Edward: BBW (Members From Money Book 17)

by Katie Dowe

  Aleshia bobbed her head, despite the fact her sister was unable to see the gesture. “Yeah. I was thinking… thinking lots.” She struggled to keep her voice from shaking, whilst pouring a fourth cup of coffee. “Wondering why I kept making excuses for him, when I knew somewhere deep inside he wouldn’t change. He might be charming, for a while, if I went back. But then he would show himself again, when he thought that I wouldn’t leave him.”

  “That’s… true.” Vaneese drawled the words. “But you also kept persisting on the idea that you didn’t want to be selfish to the baby. I got that, even if I didn’t like that son of a bitch. So why the change? Is it to do with the ultrasound? How did that go?”

  Images of the ultrasound skipped into existence. “It went fine. I’m having a boy.”

  Another pause. “Congratulations! Cameron went with you, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  Suspicion tainted Vaneese. “This isn’t anything to do with Cameron, is it?”

  “Little bit.” Aleshia responded reticently. She didn’t want to be deterred from her decision, though a large chunk of her heart desperately wished someone would stop her from making the choice. “Though I’ve also had these thoughts floating in my head for a while.”

  “Go on…”

  Taking the time to collect the frayed segments of emotion, Aleshia tried to explain, though her words came out more desperate than she liked. “I don’t think it will work out between me and Cameron. I think it will go the same way it went between me and Peter. I think once the baby is born, he’s gonna change his mind.”

  Footsteps came from Vaneese’s end, likely walking to a quieter spot, as Amy could be heard screaming in the background. The noise dimmed. Aleshia hated that it was such a nice day outside. The warmth penetrated her bones, though it never once touched the icy ball in her abdomen.

  “There’s no guarantee that will happen,” Vaneese shot back. “I know you, you tend to overthink matters. Maybe give yourself a breather, and just take the moment as it is.”

  “I’m not overthinking. I’m basing this on patterns – what I’ve experienced,” Aleshia gabbled, a little fear now injecting itself into her heart.

  “You haven’t experienced everything the world has to offer. I haven’t either,” Vaneese reprimanded. “I mean, I don’t know Cameron well, but I can see he’s got a good heart.”

  “How can you know that? It can be a cover. Just like with Peter.”

  “Uh, if you remember, babe, I was first on your case when you hooked up with Peter. I saw him as bad apples. Cameron isn’t bad apples. Maybe a little bruised – he’s had some issues with past relationships, from what I’ve gathered off Dijon. But he’s nowhere near the same ilk as that piece of scum.”

  Slumping against her glass, Aleshia shook her head. “There’s no way you can see everything.”

  “I detect a note of self-pity in your tone, there. You’re not doing that wallowing in misery thing, where you feel like your life is ruined and there’s nothing you can do about it?”

  “No.” Aleshia scowled at the phone, biting back the temptation to insult or belittle her sister. It didn’t matter if she did – Vaneese shrugged off insults like flies.

  “Sure.” Sarcasm laced Vaneese’s response. “Look. Just give yourself time to calm down. I know things are coming to a head, but don’t start throwing your shit out the window because you’re afraid it’s all going to fail. Just don’t. Don’t make a mistake you’ll end up regretting.”

  “Too late,” Aleshia whispered, and hung up.

  Almost instantly, the phone began ringing, buzzing like a persistent mosquito. Vaneese would be furious – no one hung up on her when she delivered advice. If Aleshia ignored the calls, her sister would come storming around later. It didn’t help Vaneese now lived much closer, sharing the same shoreline with her.

  Contrary to desire, Aleshia answered the phone once more. “Leave me alone. I need to think things through.”

  “You hung up on me on a note that sounded like you were intending to commit suicide, babe. Don’t you do that.”

  Contrite, Aleshia apologized.

  “I can tell you’re ready to spike up if I start doing my thing,” Vaneese mused. “So, I’ll just say this. One: never end a call with me like that again. Two: I know you’re going through a hard time. You need to know that I will always support you. Alright? That’s not something that will change. You know me. I’m always there when needed.”

  “I know.” A lump wedged itself in Aleshia’s throat. Whatever she expected, this statement threw her off-balance. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

  If Vaneese suspected Aleshia was drinking, she didn’t bring it up. “Be strong, sista. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  The call ended, albeit more amiably than the previous attempt. The darkness remained inside Aleshia, though the promise of her sister delved gentle hooks into her soul. She knew, without the shadow of a doubt, Vaneese would always be there. Vaneese was the stone forming out of a river. The river parted way around her. You didn’t move that stone.

  She couldn’t say the same for Cameron. She knew Vaneese her entire life. Cameron Lovell in comparison barely registered as a footprint in time spent.

  It’s a pretty heavy footprint, to be fair, Aleshia mused. If I decide to continue… this thing I have with Cameron, I can act like nothing happened. If I don’t… I can’t take his calls. He makes me forget.

  The knowledge instilled itself. Aleshia had choices, now. Taking deep breaths to calm herself down, she pictured the unborn son in her belly. What kind of future did she envision for the child? None, really. She still scrambled on the idea of cleaning up the mess left behind, and dealing with the fallout of personal choices. Mistakes. They happened, of course. Everyone made mistakes. Aleshia didn’t want to make any more and risk her position now.

  Heart heavy, she grimly resolved to the new choice. She almost failed in the decision, when she received a text from Cameron in the evening, asking if she was busy. The plan almost fell apart then. Steeling herself, she resisted the urge to reply. He sent one more probing message later in the evening, before the phone kept its stubborn silence. Without the spam of messages from Peter, the knot of stress inside relaxed.

  This is the right choice. This is.

  If Cameron didn’t think anything odd with her lack of response that evening, he certainly did over the next coming weeks. Innocent probes into her life, asking when she was free, if she would come over for dinner, if they wanted to continue their romps from earlier… all of these messages flooded Aleshia with guilt. He had no idea, and she wasn’t telling him.

  Because, if she heard his voice for a second, saw him in the flesh, maybe even begging on his knees, or the confused hurt on his face, she would cave, and let him come stumbling back. She would open herself up to the risk of pain and betrayal. Unlike what she just did with Peter, she didn’t plan to erase Cameron out. She wanted him to still be her friend on a level, though she also expected him to erase her out of frustration from the lack of response.

  One week passed. Twice, Cameron came directly to her door, knocking frantically. She turned off the lights, and hid in her bedroom when that happened, or made excuses to be out of the house more often – visiting Vaneese almost every day.

  Although Cameron kept his texts careful, less saturated in the poisonous feelings Peter dipped his in, she caught the notes of wounded confusion. Why are you doing this? What happened? Why won’t you talk?

  Dread filled her for a second, when she imagined him giving her a message like: You know what, I don’t think it’s Peter’s fault. It was yours all along. Look at what you’re doing to me.

  Although she waited for those words in icy fear, Cameron never once stooped that low. He tried coaxing her back, tried phoning, doing everything possible to get her to communicate to him just once. Aleshia, like a coward, opted for the fade-out tactic, stonewalling every message, in the hope he would eventually give up. Underha
nded and snide, it did have the desired result in the end, that Cameron faded away, along with the intensity of the memories she shared with him.

  Vaneese supported her, though let it be known, paired with Dijon, that they thought Aleshia could handle things better.

  “He’s a mess,” Dijon had said, directing an accusing stare to Aleshia, on one of the days she visited. “He doesn’t understand what’s going on, and frankly, I don’t, either.” Vaneese, obviously not wanting to risk having her sister never come over again, held a hurried conference to Dijon, who did his best to lighten down the disdain.

  “He’s Cameron’s friend. It’s his job to be concerned, as far as friends go.” Vaneese soothed her husband.

  “He has a right,” Aleshia said dully. She avoided looking into Dijon’s eyes. “It’s difficult. I like Cameron, but I don’t want to talk to him, because I don’t want to be persuaded… off my choice. I’ve just come out of a bad relationship. In four months, I’m going to give birth. I can’t hop from one relationship to another. No matter what kind of rushed confessions we make to each other. This will be better for Cameron in the long run, as well. He can get himself a girlfriend who doesn’t come pre-packaged.”

  “Aleshia… don’t talk about yourself like that.” Vaneese lightly dusted off her sister, before fetching a glass of water. She fussed like a mother hen, making sure Aleshia sat comfortably, that she showed no signs of stress or impulses to dash off.

  “I can’t say I like it. I’m the one who has to listen to my friend’s confusion. I mean, I see where you’re coming from…” Dijon crinkled his thick black brows together. The words dug at Aleshia, reminding her of the other reason why she avoided the calls. “But if you’re doing this because you believe it will be better for both of you, then… whatever. Can I at least mention why you’re doing this to him? It will be good for him to hear, you know, something.”

  “You can explain,” Aleshia agreed. “I just don’t want to explain to him.”

  “Hmm.” Dijon said nothing more on the matter, but let it be known through his non-verbal attitude that he considered Aleshia a bitch.

  Aleshia already knew Vaneese openly considered her a bitch, but supported the decision anyway.

  “On the other hand, I do look forward to seeing that frogspawn of yours make it into daylight.” Vaneese ran her palm over Aleshia’s stomach.

  “I’m not calling him that. Might look peculiar on a birth certificate.”

  They joked and laughed, deliberately ignoring the tension in the room which associated itself with Cameron.

  After the visit, Dijon had obviously communicated with Cameron shortly afterward. Cameron ceased contact entirely. She only felt a pathetic grimace of relief that he didn’t erase her from the platforms he added her on.

  Now, with Cameron informed, since Dijon had done the dirty work for her, she found herself able to concentrate on her work once more, becoming more productive than the dismal efforts of the past week. She spent more time reflecting on Miami Beach itself, and the beautiful climate of her new home, and less worrying about relationships, and other people.

  If she wanted to take her second chance of life to the max, she didn’t need burdens. She didn’t want the albatross hanging around her neck.

  Sitting on the balcony one hot evening, with the light drizzle of rain touching the edges, and the sea dark and undulating upon the shores, she ate her Mexican take-out.

  Aleshia had come a long way since Minnesota. She now had her own house to pay the mortgage on, and a home in the tropical climate of Florida. She should feel on top of the world, flushed with success and the hope of the future. She no longer thought such dark, deadly thoughts about the son who developed inside her, no longer worried about his denied opportunity to know his father. Peace settled at last on that rocky ship.

  He would be far better off, like Aleshia was, without Peter in their lives. She did feel a twinge of regret at having frozen Cameron out.

  It’s for the best, she told herself, for the thousandth time.

  So, why then, did it hurt so much?

  Chapter 9

  Cameron Lovell sat in the Wayward Boot. Not the best place to find a girl to date, but he spotted one pretty young thing with her dark-skinned friend, both laughing and giggling to themselves as one of the servers flirted with them. He felt a pang of anger, disappointment and misery – for a moment, he thought the friend was Aleshia.

  He’d been avoiding the Wayward Boot, ever since Aleshia had decided to freeze him inexplicably out of her life. It didn’t matter she might be living twenty minutes away from this place. That distance might as well be on the other side of the world. She had finally turned up at his workplace one week ago, though it took her the better part of four months – but the ship had long since sailed. She should have spoken to him long before. She left it too late.

  The visit, however, shook him up, made him go back to the devastation he felt when she iced him out.

  No matter how much he tried to comprehend Aleshia’s actions, he just couldn’t wrap his head around it. If she didn’t want to date him anymore, then why not just say it? Why ignore so many texts? Why disregard everything he had ever said to her? He meant the words. Together, he thought he stood a chance of filling the hole in his life. It looked like madness to outsiders. He didn’t fault that. But to him, it made sense. It felt like sense. Fuck all the expectations, rules and social norms – fuck the idea that he would end up with a child that wasn’t his in a short amount of time if he dated Aleshia – he wanted it. Nothing else worked. Not the dating rituals, the stable, well-paid job, and the quiet, gentle expectation of his family to settle down from the bachelor life soon, and produce children to lavish gifts on.

  They didn’t fill the emptiness inside. But Aleshia had – not just with her presence, but with the truth, and the upcoming boy in her stomach. Hadn’t his dad always said – it wasn’t the blood that made a true father – it was the responsibility?

  Cameron never accepted personal responsibility. No pets, no children, and no long-term girlfriends. The only one he committed to was work, and even then, that only came became of the massive push from his father to thrive in the industry. It was his job, but if Dad never pushed…

  Taking a gulp of gin, watered down with tonic, Cameron sighed, slumping in his chair as though stagnated.

  It only took him thirty-three years to figure out what he needed out of life. And the thing he wanted decided to piss all over the offer.

  Fuck her, Cameron thought savagely. She didn’t have to fucking do that. I thought she was different. A freak out, I get. But this? No. It’s not on. I don’t deserve this. I’m not wrong on refusing her. She fucking froze me out.

  A small twinge of guilt flooded him. Again, his mind replayed through Aleshia’s unexpected appearance at his workplace.

  Four months without a single word, except for what Dijon had uttered to him. Then, the heavily pregnant, devastatingly beautiful woman had turned up at work. When he saw her waddle into his office, he froze.

  “I…” she had said, looking chagrined, “Cameron. I’m sorry.”

  He allowed one word to slip out, laced with malice, after a second of silence elongated into a minute. “Sorry?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I know what I’ve done isn’t fair to you… but hear me out. I didn’t want to… mess things up. See them go the same way as Peter. I didn’t want to bring you back into that spiral. But I haven’t been feeling happy about this. I miss you.”

  He watched her in silence, fighting to contain the boiling anger, despair and hurt that seethed. Hope and happiness, the smallest voices of all, drowned under the influx of negative emotions.

  “I kept telling myself I needed to do this. I couldn’t speak to you, because if I did… I wouldn’t be able to resist you. I would just fall head over heels with you, and put myself in the same position I did before. Falling for someone before I truly knew who they were. Trapping them with my mistake, this pregnancy. But th
e real mistake was… I was comparing you to someone who was nothing like you.”

  The pen in Cameron’s hand cracked from the tightness of his grip.

  “I unfairly pushed you away, when you had shown nothing to prove otherwise. I allowed my doubts to get the better of me. I’m sorry. I hoped… maybe… we could start talking things over again. And I know you have every right to –”

  “Get out.” Cameron’s voice stabbed. “Get the hell out of my office. I don’t want to see you again. I’m done.”

  Aleshia, stricken, looked at him, eyes on the verge of tears. But, wordlessly, she left, seeing the ice in his eyes, the barbs on his tongue.

  After she left, he wanted to scream for her to come back. Dash over to her penguin-waddling form, tell her he fucking hated her for what she did to him, but he still fucking wanted her back and he had been waiting for her to say those words for months. He wanted to shake up her stupid, biased brain and tell her to never do something like that again.

  Instead, he sat there, cracking his pen further, unmoving.

  Finishing his gin, he went over to the two women, the only other inhabitants of the Wayward Boot. Despite the flirting Cameron had done in the past month or so, he never felt satisfied. He had even taken some women to bed – it wasn’t like he ever lacked the selection to choose from – none of them gave him the same sense of awe like Aleshia did. They were simply screws. Nothing more. He went to the bars, declared how he didn’t want children, didn’t want the troubles associated with them, bagged his women whenever he wanted – and came out of each encounter feeling lonelier and more rotten than before.

  The women stared at him in interest as he flashed a bright, endearing smile. “Hello, ladies. Can I buy you a round of drinks, or is there no more room on the table?”

  The server smiled as well, although it came with exasperated resentment.

  “Sure!” The blonde, dark eye woman beckoned him to sit by her. “I’m expecting a friend shortly. She’s married, so you can’t flirt with her, sorry.”

  “That’s perfectly fine with me,” Cameron replied, as he ordered the drinks, based on what they were drinking. “What’s your names?”