Fashion Jungle

by Kathy Ireland

  “You were doing so good, too.” Zoe made a face but didn’t leave his embrace. “You know all this pressure isn’t helping your case.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Because you like arguing.”

  “Only with you.”

  “Agh!” Zoe turned on her heel and poked his chest. “You’re impossible, and I’m starving!”

  “Well…” He reached for her hand and kissed it. “Then let me take care of you.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she fired back, but he could see the indecision in her eyes, the want in her heart, the desire to be taken care of. She didn’t have family; she had her friends.

  And he wanted to give her everything. All of it.

  “I know.” He cupped her face and kissed her forehead. “That’s what I love about you. Fierceness, independence, beauty, grace. But, Zoe, it’s okay to lean on people. It’s also okay to let them feed you.”

  “Pasta?” She bit down on her bottom lip and grinned up at him.

  “Naturally.”

  “But without the sauce and—”

  He pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek then tilted her chin toward him. “With extra pasta, extra bread, and all the fat you could possibly consume because human bodies are meant to be taken care of. Also because you haven’t eaten all day, and because I would rather see curves I know I’m responsible for putting there than ribs people in this industry kill themselves to keep.”

  She gulped, and her eyelashes fluttered as her gaze snagged on his mouth, her posture leaning.

  He met her halfway.

  The air was thick, heavy with tension.

  And then his cell started buzzing.

  She cleared her throat, pulled out of his embrace, and tied her jacket just as Dane heard crying from the other end of the call. “Everlee?”

  “You’re the only one who knows!” She sobbed. “Dane, they don’t know yet, I don’t know how to tell them, but Frederick and I got in a fight. Well, kind of. I think he’s cheating and—” Guilt gnawed at Dane’s gut as he listened to her because he’d been the one to push Frederick, because he required more evidence, because he needed Everlee’s trust, because it was a game board for him, and they were all chess pieces without even knowing it. “He left.” She hiccupped. “And now, there’s blood. So much blood, and cramping, and—”

  “I’m calling nine-one-one for you right now,” Dane said in a calm voice. “We’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  “We?”

  “Zoe and me. Can you make it to the entryway to unlock your door?”

  “Y-yes. But Zoe doesn’t know—”

  “You’re bleeding. It’s beyond that now. I’m calling right now.”

  Zoe’s face had lost all its color. “Who was that?”

  “Everlee.” He immediately dialed nine-one-one. “I think she’s having a miscarriage.”

  Tears filled Zoe’s eyes as she covered her mouth and shook her head in disbelief.

  “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

  Dane briefed the dispatcher and watched as Zoe paced in front of him. The minute he hung up, they ran down the stairs and out to the waiting SUV.

  All thoughts of Aaron and locking up forgotten.

  Brittany had barely made the deadline, clicking send at eleven fifty-nine and staring at her computer in awe that she’d actually done it. Ronan had answered every question she’d asked, though he’d purposely made the answers short and so politically correct she rolled her eyes while reading and half-expected him to answer something with “all I really want is world peace.”

  Hours at the computer hadn’t helped her mood, so when she finished, she started sifting through her Bible and followed that up with a nap and some Netflix.

  Now she had an hour before she was supposed to meet Oliver, which meant she needed to leave in a few minutes if she was going to make it on time.

  Brittany smiled down at the worn brown leather of the book, remembering the day her mom had tossed it into the suitcase and told her that she was never alone.

  It felt like a different life.

  A different girl.

  One who had stars in her eyes and excitement in her blood. One who truly believed that the world was a good place if you just saw past the bad.

  And now?

  Now, she was jaded, smarter, wiser.

  And tired.

  So very tired.

  She flipped to the table of contents and then just started thumbing through the different chapters. Pieces of her life were held in this Bible.

  Moments.

  Pictures.

  She turned to the last page and let out a little gasp. Two tiny inked footprints stared back at her. She covered her mouth with her hands as fresh tears stung her eyes.

  Almost afraid to touch the faded ink, her hands shook as she picked up the small piece of paper and stared down at it.

  Born August 23, 2004.

  No name.

  Nothing but two tiny feet that fit into the same worn Bible that held her own footprints from her birth.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her body shook as she cried over the Bible and clung to that piece of paper, holding it to her chest. “I was scared, and I couldn’t take care of you. I didn’t know what to do.”

  She took a calming breath and looked down. The Bible had opened up to a new page, one that held the paper Ronan had given back to her.

  The one that had all of the girls’ signatures on it, including Danica’s. He’d given his heart back as if she’d never held it in the first place. And next to that, red rose petals that were so delicate, she was afraid to touch them.

  How long had it been since she’d opened the Bible? Since she’d faced her past? However raw and painful it was.

  Brittany couldn’t remember. She’d been so busy with the magazine, but she still went to church, still prayed, still tried to be a good person.

  But she’d moved on.

  Or so she’d thought.

  Because holding these pieces of her past proved one thing—she’d been standing still for over sixteen years.

  How did Oliver even know that about her?

  About her past?

  She swiped the tears from her cheeks and tucked the piece of paper into her purse, not really sure why. It wasn’t like she was in love with Oliver, like she could give it to him now. It just felt wrong that it would be in the Bible so close to her daughter’s—

  Another soothing breath.

  No, not your daughter.

  Someone else’s.

  Pink, wrinkly toes.

  Small mouth.

  And enough hair to style the minute she was born.

  Brittany was going to be late if she didn’t grab a taxi. She did what she always did, she covered her pain with makeup, wielded her armor of designer brands, and locked up her house.

  On the outside, she was so perfect, wasn’t she?

  And on the inside… utterly broken.

  The ride to the hospital was short, and the extra distance from the Bible and the footprints didn’t make the pain in Brittany’s chest go away. If anything, she didn’t feel like herself because she was focusing on the past, not the present. And especially not her possible future.

  She paid the cab driver and slowly got out just as a light rain started to fall. It matched her current mood, and honestly, she didn’t mind it. She just wanted to explain to Oliver and move on. To work through what she needed to work through.

  Maybe it was time to tell the girls.

  Maybe it was time to own up to what had happened.

  Maybe she owed it to herself, to her daughter, wherever she was, to be brave. To be a good mom, a strong, wise woman if even from afar.

  Straightening her shoulders, Brittany grabbed her phone and fired off a text to Oliver.

  Brittany: Here.

  He didn’t answer right away, so she walked down the familiar halls all the way to the nurses’ station where she had first met him. She was pleasantly surprised when he r
ounded the corner and stopped.

  Had he always been so handsome?

  Her stomach flipped.

  It was impossible not to compare him to Ronan, but now that she’d reconnected with Ronan in a way, she realized that he didn’t hold a candle to Oliver. Not even a little bit.

  Oliver was broader.

  He had a confident swagger like the one that had attracted her to Ronan, but Oliver’s was real, not a skin he put on just to make sure that people paid attention.

  And as she took step after step in the doctor’s direction, she realized that the last thing she wanted to do was amble toward him. No, she wanted to run. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. She wanted not just his comfort but also more—more than she was in a position to ask for.

  Oliver smiled and handed the clipboard to a waiting nurse. Then he met her halfway. His blue scrubs and white jacket fit him perfectly. “You came.”

  “Of course, I did,” she said in a quiet voice. “I missed you today.”

  “I miss you every day,” he said quickly. “Let’s go get some food and we can talk. You look tired. Still beautiful, but tired. You can tell me all about the article.”

  She felt her expression fall. Did she really need to talk about Ronan? About the memories she still held of this very hospital? And its smell? Its bright lights and broken promises?

  They walked down to the hospital cafe. Oliver didn’t hold her hand. Maybe it was because they were at his workplace, perhaps it was because she was overthinking and overanalyzing everything. Then again, how could she not? She was petrified that something would go wrong. How was it possible to be so attached already? Her hunger for something real in a relationship was making her crazy.

  It didn’t help that they were walking familiar halls.

  She pressed a hand to her stomach as they walked into the large cafeteria. Oliver stopped and grabbed her gently by the shoulders. “Hey, are you okay?” His eyes lowered to the hand that was on her stomach.

  “Oh.” She dropped her arm as quickly as possible and flashed him a smile. “I didn’t eat much today. The deadline nearly killed me, but I did have two donuts.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “A model who eats donuts. They let you do that?”

  “Shhh, don’t tell, they could write me up.” She winked.

  “I like that.” He put a hand on her back, leading her to the register to order. “I like that you eat hot dogs and donuts and that I can actually feed you something other than lettuce.”

  “Who eats just lettuce?”

  “My point exactly.” His dark hair swept over his forehead, giving him a sexy look that made her stomach feel like butterflies were taking flight. When had she ever been looked at the way Oliver looked at her?

  His eyes twinkled as his mouth drew up into a half-smile. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Great. Next, he would snap his fingers in front of her face. “Yup. Sorry. I just—” Might as well tell the truth. “I was staring. You’re really handsome.”

  He looked down, his smile wide. “And now I’m blushing.”

  “I like it,” she whispered.

  “I like you,” he said quickly.

  “And I like chicken!” The hospital employee behind the register looked like he was ready to strangle them both. “Do you guys need another ten minutes, or we good?”

  “Sorry.” Brittany shook her head and looked up, ordering the first thing she saw. “Burger and fries.”

  She’d already screwed herself with the donuts this morning, so today was going to be the first real cheat day she’d had in ten years. Why not? Plus, this conversation required carbs. Lots of them.

  Oliver ordered the same.

  And Brittany hated the silence that descended as they carried their trays to a table in the corner and sat.

  She hated the smell of food and antiseptic.

  The way the lights seemed to burn her eyes.

  Brittany hated everything about sitting there, explaining herself to a guy she was falling for.

  “I was at a shoot for Sports Illustrated,” Brittany blurted. “Ronan saw me with my Bible and wondered what could be so interesting about it that I wouldn’t fawn all over him like every other model on the shoot.”

  Oliver leaned in. “Can’t really blame the guy.”

  “No.” She smiled and wrung her hands in her lap. “He was…” She licked her lips as she searched for the word. “Refreshing, I guess. In a world full of fake people, he wasn’t, at least not with me. We fell hard and fast. We were able to keep everything a secret but not for long. And when I say hard and fast, I mean, within two weeks, it was national news. After a few months, things started to shift. Both of our careers were taking off, and we didn’t see each other as much, he was done with his masters and already a young congressman. It wasn’t on purpose.” She took a deep breath. Was she really going to admit this? Out loud? To Oliver? What if she lost him forever? What if he was like every other man out there? What if he was like Ronan? And pressured her? And told her she had to prove her love to him?

  “Hey.” Oliver slid his hand across the table, his palm up. “It’s okay, talk to me.”

  Their food sat between them, but she couldn’t touch hers.

  “Well, every time we were together, it felt so good, but rushed, like we didn’t have enough time to love each other. One thing led to another. I hadn’t had the conversation with him like I should have, but I was young and in love, and I justified every single thing we did because he made me feel good. He made me happy, and I’d never been in that sort of relationship before. It was addicting, and once you’re in, it’s too easy to keep sprinting until you look back and wonder how everything got so out of hand.”

  “What got out of hand?” Oliver tilted his head.

  “We started sleeping together.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “And it wasn’t until after that, that I found out his mother didn’t approve and was secretly setting him up on dates with girls that would be better for their family.”

  Oliver cursed and squeezed Brittany’s hand. “Ah, so she’s a lovely person.”

  “Right?” Her hand shaking in his, she licked her dry lips as the smell of fries permeated the air between them. Why was this so hard? “I found out about the other women and got angry. Really upset because I’d been brought up in a very different home. One where my parents told me that I needed to save myself for marriage. I—” Her voice cracked. “I gave him everything. Only to find out a year into our relationship that he’d been seeing someone else to appease his mother. He’d physically cheated on me only once, or so he claimed. And that’s when—”

  Brittany’s phone went off in her purse.

  Was that a warning sign?

  Not to tell him the rest.

  She ignored it.

  Oliver nodded. “That’s when, what?”

  “Well—” Her phone went off again. Seriously? Who was calling her? “That’s when—”

  Another ring. Three phone calls in two minutes?

  “Hold on.” She grabbed her cell. Three missed calls from Zoe, and one text.

  Zoe: Emergency headed to Mercy Hospital with Everlee. Miscarrying.

  “Oh, God.” Brittany shot to her feet. “Everlee, she’s… she’s pregnant? She might have miscarried. They’re on their way here!”

  It was too close to home.

  Everlee was pregnant?

  Was that why she’d been so tired?

  No, no, no. Don’t let her lose the baby.

  No.

  Brittany didn’t even realize she was crying until Oliver pulled her into his arms, offering his strength. “They’ll bring her to the Emergency Department let’s head over and meet them. And, Brittany?”

  “Yeah?” She swiped her wet cheeks.

  He leaned in and brushed a warm kiss across her mouth. “I’ll do everything I can, but we both know that I’m not God.”

  “I know.” She choked out a sob and gripped his hand as they half ran out of the cafe and into a waiting
elevator. “What do I do? What can I do?”

  The elevator stopped three levels down. Oliver didn’t even look at her, just said under his breath, “Pray.”

  The ambulance had been quick.

  The paramedics were strong and capable.

  Physically, they were doing everything they could.

  But Everlee felt numb inside.

  Numb because she felt as if she were losing the last part of what held her and Frederick together.

  She wanted her baby.

  She wanted this child.

  Tears fell until they suddenly stopped, suspending her in this state of limbo and disbelief as they pulled her out of the ambulance and rolled her into the emergency room.

  Zoe and Dane were there, and both rushed toward them. “Everlee!” Zoe’s loud voice carried over the chatter from the paramedics as they checked her in.

  Could they go any faster?

  “She could be miscarrying!” Dane said in a thunderous voice to the waiting staff. “Get her back there and to a doctor, now!”

  The paramedic holding the IV bag next to Everlee jumped a foot and paled all at once.

  “I’ve got this.” A man with a calm demeanor rushed toward them. “Everlee, I’m Dr. Oliver Desmond. Can you tell me your symptoms?” Paramedics and a nurse rolled her into a private room; her group of friends followed.

  “Brittany?” She sobbed.

  “Oh, Everlee!” Brittany rushed to her side, and Zoe finally freed herself from Dane to do the same. “It’s going to be okay.”

  No. Nothing would be okay again.

  She’d been stressed tonight.

  She’d done everything for Frederick.

  And he’d raped her.

  He’d killed their baby.

  This was his fault.

  All his fault.

  Everlee shook her head violently. “No, no. He did this. He did this!”

  Dr. Desmond cleared his throat. “Ladies, I need to treat your friend. I can’t do that with you hovering around her. Let me do my job so I can try to save this baby.”

  Another doctor walked in. “Everlee, I’m Dr. Byrne, I’m—”

  “I’ve got it, Byrne,” interrupted Dr. Desmond.

  The other doctor frowned in confusion. “Did someone call in a surgical consult? Never mind.” He rolled his eyes as if this was normal. “Keep me informed.”