“Six?” I ask.
“Shelby’s in town,” Bex says carefully, “Didn’t Enzo tell you?”
I take a deep breath, thinking about the leggy blonde that my brother met on the tournament circuit this year. Shelby is a part of Team McClain’s PR staff, and once had a fling with Harrison. For a time, I was certain that she was responsible for the blackmailing Harrison and I had to deal with throughout the tournament. I was also pretty convinced that she was gunning to steal Harrison away from me, but she took up with my brother instead. We’ve made peace, more or less, but it’s still hard to tame that knee-jerk reaction of anger whenever I hear her name mentioned.
“Swell,” I force myself to mutter, “The more the merrier.”
Later that night, the six of us set out for our rejiggered stag and hen night. We’ve settled on an incredibly fancy French restaurant in TriBeCa, and have dressed to the nines. Bex, Shelby and I rock sleek LBDs while the boys roll out in their best suits. Charlie goes for classic black himself, but Enzo and Harrison sport shades of gray. I almost couldn’t get myself to leave the hotel room with Harrison all dressed up like that:
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but a tee shirt and jeans,” I said wondrously, as I admired his warm, charcoal suit. The piece was cut perfectly for him, his broad shoulders and tapered waist only made the more balanced and cut by the fine material.
“You don’t mind a little change of pace?” he asked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
“Not one bit,” I said, moving toward him across the room, “Though I really don’t know how you expect me to keep my hands off you—”
“Look who’s talking,” he growls, letting his eyes rake all along my body.
I’ve wiggled into one my favorite dresses, pitch black bandage number with a sinfully low back. I have to admit, it’s fitting a bit tighter around the middle than usual. I’m pushing three months, and just beginning to feel my body expand. I try not to panic about the whole baby bump thing. I’m sure it will be a beautiful experience and all, but I’ve always been pretty careful about my body’s upkeep. Will Harrison notice when my stomach is suddenly less-than-flat?
“I’m the luckiest bastard in the world,” he told me, back in our hotel room, “I don’t know how I’m going to wait for the end of the night to peel that dress off of you.”
A little thrill of anticipation runs through me, remembering his lusty eyes. But we’ve reached the restaurant by now. Better be on my best behavior.
Enzo lets out a low whistle as we step inside. “Damn,” he says, looking around at us, “Sure they’ll tolerate lowlifes like us in a place like this?”
“Give us some credit,” I reply, “As long as we can hold off on the bar fights and screaming matches, I think we’re golden.”
The restaurant is bathed in candlelight, the exposed brick and mirror add an authentic, rustic charm to the cool, composed atmosphere. I seat myself between Enzo and Harrison, happy to be flanked by my two boys once again. Even if Shelby is right on Enzo’s other side, the warmth of having everyone together trumps that little hotspot of discomfort. We order a bottle of fine champagne to start, and raise our flutes to the happy couple.
“I guess I should save the speech for the reception,” I smile, “But then again, I’ll never be able to tell you too many times how lovely you are together, and how much happiness I wish you both. Cheers!”
I let the champagne brush against my lips, but nothing more. Hopefully no one will have the wherewithal to notice when my glass doesn’t empty.
“Catch me up on all things Ferrelli,” I say to Enzo, purposefully not looking at his hand entwined with Shelby’s on the table.
“I’ve been slaving away on the track, that’s for sure,” my brother says, taking a big gulp of champagne, “Helps take my mind off other things, I guess.”
My mind clouds over, knowing that Enzo’s been having a rough go since dad’s passing. Dad and I loved each other, but we were never as close as we wanted to be. He and Enzo, on the other hand, were inseparable. My brother must be feeling the absence of our dad far more acutely than I am. And while that fact would have made me irate, once, I’m only saddened now. Sure, Dad seemed to play favorites in life, but he couldn’t help it. Driving was his passion, it was something he and Enzo shared. It was no one’s fault that we simply didn’t have that link.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been there,” I say to Enzo.
“It’s OK,” he says, “It’s been good, the solitude. I’ve needed time to just be angry, and lost without him. It’ll never be all right that he was taken away so young, but we’ve been prepared for it in a way, haven’t we? We grew up knowing that Dad’s life was almost constantly in danger. I guess I never thought he’d go any other way than on the track.”
“But we got to say goodbye, at least,” I offer, “I’m sure that meant the world to him.”
“I know that you’re right,” Enzo sighs, “But it’s going to take a while to not feel pissed about it. To hell with cancer, I say.”
“I can get behind that,” I reply, “Cancer can join the gossip mongers down in the fiery pit, as far as I’m concerned.”
“You sure seem to be feeding those sharks a lot these days,” Enzo teases me.
“We saw you take that reporter out on the news,” Shelby puts in, unhelpfully as ever.
“Yeah, well. It’s a learning process, this scandal mill,” I reply shortly, “Maybe you could help me out by flashing some news types or getting a really obvious boob job? In the name of sisterhood, of course.”
Shelby’s features fall, fatigued. I feel bad instantly for being rude to her. Sure, she seems cold and calculating at first, but Enzo’s really fallen for her. And she’s been the one at his side as he’s dealt with Dad’s passing. Can I really hold her past against her? The answer, of course, is no. The real reason I don’t like Shelby, if I’m being honest with myself, is that I’m jealous. I’m jealous of her past with Harrison, and jealous of her closeness with Enzo. My brother and I have been buddies our entire lives, and watching him pair off with someone else is hard. But aren’t I putting him through that same heartache with Harrison?
“That came off wrong,” I say to Shelby, “Sorry. I’ve just been a bit stressed with the whole shareholder thing.”
“It’s all right,” Shelby says, “We’ll get better at being nice to each other, I’m sure.”
“Jesus, I hope so,” Enzo grumbles, slinging back some champagne.
We place our orders, and I excuse myself to the ladies’ with Bex hot on my heels.
“You OK?” she asks, as we slip into the bathroom.
“Just a little lightheaded,” I tell her, “I’m really starting to feel it, Bex. It’s not just an idea anymore, the baby.”
“Siena, I know I’ve been telling you this from the start, but you have to come clean to Harrison. And soon.”
“I know, I know,” I groan, resting my weight against the bathroom sink, “He’s already noticed the whole glowing thing. How long before he points out my little belly?”
“I didn’t want to say anything...” Bex smiles, “But you look freaking amazing, Siena. You just have this aura—”
“Ugh, I can’t have an aura,” I insist, “I just wish I could put the breaks on it altogether.”
“I mean...you could,” Bex says slowly, “If that’s what you really want. You’re not even at twenty weeks yet, and New York has some good options—”
“You’re not talking about abortion?” I say quickly, “I could never do that.”
“But you just said—”
“This baby is mine and Harrison’s. It’s part of our lives, whether we planned on it or not. I can’t just get rid of it, Bex. Bex...?” I say, spotting the tears in her eyes, “Honey, what is it?”
“I...um...” she begins, trying to catch her breath, “I never told you this, but...”
“Honey,” I breathe, catching her hands in mind, “Have you...Did you...?
”
“In high school,” she tells me, struggling to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks, “I was seventeen, he was twenty six. I really thought that I was in love with him, but the second he found out I was pregnant, he cut and run like I was nothing. There was no way I was going to be able to give it a good life, you know? I was living in the city, I’d just gotten accepted into my dream school. I couldn’t give all that up to raise a baby in a spare bedroom. Can you image the resentment between us?”
“Bex, I never knew,” I say, hugging her tightly, “I shouldn’t have said—”
“No, it’s OK,” she sniffs, “I didn’t want anyone to know. My all-but-absent big sister was the only one who had any idea. I begged her to drive me so that my parents would never find out. It was so scary, and so lonely afterwards. I didn’t have anyone in my life that I could confide in. I had to find some way to make what had happened seem normal. I wanted sex to be something common, and casual. So, that’s how I started to treat it.”
“That explains your dating strategies in college,” I say with a sad smile, “I wish I’d known what you were going through. You could have told me, Bex.”
“I didn’t want you to judge me,” she admits, “You were so sure of yourself, Siena. So unwilling to be fucked with. I wasn’t sure if you could respect me—”
“Hey,” I cut her off, “You made a really hard choice. The choice you had to make. You didn’t do anything wrong, you’re not a bad person. I would have done the same thing, if I was in your shoes.”
“But you’re not now,” she says, “You wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Getting rid of this pregnancy isn’t an option, no,” I allow, “But not because doing so would be evil, or wrong. If this were just some guy’s baby, someone I didn’t love who treated me like shit, then it wouldn’t even be a question. But I love Harrison. He’s the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. And I know that we can love this baby, and give it a beautiful life. That’s why I know I have to keep it. Because I want to. And I can just tell, in my heart, that Harrison will want to, too.”
“That’s exactly what you should tell him then,” Bex says, smiling through her tears.
“I will,” I assure her, “Oh Bex. I’m so sorry you had to carry that secret for so long.”
“Not quite so long,” she tells me, “Charlie knows. He’s the first person I ever told.”
“Of course,” I say, “That’s wonderful.”
“I was so scared to bring it up,” Bex admits, “But he just told me he loved me, and kissed me, and accepted me just the way I am. He’s the first man who’s ever done that, loved every part of me. I figure, that’s the guy you marry, right?”
“Right,” I smile, “Absolutely right.”
“Jesus, sorry about that,” Bex laughs, wiping the last stray tears from her face, “Can’t be blubbering during my bachelorette dinner, can I?”
“You can do whatever you want. This is your weekend, isn’t it?” I say.
“Damn straight,” Bex says, wrapping her arm around my waist, “Thanks for listening, Siena. I should have known I could trust you with my secret.”
“God knows, you know all of mine,” I say, walking her to the door, “Though I guess one of them won’t be a secret for long.”
We walk back through the dimly lit dining room and come upon our table once more. Our first course has arrived in all its mouthwatering glory. Gus and Shelby are chatting civilly enough, but as we get closer I see that Enzo and Harrison are nowhere to be found.
“Where are the others?” I ask, as we approach the table.
“Oh...I think they’re at the bar,” Shelby offers, “They just sort of slipped off.”
“Maybe they’re picking up the strippers we put on standby,” Bex winks.
“You know I don’t want any strippers,” Charlie says quickly.
“Who said they were for you?” she replies, settling down beside him. She slings her arm over his shoulder and plants a loving kiss on his cheek. My heart melts at the sight of my friends, knowing just how strong and deep their love really is.
“I can’t stand the cuteness,” I tell them, “I’m gonna go fetch the boys.”
I move through the restaurant, in search of Harrison and Enzo. Why would they need to visit the bar when there’s a rather full bottle of champagne right on our table? I suppose they’ve both always been hard liquor men, but I’ve also never known them to be that picky where booze is concerned.
The bar swims up into sight, a long stretch of polished wood. There are patrons huddled all along the length of the bar, laughing airily and clinking glasses. And there, right at the very end, are my brother and Harrison. But their conversation seems to be anything but light. I stop in my tracks and duck behind a partial wall, seeing the intent looks upon their faces. They stand together, each with a glass of amber liquor in his hand. Enzo looks serious and adamant while Harrison speaks, his body language firm and resolute. What could they possibly be talking about so earnestly? I’m just about to go find out when they set their glasses down and shake hands. Enzo claps Harrison on the shoulder, and a small smile lifts one corner of his lips.
I hurry back to the table ahead of them, not wanting to interrupt whatever moment they’ve been having together. I slip into my seat just before they reappear in the dining room and find their chairs. Their expressions have been smoothed over—all except for their eyes, which gleam with a shared secret.
“Where did you two sneak off to?” Bex asks frankly.
“Just needed something a little stronger than champagne,” Enzo says, forcing lightness into his voice, “This is supposed to be a bachelor party, right?”
I look back and forth between the men sitting on either side of me. They’re keeping something from the rest of us—from me. But what could it be?
The meal is absolutely incredible, and we set off from the restaurant feeling full and happy. Someone suggests a jazz club nearby for a bit of dancing, and we head straight over. I’m relieved to find a club that isn’t all strobe lights and body shots—I don’t quite think I could handle that in my condition.
When we make our way into the underground lounge, I’m happily surprised. The room is warm and inviting, full with the low hum of intimate voices and loose, flowing energy of jazz music. Tables line the wide room, circling a dark parquet dance floor. The others head straight for the bar to fetch some more libations, but I hold fast onto Harrison’s arm.
“Come on,” I say, smiling in the dim light, “Dance with me.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he says, taking my hand and leading me into the space.
I place my hand on Harrison’s shoulder as he pulls me closely against him. His hand falls on the small of my back, the fingers of our free hands entwined. The song is a slow waltz, and Harrison falls into step at once, leading me across the floor in long, graceful strides.
“You waltz?” I ask, amazed at his smooth, fluid movement.
“Are you so surprised?” he asks, “I know how to cut a rug when pressed.”
“I just didn’t know you were a ballroom aficionado,” I grin, “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”
“Maybe there are still some things you’ve yet to learn about me,” Harrison says, bearing me about the floor with ease, “I suspect there are some things I don’t know about you just yet, either. Am I right?”
I nearly laugh, thinking about one very significant thing Harrison doesn’t know about me, yet. “Oh, I suspect that’s about right,” I tell him. “But come on. What don’t I know about you by now, Harrison?”
“Let’s see...” he begins, racking his brain, “You don’t know what my favorite color is—”
“Sure I do. It’s McClain red,” I say.
“OK, fine,” he says, “That’s true. But what about my first dog’s name?”
“Rascal,” I say, “You’ve got his tags in your flat, next to his photo.”
“You’re good,” he ad
mits, “But I’ll think of something. You might not know...that I was a pretty scrawny kid. I got picked on quite a lot.”
“That I can’t believe,” I tell him, “How could you have ever been scrawny?”
“I shot up like a beanstalk,” he shrugs, “Tall and skinny with a famous drunk for a father. Not exactly a good recipe for a placid adolescence.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I was a late bloomer myself,” I tell him, “Flat as a washboard until I was sixteen.”
“But look at us now,” Harrison grins, spinning me around.
“We’re doing all right, I’d say,” I tell him, resting my cheek against his firm chest.
“My scrawny fifteen-year-old self would have lost his shit if he could see me now,” Harrison says, kissing the top of my head, “In New York City, dancing with the most gorgeous woman in the world.”
“You forgot the part about being McClain’s lead driver,” I point out.
“That means nothing, compared to having you in my life,” Harrison says, “I mean it.”
The song swells to an end, and I wrap my arms around my love’s shoulders. We find each other in a kiss, saying everything we care to without a single word.
“I’m feeling kind of beat,” I say, when we finally break away from each other.
“Do you want to head back to the hotel?” Harrison asks.
“I think the bride and groom will forgive us,” I say, noticing with a smile that Bex and Charlie are wrapped up in their own little world at the bar. Enzo and Shelby are, too—moving across the dance floor with ease. I try and memorize this moment in time, when everyone I care about is buoyed by love.
“Let’s get out of here, then,” Harrison says, “We’ve got quite the weekend ahead of us.”
I can barely keep my eyes open through the cab ride home. This whole carrying-another-human-inside-of-you thing is exhausting as hell. Harrison all but carries me up to our room, my head resting heavy on this shoulder.
“Babe,” I say sleepily, as he helps me out of my dress, “What were you and Enzo talking about at the bar tonight?”
“When was that?” he asks, easing me down onto the bed.
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