by Holly Rayner
“I didn’t. My parents still live in the same house I grew up in, in a small town in Pennsylvania. It’s nothing particularly special, which was why I knew I had to get out in order to make something of myself.”
“Do you want to move back there someday?”
The question, while innocent enough, still had weight behind it. Would Sophia be taking their child and moving to another state, giving it a suburban upbringing instead of one in the city with his or her father?
“No,” she said, and she could almost see Jed’s shoulders sag with relief.
Was he really happy that she would be staying in the city?
“I love New York. I would want my children to grow up here, with the best food and culture in the world at their fingertips. Can you imagine bringing them to Broadway for the first time to see a show? Or getting them their first street hotdog at the Thanksgiving Day Parade? There’s no way they’d get that kind of experience anywhere else. I want that for them.”
“You’re saying ‘them.’ Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Sophia laughed.
“I haven’t even made it to my first doctor’s appointment yet! I guess I just don’t like the concept of calling my child an ‘it,’ you know?”
“Well, until we have a gender, ‘it’ might just have to do.”
Sophia frowned.
Clearing his throat, Jed reconsidered.
“All right, I see that’s not the popular answer. ‘Them’ will work for now, and we can find a better term once we discover the gender.”
“You mean if we discover the gender,” she teased.
Jed sat back in his seat, his brow furrowing slightly.
“You’re not one of those ‘wait and see’ kind of people are you? We’ll have planning we need to do, especially given our…situation.”
Sophia stared him down, enjoying the view as he squirmed slightly in his seat in discomfort. Finally, she relented.
“Of course I’m going to find out the gender. You seriously think I got this far without being a planner?”
“I was going to say…” Jed replied, visibly relaxing.
Sophia wondered just how much input he was going to provide over the next nine months. Then, she realized they had already gotten back to the topic she had been trying to avoid while they worked on tediously building a foundation after jumping six steps ahead.
“You haven’t told me about your background yet,” she observed.
Jed sipped his water. Sophia realized then that he hadn’t ordered any type of alcohol, though she knew, obviously, that he did drink. Was that for her benefit, or did he want to have a clear head as they discussed their future together?
“I was born and raised in New York City. I always knew I wanted to be in advertising—family business. The only time I left this city was to go to college in Boston. Otherwise, I thoroughly prefer being here.”
Sophia stared at him, bemused. His answer was vague and indirect, and told her almost nothing about who he was as a person. Was he hiding information about his family on purpose, or did he really just have no ability to feel beyond the hedonistic realm?
“So you plan on staying in advertising forever? It never gets boring?”
“Does architecture?” he challenged.
Sophia shook her head.
“Of course not. My field is an art that is always changing and growing and developing. Your field is in the business of convincing people to consume things whether they want them or not, and that hasn’t really changed over time.”
“Belittling a man’s career, eh? Is that a lesson you’ll be passing down to our progeny?”
“Well, am I wrong?”
They stared each other down. After a moment, Jed relented.
“No. You are not. It’s a big reason why I’ve been working towards a career change over the past year.”
“Oh really? What is it you’ll be going into next?”
“Politics,” he answered, taking another bite of steak while Sophia glanced to the side until he finished chewing.
“I never saw you as a political force. Why would you enter that circus?”
Jed’s gaze was unreadable as he stared at her, his eyes drifting slightly as he gave his answer.
“I’ve been living in a circus my whole life. At least if I get into politics, I might be able to change the world for the better, rather than just providing a product. Instead, I can be the product, and I can bring about a better situation for New York.”
“So you won’t run nationally?”
“Not yet. You have to prove you can lead on the small scale before you go big.”
“And you really want to make the world a better place?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Yes, it is. You’re an ambitious man. I could more likely assume that you simply want power and a title to lord over others while you do as you please, like pretty much every other politician.”
“Well, aren’t you the jaded one?”
“I haven’t heard a real reason why you would run for office here other than a vague political statement that sounds like a soundbite. So why don’t you try a little honesty with me here? It would be refreshing.”
Jed frowned at her, considering his answer. When he couldn’t come up with a reply, Sophia shrugged her shoulders, taking another bite of her food.
“I imagine having an illegitimate child will hurt your chances of getting elected, anyway.”
“On the contrary. According to my advisors being a family man with a baby on the way is one of the best angles I could take for a mayoral campaign.”
His tone was venomous, like he was trying to one-up her after her comment clearly hit home. Sophia’s heart turned cold at his words.
So there it was. The real motivation for his “change of heart.” He was schmoozing her as a way to get in her good graces so that she and their child could be political chess pieces meant to serve his ambition. She kept her gaze on the table until she could control her anger enough to look him in the face. When she did, she saw his cautious expression.
“Might I remind you,” she said, her tone perfectly cool, “That a family is not a short-term convenience created to delude the public into thinking you’re something better than what you are. Your campaign will end, and this child will still be yours, and they will still need a father. Using us as a stepping stone for your own means…I can’t even look at you.”
She tossed her napkin onto the table and stood, grasping her clutch as she glared down at him.
“You clearly have no understanding of what it means to have a family or a child. We are not pawns in your game—we are human beings!”
Jed said nothing. She couldn’t tell if there was a lick of remorse in his features, and that was enough to send her completely off the deep end. Still, Sophia had always prided herself on her ability to control her emotions, and she did so in that moment. She wasn’t strong enough to repress a sneer as she gave her final statement.
“You are scum.”
Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the restaurant, making a quick exit. When Jed’s driver saw her, he bolted towards the door, but she held out a hand to stop him.
“Don’t bother. I’ll find my own way home.”
She reached out her hand for a cab. A car pulled up, and she slid into the backseat, which was decidedly much less comfortable than Jed’s town car. In that moment, Sophia would have rather sat on a bed of nails than take any favors from that man. She replayed their conversation in her mind over and over as the car sped along busy streets back to her apartment.
The nerve of that man! Acting like he cared about being a presence in his child’s life; acting like he had any intention of being an involved father, or even parenting beside her as partners? When the cab reached her house, she grabbed a wad of cash and pressed it into the driver’s hand before making a quick exit, storming into her building and up the stairs.
She needed to blow off steam, and cl
imbing stairs appeared the only way to do that. As she reached her floor, she was winded, stopping at the top to catch her breath. She faced her door, staring at the portal, thinking about the night she had stood with her back pressed against that wall, Jed’s arms on either side of her, enveloping her with his warmth.
A wave of panic washed over her as the image dissolved from her mind’s eye. How could she have a baby with someone so cold-hearted? So calculating? Her traitorous body reacted to him every time she laid eyes on him, and the thought of his presence lingering in her apartment sent shivers of awareness down her spine. It was true that for some reason, they had an undeniable chemistry, but that meant nothing when faced with the man’s ambitions.
She thought about the prospect of making things work with him for the sake of their child. What would happen to them when the election ended, for good or ill? If he won, would they be forced to play a part, be some kind of façade and live a shadow life while he played happy family to garner more votes? And if he lost? Without needing them anymore, would he be in their baby’s life, simply to disappear when they no longer held value for him?
Sophia’s mind raced faster than her heart as she considered the myriad of possibilities, and she couldn’t find a single positive outcome. Her stomach clenched, and her hand shot to her abdomen. Her emotions were affecting the baby. She needed to calm herself down.
Taking measured steps to her front door, she glanced away from the spot she had been looking at—the one where she had spent one of the few good moments she could remember with Jed. Sticking her key in the door, she pressed it open, relishing the scent of home.
Taking deep breaths, Sophia counted her steps as she made her way to her living room sofa, kicking off her shoes as she went. She collapsed onto the couch, staring out the window at the rows of windows across from her, blurry behind her own reflection. Her reflected eyes were wide and scared, and she stared down her own fear as she watched her expression change from panicked to neutral, still focusing on her breath.
Her stomach relaxed, signaling the effect of her efforts on the baby.
“Sorry, little one,” she whispered.
Sophia sighed, her rational mind fully returned. As much as she wanted to eliminate Jed Shields from their lives, she would never truly be able to do that. Her child needed a father, and while Sophia would have picked nearly anyone else had she known what she was getting into, there was no changing that fact.
Jed Shields was simply another challenge that she would have to overcome. Sophia thought about every obstacle she had faced, growing up. Most of her life challenges had been academic or intellectual in nature. There were tests that she had to take, mental hurdles to overcome to propel herself forward and to a better place. A place she knew she always wanted to be.
Her challenge now was one she hadn’t really had to face before. She would have to find a way to break through human stubbornness, including her own, to do what was best for her child. She was going to have to take a hard look in the mirror, and face her own fears and anxiety, while at the same time convincing the man she had been linked to that he could be better than he allowed himself to be.
She would have to accomplish all of this while growing a tiny human in her body.
Sophia took her time. She made a pot of tea. She changed into a comfortable pair of pajamas. She wanted him to have time to leave the restaurant and get home, so that when she called him, he wouldn’t be leaving the table she had abandoned him at.
She sifted through her phone, remembering that he had called her work earlier that day in the afternoon. Connecting her cell to her work phone might not have been very beneficial for work-life balance, but she found it fabulously useful in that moment. Skimming through the phone numbers, she narrowed it down to two that could belong to Jed. She tried the first one, and got the voicemail of a supply chain she had been in contact with over the course of the past several months.
That meant the second number had to be Jed’s. Meeting her own gaze in the reflection of the window once again, she braced herself to make the call. Somehow, she would get through this. They both would.
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Secret Triplets
Holly Rayner and Alexa Ross
As a special treat, here is mine and Alexa Ross’ previous novel, Secret Triplets, in full.
I hope you enjoy!
Copyright 2017 by Holly Rayner and Alexa Ross
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.
All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
I had never been unhappier.
At this point, I would have taken just about any job. Another long, dejected look around my room didn’t do me any favors. The fluorescent light overhead was flickering, another corner of hideous green and orange wallpaper had come free, and, as I turned, my office chair almost toppled over. In the black of the humming computer screen in front of me, my reflection wasn’t even angry, just sad.
There was no point in asking myself how I’d gotten here, because I knew all too well. The date was marked on the calendar that was dangling precariously from a nail in the wall. It was back in January, on the page with Sherlock Holmes on his feet and ready for action, his iconic hat set on his head and his pipe at the ready. Below him, on the first square for January 1st, there it was: move-in day.
It had been a symbolic move-in day for a symbolic feat.
After six years in the business, I had finally gotten my own office, my own place. I was no longer going to work from home anymore; I’d made it. Sure, the only place I had been able to afford had been a crappy second-floor bathroom of a room, but I had just been starting out, just building my business; it had just been a stepping stone. Who would’ve thought it would have come to this? A stepping stone to bankruptcy? A few months’ worth of no jobs?
I cast my glare toward the foggy, spider-webbed window, past which, across the street, busy men in nice, clear windows worked unceasingly. “Private Investigations Boulder,” the sign below them read. Maybe in a few months I’d be there in one of those windows, working for the very company whose job offer I had refused a month ago. I took another look around my office and sighed. Sure, working for a company would mean a loss of freedom and independence, but at least I’d have something to do.
Checking my email on my computer only confirmed what I knew already: no emails, no jobs, nothing. It had been like this since Private Investigations Boulder had set up shop across the street—even getting a sit-down with a potential client didn’t mean much these days.
My computer screen reflection tucked a piece of hair behind its ear self-consciously.
Maybe I just needed a haircut, some glasses, something. A blue-eyed blonde wasn’t exactly what anyone would call promising detective material. And yet, I had proven myself, hadn’t I?
My gaze went to my corkboard, where my previous successes hung proud: the Donatti family shaking my hand, their olive faces bright with smiles after I found their missing inheritance; Jenna Baker’s surly frown, a nice contrast to the Baker family’s faces when I showed up with their missing daughter in tow; then, near the bottom, with a pin stabbed through its tail, Miss Murple’s unimpressed-looking fat tabby, Oscar, my proudest achievement of all. Nabbing Oscar’s burglar had been no small feat. The bent-over, gangly man had run, tabby blob in hands, for blocks before he finally gave up and handed the poor yowling thin
g over.
And yet, what difference had that made? My gaze fell to my phone, the ugly old taupe thing that I couldn’t remember hearing ring in the past week, or even month for that matter.
The difference all my past accomplishments had made was not much. No, not much difference now that I was stuck here in this cramped box with nothing to do but regret not accepting the job offer from the very company that was putting me out of business.
In fact, my previous successes were proving to be more useless than I had even thought. In the beginning, I’d taken the difficulties in stride, assuming my lack of experience and being a woman were obstacles that would be overcome with time. This, however, proved not to be the case. Despite my experience, no one took me seriously as a private investigator. It was one thing to be a woman, but it was another thing to be a blond, blue-eyed, young-looking one who smiled too much and had a high, uncertain voice.
Yes, my appearance certainly wasn’t helping, as my two latest interviews had shown. In the first one last week, the shawled old woman and suited old man had taken one look at me as I’d opened the door before flying off, mumbling some unlikely story about a detective mix-up. In the second one a few days ago, a sour-faced pair of sisters had only pretended to give me a chance, drilling me with such ridiculous questions that when they marched out there, high and mighty with their rejection of my suitability, I was actually relieved.
My gaze rose to the smiley-faced clock on the wall beside me, which was grinning mockery at me. Five p.m.
I threw my pen at it, though the cheap blue thing just bounced off the glass and then onto the carpet below.
If Mom had known how that stupid, cartoon, black-and-white, smiling thing would mock me, reminding me of every new day that passed with fewer and fewer clients and less hope for a better future, she would’ve never bought it for me.