the dinners, especially once spring training began and he was on the road so much. And miraculously, Kamille didn’t seem to suspect that anything was wrong.

  Except for one tiny detail. The stupid reality show. Why had Kamille and Chase agreed to air their wedding (and all the preparations leading up to it) on national TV? Everyone was expecting Kass to be a chipper, gung ho cheerleader of a maid of honor for those millions of future viewers. Instead, it was all Kass could do not to throw up whenever Kamille wanted to discuss wedding details with her on-camera (should it be a daytime or evening ceremony? . . . should they write their own vows or rip off something from the Internet?), or talk honeymoon (St. Lucia or Paris? . . . hotel or private condo? . . . should they squeeze in a quick getaway between games or postpone until the end of the season?).

  Kass sighed. She would just have to do better. She had become quite the actress lately in her real life. Why not do it for the TV cameras?

  Kass inserted her key in the lock, pushed the door open, and stumbled into the front hallway. She was so tired from work that she could barely stand. The fatigue was the toughest part physically, besides the cravings (salmon for breakfast—WTF?—and chocolate anything 24/7) and the constant trips to the bathroom. Not to mention the mood swings and the headaches and the weight gain and the vision thing and the itchy belly (why?). How did other women do this? At least the morning sickness had stopped, sometime after Valentine’s Day. (The irony of vomiting on that particular holiday hadn’t escaped her.)

  The family meeting earlier had gone well. Sort of. They had all behaved pretty much as she’d expected, and Kamille had been happily clueless. It was all Kass could ask for.

  Just then, she felt a strange movement in her stomach.

  “What was that?” she said out loud. Had she eaten something bad? Maybe the salmon and chocolate binges were catching up to her? Was she sick? Or, God forbid, was she going into premature labor?

  She reached under her shirt and touched the curve of her belly gingerly. It happened again: a soft, almost imperceptible fluttering, like butterfly wings grazing her insides.

  Kass gasped. And giggled. Ohmigod, the baby must be kicking!

  “Hey.”

  Kass screamed. Chase was standing in the doorway to the living room, smiling sheepishly.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized.

  Kass took several deep breaths, trying to still the mad racing of her heart.

  “You okay?” Chase asked her.

  “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  “I let myself in with my key.”

  “Kamille gave you a key?”

  “Ages ago. Look, I wanted to talk to you. I figured this was the only way. Kamille’s waiting for me back at my house. She thinks I’m having a beer with my manager.”

  “Yeah, lying to her is like second nature to you, isn’t it?” Kass scoffed.

  “I could say the same thing about you.”

  Kass glared at him. “What do you want?”

  “Kamille told me. About the baby. Is it mine?”

  Kass knew this conversation had to happen sooner or later. She took another deep breath and told herself to just repeat the lines she’d rehearsed, over and over.

  “No, it’s not yours,” she said calmly. “The dates don’t add up.”

  “She said you’re five months pregnant. We . . . that . . . was five months ago.”

  “So what?”

  “So you’re a liar.”

  “And you’re an idiot. The father’s a guy I dated. We did a DNA test, and it’s a hundred percent match. I won’t tell you his name, because he’s not in my life anymore, and he’s not going to be in the baby’s life either,” Kass fibbed.

  Chase looked startled. “You did a DNA test?”

  “Yeah. We did a DNA test. So please get out of my house. Now. I’m tired, and I need to get to bed.” Kass added, “And please leave me your key. Kamille shouldn’t have given it to you without asking me.”

  “You haven’t said anything to her, have you? About—”

  “No. And I never will. And neither will you.”

  “Believe me, I won’t.”

  “Good!”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, like two opponents on either side of a line in the sand. Kass had forgotten how insanely good-looking he was. But she didn’t feel anything in response, like attraction or lust or longing. She only felt anger and regret.

  And, of course, anxiety. Could Chase tell that she was lying through her teeth? Was the memory of that fateful night buried in his subconscious beneath all those booze-soaked brain cells? Someday, somehow, would he recall that he had been too drunk, or horny, or lazy, or all of the above to open that brand-new box of Trojan Ecstasy condoms? Or would he even demand a DNA test of his own?

  Then what would he do?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Kat

  “Do you think Kassidy’s going to be okay?” Kat asked Beau worriedly.

  “Hmm?” Beau was lying in bed next to her, reading the morning paper. “She’s going through some tough times, but she’s the strongest girl I know, next to you,” he reassured her.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Kat was still adjusting to Kass’s news, a month after her big announcement. She remembered when she herself found out that she was pregnant for the first time, with Kass. Unexpectedly pregnant. It was hard enough, going through all that when she was just twenty-three. At least she’d had David. Kass was doing it all on her own.

  “What about Kamille? Do you think she’s okay? I mean, is she happy?” Kat went on.

  “Of course sh
e’s happy, darlin’. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. It’s all happening so fast. Her modeling, her engagement, this reality-TV show . . .”

  “That’s Kamille for you. If she doesn’t have drama and excitement going on every second of her day, she’s bored to death. You know that.” He picked up the sports page and flipped through it.

  Kat studied her nails; she was way overdue for a manicure. She knew deep down that Beau was right. And yet . . . she couldn’t shake the feeling that Kamille was on autopilot, racing through her crazy daily schedule without stopping to think things through or to even take a breath. She no longer came into the restaurant because she was just too busy. And when she was there, the camera crew was always with her. Like the other night when Kamille and Kass were speculating about Chase’s bachelor party while they sampled the specials in the kitchen. Or last week when the cameras caught all three girls arguing about Kamille’s choice of bridesmaids.

  The phone rang. For a moment she thought it might be Kass, inviting Kat to come along to her ob-gyn appointment today, after all. (Weren’t mothers supposed to do that? Why did Kass insist on going to all these doctor visits alone?)

  But it was the landline, not the cell. Kass never called on the landline. Almost no one did.

  Kat reached for the phone on her nightstand. She didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. She really did need a manicure, desperately. Pippa had told her that one of the many downsides of hitting menopause was excessive chipping and cracking. Great.

  “Hello?”

  “Kat Romero, please.”

  Her chest tightened at the sound of the official-sounding voice. “This is she.”

  “Mrs. Romero, this is Lieutenant Sanchez from the Irvine Police Department.”

  Oh dear God in heaven. Kat knew, just knew, that something bad had happened to one of her children. This was the same call she had gotten almost five years ago, when she got the news about David’s accident.