by Harper Sloan
Two days after dinner with his family, we went to Miss Alice’s house to see what she was talking about. We found a beautiful antique baby bed, dresser and changing table that she had stored up in the attic. They all needed to be refinished but even with the paint chipping and peeling, I could tell they would be beautiful. I told Asher that I wanted to repaint them but he’d read in the book that strong chemical fumes weren’t good for the baby. But he promised to get his brothers to help him refinish them in time, so I agreed without a fight. A week later, when all of Asher’s extended family came over for a big barbecue to celebrate our news, I had been getting ready to dig into a delicious looking tuna steak when it was taken right out from under my fork. Asher told me that I wasn’t allowed to eat it due to the mercury in the meat. Again, I wasn’t happy about this, but I wasn’t going to risk anything happening to our baby, so I had a piece of chicken instead.
Last week, I had been outside looking around the area where they started digging for the pool, when Asher ran outside like the house was on fire. I stumbled and almost fell into the hole when he caught me and made me go back inside, saying that they had sprayed some kind of chemical in the area and I couldn’t be in the backyard. Once again, I agreed, but was noticing that the list of things I couldn’t do was becoming quite long.
Then, this morning, I was on the phone with the salon in town, making an appointment to get my highlights touched up and to have a manicure and pedicure, when the phone was yanked out of my hand and Asher proceeded to tell the salon that I had to wait until after I had the baby to get my hair done, but that I could get a mani pedi. Then he kissed me senseless, and left the room before I could clear the fog and yell at him. Now he is out somewhere on the property, and I am on the back porch in front of the grill with a lighter and the book that seems to be the root of all my problems. I am ready to kill him. I love him and am over the moon that he is happy about this baby but he’s driving me insane. I know that he means well, but I swear, he won’t be happy until the doctor puts me on bed rest for the duration of my pregnancy.
The doorbell chimes and I look down at the book and sigh while putting everything down. I plan on coming back to it as soon as I get rid of whoever is at the door.
“Stay,” I tell Beast as I go into the house through the sliding door. I walk through the living room and look out the peep hole. I can’t believe my eyes. How the heck did she find me? I look out the peep hole again, just to make sure that I’m not seeing things. Nope, not seeing things. My mother is standing on the other side of the door. I get off my tiptoes and take a step away from the door.
“Who's at the door, baby?” Asher asks loudly from behind me. I jump and spin around, putting a finger to my lips and using the universal symbol for ‘be quiet.’
“Who is it?” he asks again. This time, his eyes are narrowed. The doorbell rings again and my mom yells through the closed door.
“I can hear you in there.”
“Crap,” I hiss, glaring at Asher for blowing my cover. He walks to the door and unlocks it before I have a chance to block it or tackle him to the ground.
“Can I help—” Asher starts to ask but my mom cuts him off.
“Where’s November?” my mom snaps.
Crap! Crap! Crap!
“You are?” Asher asks in a low growl.
“Her mother.” The air changes and I can feel the angry energy beating against my skin and it is all coming from Asher.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks and I know this is going to go badly. I bend my head under Asher’s arm that is holding the door open.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” I say and her eyes come to me.
“I’ve been calling you and you haven’t answered.”
“You came to Tennessee because I haven't answered my phone?” I ask in disbelief.
“No, I came here because your fiancé’s in the hospital,” she says and my eyes narrow.
“Her fiancé is standing right in front of you.” Asher growled, taking his hand off the door and pulling me into his side.
“How did you find out where I live?” I ask, completely ignoring the fact that she said my ex was in the hospital. I hope that he isn’t going to die or anything, but I’m not going to go to New York to sit at his bedside.
“The boy from the lawyer’s office told me.”
She looked up at Asher when his voice rumbled. “Nick?” My mom nodded. “I'm going to fucking kill him.” Asher was pissed.
“I'm her mother. Why wouldn’t he tell me where she lives?” she snaps, looking at Asher then back at me. “Why haven’t you returned any of my calls?”
“The last time I saw you, Mom, you made it clear that you were not interested in having a relationship with me.”
“You’re my daughter.”
“Yes, and you have never acted like my mother.” What the heck is going on? I feel like I’m in the twilight zone when I see tears form in her eyes.
“I’ve been worried.” My eyes narrow.
“What’s really going on?” Just then, my cell phone rings in the kitchen. I look up at Asher in a silent plea for him to not let her in. He nods and I hope that we are on the same wave length. I walk to the kitchen and pick up my phone, seeing that it is Mr. Stevenson.
“Hello,” I answer.
“November, this is Tom Stevenson.”
“Hi, Mr. Stevenson. How are you?”
“Could be better, darlin’.”
“Um, sorry to hear that,” I mumble, looking toward the front door to make sure Asher hasn’t let my mom in.
“Sorry to do this, but something just came up and I'm leaving my office in twenty minutes. If you can come now, I will put through the transfer. If not, we’re going to have to reschedule for tomorrow.”
“I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, confused.
“Like I explained to your mother this morning, I know that your signature is on the transfer papers but either I or a notary public has to witness you signing the documents.”
“What?” I whisper.
“They have your signature, but from your tone, I take it that you didn’t know.”
“No,” I whisper again, moving down the hall so I can talk without my mother hearing. “You said they have my signature?” I ask, making sure I understand him correctly.
“Yes.” He pauses and I can hear papers shuffling in the background. “I double checked when I got them.”
“Oh my God,” I mumble into the phone, realizing why my mother is really here. “She’s here right now,” I say quietly, more to myself than to Mr. Stevenson.
“She’s at your house?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I'm calling James. Keep her there,” he says, hanging up.
“Okay,” I say to dead air on the phone. I look down the hall, trying to come up with a plan to keep my mom here until Asher’s dad arrives. I consider going outside and slashing her tires, but figure that might be a little extreme. Then, I thought about sicking Beast on her, but if she hurt my dog, I would be really upset. So, after a few more non options pass through my head, I decide to just invite her in and ask her if she would like something to drink. I leave the hallway.
When I reach the kitchen, I can see over the island that Asher is sitting on the couch with his hands resting on top of his head. My mom is sitting on the coffee table in front of him. “I guess we weren’t on the same wave length after all,” I mumble to myself. Asher’s eyes come to me as soon as my feet hit the tile floor in the kitchen. He shakes his head. I narrow my eyes. My mom looks at me, smiles, and I see she has a gun in her hand pointed at Asher.
“What are you doing?” I scream as I start running into the living room.
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot him,” she says and I stop at the edge of the living room. My heart is pounding as if it’s going to jump out of my chest. I look at Asher. His eyes are on me and he looks worried. His eyes drop to my stomach and they close,
but not before I see pain flash across them.
“As I was telling your boyfriend here—”
“Fiancé.” Asher growls, glaring at my mom. I almost laugh. Only he would stop a crazy person with a gun to clarify our relationship status.
“As I was telling your fiancé,” my mom says, glaring back at Asher. Then she looks to where I'm standing. “You need to come with me.”
“Where?” I ask even though I know where she wants us to go. I just need to stall for time.
“You’ll see,” she says, standing. “Before we go though, you need to tie him up. I don’t need him coming after us.” She pulls some rope out of her bag. “This was for you, but it looks like we’re going to use it on him instead,” she says, throwing the rope at me. I catch it midair and look at Asher, trying to find a way to get out of this. “Come on, come on. We don’t have all day.” She motions to him with her gun. I walk slowly towards Asher. I don’t want to do this. Tears start to fill my eyes. I can’t tie him up.
I shake my head. “I can’t.” I sob, stopping a few feet from where he’s sitting.
“Either you tie him up or I’ll shoot him.”
I start sobbing harder and my breath hitches. “Baby,” Asher whispers, his hands coming toward me.
The gun goes off. “Keep your hands where I can see them,” my mom yells as I scream. Asher places his hands back on his head with a look of pure rage on his face.
“Tie his hands behind his back and to his ankles. Do it now or I’ll shoot him.”
“I'm so sorry.” I cry as Asher places his hands behind his back.
“Be strong, baby, for both of us,” he whispers, and I know he’s talking about our daughter.
“I will. I promise,” I whisper. I don’t want her to know that I'm pregnant. The day I started wearing the maternity pants I bought from Target, my baby bump showed up. Normally, I would wear something more form fitting to show it off. Thankfully, today I have on an oversized tee and leggings because we were lounging around the house. I worked on tying his arms behind his back then he lay with his chest to the couch and I tied his hands to his ankles. I am glad that he has on sweats and a long sleeve shirt so the rope doesn’t rub his skin. When I finish, my mom walks over to the couch and tests the knot I tied.
“Let’s go,” she says, waving the gun in the direction of the door. My brain starts to panic. Asher’s house is in the country. Who knows where his dad is or any of the other officers that work in the area. I have no idea how long it will take for someone to show up. I can hear Beast scratching at the back door, trying to get in and I wish that I hadn’t locked him out there. “Come on. We need to go. You already held me up by not running to the car when I told you Chris was in the hospital.”
“I need shoes,” I tell her, hoping that will buy me some time.
“I saw flip-flops outside the front door. You can wear those.”
“What are we going to be doing?”
“I'm not going to tell you again. Get in the car.”
“Okay,” I say calmly. I can tell that she is starting to panic. We walk outside and Beast runs around the corner of the house. He jumps through the air, landing right in the middle of my mom’s chest. The gun in her hand goes off right before it flies through the air.
“Holy crap,” I yell, running for the gun. My mom is yelling for Beast to get off her. I fall to the ground, landing on my hip. I feel pain shoot up my side. I’ve got my finger around the trigger of the gun just in time to see my mom grab a hold of Beast’s mouth and start to pull his jaw apart. “Let go of my fucking dog!” I scream at the top of my lungs while trying to stand. I aim a warning shot near where she is lying on the ground. Her hands fly above her head. Beast stands above her, growling down into her face.
“November!” Asher yells from inside the house. I can hear the worry in his voice and I know that he wants me in there, but I can’t leave my mom alone until Asher’s dad shows up.
“I'm okay! We’re okay!” I yell back, taking a shaky breath. The sound of a car coming up the drive is music to my ears. I watch Mr. Mayson pull over the hill in his police cruiser, and for the first time since my mom showed up, I can feel that knot in my stomach disappear.
“No, no, no, no,” she starts chanting, her head thrashing back and forth on the ground. I can hear Asher yelling from inside the house and know that I need to go to him.
“Are you okay?” Mr. Mayson asks, running up with his gun drawn and pointed at my mom.
“Yeah,” I say shakily. “Asher’s inside. He’s tied up. She made me tie him up.” I cry harder and the gun in my hand starts shaking. It feels like it weighs a hundred pounds.
Mr. Mayson’ face is soft and full of worry when he holds out his hand to me. “Give me the gun, darlin’, and go untie my boy,” he says quietly. I hand him the gun and start stumbling my way into the house. My hip is killing me from where I fell on it.
I open the door and see Asher on his knees. He has gotten the rope off one of his ankles. His eyes come to me and he falls backwards onto the floor.
“Fuck,” he roars and I run over to him. I realize it will be easier to untie him with a knife, so I stumble into the kitchen then back to him. He rolls to his side and I cut the rope around his wrist. Before I can do anything else, his arms are around me. I don’t even realize that I’m crying until he starts wiping away the tears running down my face.
“Breathe, baby,” he whispers, rocking me back and forth. One hand is on the back of my head, holding me to his chest, and the other is on my stomach where our daughter is.
“I—was—s-s-so scared.” I sob. “Be...Beast saved me again.”
“Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re safe.” He repeats those words over and over into my ear.
I take my face out of Asher’s chest as Mr. Mayson walks in with another officer. “We have her in th—” He looks down at us and his face pales. “Call a fucking ambulance!” he shouts over his shoulder. I look down and see that Asher’s sweats have blood on them.
“Oh my God!” I cry. “You’re bleeding.” I try to get up. Asher’s face is as white as a ghost and he starts shaking his head, pulling me closer. “Let me go. We have to see where you’re hurt.”
“Not me, it’s. It’s not me.” His face is etched in worry. He picks me up and I start to squirm. Then I realize I feel wet between my legs.
“No,” I whisper, looking at Asher. “No,” I repeat, begging him to tell me that this is not happening. That I'm not bleeding.
“I'm taking her to the hospital. It will be faster if I drive her,” he says to his dad, but it feels like a dream. This cannot be happening.
“I'm driving. Get her in the cruiser,” Mr. Mayson says quietly. I feel us moving but I'm numb. No tears, nothing. I don’t even know if I'm breathing. All I can think about is our daughter.
I awake to the sound of beeping and my eyes flutter open. I can see the white of the hospital ceiling and everything that happened yesterday comes back to me.
When I got here my dad and grandmother arrived ten minutes later. He was ready to go down to the local jail and kill my mother. My cousins and uncle had to physically restrain him so he didn’t get arrested. The police still had to come in to take our statements, but from what I understand from Asher’s dad, my mom had been trying to find a way to get the money my grandparents left for a very long time.
My ex-fiancé was her boy-toy long before I met him. She said they had been sleeping together for two years when she came up with the plan that he would date me, get me to fall in love with him, ask me to marry him, then something else. She didn’t say what that something was, but it would happen to me. He would get the money and they would start a life together. Unfortunately for her, that plan fell through when I found out they were sleeping together.
Apparently, my grandparents left strict instructions that, if I was to die before I had any heirs, the money was to be donated to different charitable organizations. My mother had been scheming for a long time trying to get m
e out of the way. I guess she was on a roll during her questioning and told the police that she set up the attack in New York with the hopes that I would be in a coma when it came time for me to receive my inheritance.
She figured that if I was in a coma, she would automatically be granted power of attorney and would have access to the money when it became available. Then she could transfer it to herself. She also admitted that she sent the flowers to me and paid the kid who dropped them off a few hundred dollars to get my signature on the transfer papers that she took to the lawyer.
I move my head to the side and look over to where Asher is sleeping. He always looks peaceful in his sleep. His mom brought him another pair of sweats yesterday when she showed up, so he could get out of the one’s that were covered in my blood. His ankle is crossed over his fleece covered knee. He has on a black thermal that is so tight, I can make out every detail of his chest. His hands are intertwined and laying on his abs. His sleeves are pushed up, the tattoos on his arms on full display. His jaw is darker than normal. He never shaves over the weekend and since he worked from home yesterday, he’s extra scruffy.
Over the last few weeks, his skin has turned the color of caramel from working out in the sun. I bet a lot of women drive by his job sites just to see him without his shirt on. I know he takes it off to work, at least, occasionally. His tan is everywhere. He’s always beautiful, but asleep, he’s stunning. I wonder if I will ever get tired of looking at him.
My hand absently moves to my stomach. When I feel a slight flutter, I say a silent prayer that my daughter is okay. They were worried yesterday when they saw how much blood I lost. After lots of tests, the doctor found out that my cervix was bleeding due to the way I fell when I went for the gun. When I continued to bleed, they decided to keep me overnight for monitoring and put me on bed rest for a few weeks.