by Mia Pride
Her eyes narrowed, and her smug grin vanished. “How is that any of your business?” she snapped. “I know exactly what you are up to, you gold-digging, overreaching... peasant!” she hissed. “You keep putting yourself in his line of sight, hoping to catch his interest. As if a man like him would have any interest in a woman like you.”
“Right. You have me pegged,” I scoffed, not willing to go to verbal battle with a woman who tried and failed to keep Chris in her back pocket. Instead, she went to his wealthy mom and dad with a fake engagement story, hoping Chris was too much of a gentleman to deny it. But this wasn’t Regency England, and Chris wasn’t some Duke who would marry a woman to keep his honor and prevent her ruin. “I’ve been reading way too many romance novels,” I murmured under my breath.
“Excuse me?” Samantha creased her brow and crossed her arms.
Before I could decide how to escape Samantha’s vile presence, I was saved—if one could call it that—by his mother coming around the corner in a fit. “Why on earth is there a nursery set up on the second floor near the master bedroom?” His mother looked at my pregnant belly then turned to Samantha, clearly deciding I was far too beneath her son to be the reason. How could her perfect well-to-do son have knocked up a petty cook, after all?
Samantha shrugged and shook her head. “Don’t look at me. I’m not ready to destroy all of this just yet.” Samantha ran her hands along her curves and flashed me a grin. I did my best not to roll my eyes. It was a good thing feeling jealousy wasn’t in my nature. But, feeling the cold sting of betrayal was, and I wanted to thrash Chris for putting me in this position, keeping me a secret from those determined to be involved in his private life.
“Well. Have you an idea, Miss... whatever your name is? Surely, you know something if it is your job to run his home. I realize you do not come from any sort of quality, but even you must recognize that guilting your employer into supporting your bastard child, as I can only assume to be the case since I do not see a ring on your finger, is uncouth. So, there must be another reason.”
Clenching my fists, I bit my lower lip to prevent myself from saying anything to make the situation worse, but there was no way I was going to stay in this house and take their shit. First, Samantha insulted my dog, and now his mother insulted my child. They could bash me all they wanted, but attacking my loved ones was not something I would stand for.
“You know what?” I calmly replied, looking his mother dead in the eyes. “Chris... oh, I mean my employer—Mister Farrington, will be home soon enough. Go ahead and ask him about it.”
Walking past his mother, who wore a perfectly tailored blush-pink Jackie O-style outfit with a touch of diamonds dripping from her wrist and ears, I heard her gasp, shocked that someone beneath her would dare to walk away before being dismissed. She already thought the worst of me. Her opinion of me may have mattered before this meeting, but now, my opinion of her was too low to care.
Walking out of the kitchen and into the living room, I saw Chris’s father standing straight-backed and foreboding with his tailored suit, hands casually tucked into his pockets as he scrutinized me with a knowing smile. “Patricia, I do believe you have entirely misread this situation,” he chimed, rocking on his heels. Pausing, I took a deep breath and stared at him, waiting for redemption when he explained the truth of the matter. An older version of Chris with gray hair and a fit frame, his dad looked through me entirely as he spoke about me to his wife.
“She is not his maid. She is clearly his mistress. That explains the nursery and why he never mentioned her name. Do you remember that fun movie you once watched about the prostitute that Richard Greer fell in love with? I think our son has taken on more than he can chew, and if he wishes to marry Samantha without scandal, I will need to remind him of our expectations.” Shrewdly looking at me, his father took a step closer. I took a step back, so repulsed by his casual decree that I was essentially a whore. My heart pounded, and my ears rang. Never had I felt more discredited in my entire life. These were the grandparents of my child? Maybe we were better off without all of them in our lives.
“Tell me, young lady. Is that child my son’s? If so, I ask you to consider taking a fair offer from us, pack your things, and find another man to exploit. Christopher will be marrying a woman of class and cannot have the likes of you around here.”
Pursing my lips, I felt a tear run down my flushed cheek. I dared not turn around and see the look of triumph in Samantha’s blue gaze. Surely, she enjoyed every second of my humiliation. It was not easy to tear me down, but right now, I felt like I had been shredded into a million pieces and scattered across Chris’s plush ivory rug.
“Wrong,” I choked, keeping my gaze on his father. “You are wrong about me. But I wish you a good day and a good life, and I truly hope never to see you again. Charlie, let’s go.” With a snort and a hop, my faithful pug was immediately by my side, following in my steps as I grabbed my purse from the entryway bench and opened the door. I wanted to pause, to look around once more and remember this place with fondness. To reflect on the many nights spent with Chris on the couch, laughing as we watched TV until I fell asleep curled into his side. I wanted to remember the passionate nights where all we wanted was to feel one another, to connect until we were sticky with sweat and panting for breath.
But those memories would only cut like a knife every time I thought of them now, for it seemed only one of us took this relationship seriously enough to tell our family. If my child wasn’t worthy of being known by his grandparents, then they weren’t worthy of him. And Chris wasn’t worthy of me.
Scooping Charlie into my arms, I slammed the door behind me and walked away, knowing I was officially on my own from now on and that I would be just fine... even if it hurt like hell.
Chapter Fourteen
Chris
PULLING UP TO MY HOUSE, I immediately noticed that Monica’s car was not in the drive. Forcing my Maserati to a stop that made it jerk violently, I hopped out and left the door open, too pissed off to give a shit.
Storming into the house, Charlie did not greet me as he usually would... but Samantha did. Fuck. Icy dread flooded my veins when I saw her. “What are you doing here?” I growled. “Where is Monica?”
“Who? Oh. Your maid. Or, according to your father, your whore. She left.” Samantha walked up to me with her forced swagger, pouty lips, and fake breasts pushed up to her over-tanned throat. “How are you, Baby? Your parents thought we should vis...”
Pushing past her, I walked into the living room and stopped in my tracks when I found my father standing in the middle of the room. Of course, he would not dare sit. I assume he is disgusted that I had a pug in my house and thinks I need to call the exterminator before his precious ass would even consider sitting on my couch.
“Christopher.” He looked me up and down, clearly judging my frazzled appearance. “How was your acquisition?”
I wondered how he even knew about my business dealings but should not be surprised. “What did you do?”
“Sorry?”
“Where is Monica?”
“Yes. That. I took care of it. After all, if you mean to marry Samantha, you cannot keep your mistress here.”
“Marry Samantha?” Monica’s voicemail replayed in my mind. “I am not marrying Samantha.”
“Christopher!” My mother’s over-excited, feigned innocence rang through the room, and I turned to see her walking toward me with her arms wide open, her perfectly coiffed blonde hair belying the fact that they must have traveled several hours to get here from New York. The lack of a car in the drive told me they rented a town car because heaven forbid any of them behave like peasants and climb behind a steering wheel. I wanted to bellow my anger, but instead, I rubbed my temples and clenched my teeth.
“Are you not excited to see us, Darling?” Mother asked, wrapping her arms around me like I was still a ten-year-old boy. Not particularly, I thought to myself. Not even a little, if I was being honest.
&
nbsp; “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Mother?” I hissed through my clenched teeth.
“Now, now. Since when are we not allowed to pop in to see our only son and heir? Or, are you ashamed that we caught your pregnant maid not doing her job? She is your maid, is she not? Father thinks otherwise, but I told him that is preposterous. You have higher standards than that. After all, you asked Samantha to marry you. It will be the wedding of the season!” She squealed and hugged me again.
I saw Samantha smirking with pride from the corner of my eyes, and my vision suddenly swam with red. I was sick and tired of being manipulated by everyone who wanted me to live the way they expected. Samantha was nothing more than a money-grubbing fortune-seeker who would do anything, including manipulating me into marriage by lying to my parents and hoping I was willing to walk a straight line and follow through to protect her reputation. All of society would whisper that I was not a gentleman if I jilted her. High society hadn’t evolved with the rest of the world, still upholding archaic expectations within its protected bubble.
“Where is Monica?” I repeated, disentangling myself from Mother.
“Is that all you care about?” Samantha huffed. “She left.”
“Yes. It is all I care about!” I roared, finally losing my temper. “What did you do?”
“We did nothing, Christopher,” Mother said, looking confused. “We thought you would want to see us.”
“Do not guilt me right now. It will not work.” I turned to look at my father. “I am not engaged to Samantha. Never was. Never will be.”
I heard Samantha gasp from behind me but refused to acknowledge her right now.
“Well, it’s too late!” Mother shrieked. “I have already told so many people! It’s being published in the country club’s magazine this month!”
“I don’t give a shit about the country club or about what anyone else thinks! This was none of your business! I will decide who I marry, when and where I marry, and who I invite! Tell me what happened with Monica!”
My mother’s face blanched, but I really didn’t care right now. They had overstepped, and I was tired of their interference in my life.
Turning to my father, I glared. “I want you to leave my house. Now.”
“Why is there a nursery in your home?” Father coolly replied to my demand.
“Why are you roaming the halls of my home?” I responded with equal coolness.
“I was making sure your maid was doing her job!” Mother shot from behind me, but I refused to pay her any attention.
“Monica is my girlfriend! She is not the maid, and she most certainly is not my mistress! And, her baby is mine!” I roared, feeling all my patience slip away. It was rare that I lost my temper, but there was no controlling it when I did. I heard my mom and Samantha gasp and saw my dad’s face turn down with evident disappointment.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I heard Mother say.
Turning to look at her, I clenched my fists and my jaw. “This is why!” I bellowed. “I knew you would treat her like she was not worthy of the air you breathe! But you know what? None of you are worthy of her! Fuck! I’m not worthy of her! She is the best woman I have ever known. The best human I have ever known! But you wouldn’t know what it means to be good humans. Now, get out of my house, and if you disapprove of my life, you can get out of that, too.”
Deciding not to wait for them to leave or give them a chance to speak, I stormed out of the house and back into my car, knowing I needed to find Monica. I also knew it was not going to be easy to explain this to her. I fucked up by not telling my family. I had been busy, and talking to my mother was always a chore, but that was no excuse.
Pulling my phone out of my suit coat, I quickly dialed Monica as I hopped in my car, but she didn’t answer, and I was entirely unsurprised. With a lead foot, I hit the gas for the second time tonight and headed straight to Monica’s house.
Monica
THE SUDDEN POUNDING on my door was not at all surprising, considering the number of times my phone rang in the past twenty minutes. Part of me wanted to answer the calls, but I wasn’t ready to have this discussion. I needed time to absorb all that had transpired, but I should have known that Chris wouldn’t allow me to ignore him.
“Monica!”
With a sigh, I gently removed Charlie from my lap and got off the couch, where I had been sitting since I got home, staring blankly at my light gray wall, still stunned.
Walking over to the door, I opened it but didn’t step back. Chris was not entering my home. I was angry and hurt and regretted ever thinking this could work. Staring blankly at him, I waited for him to speak.
“I am so sorry,” he panted, desperation glazing his eyes and an unusual flush tainting his cheeks.
“Sorry you didn’t tell your family that you were going to be a father? Sorry you didn’t tell them you were in a relationship with me? Or, sorry they assumed I was your whore?”
Chris cringed and had the decency to look ashamed. “All of it, Mon. This isn’t how any of this was supposed to happen.”
“Exactly how was it supposed to happen? You were supposed to end up with someone like Samantha who only cares about your money and society standing? You weren’t supposed to knock up a commoner like me?”
“That’s not what I mean!” Chris huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “Can I come in?”
“They Pretty-Womaned me!” I hissed. “No, you cannot come in. I had to deal with the fallout of this situation with my brother! I told my parents, who, by the way, gladly offered their support because they aren’t judgmental pricks! They didn’t ask about your finances or social standing or anything other than your character. But I have had just a small glimpse of your family’s dynamic, and I have to tell you—it’s nothing I’m interested in being involved with. Sadly, our son has no choice. I won’t keep him from you or your family, but I want nothing more to do with them. Or you.”
Chris frowned and placed his hand on the door frame, leaning closer. I saw hurt glitter in his eyes, and part of me relented in my anger, but not enough to forget how I was treated. He wasn’t responsible for his family’s behavior, but he was responsible for his own. No excuses—he should have told them about the baby and me. He had several months to do so, and his failure only showed me his true feelings. He was ashamed of his actions, ashamed of me. As I feared in the beginning, we were an obligation. I knew he cared about us. He wasn’t faking that emotion, but he also wouldn’t have chosen this path.
“What are you saying? You’re not breaking up with me,” he demanded.
“You’re telling me what to do now?”
“Yes. You can’t do this.”
“You made your decision, and now I must make my own. I should have known all along that I do not and will not ever fit into your world. You knew it, as well, hence your failure to tell your family about us.”
“Monica.” Chris tried to step into my house, but I held my ground. Shaking my head, I put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating wildly against my outstretched palm. I swallowed and avoided eye contact, too afraid I would lose my resolve. This isn’t what I wanted for us. I had so much more to say to him, so many more memories to make, so many more laughs to share. But I had given all I could, and he couldn’t be bothered even to tell his parents about our child. That thought only hardened my heart and sealed my decision. My son deserved better than that.
“You can’t mean this,” he pleaded in a low, gravelly voice.
“I do. I’m sorry, Chris, but it obviously wasn’t ever a good fit. We come from different worlds. I promise to give you equal access to our son. You’re his father, and I will not deny either of you that.”
“Monica... please...”
“Goodbye, Chris.” Slowly, I shut my door, feeling my heart snap and my stomach drop at the exact moment I heard the final click of the latch.
Tears didn’t come easily to me, but at that moment, the happily ever after I had deliriously believed I co
uld obtain vanished like a mirage, so close, so real, but suddenly slipping through my grasp like dry grains of sand.
Plopping onto the floor, I cupped my palms over my face and cried, feeling Charlie climb in my lap and comfort me the only way he knew how, with lots of slobber and snorts. I petted him with one hand and shuddered for breath, knowing I had finally found love, and I had lost it before I could even say the words. But it was one-sided, for even if he believed himself in love with me, shame and embarrassment tainted it with his lifelong pressure to be better than most, to do things a certain way. And I did not fit that mold.
Enough. Getting up from the floor, I sucked in my impending sob, determined to summon the strength my son would need. I would walk around with the shattered pieces of my heart and the torn shreds of my dreams, but to the rest of the world, I was determined to appear as strong as ever, never showing my pain.
Chapter Fifteen
Monica
“YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT.”
Gripping my white chocolate mocha in my right hand, I looked up at Crystal and gave her my best stink-eye. “Thanks.” I sipped the warm, sweet coffee and sighed, leaning back on her couch and rubbing my belly. Honestly, I felt worse than I looked.
“Have you talked to him?”
“He won’t stop calling,” I grumbled.
“But, have you talked to him?” Crystal pressed, plopping beside me with an impressive grunt. Her belly was much larger than mine as she was in her eighth month now.
“No.” Shaking my head, I sipped my coffee again and avoided eye contact. “There isn’t much to discuss. If there is something he needs to know about the pregnancy, I will be sure to tell him. Otherwise, we do not need to talk.”
“Monica...” Crystal placed a hand on my leg. “I am so sorry. I cannot imagine how you feel. But, it’s been a month. Chris is going insane.”
