by Devney Perry
And two weeks later, when I returned home to Oregon, I reminded myself that Brody Carmichael was an asshole. My pride had kept me from asking Clara where he’d gone. It had also kept me from telling her that I’d fucked her boss.
Brody was the enemy. He was a one-night mistake and a man I didn’t have to see again if I was lucky.
It didn’t matter that he’d left Arizona, escaping my company. It didn’t matter that I’d been just another willing body in his bedroom. It didn’t matter that I’d fallen for him, just a little.
That night didn’t matter.
And I’d forget about it soon enough anyway.
Chapter Six
Aria
I hate Brody Carmichael.
“Oh, God.” I slid to my butt on the bathroom floor, letting the cold from the tile seep into my jeans. My stomach churned and I rose up just in time to retch into the toilet. Again.
How much puking could a woman do when she hadn’t eaten anything in twelve hours?
Apparently, a lot. This was the fourth time I’d had to rush to the bathroom this morning.
I wiped my mouth dry and waited, hovering beside the porcelain to make sure I was done. Then I glanced at my watch. Eleven o’clock. That was usually when the vomiting stopped.
Why? Why had I been so foolish? Why had I had so much champagne? Why had I let Clara talk me into going to that wedding two months ago?
And why had I slept with Brody?
That son of a bitch Carmichael got me pregnant.
Pregnant.
That word had been bouncing around in my brain for two days, ever since I’d held the positive test in my hand. Pregnant. Only reading the result a thousand times had helped it sink in.
When I’d missed my period, I’d fooled myself into thinking it was an anomaly. I’d chalked it up to exercise. After my trip to Arizona, I’d started working out hard at the gym in Heron Beach. They’d started a pre-holiday workout challenge, and after jumping and squatting and crunching, most nights I’d walked home like a limp noodle.
The class was a killer, but I had more muscle definition at thirty than I’d had at twenty. Women lost their periods from body fat changes all the time, right?
Denial was an evil bitch. She’d trick you into false securities. She’d duped me into ignoring the real reason I hadn’t bought my monthly supply of tampons. Then, after weeks of being my constant companion, she’d abandoned me.
My exhaustion hadn’t faded, even after cutting time at the gym. My breasts were tender. My mind sluggish. And my stomach in a constant knot.
One week of morning sickness and the signs were all there, screaming at me to stop ignoring the truth.
Pregnant. I was going to become a mother.
And I had no idea what to do.
When Clara had realized she was pregnant with August, she’d called me crying from the bathroom in her Las Vegas apartment. She’d been hysterical. Her sobs had bounced off the walls.
What am I going to do? What am I going to do?
She’d asked me that question over and over. Once she’d calmed down, we’d spent hours talking it through. Her biggest fear had been telling Devan. Maybe because she’d known how he’d react.
Though handsome, Devan hadn’t been the most loving of boyfriends. He was a narcissist. A child, even his own, would be competition for attention. There were times when he worshiped Clara, enough to make her stay. But a baby? Clara knew he was going to flip that her birth control hadn’t worked. He proved predictable.
After breaking the news, she called me again, from the same bathroom, this time livid because Devan had accused her of doing it on purpose.
Would Brody do the same?
From what I could remember, he’d used condoms. Multiple condoms. One of them must have broken. And since I wasn’t one to bring men to my bed, or sleep in theirs, I hadn’t bothered with birth control. Sex for me was as rare as the steak tartare served at the wedding reception.
Stupid, Aria. Don’t think about food.
My stomach rolled again, but being empty, nothing came up. That would change tomorrow morning when I’d repeat this blessed cycle again.
I shoved myself off the floor and out of the bathroom stall, then went to the sink to splash water on my face. The bottle of mouthwash in my purse was nearly empty but I had enough for a swish and spit.
When I chanced a look at my reflection, the mirror showed me that I looked the way I felt. Like shit.
My face was pale. The purple circles under my eyes were darker than they’d been yesterday. My shoulders slumped because the weight on them was so heavy I couldn’t muster the strength to snap them straight.
Pregnancy had more of a greenish tinge than a glow.
What am I going to do?
Was I ready for this? I’d hoped kids would come after I’d found the man of my dreams. How was I going to do this on my own?
One day at a time. That’s what I’d told Clara when she’d been the woman in the bathroom. I’d heed my own advice.
First things first, it was time to tell my sister. Two days, and this secret was barking to be let out of its cage. Clara had done this before. She’d navigated a pregnancy and faced single motherhood. Clara would make it all better—after she reamed my ass for sleeping with her boss.
“I’m going to tell her.” I nodded to myself. “Today. As soon as I feel better.”
Before my reflection could convince me one more day of secrecy wouldn’t hurt, I walked away from the sink. The women’s locker room at The Gallaway was empty. Most of the staff had already dropped off their personal belongings to start work for the day.
This time of year, the hotel wasn’t as busy as it was during the warmer months. December’s pace around the hotel was slower as the guest count dwindled. The housekeepers were less frantic. The grounds staff had been cut down to the bare minimum. Our seasonal workers would return in the spring.
With Christmas only five days away, this week would be one of the quietest all year. Though some families came to celebrate at The Gallaway, per their annual tradition. They’d be fussed over and given extra attention. Our chef was busy preparing for extravagant holiday meals.
Any other year and the kitchen would have been a regular stop on my daily rounds. But now, with the smells and my queasy stomach, I’d been avoiding that end of the hotel for the same reason I avoided marigolds in planters. They stank.
I wandered down the hallway, fighting to put on a happy face. I was five minutes late for a meeting with my boss, Andy, the new general manager.
Mark had hired Andy earlier this year, and the duties I’d covered as temporary GM had been handed over, but Andy insisted we continue this daily meeting. I’m too tired for this.
Regardless, I made my way to the lobby. Three Christmas trees decorated the vast space, each with golden lights and silver ribbons that had been wrapped in perfect spirals around the boughs. The crystal chandelier hanging low in the center of the space cast fractured beams across the marble floors.
The hotel looked magical, though I still preferred the spring and summer, when fresh flowers decorated the space and my plants greeted guests as they strolled through the wide front entrance.
I waved at the receptionist stationed at the desk, then disappeared through the door behind the counter marked for employees only. Then, using the last of my reserves, I trudged up the staircase to the second floor.
The corner office, Mark’s, was dark. In the winter, he took Wednesdays off as personal days. His beachfront home was as impressive as his hotel, and if I owned it, I’d make it a point to spend time there too.
Beside Mark’s was Andy’s office. It wasn’t quite as impressive as the corner, but with the view overlooking the ocean and the cliffs that gave way to the sandy beach, it sure didn’t suck.
Forcing some pep into my expression, I knocked on Andy’s door.
“Come in.”
I turned the knob and entered. “Hey.”
“Aria.” He st
ood from his desk and straightened the lapel on his suit jacket. Then he smiled, a pleasant smile but one that betrayed his feelings.
Andy’s crush on me was the worst-kept secret at The Gallaway.
“Please, allow me.” He rounded his desk and pulled out the guest chair. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” I shied away as he lingered just a second too long beside the armrest.
Awkward and uncomfortable crush aside, Andy had proved to be a good boss in the months he’d been here. He treated the staff with kindness. He worked hard and had earned Mark’s respect. But Andy was a single man in his midforties, and the affection he had for me was as obvious as the waves crashing onto the shore outside.
“Have you had lunch?” he asked, returning to his side of the desk.
Beyond him and through the windows, the winter sky was a lighter shade of gray than the ocean itself. Part of me wanted to find a quiet bench somewhere on the sprawling deck outside, curl up under a blanket and let the caw of the seagulls lull me to sleep.
How was I going to manage my job and a baby? It was possible. Deep down, I knew I’d figure it out, but the logistics escaped me at the moment. The idea of searching for daycare and babysitters was overwhelming. Today, this week, the future looked as hazy as the horizon outside where the sea met the clouds.
“Aria?”
“Huh?” I blinked, tearing my gaze away from the glass to focus on Andy’s face. “Sorry. No, I haven’t had lunch.”
“Should I order something for us?” He gestured to the desk phone. “I heard the chef made a large pot of clam chowder today and it’s delicious.”
I gagged. “No. No lunch for me today.”
“Oh.” His face fell, but he recovered quickly with a smile. His blond hair was combed smartly at a part over his left eyebrow. His face was always clean shaven. Maybe in another life, Andy would have been a nice man to date.
I suspected he enjoyed long walks on the beach and romantic candlelit dinners. We’d never bicker or fight. Andy was much too polite for sarcasm.
Dating would soon become a distant memory, not that I’d dated much these past few years. Even Andy wouldn’t want to get involved with a pregnant woman. Baggage might as well be my middle name.
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s not you. I’m just not feeling great today.”
“Is there anything I can do?” The concern on his face was endearing. As a friend.
“I’ll be fine.” The new mantra. I’d be fine. We’d be fine. I fought the urge to press a hand to my belly. “My plan is to spend a few hours in the greenhouse. That always perks me up.”
“Then don’t let me keep you.” He stood from his chair. “We can skip today’s meeting. Catch up later.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” He came to my chair, pulling it out for me as I stood. “We’ll talk when you get back from Arizona.”
Tomorrow, I was leaving to spend Christmas with Clara and August. My suitcase was packed and my flight booked.
Never in my life had I dreaded a trip to see my family.
“Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Andy.”
“Same to you, Aria.”
I waved, then headed for the door. I didn’t linger at the hotel. The fresh air outside beckoned, so I collected my jacket from the locker room and ducked out the employee exit. My condo wasn’t far from the hotel, only blocks, and rather than drive, I walked to work most days.
Now that I’d left the Cadillac with Clara, I didn’t have a vehicle. Not long before Katherine had come to Oregon with the Cadillac, I’d sold my old Jetta. It had been a piece of junk and prone to breakdowns and flat tires. I’d been searching for a replacement but then the Cadillac had magically appeared and voila. No more car shopping.
Besides, Heron Beach was a small town. Walking the streets was safe and the grocery store delivered.
The air wrapped around me cool and sharp, chasing the last dregs of nausea away. The Gallaway had golf carts for my staff to use for going back and forth between the off-site greenhouse and storage area five blocks away, but I hadn’t climbed behind the wheel of one in ages.
Much like my journey to and from home, I preferred to hoof it.
The walk was invigorating, and by the time I made it to the greenhouse, my spirits had lifted. The future didn’t seem quite as bleak. And though Clara was going to be surprised, maybe there’d be a little excitement there too.
I was having a baby.
My baby.
There’d never be a day when I was alone. There’d never be a day when I longed for a family. I was growing one. The life inside me deserved my best. He or she would have it. From now until my dying breath.
It was . . . exciting. Scary, but wonderful.
Digging the keys from my coat pocket, I unlocked the greenhouse door and stepped inside. Dirt and leaves and water. I breathed it all in, holding the air in my lungs for a moment.
“Better.” I sighed, shrugging off my coat.
The greenhouse was my favorite place. A sanctuary. Here, we created life. We made messes. My staff all knew that when you were at The Gallaway, you smiled at guests but stayed in the periphery. The greenhouse was where we could all let loose and be ourselves.
Here, the world made sense. Here, I could figure this pregnancy thing out.
I meandered down the aisles between planting tables, my tennis shoes crunching on the gravel floor. There were a few poinsettias left that hadn’t been perfect enough for the hotel. This morning, I’d earmarked each for my employees to take home. The seedling trays were mostly stacked and empty. We wouldn’t fill and plant the majority of them until February or March, depending on the varietal. But the scent from the plants lingered year-round.
The small desk at the far end of the greenhouse was cluttered with papers. My laptop was collecting dust. Two forgotten water bottles joined the mess. The space served as my office, where I’d place supply orders and draft work schedules and answer the rare email.
When I’d worked as the temporary GM, I’d used Andy’s office. The view was spectacular but spending my time there had been beautiful torture. I wasn’t meant for a fancy office and paperwork. Though I’d muddled through fine, making sure that everyone had their duties covered, it had never fit. Not like the greenhouse. This was where I was most comfortable. This was where I was the most productive. This was where life made sense.
Most days.
I plopped into my black upholstered chair, spinning it to the desk and slouching down deep. Then I dug my phone from my pocket to make the call—or calls—that were two days overdue.
Clara answered on the second ring. “Hey. All set for tomorrow?”
“Yep.” I sucked in a deep breath. I couldn’t fly to Arizona and spend the day with her and August, waiting for him to go to bed, with this news hanging over my head. She’d know from the moment she picked me up at the airport that something was wrong. And this was not news I wanted to deliver with August in the car. “Got a second? I need to tell you something.”
“I don’t like that tone,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
I gulped. “I’m pregnant.”
“W-what?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Oh.” The silence dragged after that one pained syllable. “I, um . . . I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”
“I’m not.” God, this was hard. And about to get worse. “It was a one-time thing.”
“Are you okay?”
“No,” I admitted, tears welling in my eyes. “But I will be.”
Tomorrow, when I could soak up one of her hugs, I’d tell her I was scared. I’d tell her I didn’t know how to be a mother, not after we’d lost our own so young. I’d tell her that I didn’t know how to fit an infant into my life, and I had no idea how to incorporate Brody into the mix.
“What can I do?” Clara asked.
My heart squeezed. “I’ll be ready for a hug tomorrow.”
“I’ll have one waiting.”
<
br /> “And I need . . .” I closed my eyes. Damn it, this sucked.
“You need what?”
I swallowed down my fears and braced. “I need Brody’s number.”
“Why—” She gasped, putting the pieces together. “He’s the father?”
I nodded.
“Aria?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “It happened after the wedding.”
“Um . . .” She trailed off and stayed quiet. Then she cleared her throat. “He’s right here. Let me give him the phone.”
“Wait. Clara—” Too late.
She’d taken the phone from her ear before I could tell her that I wasn’t ready to talk to Brody yet. I wanted his number so I could call him before my flight tomorrow, but I hadn’t worked out what to say yet.
Clara’s voice echoed in the background as she spoke to Brody. “Phone call for you.”
“Who is it?” His deep voice hit my ear and my panic spiked.
Tell him.
I was going to puke again. I’d survived plenty of hard moments in my life. The death of my parents. Living with my uncle. Running away at fifteen. But for some reason, this seemed like the hardest of them all.
My entire body trembled as I listened, waiting for Brody to get on the line.
Clara said my name, then there was a long pause.
“What?”
One word and all my fears disappeared. One bark from an arrogant jerk and I wasn’t scared anymore. No, I was pissed. “Hello to you too.”
“I’m busy, Aria.”
“God, you are an asshole. I hope our baby gets his or her personality from me.”
“W-what?”
So he wasn’t a complete robot. I’d rattled him. Good. I was rattled too. “You heard me.”
Brody went still. The air in the greenhouse swirled from the fans that we ran year-round. Their hum was the only noise. Not even his breath registered in my ear.
“Brody,” I said.
No response, not even to ask me if I was sure he was the father.
“Brody.”
Dead air.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and my mouth fell open. It was quiet because he’d hung up on me. “That son of a bitch.”