Entangled: Book 2 of the Fullerton Family Saga

by Voight, Ginger

  After a brief stare-down, he finally walked past me and out the door.

  I laid awake all night, trying to figure out how to fix what I had so royally broken. My first impulse was quite similar to Alex’s. I could leave. Drew and Olivia would marry. And they’d figure out their twisted family drama out without dragging me down with them.

  But then I would remember the look on Jonathan’s face when I returned to Los Angeles, and how hurt he had been. His whole life had been turned upside down when I left. If I went back to Texas now, I’d break another promise, essentially robbing him of his inability to trust anyone who might genuinely care for him. Worst of all, Alex was no longer around to minimize the damage.

  Plus, if I left, I’d be giving up on the only chance I had left to win Alex back. I needed to earn his trust, too. The only way to do it was to stay, and never allow myself to get close to Drew again…to prove that his hold over me was effectively broken.

  I plastered a fake smile on my face the minute Jonathan walked in the door. I even kept up the charade when we headed to the offices downtown. For his part, Drew had backed off slightly to give me a little breathing room, and I used it to fortify my resolve. I’d never get involved with him again. I would wait as long as it took for Alex to return, and I’d win him back however I could.

  I was going to take Nancy’s advice and choose the man who made me the better woman, and that had always been Alex.

  Drew turned me into a pathetic shell of who I wanted to be. I was a phony. I was weak. I was a slave to my most primal desires. Never again, I resolved.

  If Jonathan noticed the change, he didn’t say much about it. He knew that Alex and Max had moved to the UK. All he said on the matter was, “Did Millicent go with them?”

  “I would imagine so,” I managed to say. “Max needs her, and she would turn the world upside down to be there for him.”

  He nodded and then let the subject drop.

  Every quiet night in the apartment drove me to the brink of lunacy. The phone wouldn’t ring. Spam cluttered my email inbox. I had never felt lonelier in my entire life.

  I would go out to the neighborhood restaurants and shops, just so the noise would drown out my thoughts. I explored more in two weeks than I had ever done in all my years in Texas. I sampled different cuisine in varying degrees of success.

  The worst of it was an Indian joint. Their curry dish made me sick as a dog for two days straight. The only good news was that it happened over the weekend, so Jonathan’s studies weren’t interrupted. I still wasn’t one-hundred-percent by that following Tuesday, when Drew informed us about the party preparation for both Christmas and New Year’s. I immediately wanted to decline, but Jonathan had enjoyed the party planning so much the year before, there was no talking him down from either project.

  I cornered Drew in his office a bit later. “Why don’t you have Olivia do all this? She is the official girlfriend.”

  “She’s in the middle of the awards season push. She’s nominated for best supporting actress in a pretty important drama. The first Oscar of her career. She has other priorities.” He scanned my face with concern. “Are you OK? You look white as a sheet.”

  “Food poisoning,” I dismissed. “I was down with it over the weekend.”

  He nodded as he picked up the phone. “Simone, call Dr. Pettinger.”

  “I don’t need a doctor, Drew.”

  “You’re going,” he decided. “No arguments.”

  I decided giving in on the matter was easier than fighting him about it all day, so I relented. He drove me to the doctor’s office that afternoon so they could fit me in. He and Jonathan waited outside while I sat, freezing in a cloth gown on top of sticky paper in one of the brightly colored examination rooms. I studied anatomy posters on the wall until the doctor finally appeared. Dr. Pettinger was a middle-aged man with a ready smile and calming bedside manner. “So I hear you’re not feeling too well,” he offered. “What’s going on?”

  “I had some spicy Indian food on Friday. It didn’t really agree with me. I was throwing up most of the weekend, even water.”

  “Diarrhea?”

  I shook my head. “Not really. Just really, really tired and weak. Kind of dizzy.”

  He performed some basic diagnostic tests on me before instructing me to lie on my back. When he pressed on my stomach, I rolled over and retched so hard I nearly puked all over his bright white tile floor. “Still queasy?”

  I nodded. “I figured it was food poisoning.”

  “Could be,” he agreed. “We’ll draw some blood, run some tests. We’ll get you back in fighting shape before you know it.” He patted my leg before he exited the room.

  A nurse came in to draw some blood, and I submitted to a urine test as well. It seemed like hours had gone by when the doctor finally came back, with a stack of paperwork. “Well, I think I’ve pinpointed your problem,” he said. Without any fanfare, he concluded, “You’re pregnant.”

  My eyes flew open. “What?”

  “Blood test confirms it. Your last period was mid-November, you said?”

  I nodded. “The sixteenth. My doctor had changed my prescription, and that was when the old ones ran out.”

  “That would make you,” he consulted his calendar, “About four weeks pregnant, due August 23.” I was stunned speechless, especially when he said, “Talk about a Thanksgiving miracle.”

  Thanksgiving? My heart stopped. “Are you sure?” I croaked.

  “Both your blood and urine tests came out positive, Miss Dennehy. I take it the pregnancy wasn’t planned.”

  I shook my head. “I was on the pill.”

  “A new prescription, right? Were you using any other form of birth control?”

  I shook my head as I gulped hard. There hasn’t been time to think about that, and I would have been too drunk to insist anyway. As usual I was swept up in Hurricane Drew, powerless to do anything more than hang on as the storm raged around me.

  “Well, you can certainly discuss your options with your OB/GYN. I’d recommend an appointment right away, to get you squared on prenatal vitamins. In the meantime, stop taking the pills. Get lots of rest, and follow up with your obstetrician as soon as you can. Congratulations,” he offered with a smile as he concluded our visit.

  I could barely face Drew as I walked back out into the waiting room. He was on his feet immediately. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “Nothing serious,” I dismissed. “I am kind of tired, though. I’d like to head back to my apartment and just rest for a while, if that’s OK.”

  “Of course,” he said readily, before he led Jonathan and me out of the office and toward the car. Jonathan insisted that he should stay with me so I wouldn’t be alone, but alone is exactly what I needed to be. This was the absolute last thing I ever expected, and I had no idea what I would do now that it had landed in my lap.

  My first reaction was to call Alex, but I knew he wouldn’t answer my call. And what would I say? “Hey, ‘memba that time I screwed around on you? Well, turns out your brother knocked me up!”

  So I called my other best friend.

  “You’re what?!” Nancy shrieked into the phone.

  “Pregnant,” I repeated breathlessly, like the less attention I paid to it, the less of a reality it became. “Four weeks.”

  “Whose?”

  Dr. Pettinger’s voice ran in a constant loop in my head. “Talk about a Thanksgiving miracle.” I closed my eyes and gulped back the acidy bile rising in my throat. “Drew’s.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  Nancy wasn’t much for cursing and such, but she basically said what I felt. “Exactly.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “If I thought I couldn’t get away from him before, just wait until he finds out I’m carrying his child. He really will push to marry me on New Year’s Eve.”

  “What did Alex say?”

  “Like I can tell him. That would destroy h
im.”

  “Any more than coming back to Los Angeles and finding you married and nursing a baby he knew nothing about?”

  “I can’t do it, Nancy. I can’t hurt him anymore.”

  “This is your chance to really show him you’re ready to be his partner. Let him in, hon. Or let him go.”

  Both options were equally as terrifying. “Of course, I could just tell no one and take care of it myself.”

  She was quiet for a moment. Gently she said, “No, you can’t.”

  Another sigh. She was right. “How did I get it all so wrong, Nancy? I never should have come out here.”

  “Or maybe ‘out there’ is right where you need to be. Think about it, Rachel. Everything you lost is being restored to you, one little piece at a time.”

  “In the wrong order,” I muttered. “Like a Picasso painting.”

  I could hear her smile. “That doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful. You just need the proper perspective.”

  After I hung up with Nancy, I pulled the bin full of Jason’s belongings from my closet. I reached for Monty, his favorite teddy bear, and held it close to my heart. It used to smell just like him, that perfect blend of baby powder and gentle-wash detergent on his clothes. Now all I had were memories of what used to be. Memories that had already begun to fade because I had been too afraid to face them.

  So face them I did. I went through every single photo I had, from the time I got pregnant, to the days before I lost my precious boy. I watched him grow. I watched him thrive. He wasn’t just a child. He was a miracle.

  I gently placed my hand on my tummy as I wondered what kind of miracle grew within me now. Was it a girl? Was it a boy? Would it have dark hair and blue eyes like a true Fullerton? Or brown hair and green eyes like me and my Gram?

  The possibilities were endless.

  I went through the books I had read to Jason as a child, all his favorites that he always insisted to hear more than once. Would this child read? Would she write? Would she draw like her big brother, Jonathan?

  Jonathan, I thought. How beside himself he would be at the news. Whether or not I could give him the family he wanted, I now could give him a little brother or sister that I knew he would adore.

  Hopefully they’d love each other and look out for each other more than Drew and Alex did.

  By the time I drifted to sleep, I had a list of potential names, and a growing list of things I would need to prepare for and raise a baby. I was filled with hope and wonder, in a way I hadn’t since the first time I was pregnant.

  I wanted this baby more than anything, even if that meant I had to be alone. When I called Alex that next morning, I fully intended to offer him the whole of my life, even my unborn child. If he loved me like I hoped, he’d accept the both of us.

  If not, I would do it on my own.

  This time I was not afraid.

  I hadn’t planned on having a baby, but suddenly it was the only thing that mattered.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I tried to call Alex at least five times before Jonathan arrived that morning. He never answered, and I never left a message. I owed him something way more personal than an email. Plus I wanted/needed to talk to him one more time. Even if I couldn’t reach him, even if he bawled me out or called me every name in the book, at least I would know I did everything I could to save our relationship.

  Jonathan was attentive that morning and waited on me hand and foot. “You’re so pale,” he commented as he felt my head for fever. I had to smile.

  “Just worn down. Food poisoning takes a lot out of you.”

  “Was that what it was?”

  I nodded. “Nothing serious at all. I’m perfectly OK.”

  In fact, I was better than OK, morning sickness aside. I got a clean bill of health on my first doctor visit at the end of the week. She ran a litany of tests to monitor things like blood sugar, and everything was right in range of where it needed to be.

  I spent the weekend perusing shopping centers for toys and baby stuff. Though I knew I tempted fate to do it, I bought a plush, stuffed horse that reminded me of my time on Alex’s ranch. I vowed that no matter what gender this baby happened to be, I would foster the same passion for horses his or her ancestors had.

  Of course, my ultimate fantasy was raising the baby on Alex’s ranch, amidst the green rolling hills far away from L.A. Every time I thought about raising a baby in Drew’s multi-billion-dollar showcase in Beverly Hills, I had to fight back a panic attack. Being born to a man like Drew Fullerton was a daunting prospect. This baby wouldn’t just be a child… he or she would be an heir, with all of the same expectations that poor Jonathan balanced on his wee shoulders from the time was old enough to stand. If I was another kind of person, I might be tempted to fudge the truth about this child’s paternity, to raise him or her just under the radar.

  But I couldn’t do something like that. Even though I knew that telling Drew the truth bonded me to him forever, he had a right to know about this child. He had the right to be a father. Unlike Zach, who had no interest in fatherhood, I already knew what that title meant to Drew…and how far he’d go to protect it.

  I just wanted to speak to Alex first. He had been my best friend, my rock and my hero. He made me stronger, and only he could save me from the lion’s den now. But he ignored every phone call and email. It was as if he knew that the next call would be the call to change everything.

  And really… it was.

  Each day that he ignored that ringing phone was another day the cat still lived in that box rigged with poison, and we had no idea if it was alive or dead.

  I thought about flying to London myself. I’d be a lot harder to ignore if he could see me face to face. But that Monday was Christmas Eve. The logistics of pulling off an impromptu trip abroad were a little too gargantuan, especially since I spent half of my day doubled over the toilet.

  I was looking forward to my holiday week. I was tired all the time, so it felt good to nap when I needed to. I was napping on my living room couch that Monday when I heard pounding on my front door. I hoped it was Alex, the only Christmas surprise I wanted. I tried to wish the thought into reality every step it took me to run to the door.

  There stood Drew and Jonathan, dragging a Christmas tree and holding boxes of ornaments that we made the year before. “Merry Christmas!” they greeted in unison.

  I laughed in spite of myself as I spied their matching Santa hats. “What are you doing?”

  “Spreading Christmas joy,” Drew grinned as they pulled the tree into the apartment.

  “No one should be alone on Christmas,” Jonathan informed me as he carried a bag of groceries to my kitchen. There were bags of popping corn and fresh cranberries for the tree, of course, but there was also hot chocolate mix, some cookies from Cleo and a quart of egg nog.

  Drew took note of my pallid complexion. “Are you feeling all right, Rachel? You’re white as paper.”

  “I just haven’t eaten,” I shrugged as I reached for a cookie. My stomach rebelled with the first citrusy bite. I darted toward the bathroom. I stayed in there so long, Drew came to check and see if I was OK.

  “Are you still sick, Rachel?” he asked through the door.

  I opened the door and slipped past him. “Wouldn’t you know it? Food poisoning last week. Flu bug this week. Bah humbug.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?” he asked and I nodded.

  “It’s nothing serious. Just need a little time to rest,” I lied easily.

  He guided me back to the living room with his hand at the small of my back. “You sit and relax, then. We can put up the tree.”

  I watched the boys sloppily attempt to decorate my tree, often laughing at their earnest endeavor as they poked themselves with needles and very nearly took the whole tree down on at least two occasions. In the end, though, it was one of the most beautiful trees I had ever seen, because it had been decorated with love.

  I held out arms for Jonathan, who pounced happily next to me
on the sofa. “Merry Christmas, Rachel!” he said as he threw his arms around my neck. “I love you.”

  My heart tugged. Of all the Fullertons, he was the one who possessed my heart wholly and truly, and always had. “I love you, too, Jonathan.” I kissed him on the cheek and cuddled him close as we looked at the twinkling lights on the tree.

  Drew ordered Chinese food for dinner, and we all sat around watching holiday movies throughout the rest of the afternoon. By seven o’clock, Drew informed Jonathan that they would have to head to his mother’s house. “Okay,” Jonathan agreed before he pulled a present out from under the tree. “I want you to open this before I go,” he told me as he handed me the box.

  I unwrapped his present. He had painted a portrait of Drew, himself and me around my special Christmas tree the year before, and had it framed. I hugged him close. “This is my favorite gift,” I proclaimed, before giving him the photo of him and Becca from the previous summer that I had framed for him.

  “This is mine,” he said as he gave me another kiss on the cheek.

  They were on their way by eight o’clock, and I settled back into my fleece throw to watch TV under the sparkling lights of my tree. I stared at my phone, willing it to ring. Finally I broke down and sent Alex a text, wishing both him and Max a merry Christmas.

  He still hadn’t bothered to answer by the time Drew returned to my apartment with a container of chicken noodle soup. “I noticed you didn’t eat very much earlier.”

  “Kung Pao and the stomach flu don’t exactly go hand in hand,” I informed him as I reached for the container. He kept it out of reach.

  “You go sit down. I’ll heat it up for you.”

  “Drew,” I tried to protest but he shook his head.

  “Let someone else take care of you for a change,” he said softly. “Go lie down.”

  I didn’t have the strength to fight him. I curled back up on my sofa as he heated the bowl of chicken noodle soup. He found a sleeve of unsalted crackers, which he added to the tray as he brought it over to me.

  “Shouldn’t you be off celebrating the holiday with your bride to be?” I asked as I pulled myself into a seated position.