by Lara Swann
“I’m not sure my advice ever actually helped you, Em.” I point out.
“Ohh, I don’t know. You were dead right about…who was it…Brad. Yeah, him.” She shudders.
“Yeah.” I laugh. “But you didn’t listen to me, did you?”
“Well, maybe not.” She admits, then smiles. “But c’mon, it could be helpful. You always said that talking helps.”
Did I?
I definitely don’t remember that. Considering the number of times I really wished I could run away from some of those conversations, I somehow doubt it. More likely she got that from some self-help guru somewhere.
I give her an amused look.
“It’s not such a big deal, Em. Not all of this stuff has to be a big drama.” I shake my head, resigned. “We work together, that’s all.”
“Ohhh…” She nods. “Yeah, that’s tricky. I tried to do that with the guy working Starbucks with me at college - not so good when it ended badly. Had to find another job and everything.”
I can’t help smiling. This isn’t the same situation at all, but Emily’s attempts to relate lift my mood anyway.
“She’s not going to be working with me forever, though.” I say after a moment, surprised to find myself starting to voice the thought that’s been at the back of my mind since that evening together in New York. Maybe Emily is right. Maybe I do just want to talk about Ava. “And…we had a moment in New York.”
I don’t go into the details of that. Emily and I might be close, but there’s no way I’m talking to my sister about the things that flash through my mind when I think of that night.
“I don’t know whether it could be anything more or whether she even wants it to be.” I continue. “But I’m thinking of asking if she’d like to go out, after she stops working for Indivest.”
It feels strange to say it out loud, and I can feel Emily’s eyes on me as I do - but in some ways, it’s nice to have it out there too. This way, it seems more like it might actually happen.
“Hey, that’s not so complicated.” She says, grinning at me. “Yeah, do that, bro. What’s stopping you?”
“She hasn’t been in work the last couple of days.” I say, looking over at her in amusement.
“Oh.” She laughs. “Okay, I’m not sure I can help you with that one. Is she sick?”
“Yeah, I think so. I’m avoiding asking after her.”
Emily nods deliberately. “Ohh, of course. Good plan - might be too obvious otherwise.”
My kid sister. Always belated words of wisdom.
“Well, I can’t help with that.” She says. “But I’ll be here to make sure you actually do it, bro - and in case it doesn’t work out. I can help you with that too - the same way you always did for me, huh?”
I laugh at that, and don’t ask why she seems to be assuming that’s the more likely scenario. I don’t want to know.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to react like a sixteen-year-old girl if she says no, Em.”
“We don’t know that.” Emily says decisively. “As far as I can tell, you’ve never actually asked someone out on a date - or if you have, it’s been infrequently enough that you’ve never really had to deal with rejection. You might so react like a sixteen-year-old girl.”
“Infuriating brat.”
“Overbearing prick.”
I give her a fond smile and finally start to gather up the empty glasses.
“I’m glad you’re home, Em.”
“Me too.” She says, with a warm sigh, then grins again. “I wouldn’t want to miss this for the world.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ava
I go into work the next day even though I still feel nauseous.
Now that I know it’s morning sickness, I can’t bring myself to do anything else - even if it does feel like some unfairly bad form of morning sickness.
Or maybe it’s just the whole situation - knowing I’m pregnant - that’s making me feel even more sick.
I try not to think about seeing Damien and I huddle in our project room, spending the whole morning trying with difficulty to manage the sickness without anyone noticing. I get a dozen comments about how ill I look and Tina comes to check twice whether I really think I’m up to being back at work already - I don’t know whether I feel more relieved that they don’t think I’ve been pulling a sickie, or worried that they might guess what it is if this goes on for too long.
I feel totally paranoid about anyone finding out. I have no idea what anyone at Two-Bit Designs thinks about accidental pregnancies when you’re alone and single, but ‘employable’ doesn’t strike me as the first word they’d use.
I try to focus on my work, but for once it’s totally impossible - between trying to manage the nausea, occasional trips to the bathroom and the thoughts about everything it means to be pregnant - I barely get anything done all morning. I keep glancing at the office window too, both filled with a weird mix of longing and dread at the idea of seeing Damien walk past. He doesn’t though - or if he does, I don’t notice.
That’s a good thing. Probably.
I still haven’t figured out a way to tell him.
And here would be the worst place to do it.
Not that I have any idea how it would be anywhere else - I’m not exactly about to suggest we leave to go somewhere together. To tell him that.
Arrrghhh…
“Ava?”
I look up abruptly as Alice breaks into my out-of-control circle of thoughts.
“Sorry, I…”
“I just said we’re thinking of heading out for lunch - you coming?”
I finally take in the three of them - Alice, Frank and Josh, the small group I’ve been working more closely with for our section of the design - standing beside my desk.
“Oh, um…”
I immediately want to say yes - any opportunity to spend more time with the team is a good thing - but my stomach twists queasily at the idea of food and the thought of stepping into one of the local sandwich bars with the smell of all that hitting me…I can almost feel the bile rising in my throat. So instead, I give a weak shake of my head.
“No, it’s okay. I’m not that hungry. I think I’ll just stay here and keep working on this - but thanks.”
I get an obvious glance of concern from Alice, but she nods anyway.
“Do you want us to bring you anything back?”
I shake my head again.
“No thanks. I’ll be fine - I’ll head out later to find something if I need it.”
“Okay then…” Her brow wrinkles. “Are you sure you’re okay to be here today?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” I try to sound reassuring, then shrug. “It’s passed now - but might take me a few days to find much interest in food again. You know how it is.”
Some of the concern in her expression smooths away and she nods. “Yeah, it’s just the worst. Well, if we can do anything, do say.”
“Thanks.”
This time my smile is a little stronger and I think again how much I like this team.
Maybe you should start talking to someone about other opportunities. Is it too soon? We don’t exactly know when this project will be finishing…and also, you’re pregnant.
You’re pregnant.
You’re pregnant.
The words haven’t seemed to stop echoing around in my head since I first found out. Since Vicki first mentioned the possibility.
My hand drops subconsciously to my stomach and my mind turns to the little life growing there, almost before I can stop it. I’m pretty sure it’s too early for me to notice anything except the nausea - but I’d swear I can feel it there inside me.
My baby.
I swallow at the idea and try to push it away. I can’t keep this baby - not if I want what’s best for it. Not if I want it to have a good, stable life with someone who can support it. It deserves that. So I can’t go getting attached.
Even as I have that thought, I start wondering about my parents. I
can guess what they’d say - what they’d do. They would want their grandchild, whatever that means. I can’t blame them for that.
If you really want this baby…they’d help you.
But can I do that to them? Can I be one of those people who relies on their parents to support them for years or years? Or someone who would leave them to raise their child while trying to scrape together some way of supporting my family?
Can they even afford it? Do they even have the energy? It’s not fair, Ava, it’s not fair to spring this on them knowing it won’t give them the slightest choice. And it’s not fair to keep it from them and take that choice away by force.
There are no good options. No good answers.
As much as Vicki says we’ll work something out, as great as she always is at fixing my problems, I think this one is too big even for her.
Just like that, everything in my life has changed. How can one little thing, one careless moment…one scorching night of pleasure…how can that change everything?
I’m too distracted by the unrelenting thoughts to notice the room quietening as everyone gradually leaves to find lunch. I only realize I’m suddenly alone when a large presence walks into the room, tapping lightly on the open glass door as he passes.
I look up to the sight I’ve been dreading all day.
Damien.
Right there in all his powerful, handsome glory and getting closer every moment.
Oh shit.
I jump up from where I’m sat, suddenly feeling the need to be able to move.
To escape. To run.
“Damien!” I say, hoping some of the alarm in my voice might just be taken for surprise.
I take an involuntary step back and he pauses, a frown creasing his brow. I have to fight not to drop a hand to my belly again in that gesture that’s quickly becoming instinctive. The last thing I want to be thinking about right now is that.
“Ava.” He says, and something in me warms at the way my name rolls from deep within his chest. It makes me think of what we were doing the last time we were together and I have to fight the sudden flush.
That was then. Now, everything has changed. None of that matters anymore.
“I was worried you’d disappeared on me again for a moment there.” His voice is light and sensual, his eyes lingering over me as he takes another step closer.
This time, I don’t move. I can’t.
I’m too frozen with the thought of the thing I have to tell him. The thing I can’t possibly tell him. The thing I need so much more time to work out how I’m going to tell him.
I don’t have to do it now, right? I wasn’t planning on seeing him yet. It’s not my fault he suddenly appeared!
Now isn’t the right time. I make that decision a split second before he steps further into the room and takes a good look at me.
“Damn, you really do look sick, Ava.” His voice becomes gentle and he shakes his head. “I’ve been wanting to see you again since that night together, but…are you sure you’re okay to be here today?”
He walks toward me, obviously wanting to check how I am for himself, and for a long moment I let him. Part of me just wants to be touched, to feel him against me again, to have that brief support even if it’s not really about carrying his child. I can pretend it is, right?
Reality returns the moment his hand is reaching up toward me and I step back abruptly, shaking my head. I look behind him automatically, at the hallways visible from inside the room.
“Damien…” I bite my lip and watch the disappointment flash across his face as he glances over his shoulder and gets my point, his hand dropping to his side.
He shouldn’t even be in here with me. But I can’t bring myself to tell him to leave.
“Don’t tell me this is going to be a repeat of the last conversation we had in this room, hmm?”
There’s an amused tone to his voice, something warm and endearing as he teases me and—
“I’m pregnant.”
It just comes out.
I wasn’t going to say that. I didn’t want to say that. That’s not the right way to say that.
The phrase that’s been repeating in my head since yesterday, that unrelenting beat somehow spilling over into reality.
There’s a long moment of silence as his expression turns to shock, those brilliant green eyes widening as his mouth forms a silent ‘O’. I think I see a dozen emotions flicker through his eyes, but I have no idea what any of them might be.
Every second of silence is weighing on me, though, the stupid little hope I didn’t want to admit was inside me fading as he just stands there and stares. It’s probably not even long, but it feels like an eternity to me, and I have no idea how to break it or what to say - how to soften the announcement I just came right out with.
“W-what?” He finally blinks, still staring, still wide-eyed and looking at me like I just grew another head. He shakes his head, as if to clear it. “You said you were on the pill.”
The last of my silly hope that he’ll rush to me, scoop me up in his arms and tell me everything is going to be alright dies with those words - and in its place, frustration ignites into anger. At his words, at him, and at the small tone of accusation I can hear in his voice.
How dare he?! What does he think I am…did he think I planned this anymore than he did?
“I was.” I say emphatically, my arms crossing over my chest and my eyes flashing with defiance. “That time last week, which is too soon for anything to happen anyway. The time before…well, I don’t think either of us were thinking about it…”
For once, the memory - the mention - of that night together doesn’t leave me hot and flustered.
I wait another beat - for him to say or do anything - but he just looks at me, disbelief lingering in his eyes. At least I hope it’s disbelief, and not something closer to horror, the way I’m afraid it is.
Yeah, this is going about as well as I thought it would.
“But—”
“It’s okay.” I say abruptly, my voice coming out harsh. It’s all too much. I can’t stand to be here and face such obvious rejection of the life growing inside me any longer. “You don’t need to worry about it, okay? I don’t—I don’t want anything from you. That’s not why—I just had to tell you, that’s all. So don’t worry about it - I’ll work it out. I’m probably not—I’m probably putting it up for adoption. So—so there. Now you know.”
I break off the stream of words that flow out of me, angry and hurt, and I don’t give him a chance to say anything else. I doubt he even will. He’s probably thrilled that I’ve given him an easy way out of this and now he’s going to want to stay as far away as he can.
I rush past him, tears burning the corners of my eyes as I almost run out of the room. I’m breathing hard and I curse myself for the wild emotions I can’t seem to control. I manage to slow to a fast walk, at least, as I head for the elevator to take me downstairs and away from here. Away from this building. Away from him.
How could he? How could he think—how could he react—
I rub a hand over my stomach as I walk, feeling immeasurably sad for it. It doesn’t deserve that.
What did I bring you into? How am I ever going to make this right for you? Give you what you need?
I manage to make it outside and around the corner before I burst into tears - big, heaving sobs that take over my whole body.
My poor baby.
“You’re special, little one.” I murmur to it, even though it’s probably silly. “You should be wanted. You deserve better. How could he act that way? Like you’re something I did to him.”
Anger floods through me again as I cry, but I don’t have an outlet for it, my fists clenching and my nails digging into my palms. The moment I find a bench, I sink down onto it, burying my head in my hands and trying to get my breathing under control again. I can’t stop the tears.
I’m vaguely aware that people are looking at me - or giving me sidelong glances and then skir
ting around the mad woman crying on the street - but I don’t care. Who cares what anyone else thinks right now?
“I thought he was better than that, little one.” I whisper softly, looking down at my stomach. “I thought…”
I blink as that suddenly hits me - and I realize why I’m so upset. Why I feel so hurt and betrayed.
Somehow, some part of me thought that it might be different. Even though I was dreading it - even though every rational part of me said it would go that way - some treacherous part of me had this stupid hope. This crazy romantic dream.
Damien is the kind of guy any woman would kill for - sexy, passionate and…well, rich. The only thing left to make him perfect is if he’d do anything for me. For us. For our unborn child.
He could. It wouldn’t even be that hard for him. He’s wealthy enough that he could make all these problems disappear - he could make it possible for me to keep my child without me feeling guilty everyday about the life I might be denying him or her.
I didn’t realize until this moment just how much I’d been hoping that might happen.
I wanted so badly for him to make everything okay.
I shake my head slowly, my breathing finally steadying as I bring myself back under control.
It’s just a stupid infatuation, that’s what made you feel that way. You let yourself be captivated by hot sex and crazy chemistry, as if somehow that would translate into something else…
My face is still wet with tears and I’m sniffling, but I wipe them away as I realize this disappointment was all on me. There was no reason to expect anything else from Damien - I know how much he wants the freedom of not being responsible for anyone else anymore. After what he’s been through, I’m not even sure I can blame him.
Except that it’s easier. Anger is easier than fear and sadness.
“Maybe I should blame him.” I mutter to my unborn child, stroking my stomach softly. “What he’s been through already isn’t your fault, little one. And he shouldn’t have acted like I did this on purpose. Like I deceived him.”
That is enough to make me angry again. I might be able to understand some of the way he reacted, maybe, but the idea that he could think that of me…