by Hazel Parker
“I am,” I said. “Why else would I have refused wine? Do you think I wanted to look like an idiot or a bitch in front of the founding couple of Ferrari Wines?”
“I mean, Grandma took a liking—”
“And I’m very grateful for that, Brett, but that doesn’t mean that the embarrassment I felt or the shame of not trying to appease the grandparents is just gone; don’t you get that?”
Brett bit his lip. The valet waved to us, asked us if everything was OK. Brett hadn’t even moved.
“Sorry,” he yelled before peeling out at a far too fast speed. “I just...I had a feeling, but I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to have this conversation before dinner with my grandparents.”
“Well, OK, but we’re having it now, and don’t you dare try and evade it,” I said. I was probably being unfairly harsh to Brett. Too bad. “This was never part of the deal, Brett. Nowhere in the contract, nowhere in the agreement, nowhere did it say we’d have a child together. And not only that, nowhere did it say I’d have a contract with you out of wedlock in front of our two religious, conservative families!”
“I know, I know, it’s not a great look, and I’m sorry that it happened this way and this quick,” he said. “But…”
I folded my arms. I could not wait to hear what he would possibly say here.
“Why can’t it be part of the deal?”
He’s serious, isn’t he?
“I mean, it’s not the ideal time, of course not. I’m not saying that. But we’re liking each other. We’re having fun. Why—”
“Brett, are you out of your mind?” I said. “We’re not talking about getting a golden retriever together. We’re not talking about something that we can just split or not have to worry about in a decade. We’re talking about my baby!”
“Our baby.”
He had a fair point there. But the rest of his argument was stupid.
“I may be contracted to you for another decade or so, but that doesn’t mean I have to start out acting like I’ve known you for a whole decade. I’ve known you now, what, a month? And yeah, maybe I am chained to you for the next decade, so I have no choice but to get to know you. But I would prefer that those chains don’t become permanent.”
“You really fucking think of this as being chained up? As being imprisoned?”
Brett was angry, but it masked desperation I could pick up on a bit.
“I thought things were going great. I thought we were having a great time.”
“We were!”
Were...really. Not are?
“But Brett, we’re still in the relationship honeymoon phase in real time. We’re still on the high of sex and physical pleasure. Which is great, but I barely know you. I don’t even know what your childhood was like, what your favorite ice cream is, or who your first kiss was. You know? Stupid but meaningful details like that. I don’t know. And now you have to tell me that we’re throwing a little human into the mix? Would you knock up someone you’ve only known for a month and call it exciting and hopeful?”
Brett opened his mouth, anger and frustration dripping, but when I spoke my last sentence, it was like I instantly transformed that palpable rage into utter disappointment. I had never seen him look so...sad.
He was serious. He really did like me more than just past the “sexual honeymoon” phase. Maybe I was the one at fault for not going at his pace.
This wasn’t the player at the bar that was trying to woo me into bed on our first encounter, deliberately pushing Amanda away. This wasn’t the guy who played games of scarcity with me to try and make me desperate for him. This...if I didn’t know any better, if I was willing to let myself admit what I really thought this was, I would say this was a guy who loved me right now.
And what could I say in return? Sometimes I liked him, but most of the times, I was just trying to keep my distance? That he was fun to be around, but love was maybe a good year off?
And besides…
I was pregnant!
That instantly killed anything else, anything good that may have come.
“Did you deliberately plan to knock me up so you could make sure I’d stay around?”
I immediately regretted the question. It was self-evident what the answer was, and it was said almost as an attempt to get a rise out of Brett.
“Hell no,” he said. “No. You want me to be frank? I did this at first for the money. To get my grandparents’ inheritance. Part of the will is that they want all of us married by the time we’re thirty. You want the truth? That’s the truth. I did this—at first—for the money.”
Well.
Honest, I guess.
But damn. I was just a means to an end.
“But when you walked through that door that first day, Chelsea, I honestly was grateful it was you.”
“What?”
“The guy who set this all up, he asked me if I wanted to know anything about you before you showed up. I said no. Let it be a surprise. He promised me that she would be young and beautiful, but he didn’t make any other promises. When I realized it was you...look, I know our introduction at the bar wasn’t the greatest or the smoothest. But I didn’t keep talking to you just because you were—and are—attractive. I did it because there was so much more to you that had me interested. And now, I keep talking to you and wanting to see where things go because I enjoy your company, Chelsea. It’s not just sexually tinted flattery. It’s serious.”
He sighed.
“But no, I did not plan a baby. I didn’t want a baby as part of this deal either. We’re in the same boat here, Chelsea. Let’s just...process it, figure it out, and then we can make the right choice.”
We. We. We.
He kept using that word, as if it was a mutual decision. And I suppose it was only fair that if he had been the one to impregnate me, it would be a mutual decision. But right now…
“Just drop me off at my house, please,” I said. “I need to be alone right now.”
Brett bit his lip. Several seconds of silence passed before he finally acknowledged what I had said, and even then, it was just an “OK” that was barely above an inaudible whisper.
The car ride that followed was perhaps one of the most awkward ones I had ever been a part of. Neither of us said a word or even looked at each other, let alone flirted and touched each other. I was, admittedly, softening from my anger some...but then I thought about how I was having a baby, another human, because of him, and though the anger would not swell, it was impossible for me to suddenly feel happy or good about where things were with him.
I could not back out of the contract. This, I now accepted. So it wasn’t really a question of whether or not I was going to marry Brett. That was sealed if I wanted to live. If I want this child to live…
My maternal instinct wasn’t yet as honed as I imagined it would be, but that very thought infuriated me that some contractor or some distant relative, one more willing to get his hands dirty…
By the time we got to my apartment, I was back to being as mad as I had been the whole car ride. Brett tried to lean forward to kiss me, but I unbuckled my seat belt and got out of the car before he had a chance to even rest his hand on my leg, let alone kiss me goodnight. Needing space was the start of my sanity checkup, not the end. I slammed the door behind me and walked to the stairs.
That was a bitch move. He’s as hurt as you are.
I stopped at the base of the stairs and looked over my shoulder. Brett was still parked there, the car still running, as if hoping I’d suddenly change my mind. I could barely make out his figure in the car, but what I could see was him looking to me, his expression masked by the shadow but one that did not even need an educated guess.
It hurt.
I turned back and bounded up the stairs before staying any longer would have made me make a terrible, regretful choice driven less by a desire to be together and more a desire to avoid the hurt I felt. It’s not like I was running to anything. I didn’t really have anythin
g to run to.
Funny, I thought as I got to my front door, fumbling my keys before I finally got the damn thing opened. I kept talking about how I wanted better. A better man, a better job, a better life. Little did I know it was a sort of deal with the devil.
And just what the hell did better mean, anyway? What was better? Was it someone with a prestigious college degree? Someone who could make me laugh instead of cringe? Someone…
What was better in my life? What were the good days? What was I really comparing this to?
Family.
When we were all together.
Before Mom died…
I bit my lip as I sat on the couch. Family was what mattered to me, but it wasn’t just some trite statement to make myself feel good. Maybe I’d never realized it to this extent, but family was probably why I had taken the job at the family store, to keep an eye out on my father. I wasn’t lacking for options…
And now, though I could never bring my family back together, I had a chance at my own family. I had a chance to have a child, to be a mother...to...have Brett…
I started to cry. Thinking about my mother...thinking about my future...God, why was this challenge thrown at me now, of all times? Why couldn’t it have come, I don’t know, maybe after we’d said, “I do?” Or, better yet, when I had certainty that Brett was the one, that Brett could be a great father?
What if you do know already?
Ridiculous. I’ve known him a month.
But how well has he treated you? How well has he cared for you?
Anyone can treat anyone well for a month.
As he has, though?
“So stupid…”
Maybe me pushing Brett away wasn’t just an attempt at getting space, an attempt at trying to be rational. Maybe it was just fear that I’d get hurt somehow, that I’d get hurt like I had in past relationships or as I had when my mother was killed.
But had he really been a douche? Maybe at the bar, sure, but a man could be forgiven for thinking that type of situation wouldn’t suddenly evolve into this. What if he was…
What if he was the one?
“Fuck,” I muttered, followed by a resigned laugh.
I got myself ready for bed, even though it was a little earlier than normal. I just didn’t have the strength or energy to do much of anything else. I got into bed, pulled the covers up, and went to sleep.
Or I tried to, at least.
When I actually did fall asleep, I couldn’t say. The only thing I could say was that the night was heavy, my thoughts were all over the place, and if anything, I was further away from understanding if I wanted Brett in my life than when I’d first gotten home.
Chapter 21: Brett
My life was fucked up.
The good news was I didn’t think Chelsea was going anywhere. I didn’t sense that she wanted to get out of the contract, and even if she did, I think she understood that we both benefited from keeping it alive.
The bad news was I didn’t think Chelsea was going anywhere. I didn’t sense that she was going to change her attitude, and even if she did, I think she understood that we both would always have doubts in our head about if the relationship should really be kept alive.
“God...damn,” I muttered to myself about a half-dozen times on the drive back to my place.
This was going to be my future, huh? Fifteen million dollars richer, but about fifty years older after however long it took to fake a relationship with Chelsea. Oh, except it wasn’t going to be for five, ten years or however long Grandpa lived; it was going to be forever, because while a contract could cover our relationship, biology and simple ethics covered my relationship with my future child.
If Chelsea had been the one to close the coffin on my glamorous, playboy lifestyle, this kid was going to be the one that sealed it shut for good, making sure that, at best, I’d get every other weekend to be a wild, fun-loving guy.
And the strangest part was, I genuinely did not give a shit about that. I just wanted Chelsea and I to like each other. I really wanted more, but at this point, I was sort of in “take whatever I can get” mode.
I pulled into my parking spot, killed my car, and sat in the driver’s seat, trying to decide if it was worth calling Chelsea tonight. Probably not. But maybe if I could persuade her somehow…
My phone buzzed, and I jumped. Then I felt a warm rush. Was it her?
No. I could already see by the fact the phone background wasn’t a photo of her that it wasn’t her. It was…
Grandma? This late at night?
I began to feel a little nervous. Had something happened? The grandparents never called this late.
“Hello?” I said, fear palpable on my voice.
“Brett!”
Well, at least my grandmother spoke with such vigor and enthusiasm that it was all but impossible to think that this phone call was going to be anything but positive.
“How are you and Chelsea?”
“Oh, we’re good,” I lied. “I just dropped her off at her place, and now I’m back at mine. You know, just winding down. Did you and grandpa get home safe?”
“Oh, of course, dear, your grandfather is the most cautious driver I know. Chelsea was a real delight. How did you meet her?”
Oh, God.
“I told you that I met her at work, remember? That I hired her?”
“Oh, right. But you didn’t screen her with any other candidates?”
Fuck me.
“I...I did, but at the time, I didn’t think anything of it.”
“Oh, OK.”
I had gone from being afraid of this phone call to very relieved to now desperately wanting to get the hell off as quickly as I could.
“You know, you two must really like each other,” she said. “She spoke so glowingly of you at dinner.”
I was embarrassed to admit that I had gotten so caught up in our argument and in our own head that I had not even recognized that.
“It’s very evident that she likes you and that you like her.”
“Well, that’s good,” I said with an awkward laugh. “I hope so. So, uh—”
“I do have one question, sweetie,” she said. “Hold on one second.”
I heard her moving in her house, opening what sounded like a door to the backyard, and then settling in on a chair. It was like she was trying to get away from any prying ears. That was probably a bad sign, but in my defense, I was seeing everything as a bad sign right now.
“Does Chelsea not like alcohol?”
“Oh, no, she does, it’s just...she, uh, wanted to make sure that she made a good impression on you guys, and she was afraid that if she drank wine, she might get a little tongue-tied. She had decided beforehand not to drink.”
While that last claim was true, it was certainly not something I became aware of until Grandma had. And now, more than ever, I was just begging fate to give me an out, to give me some way of escaping this phone call that was trapping me deeper and deeper into a corner.
“Brett,” Grandma said. “I know you are trying to protect her, and that is very admirable of you, and proof that you are great for her. But when a woman refuses alcohol, that can only mean one thing. Alf may not have noticed, but I did.”
Oh, shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
My head dropped. I actually had to sit down at the nearest chair, I was feeling so weak. One of the many secrets of our relationship had been figured out by grandma with such ease; it had only taken her one dinner to figure out Chelsea was pregnant. How long would it take for her to figure out that ours was a relationship founded not on organic chemistry, but on an artificial agreement?
“Well, I, uh, I mean, I don’t, uh—”
“Brett, it’s quite all right.”
What.
“What do you mean?” I said, afraid to even ask the question but far too curious not to.
“I know when a woman is pregnant,” she said as if to erase any little lingering doubt I had that she might be talking about som
ething else. “And for me, there is nothing more joyful in this world than to bring new life and new light to it.”
I gulped. I was afraid to push my luck. I felt like fate had not only gotten me out of the worst type of conversation, it had given me a gift beyond anything that was fair, and I did not want to assume anything but the worst.
“This isn’t something you should be hiding from, Brett. This is something you should be rejoicing about. You get to be a father! Why, when I had your father and his siblings, there was nothing more that brought me joy than to bring them into this world.”
His siblings? Not brothers? But before I could ask anything else, Grandma had kept chugging straight on ahead.
“It is scary, sure. And Alf and your father will give you grief. You will get some push back on having a child out of wedlock. But Brett, take it from someone who has actually had children. I will make sure it is OK. I will make sure that in the end, nothing comes of it. You’ve dealt with enough from Alf. It’s time for you to enjoy what you will have rather than fear retribution from us.”
I literally pinched myself to make sure this was not a dream. I slapped my knee twice. Grandma? The open-minded one? The one that had supported Alf in silence most of her life, that had been nothing more than the cook and kisser on the cheek?
Huh. I guess there was a lot about the Ferrari family that I had not yet learned about.
“Thanks, Grandma,” I said. “I…”
“Spit it out, Brett, don’t be shy,” she said. “There are no secrets between us.”
There really weren’t, were there?
Well, there was one, but even after being this open-minded, I wasn’t willing to admit to it.
“I guess I’m just scared,” I said. “I’ve only been dating Chelsea for about a month now, and now I’m going to have a child...I mean, two months ago, I was single, and not going crazy, but you know, I was not in a rush to get married.”
Well, that’s not really true.
“Or, at least, I was not in a rush to have any kids. I know you and Alf want grandkids—”
“Oh, Brett,” she said. “I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Wait, what?
