The hot water was its own form of therapy, a symbolic baptism of sorts, cleansing the ugly and hurt feelings away with the grime from her skin. She took her time lathering her hair with her mom’s lavender shampoo. Laura didn’t realize how comforting the hippie smell of her mother was until the suds ran over her sunken body.
As she ran the loofah over her skin, she could feel the bumps of nearly every bone in her body. She had eaten no more than a few bites and only often enough to silence the gnawing and the nausea. Otherwise, she had no appetite and didn’t even want to smell food.
Steeping out of the shower refreshed and recharged, her appetite returned with a vengeance. Suddenly, Laura wanted to eat everything in the house. In a hurry, she dressed and beat it down the stairs, meeting her father halfway.
“I was just coming to get you, baby doll. Your mom made chicken stew for lunch.” Robbie Ross turned and headed back towards the kitchen. He was grateful that whatever his wife had done had worked. He hated being the bad cop.
Laura raced up behind him and grabbed a bowl. She was practically drooling on her chin to finally get food in her belly. She ladled out a huge portion, grabbed a hunk of bread, and sat at the table. She scooped up a heaping spoonful and gleefully dug in.
The first bite went down fine, as did the second. By the third she couldn’t stomach another taste. She turned up her nose and pushed the bowl away. Her parents watched her closely as she bit off a chunk of French bread and turned green. “Ma, are you sure nothing had gone bad?”
Joanie eyed her suspiciously. “I’m sure. I got everything fresh at the market this morning. Everything smelled normal.” She took a bite and chewed slowly. “Nope. The stew tastes the way it’s supposed to.”
Laura sank back in her chair, stomach still rumbling. Poking around the pantry might turn up something.
She shoved aside a box of Pop-Tarts, moved around boxes of pasta and rice. The only thing even remotely appealing was the package of peanut butter crackers. Standing there in the pantry, she tore into the box and inhaled the salty little bites as if they were manna. In short order she polished off the whole thing.
Licking her fingers, she reemerged into the kitchen to find her parents staring at her. “What?”
Her mother’s face broke into the biggest shit-eating grin Laura had ever seen. “What! Why are you both staring at me?”
Joanie propped her head in her hands. “Tell me, Laura, when was your last period?”
She waved her mother off. “That’s easy it was–” She paused and counted backwards. The math was not adding up.
“Uh huh. I think we’d better go to CVS and get you a test. Oh, Robbie, stop it. The girl is thirty years old. Did you really think she lived like a nun?”
Robbie had blanched at the hint of his daughter being pregnant. To a father, the notion that his daughter had been anywhere near a penis was enough to send him screaming from the room. All he could do was stare, wide-eyed, at his wife.
Joanie ignored her husband and collected the dishes. “Go get your coat and meet me at the car.” She dropped the dishes in the sink and turned around. Laura just stared open-mouthed at her. “Go on now. Go!” Joanie shooed Laura from the kitchen then turned back to talk her husband in off the ledge.
Pregnant? The idea was so foreign to Laura she thought it had to be a mistake. It’s not like she didn’t want to have kids; she’d just thought her life would be less of a clusterfuck when they came along.
Now she was off to the drugstore with her grandchild-starved mother to pick up a pregnancy test. And then what? Laura had a feeling it would come back positive. Even as she climbed the stairs she felt…what? A twinge of knowing, a sign that a tiny human had taken up residence in her body. It was nothing concrete, no proof, just female intuition.
She clutched her sunken stomach and immediately felt the wash of guilt crash over her. She had spent two weeks starving herself and more or less living in filth. Maybe it wasn’t too late to turn things around.
She snatched her coat up and bounded down the stairs, suddenly revived. Her life felt like it had a purpose and direction again.
***
In less than ten minutes, the two Ross women pulled into the CVS parking lot. “Just stay here, Ma. It’s weird to have your mother with you when buying a pregnancy test.” Laura hopped out of her mom’s big blue Tahoe and ran into the store. In her excitement she grabbed one of every test in front of her and checked out.
She bounded back to the truck, and Joanie took off back to the house. “Easy, Ma. The streets are slick.” A late season snow had fallen a couple of days before and had coated parts of the Northampton roads in ice. Trucks had salted, but the odd patch of black ice would still pop up.
“I’m sorry, Laura. I’m just really excited.” Joanie gave her daughter’s leg a squeeze. “Whatever the outcome, your father and I are here to support you one hundred per cent.”
“Thanks, Ma, but none of that matters if you slide off the road.”
Joanie pulled into the driveway, and Laura was out of the truck and in the house before her mother had even shut the car off. Slamming the bathroom door behind her, she tore the first test out of its box, followed the directions, and set her phone timer.
It was the longest three minutes of her life. She refused to look down at the test until the phone rang. Finally, the chimes sounded. Seized with apprehension, she held her breath and picked up the stick. Sure enough two pink lines had appeared. A positive result.
“Mom! Come in here quick!” Laura yelled into the house.
Joanie sprinted down the hallway and screeched to a halt in front of the bathroom door. “Well? I can’t take it!”
Without speaking Laura held up the test and smiled. Joanie shrieked and grabbed her daughter. The two women jumped up and down with joy and excitement.
Robbie poked his head in the mouth of the hallway. “Good news?” His thick brows were furrowed, and his high forehead was creased with worry lines.
Laura nodded. “Daddy, you’re gonna be a grampa!”
Chapter Forty Eight
Mason had spent the last month at the bottoms of very expensive bottles of booze. He’d told his business partner he was going on an extended leave of absence and shut himself in his penthouse, hoping to drink himself braindead.
He couldn’t bear to take the photos down. The image of her smiling face was all around him, constantly pouring salt in the wound. He liked it. The feeling kept reminding him what a fuck-up he was. He couldn’t allow himself to forget that.
But that night he put the bottle down and stayed sober. He buried his feelings until he was pickled. He should have fought for her. Maybe it wasn’t too late.
He slipped on his sneakers and grabbed his jacket. There had to be a way to get her back.
Once on the sidewalk he hailed a cab. “One hundred Willoughby Street, Brooklyn,” he instructed the cabby, and slammed the door behind him.
The entire drive he was on pins and needles, imagining what he would say, and kept glancing at his watch. It was only six o’clock. With any luck he could meet her at home. “Take two seventy-eight, please. I’d like to avoid the traffic as much as possible.”
Thirty minutes later, he stood in front of the AVA DoBro building, near to hyperventilating. It took every ounce of strength to propel his body forward and through the doors. He punched the “8” button on the elevator ten times in his impatience.
Once the lift stopped and the doors opened, Mason sprinted down the hall to her apartment, stopping to catch his breath in front of her door. He took a deep breath and knocked.
A petite brunette who appeared to be in her mid-twenties came to the door. “Can I help you?”
Mason was so surprised he forgot why he was there for a second. “Yes, uh, is Laura home?”
The girl looked confused. “There’s no Laura that lives here. Are you sure you have the right apartment number?”
That was the hardest pill to swallow, it was. “I suppose not
.” Mason’s heart sank. “I’m sorry to bother you.” Dejected, he turned on his heel to leave.
“Wait a second. Aren’t you Mason Decker?” The brunette opened the door all the way, revealing a fit little body in a form-hugging sweater and jeans. “I’ve seen you on the cover of a magazine. What are you doing in this part of town?” While the area they were in was brand new and safe, it wasn’t anywhere near the same as the Upper East Side.
“Looking for someone who clearly doesn’t live here anymore.” He waved politely. “Thanks for your time.”
“I’m Emma. You want to come in for a cup of coffee?” She made flirty eyes at the weary billionaire. He was still quite fetching, even with the beard growth.
Mason shrugged. “Are you alone?” What a creepy question to ask! He flinched at his own words.
“Yeah. Just me. No boyfriend. I just moved here from Canada. Come on in.” She opened the door wider to encourage him to enter.
Mason ran through a list of possible scenarios and figured his life insurance was up to date, so what the hell? He took Emma up on her offer of coffee. Although, as hurt as he felt, he was going to need to Irish it up, a lot.
“When did you say you moved in?” he asked, removing his coat.
“Three weeks ago. Why?”
Laura had gone. She’d left to God knew where and hadn’t told him she was leaving. Betrayal and desolation hit him like a truck. He took another look at the pretty pair of doe eyes watching him, seriously contemplating turning things into a one-night stand just to not feel so empty.
With a shake of his head he picked his coat back up. “I’m sorry, Emma. I have to go. Thank you for the invitation, really.” He bailed before she could say a word.
He had to tap into something to take the hurt away.
He was glad he had been able to save the contents of his smashed phone and could upload them into his replacement. He scrolled through his contacts to find a number he hadn’t used in a long time and dialed.
“Hello?” answered a feminine voice he hadn’t heard in years that was foreign, familiar, and shot straight to his manhood.
“Hello, Charlotte. It’s Mason Decker. How’ve you been?”
“Mason, my favorite client! It’s been, what, six years? Longer?”
“About that. Listen, I’d like to meet up, your place. I assume you’re still working professionally, mistress?”
Charlotte’s voice caressed his ear through the phone. “Yes. If memory serves me correctly, you liked humiliation, binding, and my stiletto heels digging into your back.”
Mason could feel himself getting hard at the memory. He was going to forget his emotional pain, even if it meant feeling physical pain instead. “Yes, and bring your flogger.”
Chapter Forty Nine
“So here’s the head, and the little line of blips is the spine. Judging by the size I would guess you are roughly ten to twelve weeks along.” The sonogram tech squirted a little more jelly on Laura’s skin. “I just want to look at a few more things to make sure everything is developing normally.”
Laura stared at the fuzzy black and white screen in front of her. The little blob twitched. “I’m going to listen to the heartbeat now.” The tech’s voice pulled Laura’s attention back to earth.
When the switch was flipped and the rapid pulse came through the speakers, Laura fell head over heels in love. “Wow,” she whispered. “That’s my baby.” For once, she cried tears of joy. All these long weeks of heartache and anxiety, there was finally a reason for her to be happy again.
“It looks like the baby is developing normally. I don’t see anything abnormal. Everything is perfect.” The sonogram tech hit the print button before turning to clean the goo off Laura’s belly. “If you want to know the sex, schedule an appointment for eight to ten weeks from now and we can take another look. The baby is too small to get a good read on right now.” She tugged Laura’s shirt back over her tiny bump.
Laura couldn’t wait to get home to show her parents the pictures. Her mother was going to be over the moon.
“Make sure you give the daddy enough notice so he can make the next appointment,” the tech suggested.
Laura thought the comment was a little inappropriate, but since the woman appeared to be in her early sixties, maybe she was just old fashioned. No need to get offended. “Of course. Thank you,” she said.
Laura hopped off the table and headed for her car. Would she tell Mason? She had been shopping for jobs in Boston and Hartford to avoid going back to New York. It seemed cruel to keep this a secret from him, but with him being such a control freak, she wasn’t so sure she wanted him around calling the shots.
She placed a hand protectively over the swell of her stomach. Counting backwards put the date of conception either early on in their Switzerland trip or just before. The baby was conceived in love; was she risking raising it in an environment filled with doubt and tension by telling Mason?
As she pulled into her parents’ driveway, it was decided. She would just cut all ties to the man. She didn’t want or need his money, so child support was off the table. She would just quietly have the baby and raise it in Northampton or someplace nearby.
Joanie met Laura at the door. Laura suspected she had been standing in the foyer, waiting since she’d left. “Oooh! Let me see, let me see!” She was practically vibrating, she was so excited.
“Here. The baby is perfectly healthy, and the tech estimated I was roughly ten to twelve weeks along.”
Joanie looked up at her daughter in shock. “That long? That means you’ve been pregnant since…” She counted off the weeks on her fingers. “Well, since Thanksgiving-ish. How did you not know?”
Laura shrugged. “With all of the drama with Frank, and then the stress Mason put me under, I just stopped paying attention. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago in the pantry that the thought even occurred to me, and it took you to point it out.”
Joanie eyed her daughter, the question plain on her face.
“I’ve decided not to tell Mason about this. I don’t know how he’ll react, and he’s become so neurotic and controlling, I don’t want to give him a reason to take over my life.”
Joanie narrowed her eyes and inhaled as if to say something. She decided to withhold judgment. Laura was grown and knew what she was doing, even if Joanie didn’t think it was a particularly intelligent choice. “Whatever you want to do, honey, is your call.” She flipped through the grainy black and white photos again. “Come on, let’s go feed that baby. I want to go out and celebrate!”
***
The Rosses got to Jake’s Northampton just as a line for lunch was starting to grow outside the front door. Laura was glad she’d picked up the New York Post as a time killer. She always loved to scan through Page Six to see what the celebrity mucky mucks were getting up to in the city. Her mom and dad were chattering away with people they knew in line behind them, so Laura could enjoy a few minutes to herself.
There was the usual: a Kardashian sighting, Taylor Swift shopping, cast announcements for every movie in production for the next six months, but what she read next stopped her cold. The headline read:
Billionaire Bachelor and Mystery Brunettes
Like a masochist, she kept on reading.
Tech mogul, Mason Decker (31) was seen exiting The Plaza Hotel with a mystery girl on each arm after a gala event Friday night. It would appear that his May to December romance with journalist Laura Ross is over, and New York’s hottest and most eligible bachelor is on the prowl again.
May to December?! Laura was livid. She had given a total of five years of her life to that man, and to be addressed as a fling stung. But the idiots at the New York Post were nothing compared to the earth-shattering heartbreak she felt when looking at the crisp color photo of the love of her life and two women wearing barely legal dresses.
She crumpled up the paper and tossed it. She stormed across the street to get away from the crowd before she burst into tears. If it weren’t
for the baby she’d hit the nearest packie and drown herself in a bottle of Jim Beam.
Instead she sat under a tree and dealt with the pain. They had split up; they were free to do whatever they wanted. For him that must mean a threesome with two women he’d probably never speak to again.
“It must be nice,” Laura grumbled to herself. For the foreseeable future she had no plans to date and was okay with that, but to actually bear witness to how quickly Mason had moved on was a real kick in the shins.
She allowed a few more minutes of feeling sorry for herself and steeled her resolve. She wanted this, so she got it.
She dashed back across the street to the diner and jumped back in line with her parents. By then they had reached the threshold of the restaurant.
“Laura, there you are. Look who we bumped into!” Joanie pulled a couple of women up to their place in line.
“Maggie? Amber? Oh my God! It’s been years!” Laura embraced her two old friends as if they were her life rafts.
“Well, you went off to New York and got all busy. It’s so good to see you!” Maggie hugged Laura again. Laura had forgotten how petite the two sisters were. Maggie, the tallest and older of the two, was only 5’4” and had a long, lean build and thick, chestnut hair that fell to her butt.
Amber, who was two years younger, stood two inches shorter and was built like Salma Hayek. Clearly, the gods had saved all of the bombshell genes for the younger sister.
Laura was so happy she wanted to cry again. She was so happy the first trimester was nearly over. Being a weepy hormone monster all the time was rough. “Join us for lunch! I want to catch up with you guys.”
“Sure,” the sisters answered in unison.
***
Laura’s parents took a separate table to let the three women have some alone time, a gesture Laura was grateful for.
They finished ordering and handed their menus back to the server.
KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4) Page 106