by Marni Mann
He said good-bye, and we hung up, my phone instantly switching to the Home screen where I clicked on my texts.
When I saw Billie’s name, everything in my goddamn body started to jump.
Billie: Thanks again for last night. You’re amazing, Jared.
I left my phone on the desk, and I walked out of my office.
Forty-Eight
Honey
Fall 1986
Since the large medical building was only a few blocks from Honey and Andrew’s condo, they decided to walk, holding hands the entire way to their appointment. Once they arrived at the front entrance, Andrew escorted his wife to the fourth floor where Dr. Katz’s office was located, the leading OB/GYN in Portland. After they entered, they gave their name to the receptionist, and she handed Honey a clipboard, telling her to fill out each sheet in its entirety.
After Honey had gone to the lab for bloodwork yesterday, she hadn’t been able to sleep all night, tossing and turning from the thought of what was going to happen today. She hadn’t even closed her eyes, too afraid of what she might dream. Since the at-home tests were known to report false positives, she wouldn’t believe she was pregnant until her doctor confirmed it.
But the unknown came with the worst mental churning she’d ever felt.
While Honey waited for their name to be called, she filled out all the paperwork, describing her painful fourteen-month history in detail. She was surprised by how much she had written. How many times she’d gotten excited over being a few days late for her period. How her entire life had revolved around trying to get pregnant.
When she finished the last question and returned the clipboard, she put her hand over her stomach during the walk back to her seat. She even kept it there while her other fingers clung to Andrew’s, and she glanced around the waiting room. They shared the space with two other women who Honey suspected were a few years older than her and at much further stages of their pregnancy. One had a toddler with her.
Honey wondered if there would be a day when she returned to this office with a child at her side, another growing in her belly. But that thought came with so many questions. Will it take her as long to get pregnant the second time? Can she mentally go through it again? Because there was a strong chance that she wasn’t even pregnant now.
She took her hand off her stomach, and since she was already holding her husband, she gripped the bottom of the chair.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long. Not even twenty minutes later, Honey was dressed in a cotton gown, lying on the exam table while Andrew sat at her side. From the minute Dr. Katz came into the room, she began asking questions, and all of them Honey answered.
Now that they were discussing the timeline of events, Andrew was the one talking. Honey listened as her husband described their history of trying to get pregnant. It was accurate, even down to the dates and how they had tracked when she was ovulating and the few times she had been several days late, but then blood came.
What Andrew didn’t tell Dr. Katz were the moments Honey had experienced in the bathroom. When she looked down and saw red on the inside of her panties.
What that felt like.
How badly those tears stung her cheeks.
How she tucked herself into the tightest ball and rocked over the tiled floor, asking her body why it was failing her, why it couldn’t give her what she wanted.
Andrew wouldn’t know about those times. He had been at work when they happened because Honey just couldn’t share that part with him.
“I think I have everything I need for now,” Dr. Katz said as she rose from the stool, placing Honey’s chart on the counter. She walked over to the table, rubbing her hands together as though she was trying to warm them. “I’m just going to feel around your stomach, and then we’ll do the ultrasound.”
Even though she’d put her hair up after it felt too suffocating to leave it down, sweat formed on the back of Honey’s neck.
“Just breathe normally,” Dr. Katz told her as she gently pressed different spots on Honey’s abdomen. Her fingers moved in a circular motion before she slid a few inches and repeated the action. “Honey, please take a breath.”
The reminder made Honey realize she was holding her air in, not letting any of it go.
“Good,” Dr. Katz praised when Honey exhaled. “Do you feel any pain here?”
Honey shook her head, not trusting her voice.
“How about here?” When Honey gave her the same response, Dr. Katz said, “Everything looks excellent so far.”
She went over to the counter and took a pair of gloves out of the box. Then, she moved over to the ultrasound machine.
Andrew was still holding Honey’s hand, but he squeezed it, gaining her attention. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, her eyes returning to Dr. Katz, her mind focused on the sweat that was now covering her body and the sensations she was feeling in her stomach that she knew were just nerves.
“No matter what, everything is going to be fine.” He brushed a bang out of her eye, leaving his hand on her forehead. “Don’t forget that, baby.”
He had told her the same thing when she woke up this morning and right before they left their condo for the appointment.
Honey hadn’t responded any of the times.
She couldn’t.
And she couldn’t now either.
“This is going to feel cold,” Dr. Katz said as she squirted jelly on Honey’s belly.
“Breathe,” Andrew whispered in her ear as she felt the device in the doctor’s hand move across her tummy.
She followed her husband’s instruction, and she concentrated on the screen next to them. She had no idea what she should be looking for, but she hoped to see movement. A beat, pulse, flicker—anything that resembled life.
“Honey …” Andrew said so softly.
She dragged her eyes away from the machine and looked at him. The last time he had sounded this way was when he recited his wedding vows.
Honey needed to know what that meant.
At first, when their eyes connected, the only thing she saw in his was love.
But then his face filled with the warmest smile, and he pointed at the screen and said to his wife, “Look at what we made, baby.”
Honey quickly took a breath and turned to Dr. Katz.
“Yes,” she confirmed, “both the ultrasound and your bloodwork are positive.”
“Oh my God,” Honey cried.
She felt a rush inside her chest, like they were swimming at Ogunquit Beach and the largest wave was headed for them. She felt tears, like the ones she had left on the bathroom floor. More than anything, she felt a happiness she hadn’t known existed.
Her body had finally listened. After all the begging and pleading, the promises and negotiation. The fear that had consumed her because she worried she wouldn’t be able to have children.
Now, that was all gone.
Because her body had finally listened.
She put her hand over her mouth, still staring at the screen. “Andrew …”
His lips were on her cheek. “That’s our baby.”
“I would say you’re about eight weeks along,” Dr. Katz informed them.
There was a knot so large in the back of Honey’s throat that she was unable to fight the tears.
Andrew wiped every one before they fell. “You made me a daddy.”
Honey’s eyes clenched together, lips quivering, and when she opened them again, the screen hadn’t changed. The bean she had been staring at was still there.
The same one that would soon be calling her Mommy.
Forty-Nine
Jared
After Tony took me for a long drive in the city, I returned to my office several hours later, seeing my phone still sitting in the middle of my desk. The time I’d spent in the backseat of the SUV, trying to work it all out in my head, helped tame what I was feeling. But seeing my cell again threatened to bring it right back up.
I’d conque
red many things in my life.
Getting a handle on myself when it came to Billie should be the easiest.
It was proving to be the hardest.
I touched the screen of my phone, found her message, and reread it over and over.
There were many reasons we were perfect for each other, but the bad outweighed the good, and I certainly didn’t need Marcus’s phone call to remind me.
There was just one problem.
What I’d learned about her from the first time I was in her presence was that I couldn’t get enough. I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t stop myself from touching her.
That didn’t excuse what had happened last night.
But now, looking back on it, there was nothing I could have done to prevent it.
I was defenseless when it came to her.
Only her.
The guilt wasn’t going to leave, no matter what. It would live in my chest for the rest of my life, causing the same amount of pain if I was with her a second time.
And a third.
So, I saw no reason to stop … yet.
Me: Dinner this weekend?
I set the phone back on my desk and turned my attention to my computer, clearing out my inbox from the emails that had come in while I was gone. I didn’t get through more than a few when a text came across my screen.
Billie: I suppose it’s your pick, huh?
Me: Did you have something in mind?
Billie: I’d really love to try your cooking.
Me: Lol.
Billie: Oh, you think I’m joking?
I smiled as I looked at the screen.
She’d made a fair request. I’d been to her place after all, so I wasn’t surprised she wanted to see mine. As for the cooking, she knew I didn’t have the palate of a novice, and she wanted to test my skills.
I had to give the girl credit.
But the difference between her invitation and one that would come from me was that Billie and I didn’t have the same struggles. She didn’t have the weight of our future dangling in her face like a goddamn carrot or the knowledge of what had really brought us together.
Some things in life were a coincidence.
My encounter with Billie Paige was not.
Me: Challenge accepted. How about tomorrow night?
Billie: Can I bring anything?
Me: Just you.
Me: Unless … you want to fly to Martha’s Vineyard tonight?
Me: Say yes.
Billie: I can’t.
Me: I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow.
I was sure she was staring at the phone, thinking of me as the guy who had saved her, disappointed with herself because she kept turning me down.
Billie didn’t realize something …
I was going to hurt her far worse than Flight 88.
Fifty
Billie
I’d walked past Jared’s building in Tribeca so many times in the past, never giving it a second glance, never considering a hero and the man I was falling for lived in there. But tonight, I went to the front entrance and gave the security guard my name. He held a tablet that I pressed my hand onto while it read my prints, and then he scanned my license before he brought me into a short hallway where there was an elevator. I would have asked him which button I needed to push, but there was only one, and it was already lit.
The door closed before he said a word, and the elevator began to rise.
I barely had time to catch my breath when it opened. I didn’t move as I took in my surroundings, realizing I wasn’t in a hallway, but an entryway to a home.
Jared’s home, I assumed.
Gripping my favorite bottle of wine and a box of dessert, I walked into the foyer and gave a loud, “Hello?”
“I’m in the kitchen,” Jared called back, slightly muffled.
There was rock ’n’ roll playing through hidden speakers, and soft lighting and masculine artwork adorned the walls; together, they set an unforgettable tone. From the entryway, I turned a short corner and was dumped into the mouth of the most impressive condo I had ever been in. His ceiling was twice the height of mine, and the rooms were open and airy with a back wall that was made of nothing but glass. What filled the massive space were the most gorgeous furnishings done in black and silver.
It wasn’t exactly what I had envisioned.
It was better.
“You have to be kidding me,” I said as I walked farther in, stopping halfway between the kitchen and windows. “This view”—I took a breath—“is … wow.” It was an overwhelming, unobstructed angle of lower Manhattan. “I can’t believe you get to wake up to this every day.”
My eyes shifted, and in the reflection of the glass, I could see him behind me in the kitchen. My gaze moved again, and SoHo was directly in front of me.
Even though the situation was different, it reminded me of what I had done on the plane the first time I saw Jared.
The thought was jarring.
“Good evening, Billie.”
I tried to fill my lungs, and I turned around. He was at least fifteen feet behind me, standing at the range with a wooden spoon in his hand, his stare on me while he stirred.
“Hi.”
He’d trimmed his beard, so his neck was shaved clean, and the whiskers all around were a little shorter.
I felt the hunger in his eyes all the way from here.
I was certain now I couldn’t breathe.
Except … I didn’t want to.
Whatever this feeling was, I hoped it never left.
He smiled. Not fully. Just enough to show a hint of teeth, and his lids narrowed. “You look beautiful.”
I was in a long sweater that hung off one shoulder, jeans, and a flat pair of knee-high boots. There was nothing beautiful about what I had on. But I didn’t get the feeling Jared was talking about my clothes. I got the feeling he was describing the way he thought of me.
Oh God.
My feet started to move, carrying me closer, and I was suddenly in the kitchen. As I approached, he put the spoon down, and I set the wine and dessert on the counter. I fell into his arms. While he held me, the most incredible smell filled my nose. Part was from the stove, an aroma that was making my stomach do more than tingle. The other was just Jared, a scent I was starting to crave when I wasn’t with him.
He leaned back from our hug, and his lips went to mine, kissing me with a passion I felt through my entire body. His hands started in the middle of my back but were now lowering to my ass, squeezing it while our mouths locked.
I didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally broke away. I just knew, when it happened, I was breathless.
“Jared …” I felt my cheeks stay flushed, my chest heaving.
His hand went to my chin, holding it there for a few seconds before he returned to the spoon. “Are you hungry?” I didn’t get a chance to respond before he added, “Dinner will be ready in four minutes.”
I smiled as I looked into the pot, watching the risotto swirl inside. “Italian, huh?”
He laughed, bending his neck to kiss me on the cheek. “You said it’s your favorite.”
I was positive every nerve ending was screaming inside me. “I love how well you listen.” My stare moved to the other side of the counter where I saw several bottles of wine. “How about I get us a drink?”
I felt his gaze on me while I moved across the kitchen, taking my time so I could really explore the room. Whoever had designed the space spared no expense. He had top-of-the-line appliances, the newest features on each, with a farm sink that would make any mother drool. The only thing missing was a personal touch. The same was true for the living room and entryway.
There was no way to know this condo was Jared’s and not someone else’s.
He even protected himself in his own home.
That was his decision, and I respected it, but I needed more.
“Jared,” I said, holding one of the wine bottles in my hand, waiting until he looked at me ov
er his shoulder. “What was the last vacation you took, and who was it with?”
He stared at me silently, as though he was thinking about my question. Even his arm slowed from stirring, the seconds ticking by before he finally answered, “It was a week before the crash. I went skiing with my best friend in Aspen.”
“Did you take any pictures?”
I understood not being on social media. My family was the same way, not a single person interested in the hype or the aspect of sharing anything with a virtual audience. But with his online absence, I felt like there was no window into Jared’s life.
There was another pause, and then he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. “Come here.”
I left the bottle on the counter and returned to his side, staring at the picture of the two men on his screen. They looked nothing alike, his best friend’s hair blond with eyes that were light. There were skis on their feet and poles in their hands.
I could picture him after several runs down the mountain, drinking a rich whiskey with a dusting of snow still in his hair. The image was incredibly sexy.
“He’s a retired Navy SEAL,” he said, still holding his phone out in front of us.
“You’ve known him a long time?”
“My whole life.”
The more I studied the shot, the more I could see their bond. “Where does he live?”
“Here.” Jared grinned, but it was different than any of the expressions he’d worn before. This was almost a peaceful look that I hadn’t seen. “He works for me.”
“I hope I’ll get to meet him one day.”
“Me too,” he whispered, and he turned off his phone, slipping it back into his pocket, returning to the risotto.
I went over to the bottles again, deciding the one I had brought was the best option based on what I thought he was making. “Wine?”
