Sam knocked on the open door before walking in to witness me in my pathetic state. She sat next to me on the marble floor and smoothed my cheeks with such care, her gray eyes giving me the once over. Her head swayed from side to side as if she was debating to speak. She finally asked, “Is there a chance you’re pregnant?”
“No,” I blurted without even entertaining the thought because that just couldn’t happen right now. Not when my marriage was over.
“Are you sure?”
I thought about the start date of my last period. In all this craziness I had forgotten to keep track. I was late, but I’d been this late before and I was overly stressed, which always affected my periods. “I’m late, but—”
“I think you should take a pregnancy test.”
I grabbed onto her arms. “I can’t be. Not now. It’s the stress.”
“Okay, honey,” she tried to placate me. “Let’s just make sure.”
“Sam, I can’t go out and buy a test. Do you know how fast the news would get out?”
She thought for a second. “Can you send your assistant for one? Fiona, right? She’s the one who initially called me about coming.”
I ran my hands through my messy, thick hair. “Sam.” I shook uncontrollably.
“I know, honey. The timing isn’t great.”
“This would be the worst timing ever, except for the last time this happened to me.”
“God does have a sense of humor about these things.”
“There is nothing funny about this.” And if I was pregnant, God was a definite no-go on my list.
“No, there’s not, but maybe this was exactly the time this needed to happen for you and Peter. Perhaps a blessing in disguise?”
“Sam, I just can’t be,” I choked out.
~*~
I found myself once again staring at a stick of torture on a bathroom counter. This time I was pleading with every deity I could think of, God, Buddha, Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Brahma, Zeus, Yoda, you name it, that the second line wouldn’t appear, all while Sam, Joan, and Fiona waited outside the bathroom door anxiously waiting for the verdict.
Please, please, please, please. I held onto the counter for support, holding my breath. It all came out in a whoosh seconds later when that second line appeared strong and clear. Along with it came tears. I sank back down to the bathroom floor. Why now? How was I going to tell Peter I was having his baby now that he wanted nothing to do with me?
“Del.” Joan knocked on the door. “You okay, kid?”
People really needed to stop asking me that.
I didn’t respond, which I guess gave them all permission to come in. They had their answer when they saw me on the floor with tear-stained cheeks.
They all sat around me as if we were going to play a game of duck duck goose or have a séance. I focused on Sam, who sat directly across from me. Her smile spoke of understanding and of happiness. “I’m going to be an aunt again.” She reached across and took my hands. “This is all going to work out between you and Peter. You’ll see.”
I shook my head vehemently. “I don’t want him to stay with me because I’m pregnant.”
“He loves you,” she tried to reassure me.
“You didn’t see how he looked at me.”
She pressed her lips together. “Well, maybe I need to have a talk with him then.”
“Please don’t talk to him or tell him.”
All their eyes went wide.
“I’m not going to keep this a secret from him. I promise.” I was done with secrets. “I just need some time to . . . to wrap my head around this.”
They all nodded as if they understood.
I’m glad they did because I couldn’t understand the timing of this at all, especially when I was supposed to be standing up in front of hundreds of people in a couple of hours. The only thing I did know was that this time I was keeping my baby.
Joan and Sam did their best to make me look presentable and as if I hadn’t received life changing news only hours before. I stared in the long, free-standing mirror in my suite. I hardly recognized myself in the chic camel blazer and skinny black pants. Sam had piled my hair high in an updo and Joan had done my makeup darker to give me some color in my already pale skin made more so by the latest development.
My hand kept finding my abdomen. Despite the worst timing in the history of best laid plans of mice and men, I wanted this baby. I tried my best not to think about Peter and what this would all mean to him and us, but I couldn’t help it, even though it meant Joan had to reapply my makeup.
I didn’t have any clue on how to broach the subject with him. Did I leave a message because I was sure he wasn’t going to answer? “Hey, Peter, remember me, your wife? I just wanted to thank you for the parting gift. By the way, you’re going to be a father. Congratulations. Should we hash out custody plans now or later? Call me.”
I rubbed my face, but not too much. So much makeup. Ugh. That wasn’t my only problem. I almost had to take my nose stud out from blowing my nose so much. And I still felt as if I was going to vomit.
Joan was trying to shove crackers in my mouth before we all walked down to the ballroom where the luncheon was being hosted. She meant well, but they were some kind of weird green cracker, and they smelled awful. I pushed her hand away. “I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.” Joan tossed the cracker in the waste bin.
“Yes, I am.”
“Can we get you anything?” Fiona asked.
“Not right now. I’ll try and eat something after I’m done humiliating myself.”
Joan patted my cheeks. “I read your notes and they are as eloquent as ever, so suck it up, buttercup.”
“There you go being a motivator again.”
She laughed while giving my cheeks one more pat.
Sam had a gentler touch. She smoothed the lapel on my jacket and gave me her signature warm smile. “You look beautiful.”
I took her hand. “Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
We all walked down together, and for a moment, it struck me, looking at the three strong beautiful women who surrounded me, that mothers don’t necessarily come to you by birth. They are forged in the battle of life and delivered to you through the hands of friendship.
Chapter Thirty-Four
At this point in my life I was becoming painfully aware of the many things I didn’t know. Some big, like how upset was Peter going to be when he found out that we would be forever linked by a child? Then there were small things, like why did these fancy hotel luncheons always serve dry chicken with lumpy sauce drizzled over it in various colors depending on the venue? Today’s could be described as a vomit-inducing yellow. I had to push my chair back as far as I could before I lost it. There were some things I did know, and one of those was when I grew up, I wanted to be like Sam.
Amid the hundreds of people in attendance and the unbelievable schmoozing, Sam laughed and listened. She had this uncanny ability to make people feel like they were the only person in the room. She graciously asked questions about everyone around her, never talking about herself, though people wanted to know everything they could about her. Then, when it was showtime she exuded confidence when she got up to introduce me, even though I knew she was nervous. She looked like a million bucks in a flirty red dress that Gelaire had probably picked out for her.
Sam walked up to the stage that was really a raised platform, smiling, no longer as unsure of herself as she had been last year at this time when I forced her into the limelight. I remembered debating about whether I should post her blog on Autumn Moone’s website. But I had watched her and Neil for months at Sunday dinners and I knew something was wrong. I could see her struggle and the defeat in her eyes, but I had no idea what to do or say. I wasn’t even sure if she liked me. At the time, I was afraid she felt like her mother, but did a better job of hiding it.
If I could go back, I would have said something to her. Even if it was only that I not
iced her. I supposed that was one of the reasons I posted her blog. I wanted her to know she was noticed and how much I admired her, but I didn’t know how to tell her in person. Now, watching her, it was amazing to see how noticing a person changed them. And how she did the same for so many women around the world. She gave them a voice. She noticed them. And, wow, did love and self-care look good on her. She was going to look great in all the pictures being snapped, and on the several local news channels that were set up capturing it all. I was informed by the publicist I would be talking to them afterward. One more torturous event to add to the day.
Sam stood tall and proud at the podium. “It’s an honor to be here today to introduce one of my favorite people. Everywhere I go, lately, people ask me, ‘How is it possible that you didn’t know you were related to Autumn Moone?’ The answer is easy. I’m not related to Autumn Moone. Although she is amazing, and I must admit I’ve had to replace my icemaker because of her books—lots of ice-down-the-chest moments, am I right?”
The crowd laughed loud and deeply. Even I joined in.
“All joking aside, the woman I want to introduce today is someone you don’t know, but I’ve been lucky enough to call her not only sister, but friend. I could go on and on and wax poetic about all her accomplishments and awards, but you can read about those. Behind the exquisite words and stories and heart-pounding moments she has weaved for us all to experience, exists a beautiful old soul who is a force to be reckoned with. In my darkest moments, she gave me courage to see myself for who I was, not who the world or my ex-husband saw me for.”
I had to wipe my eyes furiously.
“It is a true gift to see somebody for who they are; it is a treasure if you can help them to see it too. In a few moments you will get to see and hear the treasure that is Delanie Decker, not the media’s tale of who Autumn Moone is.”
Sam was brilliant. I never loved her more.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce to you Delanie Decker.”
The crowd was on their feet clapping more for her than me, I was sure. It was my cue to stand. Easier said than done. Nausea was my constant companion and when I stood up, even as slow as it was, stars filled my eyes. I had to hold onto my chair for a few seconds until I could see properly to walk the short distance to the stage. For the first time today, I was glad we were sitting at the VIP table at the head of the room. Flashing lights began to fill my eyes from the hundreds of phones snapping pictures of me.
Sam waited for me by the podium and was quick to hug me when I reached her. “You okay? It looked like you had a moment down there,” she whispered in my ear.
“I think I’ll survive. Thank you for all the lies you just told about me,” I teased.
She laughed and squeezed me tighter. “You got this.”
I hoped she was right. I gripped the podium and looked out over the hundreds of eyes and faces staring back at me that filled the entire ballroom. I took shallow breaths, trying to stave off the feeling that I was in a tilt-a-whirl. I think I remembered to smile and thank Sam for the beautiful introduction. I even got as far as looking down at my notes on my phone that told me who else I should thank before I began. On the list were the conference organizers, my publisher, Joan, Peter. No, not Peter. Peter. Where was he? He was supposed to be here with me. We were supposed to be doing this all together.
The room started to spin. I gripped the podium tighter.
“I would also like to thank . . .”
First the stars came, then the blackness. I didn’t feel like I was falling, more like the floor was rising to meet me. I may have heard a scream or two, or perhaps that was the ringing in my ears. All I knew was when I came to, I was surrounded by a dozen people, some I recognized, others I couldn’t make out, but they were all worried about me.
I became fully cognizant when someone I didn’t know said, “Did you call the paramedics?”
I tried to sit up but thought the better of it when I became aware that my head wasn’t feeling all that great. “I don’t need an ambulance,” I muttered.
Joan, Fiona, Sam, and even Lucas hovered above me and were determined to keep me down.
I caught Joan’s eyes, as I knew she would be the most forceful of the bunch. “Please don’t let them call the paramedics. Help me stand up.”
Joan’s violet eyes debated. “Sorry, kid. You should at least get checked out.”
“You’re fired,” I moaned.
Everyone around us laughed.
Joan gently swiped my forehead. “That’s my girl. You still have some fight left in you.”
Sam knelt closer and whispered for my ears only, “We should call Peter.”
I shook my head no as best as I could and begged her with my eyes not to. I would not have him coming here because he felt sorry for me, or worse, have him reject me in this state.
She sighed in resignation.
“Lucas,” Joan snapped, “get all these people out of here.”
“What are the chances this wasn’t caught on camera?” I groaned.
Everyone around me chuckled.
“You’re going to be breaking news, kid,” Joan didn’t sugar coat it.
Ugh.
Sam, Joan, and Fiona formed a barrier around me while I heard all the commotion of everyone leaving. Lucas was heading the expulsion charge with hotel management. While it was just the four of us for a few moments I whispered, “Please not a word about . . . you know.”
They all nodded like they knew exactly what I spoke of. I was keeping my baby news out of the media for as long as I could. At the very least, I had to tell Peter first. I still wasn’t sure how to do that. A tear leaked down my cheek thinking about it.
Sam wiped it away. “Everything is going to be all right.”
I wanted to believe her, but then I heard the unmistakable signs that the paramedics had arrived. All I could wish for at this point was that someday this would make for terrific material in a future book. I was thinking a thriller or murder mystery. I wasn’t sure if I could bear to write another romance. I couldn’t even finish the one I was working on.
Humiliation ran deep when I saw a stretcher being wheeled toward me.
“If I’m placed on that, someone is going to die, and it won’t be me.”
The women around me laughed.
“I got you, kid.” Joan stood up, finally doing what I wanted her to do. Sam and Fiona stayed with me, each holding a hand and looking at me like I was a pitiable creature. Maybe I was. Who faints while giving a speech? I didn’t even want to think about how many times it had been tweeted, posted, chopped, sliced, diced, and regurgitated. Before I could think about it too much, two male paramedics took the place of Sam and Fiona.
The paramedics didn’t waste any time after introducing themselves and asking for my name. One immediately started checking my vitals while the other did an oral assessment.
“Has this ever happened before?”
“No.”
“Are you in pain anywhere?”
“No.” I may have lied. I knew how this would all turnout if I didn’t, and there was no way I was being transported to the hospital. So I had a bump on my head.
The paramedic gave me a scrutinizing look but continued. “Are you taking any medications?”
“No.”
“Do you have any current or previous medical conditions?”
I had to tell another lie but justified it as I didn’t consider pregnancy a medical condition.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Dinner last night.” If you could call a few bites of salad dinner.
“Have there been any stressors in your life?”
“Where do I begin?”
“Do you have a preferred physician and hospital?”
“None.”
The paramedics laughed. They had probably heard that one before.
Though they were itching to get me on that stretcher and to a hospital to be checked out, I made them reconsider a
nd signed their paperwork refusing treatment. They concluded that I mostly likely fainted due to stress and low blood sugar, as my vitals were fine and I was coherent and obstinate. They gave me a sheet about signs of a concussion and recommended I see my regular doctor when I got home.
Little did they know that home no longer existed.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The bad news was my little fainting spell was being played out over all forms of media, and Joan watched it repeatedly on several outlets in my presence to make sure it was being reported correctly. It was so embarrassing to hear the gasps and even screams from the audience when I went down. LH Ink had responded by saying it was due to exhaustion and low blood sugar. They added in that I was resting comfortably and would be back on my feet to finish out the remainder of the conference.
The good news was I was resting semi-comfortably on the couch and Sam knew some tricks to beat morning sickness, or all-day sickness, as it was. Peppermint tea, chicken noodle soup, and saltines were on the menu. She also sent Fiona out for lemon and ginger drops.
It was Sam’s presence that helped more than anything. She held me like a child on the couch for a good portion of the day. We hardly spoke a word. I took comfort in knowing she was there, and I was loved and noticed for me, not Autumn, who was unfortunately infamously noticed. I wished Sam could stay with me for the entire conference, but she had to get back to her own life the next day.
I was so exhausted, I slept on and off through the afternoon and evening. I was in pajamas and back on the couch by eight. I did myself a favor and allowed myself to fall into a deep sleep instead of staring at my manuscript all night long, banging my head against a figurative wall. I couldn’t afford anymore fainting episodes.
I wasn’t sure what time it was when I woke up in the middle of the night, but someone was sitting on the coffee table watching me. In my grogginess, I first assumed it was Sam or maybe Joan who had come to check on me. Or perhaps they hadn’t ever left, but I could have sworn they had. I lifted my head off the pillow and blinked a few times, trying to make my eyes adjust in the dark. It didn’t take long to realize the figure and outline was not that of a woman. I sat up, alarmed.
The Secretive Wife (More Than a Wife Series Book 2) Page 26
