by Tawny Weber
“This can’t be resolved without discussion,” he pointed out.
“What’s to resolve?” she wondered through the pain. Terrified she’d humiliate herself, Livi drew on strength she hadn’t realized she had as she stepped around Mitch to open the door.
She waited, hanging on to the doorknob as if it were a lifeline.
Frowning, Mitch looked as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to argue or check her temperature.
Since that was even more humiliating, Livi said, “Please. I’d like you to go.”
“I’ll give you a call,” he told her before walking out without a backward glance.
Why? He’d already broken her heart.
And then she burst into tears.
* * *
“PREGNANT?” SHOCK MINGLING with the pain of the impossible, Livi shook her head. “I can’t be.”
“To have a nickel for every time I’ve heard that,” Dr. Heath said, her eyes dancing behind round glasses. “The tests are conclusive, Olivia. You’re definitely pregnant.”
“But I have PCOS. You said the odds of my conceiving were virtually nonexistent.” She tried to think, but the buzzing was so loud in her ears. “We used a condom.”
“The odds of conceiving with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome are slim, and the odds of protection against pregnancy with a condom are high.” Dr. Heath paused and then gave Livi a bright smile. “There’s a reason they call this a miracle, though. Sometimes, the odds simply don’t matter.”
Somehow, Livi got through the rest of her appointment.
Then she did what any girl would do when faced with this kind of news. The only thing she could do.
She went to see her mother.
“Olivia,” Pauline greeted coolly when her secretary quietly shut the door behind them. “I told you the attorneys were handling the SEAL workout. Are you here to complain about something else?”
“No,” Livi said faintly, crossing the plush gold carpet to sink into one of the wide chairs in front of her mother’s antique desk. Pauline’s home was modern and edgy. But with its purples, golds, antiques and leather, her office was fit for a queen. “I spoke with the attorney this morning. They’ve assured me we’re under no obligation. Actually the Navy isn’t happy with the agreement, either, so there will be no issue cancelling the contract. Everything is fine.”
“Fine?” Pauline tapped her nails against her desk for a moment. “Well, I’m glad ending your chances at a lucrative deal turned out fine, then.”
Her back automatically going up at her mother’s disdainful tone, Livi was about to point out that the Navy had nixed the deal, too. Then she stopped. She wasn’t here to argue. And, she realized, her mother was right. It would have been a lucrative deal. Just like all of the ones Pauline had pulled together. Because no matter what else could be said, Pauline had always put Livi first.
“Mother, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done over the last couple of years for Stripped Down Fitness. You put aside so much to save this company, and my reputation. I really do appreciate it,” Livi told her sincerely, glad her voice didn’t shake.
“You made your feelings about my management perfectly clear last week,” Pauline reminded her with a chilly arch of her brow. “Is this the follow-up where you ask me to step down?”
Like she did before lifting a heavy weight, Livi puffed out a breath, braced herself and mentally stepped up.
“My behavior last week was petty and childish,” Livi admitted. “I was upset about the SEAL video because I thought Mitch would be angry. I didn’t admit that, though, because I was trying to hide my relationship with him from you.”
From the look on her mother’s face, she’d been silly to think she’d hidden anything.
“You said those were your reasons last week,” Pauline reminded her in a tone that suggested Livi better hurry up.
“Right.” Another deep breath. Livi opened her mouth. No words came out, so she tried again. “I’m pregnant.”
Livi steeled herself for the slew of recriminations, “I told you so”s and well-deserved anger. She met her mother’s gaze without flinching.
“I beg your pardon?”
In complete empathy with that stunned reaction, Livi repeated, “I’m pregnant, Mother. The doctor just confirmed it.”
And watched Pauline’s brown eyes—so like her own—fill with tears.
“Please, no,” Livi begged as she jumped to her feet. “I thought you’d yell at or lecture me. Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry.” Pauline waved her fingers under her eyes to dry them, then took a deep breath and offered a shaky smile. “It’s just...well, my little girl is having a baby? It’s emotional.”
“And now someone will be calling you Grandmother,” Livi said with a wet laugh.
“Oh.” The tears slid over. Livi honestly wasn’t sure if it was sentiment, or if Pauline was facing the idea that she was old enough to own that particular title. Either way, she rose and met her mom halfway for a hug.
She was shocked to feel her mother’s fingers clutching her back in return, holding her close while Pauline buried her face in Livi’s hair for a moment.
And then the older woman flipped the control switch back on.
“I thought you’d be angry,” Livi admitted as her mother released her.
“Angry?” Pauline shot her an incredulous look as she moved to her desk to find tissues. “That would be rather hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?”
Livi blinked. She hadn’t even thought of it that way.
“I thought you agreed with Derrick,” she said quietly. “That I was better off without children, and that they’d get in the way of my career.”
“I repeat, that’d be rather hypocritical of me, as I’ve built a wonderful career and raised a daughter while doing so.” Looking as baffled as Livi felt, Pauline shook her head. “And please, why would you compare me to that man? He was an ass.”
And she, apparently, was an idiot. Why had she never asked her mother about any of this before? Instead, she’d always been afraid to speak up, figuring her mother would shut her out as she had about her father. So she’d never tried.
“Did the doctor clear you to exercise?” Pauline asked, worry clear in her eyes. That Livi was pregnant was its own little miracle. They both knew staying so would be another one. “I can contact your clients, make other arrangements if necessary.”
Livi swallowed hard to clear the tears from her throat and shook her head.
“The doctor gave me a list of precautions. I’ll have to be careful. I can do personal training, but nothing as intensive as what I’m known for,” she said. She puffed out a breath and once again laid her career at her mother’s feet with the request for help. This time, though, it wasn’t out of desperation. It was because she truly wanted her mother on her team. “What do I do? I can’t pay my debts as well as support myself and a baby on just my income from the gym and my coaching fees.”
“I’ll call your accountant and attorney and set up a meeting for later this week,” Pauline said. “We’ll assess the situation, get their input and look at the various opportunities available.”
“And in the meantime?” Livi wondered, feeling lost.
“In the meantime, you figure out what you want from your career,” Pauline instructed, getting to her feet.
“How?” Overwhelmed by the idea, Livi shook her head. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“You look at what’s profitable and what has potential. You weigh your options—benefits versus costs.”
“Then what?”
“Then you decide,” Pauline said.
Livi laughed at the extra emphasis on the “you,” appreciating that despite the ugly way she’d complained, her mother had still listened.
“This time, consi
der everything you enjoy, everything you hate, as well,” Pauline said. “Really think it through. If it’s something that makes you miserable, it’s not worth doing.”
“Why didn’t you suggest that before when I was unhappy?” Livi wondered.
“Because you never told me how you felt in such stridently specific terms before,” Pauline pointed out.
Nope. She’d been too busy keeping her feelings to herself. Livi vowed then and there to never do that again. Whatever her feelings were, they were worthy of being shared. Even if the other person didn’t want to hear them.
“Of course, even if you had, I was so focused on ensuring your security that I probably wouldn’t have listened,” her mother admitted.
Probably?
But how could she blame her mother for taking control when Livi had been so determined not to?
“Will you still manage me?” Livi asked softly.
Pauline gave her a long look then angled her head in a gesture of agreement.
“For now I want you to go home and take a nice, long nap,” Pauline instructed. “Do you have dinner plans? Would you like me to bring something by?”
On cue, her phone signaled an incoming text. Livi glanced at the display, feeling numb when she saw it was from Mitch.
“Is everything okay?”
“I suppose.” Livi puffed out a breath, then tucked her phone away. “Mitch wants to talk with me.”
“You’ll tell him about the baby.”
Brows tight, Livi glanced up at her mother. She didn’t want to tell him. If she’d thought he was furious with her for screwing up his career the other day, she couldn’t even imagine how he’d react when she told him she’d screwed up his life, too.
“Olivia?” Pauline prompted in a stern tone.
“Does that mom voice come with childbirth?” Livi hoped, still a little giddy at the idea of actually becoming a mom and finding out.
“No. It comes from years of raising a child and knowing when she’s considering doing something stupid.”
“I’m going to tell him,” Livi insisted. Then she pulled a face. “But couldn’t I do it next week? Maybe after I’ve figured out the rest of my life?”
Weren’t two huge, life-changing situations in a week enough?
“Will it make the next week any easier knowing you haven’t told him?”
Her shoulders dropped like weights, taking Livi’s stomach along with them. But she offered her mother a queasy smile.
“No. But it will make our breakup a lot more interesting.”
13
MITCH SAT NURSING a beer in a hole-in-the-wall bar, his cell phone at his elbow, wondering when Livi would respond to his text. He’d told her he’d call. One way or another, they needed to resolve where they stood.
It’d been a whole day since he’d messaged her. He wanted to text again, but he figured it was better to wait until she was ready to talk. That’d give him time to solidify what he wanted.
The problem was, for the first time in his life he didn’t have a clue what that’d be.
He knew what he should want. And he knew what he thought he wanted. But like the two paths Livi had so romantically painted on Valentine’s Day, it was impossible to know which was right, which was real and which was just a pipe dream.
Her suggestion to end things was obviously the best choice. He’d already hurt her—why drag it out further? He should simply let it go, chalk it all up to great sex and a little fun. She was interfering with his career, whether she meant to or not.
And nothing, nobody, should be more important than his career.
Except he was miserable thinking about ending it like that. He hated the idea of his life without her. And he’d willingly offered up everything to his career. Blood, sweat, devotion and, on more than one occasion, his life.
But the Admiral was right. Livi was a distraction.
It’d be crazy to think that’d change. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d ever fade into the background. So what did that mean? To be in a relationship he’d have to quit the Navy? Mitch frowned at the mocking black screen on his cell phone.
What was he if not a SEAL? If not a sailor? Were those two paths absolute? A or B? No mixing of the two?
When someone slid onto the stool next to him, Mitch didn’t have to glance over to know who it was. He didn’t even bother asking how he’d found him in a dingy bar off his usual beaten track. The old man had his ways.
Both men were silent as the bartender brought another beer. He glanced at Mitch, who shook his head.
The old man waited until the bartender had meandered back to the other end of the bar, then in a move he’d been making since Mitch had turned twenty-one, clinked his frosty bottle against his son’s lukewarm one.
“I hear I’ve got a problem on my hands,” Thomas said after a silent minute.
“I hear I’m about to be labeled TARFU,” Mitch mused, his eyes locked on his beer as he tossed out the standard military jargon for totally and royally fucked up. “Guess you were called in to diffuse the situation?”
“Assess and advise.”
Mitch grunted.
“Your mother thinks you’ve fallen in love,” Thomas observed conversationally. “She’s afraid your new woman will steal her baby boy away. She’s got this silly notion this woman will take her place in your heart and take over your life before she’s had a chance to give her the Denise Donovan seal of approval. That’s what mothers do, I suppose.”
“She sicced the Admiral on me,” Mitch pointed out, not having a whole lot of sympathy for his mother’s maternal drama. “Is that what mothers do? Stir up enough trouble that Grandfather took personal time, flew across the country and hauled me out of training in order to explain the error of my ways?”
His grandfather’s disapproval still burned in Mitch’s gut. And, he realized, he’d taken that anger out on Livi. How did that make him any better than the Admiral?
“You’ve got every right to fall in love with whomever you want, son. Just like you have the right to make your own career choices.” Thomas shrugged. “That your granddaddy is getting his skivvies in a twist over them is his problem. Not yours.”
Mitch sat with that image for a moment, letting it play through his mind. Then he turned and looked at his father for the first time since the older man had sat down next to him.
“His skivvies in a twist?” Mitch repeated incredulously.
Unabashed, Thomas laughed.
“It’s something I heard your mother say. Actually her term was panties, but I can’t say as I want that image in my head.”
“Ditto that.” Mitch gave a half laugh and shook his head. “You might not want to let the Admiral hear you say it either way, though.”
Thomas took a long drink, set his bottle on the bar and offered a direct look at odds with his usually affable expression.
“I’m going to do something I’ve rarely done, son. I’m going to give you a piece of advice.”
Mitch’s brows drew together as he realized how true those words were. His grandfather had always been the one to offer up advice, solicited or otherwise. His mother had an opinion about everything and loved nothing more than to share her vision of her son’s life. But Thomas? He answered questions, he offered his experiences, he disciplined and guided. But giving advice wasn’t in his repertoire.
Curiosity overcoming his irritation about the entire situation, Mitch angled his body toward the old man. This could get interesting.
“The Admiral has played a big part in your life, all of your life. He’s the head of the family and has strong feelings about that.”
For the first time, Mitch wondered if that’d ever bothered Thomas. Before Mitch could ask, Thomas was speaking again.
“My father is a good man. He�
��s strong, fair and dedicated to serving.” Thomas took a swig of his beer and gave Mitch a long look, as if gauging whether his son could handle the information he was about to impart. “But he’s also an elitist and a snob.”
Mitch snorted, first in surprise, then again in agreement. No arguing with facts.
He waited a few seconds. Then he tilted his head toward Thomas and arched both brows.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Okay.” Mitch gave a slow nod. “But I’m not sure that’s actually advice.”
“Sure it is. You just have to think about it.” Thomas waited a beat and asked, “Why are you considering the DEVGRU assignment?”
“Why?” Mitch considered the question carefully. “It’s an honor to serve on that level. If I were a part of DEVGRU I’d be at the pinnacle. I’d be a part of the most elite force in the world.”
“All compelling reasons,” Thomas observed. “It’s a move that would definitely cement your reputation, garner you numerous accolades and most definitely quiet the whispers that you got where you are based on nepotism.”
Mitch frowned. Why did those sound like bad things when his father said them?
“Livi called me a snob,” he admitted.
His face carefully blank, Thomas simply drank his beer and shrugged.
“You’re a lot like your grandfather, son.”
Mitch had heard that his entire life. He’d always taken pride in that, had actually pushed himself to be more like the Admiral in order to garner more of just that sort of observation.
But now... Mitch figured if he had a choice, he’d rather be like his father. His reputation might not get as many awed comments, but his life would be a lot happier. He’d be a lot happier.
He glanced at the old man. “If you were offered the DEVGRU, would you take it?”
Considering, Thomas drained his beer before shaking his head. “Can’t say that I would.”