The light, jazzy on-hold music played, and as it did I found myself thinking, thinking about the baby, thinking about Adam.
And then right in the middle of my racing thoughts, a single phrase stuck out to me.
Was this really what I wanted?
Adam was the father, there was no denying it. But did I really want him to be in my life? In my baby’s life?
I considered the question, the on-hold music still droning on and on.
If I were to tell him, to get him involved, what would that mean? Could I really expect him to do what needed to be done, to step to the plate and be a father?
I considered it more.
What about what he’d done when the whole incident in Rio had happened? What was his reaction? Apparently, he’d thought it was just fine to wave some money in my face and hope that I was a problem that’d just go away.
Why would I expect him to do any differently now?
I could already imagine the conversation—me feeling like I was on the verge of tears, him all cool and professional, telling me that he didn’t have time to raise a child, of course, but he’d be happy to chip in some money to make things a little easier for me.
Cool and professional and unbothered, ready to send a problem off as easily as he could, just like before.
I didn’t want it.
“Mr. Forde’s office,” came the female voice on the other end of the line.
I moved the phone slowly away from my ear and…hung up.
At that moment I made a vow, that I’d handle this situation on my own, that I’d look out for myself without anyone’s help, especially not in the form of hush money from the billionaire asshole who fathered my baby.
I placed my hand on my belly.
I was determined. I was ready.
Chapter 22
Isla
May
A glimpse of myself in the wall mirror at the side of the waiting room was enough to give me pause. Sure I’d seen myself pregnant every day since, well, I’d gotten pregnant. But at that moment, it dawned on me exactly how pregnant I was.
Twenty weeks. For twenty weeks I’d been dealing with aches and cravings and nausea, and not even a glass of wine to help me out.
Well, I thought. This is what you wanted, right? You’re going it alone, exactly like you’d said you wanted to.
I couldn’t argue with myself on that point. And I had to give myself some credit—I was really making the most of it. Aside from a few days off work here and there that I felt bad about having to take, I was carrying on. Sure, I knew that things might get a little more difficult as the pregnancy went on, but I was ready for any challenge.
Look on the bright side, right? That’s what I’d always told myself.
So that’s what I tried to do. I thought about months from now, how I’d finally give birth and be holding my little baby boy or girl in my arms, that all the struggle and hardship would be worth it. After all, I had a great job with benefits and childcare, and before too long I’d start looking for an apartment with a little more room. Sure, it’d be a stretch since I wasn’t exactly making Adam Forde money, but I’d do it, I was certain.
Cutting through my thoughts, the soft voice of the receptionist carried through the waiting room.
“Ms. Marten?”
With no small amount of effort, I heaved myself up and out of my chair. As I did, I caught another glance of myself in the mirror. My belly was…huge. I wasn’t exactly an expert on how pregnancy looked at the different stages, but what was going on with my reminded me more of women in the last few months, not a little over halfway through.
Don’t worry yourself about it, I told myself. You’re going to see the doctor now, and she’ll answer whatever questions you have. No sense in getting yourself worked up into a tizzy.
That did it. Talking myself down like that had been a skill I’d really gotten down over the last few months. I found it the best way to handle going through this pregnancy all by myself.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to have someone, anyone by my side offering some words of calm and encouragement that I didn’t have to come up with on my own.
Maybe someone like Adam.
No, I thought, my inner voice taking a sharp edge. You made your decision with him and you’re going to stick by it. No going back now.
It was a conversation I’d had with myself more times than I could count. Sometimes in my most difficult moments, I’d think about how easy it would be to call Adam, to tell him what was going on and demand some kind of help. What if he did simply write me a check and send me on my way? He was wealthy—surely the check would be substantial. Maybe even some monthly payments, money that could make the difference between a life of struggle and one of comfort.
But as I had every other time, I dismissed the thought. I didn’t need his help. And as much as I’d accustomed myself to the idea that he’d likely pay me off and not want to be involved, I knew that actually hearing him say it would be difficult to take, to say the least.
Focus on what’s happening now, I told myself as the nurse formed up on my side and escorted me down the hall. You’re pregnant, you’re alone, and you’re kicking butt. You don’t need Adam and his kind of support—you’ve got this.
I smiled, pleased as the negative feelings slowly drifted away.
As I walked, however, I found that it was kind of…hard, actually. My belly felt like it’d grown bigger between when I’d entered the office and when I’d gotten up.
“Here you go,” said the nurse, seemingly sensing my struggle as she slipped her arm around mine. “Easy does it.”
Having her help me like that, as nice as it was, struck me as against the whole idea of looking out for myself. I was quick to slip my arm out of hers and resume walking on my own as normal—well, as normally as I could.
“Thanks,” I said. “But I’m okay. Got to get used to walking with a belly sooner or later, right?”
She smiled, thankfully not appearing to take my independent streak in the wrong way.
“That’s right,” she said. “And that’s a big belly to get used to. You’re what, twenty-four weeks along?”
My eyes went wide. So it wasn’t my imagination that I looked huge for my stage.
“No,” I said. “Twenty.”
The nurse appeared impressed.
“That’s a good sign,” she said. “Big babies are healthy babies. My first was nine-and-a-half pounds, if you can believe that. And now he’s thirteen years old and already pushing six feet. You might have a future linebacker on your hands!”
She flashed me another warm smile.
It put me at ease. Maybe that was it? Maybe I was about to give birth to a big, healthy kid. After all, Adam was tall and well-built, why wouldn’t any kid of his be the same?
Tall and well-built, handsome, smart, ambitious…I had to admit that if I was going to have an absent father, there were far worse genes to be left with. Then again, there was the issue of him being something of a selfish prick. Maybe I could teach that out of the kid, letting him or her know the value of empathy.
Focus… I reminded myself again.
We continued on, eventually reaching the examination room where I’d been so many times before. The nurse led me in and guided me to my place on the table.
“She’ll be right with you,” she said right before closing the door.
At that moment I hated to be alone. I wanted the doctor to come in and tell me that everything was going to be all right.
Damn, Isla. She’s an obstetrician, not a therapist.
My internal scolding made me think about what was going on, the true nature of the situation I was in. And the nurse’s words, while mostly reassuring, made me think about my future. Me with my son or daughter at thirteen…what would I tell them about their father? They’d surely ask. Would I lie? Tell them that it was some man who vanished without a trace? Or would I tell them it was one of the most powerful, wealthy men in
the state?
“Okay,” I said out loud. “You’re supposed to be thinking about the present moment, and thirteen years in the future is most definitely not that.”
But my mind was racing by that point. Something about being in that room alone caused a mild tinge of panic to alight inside of me, the feeling growing by the moment.
Finally, the door opened to the familiar face of Dr. Patricia Shepard, the obstetrician I’d been seeing for the last several months.
She was wonderful. Middle-aged with smart, silver hair, kind blue eyes behind thick-framed glasses, she was everything you’d want from someone in that sort of position. Her simply coming into the room and smiling was enough to make me feel at ease.
“Good afternoon, Isla,” she said, her eyes flicking briefly to the tablet she had in her hands. “How are you feeling today?”
Normally, I’d keep such things to myself—never was one to shout my emotions from the rooftops. But with Dr. Shepard I knew she’d be fine with me telling her what was on my mind. My mental health during this process was just as important as my physical health, she’d repeatedly told me. In fact, they were one and the same.
“To be honest,” I said, “I’m a little nervous.”
“Is that right?” she asked, stepping to my side and furrowing her brow in gentle concern. “What’s on your mind?”
“It’s…I don’t know,” I said.
Dr. Shepard knew about Adam—not his real identity, of course, but that there was a father who wasn’t in the picture.
“My belly,” I said, placing my hand on the big bulge. “It feels like I’ve got a bowling ball in there.
Dr. Shepard turned her attention to the bump, which was pushing the limits of what the fabric of my blouse was capable of. And it was a blouse that I’d bought for the express purpose of having room for my baby bump!
“You’re looking big, that’s for sure,” she said.
“Is it bad?” I asked, the words blurting out of my mouth.
Another warm smile.
“Not at all,” she said. “As far as I can tell from our last appointments, you’re looking all clear to have a healthy, happy baby.”
I was relieved at her words, but I knew that I wouldn’t be totally put at ease until the baby was in my arms.
“But,” she said, clasping her hands together and offering a smile. “Lucky for us today’s the day we get to take a look at the big guy. Or girl. You excited?”
I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t. It was the day of the first ultrasound, and I was scared and excited at the same time.
“I am,” I said. “Really excited.”
“Okay then,” she said. “Then there’s no sense in not getting right to it, huh?”
“I’m ready,” I said, feeling a touch more determined and calmer than I had been.
Dr. Shepard took my vitals, making sure everything was okay with me before moving onto the main event. She summoned a technician to help with the process, and I eyed them with anticipation as they set up the ultrasound machine.
“Okay,” Dr. Shepard said. “Now let’s get this up…”
She gestured to my shirt and I knew what to do. Taking it by the hem, I rolled it up over my bump, my eyes going wide as I did.
“I think I might be going crazy,” I said. “But I swear it wasn’t this big this morning.”
Dr. Shepard let out a soft, friendly laugh before continuing with the process.
“Now,” she said, “time for the gel. It’s a little cool, so get ready.”
I nodded, letting her know that I was ready to proceed. The technician produced a small container of clear gel and, with a wooden applicator, spread it over my belly. Sure enough it was cool and sent a brief shiver through my body.
“Now,” said Dr. Shepard. “You ready to find out if you’re having a little boy or a little girl?”
The excitement had been building in me since the first mention of the ultrasound.
“I am,” I said. “So ready.”
Dr. Shepard nodded to the technician and they went to it. Her assistant removed two paddles from the machine and placed them on my belly, the screen filling up with an image of what was inside. There was the outline of my womb, and a large, moving mass inside.
My baby. Tears formed in my eyes as I took in the sight. I simply couldn’t believe it.
But before I could spend too much time savoring the feeling, an expression of concern formed on Dr. Shepard’s face.
“What is it?” I asked, my tone verging on frantic. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s…” she said. “It’s not bad. I only want to make sure.”
She asked the technician to make some adjustments to the ultrasound, the soft white noise of the machine filling otherwise silent air.
“Please,” I said. “Tell me if there’s something wrong.”
“Not something wrong,” she said, the concern vanishing and replaced with a barely restrained excitement. “Something very, very good.”
“What?” I asked. “What is it?”
“Look here,” she said, pointing to the screen. “See that?”
She pointed to a section of the mass.
“Sure,” I said. “That’s the baby. It looks huge.”
“She,” she said.
She. I was going to have a baby girl.
“And…she’s not alone.”
“What?”
I was confused.
“There,” she said. “This isn’t one big super baby you’ve got…it’s two. Two baby girls. Twins.”
“Oh… my God”
Twins.
“You’re serious?” I asked. “You’re sure?”
“I’m as sure as it gets,” she said. “Congratulations, Isla. I’m so happy for you.”
But at that moment I didn’t feel happy. I felt…lost.
I felt hopeless. I felt confused. I felt scared.
And I must not have been doing a good job at hiding it because Dr. Shepard was quickly at my side, a hand on my arm.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Everything’s looking great. Two healthy baby girls.”
That was just it. Over the course of the last few months I’d been pushed to my limit, juggling work and the pregnancy and everything else. And it had all been done with the expectation that I’d have one baby to worry about.
One baby is fine, I’d figured. One is doable.
But two!
I was happy, of course, at the idea of having another baby. But at that moment all I could think about was how overwhelmed I was, how I’d been going it alone and now I was being presented with a situation I didn’t think I would be able to handle.
It was all too much.
I began to sob softly, tears trickling down my cheeks. Dr. Shepard put her arm around me, giving me support as best she could.
For the first time since I’d learned the news, I was scared.
For the first time, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to go it alone.
Chapter 23
Adam
September
I was on the verge of losing my cool—a feeling I’d been experiencing with alarming frequency over the last few months.
But I cut myself some slack. No matter how much control I happened to have over my emotions, the email would’ve put me in a state either way.
It was from Bernard Pyke, the subject my most recent proposal for improving the conditions at the Rio plant. He’d written to let me know that the board had reviewed my work and that, regrettably, the changes I’d proposed were simply too cost-intensive to implement.
The urge to pound my fist into the desk took hold of me. I allowed myself to sit with the anger before letting it pass.
The tone of the email really got under my skin. Bernard had written it as though it had simply been some bad news that there was nothing to be down about. But I knew the truth—he’d been pushing on the Rio factory as much as I had been, but from a different direction. He wanted to shutter the plant, fi
re the workers, and open up a new plant somewhere cheaper.
I could only imagine how happy he’d been to send the email, the smug smile on his lips as he typed out the word “regrettably.” I was certain that his only regret was that he couldn’t be there in person to deliver the news and watch the anger flash across my face.
And Edward had been no help in the matter. I knew that it wasn’t out of indifference, however. Aside from the situation in Rio, Corliss had been having a banner year. Profits had been through the roof, and all the talk through the company over the last quarter had been of expansion. His mind had been on those matters, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he was likely silently handing over the project to me as some sort of test.
I dropped into my chair, picking up my water bottle but not taking a sip. Before I could spend too much time worrying about the matter, a chime sounded through the office.
“Mr. Forde,” spoke my secretary. “Sandy is here for you.”
“Thanks, Caroline. Send her in.”
The door opened and in walked the slender figure of Sandy, two bags in her hands.
“Afternoon!” she said, chipper as ever. “Still on for lunch?”
I confirmed as much—even though, to be honest, our lunch plans had completely slipped my mind—and she shut the door behind her. The air immediately took on the scent of fast food, and if there was any question as to what she’d brought, the Quick-and-Tasty label on the bag answered it.
Sandy stepped toward my desk, the sunlight catching her engagement ring, causing it to brilliantly flash for a moment. Her fiancé, a fellow employee she’d met at a company event, had only recently proposed. I’d been beyond happy for her, but as much as I’d hated to admit it, her success at finding love reminded me of my own failure at it.
I’d been following the board’s orders, of course, staying away from employees. But it wasn’t as though I couldn’t date. I simply…hadn’t wanted to. Sure, I’d been far too busy finishing up my first year as CEO to worry about such matters, but I’d always managed to find time for women before.
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