by Wendy Owens
I’d asked Kenzie to arrange an online closing for me, but apparently the buyer had requested I be present. My agent has assured me this isn’t that strange, and some folks just get scared that online closings could be fraudulent. Though it’s annoying to return home sooner than I’d planned, it’s a small price to pay to relieve myself of the monthly mortgage debt. Besides, I knew I’d have to return soon either way. I have to break the baby news to my parents and, of course, to Jack.
In Greece, it was easy to think about coming back here and having a heart to heart, but I’ve been back for two days and calling him has been the furthest thing from my mind. Instead, my time has been filled with writing and catching up with Kenzie. I’d even found the courage to let her read what I have so far on The Luckiest. Her enthusiasm has given me the fuel and confidence to push forward with the project.
A woman clearing her throat as she enters the room interrupts my thoughts. I turn my head to look; she’s young, late twenties perhaps. Her black hair is pulled back into a tight bun, which exposes her high cheekbones. Her pencil skirt leads my eyes down to her black pumps, and I’m impressed at how well she is put together. I pull my sweater closed in front of my body, suddenly feeling slouchy in my appearance.
“Miss Hart,” the woman says, extending a hand and crossing the room confidently, before I can even shift in my seat. “Nice to finally meet you in person. I’m Madelyn Kinkade.”
I shake her hand and smile. Instantly I can see why Kenzie had butted heads with her. They are the exact opposite. “Yes, of course, hi.” I shake my head, “I’m so sorry about how odd everything was in my case, I—”
“Nonsense.” She waves me off before I can finish. “Selling off all your furnishings did present a challenge, but we got it sold, didn’t we?”
Yeah, she is definitely a bitch.
“Do you have any questions on how this works?” she inquires, taking a seat next to me.
“I think it’s all pretty straightforward,” I reply, delivering a tight-lipped grin.
“The only thing a little out of the ordinary is the two week occupancy request, but you said you won’t have a problem meeting that?” she questions me, not looking up from the contract.
“Nope, my friend already had the rest of my stuff moved into storage for me,” I explain.
“So Kenzie did know where you were.” My breath catches in my throat. I try to swallow, but I can’t. When Jack’s voice hits my ears, it’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. I don’t turn my head. I’m not moving. I don’t think I’ve even blinked. I’m not ready for this.
He walks around, standing across the conference table. I shift my head, and our eyes meet. He looks the same, though I’m not sure what I expected. Did I think he would look different? I wonder.
“What are you doing here?” The words slip softly out of my mouth. He is still standing. Looking down at me. I wonder if he can tell. Does he know what I’m concealing under this table? I hug the edge even closer, hiding my secret. I’m not ready. I thought I would be, but staring into those eyes, dear God, I’m so far from ready.
“Really?” he gasps, leaning forward, pressing his hands onto the tabletop. “I haven’t seen you in six months. You won’t return my calls, and the only thing you have to say is ’what are you doing here?’ You owe me some answers, Annabelle.”
My realtor stands. “Do we have a problem here?”
“He’s my ex,” I explain in a soft tone. I look to him and answer, “I’ve been staying with a friend in Greece.”
“Since when do you have a friend in Greece?” He huffs.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we have a closing to attend to here, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” I’m thankful I hired Madelyn.
Jack glares at her for a moment, then yanking out a seat across from me, he sits down. “I know; I’m the buyer.”
His words set my head spinning. I feel the baby jerking inside of me, reacting to the sudden jolt of adrenaline rushing through my veins. I do my best not to reveal the struggle going on inside my body. It makes sense now, the buyer requesting an in-person closing. Of course it was Jack. I’m not sure how, though.
“Excuse me?” I snarl.
“Oh yeah, sweetie. Didn’t you hear? I passed the bar exam. My dad gave me access to my trust fund as a result, though I will say your little stunt with the wedding money almost made them reconsider. Luckily, I was able to reassure them you’d have no access to these funds.” Jack’s anger is oozing from him, but he’s managing to maintain his composure.
“You’re buying our old condo?”
“I needed a place, and it seemed like the only way I was going to get you back in Chicago,” he explains, his tone starting to soften.
“Miss Hart, are you all right with proceeding?” Madelyn asks.
I look to Jack; he’s watching me, his stare narrow, and I worry if I remain silent any longer, my secret will somehow be exposed. “Let’s just get this done.”
My realtor proceeds with an explanation of paperwork and how the closing process will work. A title clerk takes a seat at the end of the table, sliding the necessary docs to Jack. He only takes his eyes off me long enough to sign each page. I look past him, over his shoulder, out a window, but I can feel his eyes on me.
“So I can take occupancy in two weeks?” he inquires, glancing at Madelyn.
“That’s what Miss –” she begins before I interrupt her.
“He can have the place now. My stuff is out.” I slide my keys across the table, and he catches them.
“Where are you staying?” he presses, leaning in.
“That’s not any of your business,” I say firmly.
Madelyn must sense my discomfort. She stands again and shifts around to Jack’s side of the table, extending a hand. He stands and shakes, but she doesn’t let go of him. Instead, she starts to guide him to the door, “Congratulations, Mr. Fletcher, you’re a home owner. This concludes our business together. Now if you’ll excuse us, Miss Hart and I have some other matters to discuss.”
I don’t dare watch him as he’s escorted from the room. I can only imagine how much this infuriates him. I hear him stammering, trying to find the words that will grant him access to me for a moment. Closing my eyes, I hold my breath and wait, hoping he goes peacefully. And then he’s gone, and Madelyn is back at my side.
I turn my head and look at her, reaching a hand out and placing it on top of hers. I mouth the words to a silent, “Thank you.”
“No problem. I deal with men like Mr. Fletcher all the time.” She then offers, “You take as long as you need. I have the room booked for the next forty-five minutes.”
I sip my water from the plastic cup on the table. Jack was here, in front of me. I had the opportunity to tell him I was carrying his child, but I said nothing. The idea of being strong is so much easier than the practice. Minutes pass, one into the next. I play out the conversation in my mind. This is my life, my child, and he will need to fall in line if he wants even a small part in it. In my mind, it goes perfectly, but I know, in reality, I’m facing a disaster.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting, contemplating what has to be done. The next group has arrived for their closing, so it’s at least been a half-hour. I stand, gather the sales documents and the check that was left in front of me, and I leave. I press a hand into my lower back, shifting from side to side, the ache another gift from my unborn child.
I wrap my coat around my body. I can only button the top two now. My belly peeks out from the opening, and I let a hand cascade over the top of it. She shifts in response to my touch, and I can’t help but smile. I step outside, walk down the four steps, and set out in the direction of the train.
“Annabelle?” Jacks voice stops me cold in my tracks. No, it can’t. He left. He’s supposed to leave. He can’t be here. I’m not ready. I can’t do this. My mind is racing. I don’t turn around. If I turn around, he’ll see my secret.
“Are you—”
He pauses. I realize he knows. He must have seen. I swallow hard and turn to face him. My eyes are large; the cool breeze is biting at the flesh on my face.
I press my lips together in a slight grin and grasp my stomach protectively.
“You are,” he says on a moan. “Is it …”
I nod.
“I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t know when I left. I was only a couple weeks at most,” I explain, trying to remember the script I’d worked out in my mind.
He raises a hand, rubbing his forehead firmly, before bringing it back through his hair. “When did you find out?”
“A few months ago.” I say it firmly; I must own my decision to keep it a secret.
“And you didn’t think I’d want to know?”
Don’t give him power over you. Don’t let him make you the bad guy. “I made the choice to have this baby. And you made your choices.”
“Damn it, Anna! It was a mistake. How long are you going to make me pay for that?”
“Don’t raise your voice to me,” I say in a commanding tone that surprises even myself.
He shakes his head; I’ve thrown him off guard. “I’m sorry, you have to realize what this is like for me. I’ve just wanted a chance to talk to you, and now I find out I’m going to be father.”
I feel a panic rush over me. I can see him doing it. Putting his will on my life, on our lives, and I need to put a stop to it. “We can talk more later—about visitation or something.”
“What?” He’s shocked. “No, this changes everything. This kid needs both of us.”
“And you’re welcome to visitations,” I repeat, remaining strong.
“Marry me,” he blurts out, and I feel sick.
“No! I’m not going to marry you.”
“Doesn’t this baby deserve a family?”
“Yeah, I’m her family.”
“Her?”
“I don’t know what it is. I just don’t like saying it.”
“I bet it’s a boy,” he exclaims.
“Stop it, Jack. You don’t get to be a part of this.”
“A part of my kid’s life?”
“Your child isn’t born yet; this part is my life. I don’t want to share it with you. I can call you when she’s born.”
“Anna!” His eyes grow wide. “You can’t just make all these decisions.”
“I can, and I have,” I confirm, my heart racing.
His nostrils flare, and he grabs my arm and pulls me close. “Do you know who my family is? We could take your baby if we wanted. I don’t want to do that to you, though; can’t you see that?”
I pull away sharply and scream, “Don’t touch me.” The sudden attention from passers-by has Jack backing down. I turn to walk away, to be as far away from him as I can be in this moment.
“We’re not done, Anna. Not even close!” he shouts after me. I don’t turn my head. I walk straight for the train and to Kenzie’s parents’ place.
I shove the clothes haphazardly into my bag, searching for my favorite pair of maternity jeans. Kenzie is rambling, but I’m not listening. All I can hear are Jack’s words repeating in my mind. ’Do you know who my family is? We could take your baby if we wanted.’ I check the washing machine and groan. The jeans are there. I shove them into the dryer, returning to Kezie’s room to pack the last of my belongings.
She grabs my wrists and jolts me to a harsh stop.
“You have to talk to me,” she demands.
I stop, take a deep breath, and hold her hands tightly in mine. I try to explain the situation again with a little more clarity. “Jack was the buyer on the condo.”
“Okay, and why does that mean you have to leave again?”
“He knows about the baby. He said he’s going to take her from me.” My voice cracks.
“Wait, he can’t just do that.”
“Kenz, he’s a lawyer, his family’s rich, and I barely have anything left. I can’t fight them.”
“You can’t just leave.” There is a pain in her eyes, and I know it’s the sting of abandonment.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “You’re right. We can’t let him do this. I’ll take you to the airport.”
“Are you serious?”
“I miss you, and I want you home, but I love you. If he took this baby, I know it would kill you.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“I know. Are you going to Greece?”
“Yeah—oh shit,” I say, collapsing onto the bed. My head fills with despair.
“What’s wrong?”
I feel my heart drop down to the floor in an instant. “I told him about Greece. He’ll find us.”
Kenzie doesn’t hesitate in her response, “Does he know about Holden?”
I look up at her.
“I—I can’t …”
“Does he know about him?” she asks again.
I shake my head.
“You can’t do this alone. You need someone. Holden’s your only choice.”
“He has to hate me after what I did,” I argue.
“Are you kidding me? You’re writing a book about him. There is no way that guy could hate you.”
“Wait, The Luckiest isn’t about him,” I insist.
“Sure it’s not. Now let’s get your ticket booked,” Kenzie replies, pulling out her iPhone.
I have two weeks left to fly before airlines ground me. If Holden turns me away, I’ll be forced to travel home and have the baby in Chicago or in Florida with my parents. Jack will easily be able to find me in either place. The entire flight I’ve found myself asking what next? Even if Holden is willing to take me in until the baby is born, I can’t stay in England forever. I’m not a citizen. I’ll have to go home, and when I do, Jack will be waiting, even more furious than now.
I begin to recognize the countryside. A familiar tree where I had taken refuge in a storm, a field where Holden and I enjoyed a festival. “It’s right up here on the left,” I alert the cab driver who doesn’t seem to be slowing down.
He brakes and takes a sharp turn onto the gravel road. Fall is shifting into winter, and I notice how much has changed. Until we pull up in front of The Three Horseshoes. Except for the window boxes, it looks exactly the same. The flowers that had once overflowed from them are now withered and faded away.
I hand the money to the driver who leaps from his seat to retrieve my bags. When I reach for the door handle I see him. Holden is standing there, looking at me. He doesn’t move. I don’t move. We’re trapped in this moment.
Once I open this door, everything is going to change. He’s going to know my secret. And there is a good chance he will turn his back on me and walk away. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. My ears pop as I swallow, and I exit the vehicle, my tummy poking out between the flaps of my coat. I stand and stare at him.
The cab driver carries my bags and sets them next to Holden, but neither of us moves. Still just standing and staring. The nice gentleman says his farewells, and I take a slight step forward as the car pulls away. We’re alone.
I lift my shoulders and, in a trembling voice, say, “I got a little lost.” I wince as a sharp breeze cuts through me. This causes Holden to move at last. He approaches and without a word, places an arm around me, ushering me into the inn, leaving my bags in the parking lot.
Abner sees me, his mouth falls open, and I think it might be the first time the man has been left speechless. “Can you get her bags?” Holden instructs.
He doesn’t pause; he moves me straight into the kitchen where Bea is busy kneading a lump of dough. “We need the kitchen, Bea.” His voice is direct. She looks at me before exiting. I’m so ashamed, I want to curl up and hide from her prying eyes. Her justified glare of contempt. I’d done to Holden exactly what I promised her I wouldn’t.
We’re alone. I want to say so many things, to beg for his forgiveness, but I remain silent.
“What are you doing here, Belle?”
he asks at last.
My nickname. I want to collapse into his strong arms and weep. To be vulnerable with him.
“You said I could use a room to write if I wanted.”
“You know what I mean,” he presses. It’s clear he isn’t going to let me off that easily. “You left me a note for Christ’s sake.”
“I couldn’t tell you—not to your face.” Any explanation seems to fall short in the moment.
“Do you think I’m a monster? That I’d somehow hate you for …” He hangs his head. “I don’t even know what to say to you.”
“I can leave if you want,” I offer, then hold my breath as I wait for his response.
“I didn’t want you to leave in the first place.” His voice cracks, but he still doesn’t look at me.
“What was I supposed to do?”
He lifts his eyes to mine now. “Talk to me,” he says, frustrated.
“I’d only known you for six weeks, Holden. I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t.”
“Then why come back?” His question is so pointed it cuts.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
He begins to pace, his hands behind his back. “Where have you been?”
“I went to Greece, and I rented a room. I started writing and then—”
He stops, moves in closer. “You’re writing?”
I nod. “I’m almost done with one book and started working on a second. It’s slow … I’m writing on paper, but I’m writing.”
I can see he wants to say something, then decides not to. “What about the father?”
“That’s why I’m here. I went home and, when he found out, he threatened to take the baby from me. This is the only place he can’t find me.” I can only be honest and place myself at his mercy.
“So you’re using me to hide?” There is no anger in his voice; he is more hurt than anything.
“Yes.” I’m almost whispering now.
He reaches out, and his hand touches the flesh of my arm for a brief second before he drops it back to his side. “The room is yours as long as you need.”