His Sugar Baby

by Fiona Murphy

  I take a drink from the bottle. “And?”

  “And what man? She lied to me. I have to cut her loose. The only reason I found out about Cara was because after finding out Diana lied to me yesterday, and the whole acting weird thing, I dug deeper. I caught Diana in a lie yesterday, she’s married. You know I hate liars, but married too? Hell, no.

  “Then I called Rachel, thinking it might settle her whole hot and cold if she knew it was only her, but it also meant I might need her more often than just a few nights a week. Rachel went off on me, told me it was what I deserved and a whole lot of other bullshit.

  “I’m a dumbass, it takes her yelling at me to figure out once she hung up on me the hot and cold thing was because she has feelings for me. Instead of her doing the hinting thing, she was trying to hide it. Her trying to hide it didn’t make sense to me, after finding out Diana lied, it made me wonder if Rachel was hiding something, too. I called a private investigator, he got me her life story.”

  “So, is the bottle of scotch because she lied or because you’re going to cut her loose?”

  His shoulders hunch over, he shakes his head. “If I end it then she can’t be with Cara.”

  “Maybe you could throw some money her way as a parting gift, you know?” I suggest helpfully.

  He looks at me like I’m an asshole. “Throw money her way? Cara is only three years old, with childhood leukemia. They both need more than money. Last night Rachel talked for hours about all the stress, the fear she’s been going through all alone.

  “Her mom was one of those Asian tiger moms and freaked out when Rachel didn’t get into an Ivy League school. The fucking woman kicked her out when she was only eighteen. There she was, waiting tables and her boss knocks her up while she’s trying to go to school. It was nuts, man, hearing her cry until she fell asleep. I’ve never had to go through that, a woman started crying and I was out. Only I couldn’t leave her, didn’t even want to.”

  The torture he’d endured listening to her and holding her while she cried is clear on his face. It explains the bottle of scotch. It also explains more than he’s ready to admit. Marshall’s smart though, it won’t take him long. “So, if in this one case in your life money isn’t the answer, what is?”

  Shaking his head, his confusion is clear. He stares at me, his eyes wide. “I don’t know.”

  “You have several options, it depends on which appeals to you the most. You could do what you would do with any other person who has broken one of your cardinal rules. You dump the lying bitch and don’t look back—” The words are barely out of my mouth before I’m on my back with Marshall’s hands around my neck.

  “Don’t you dare fucking call her a bitch.” His rage is scary.

  Pulling his hands from around my throat isn’t working, I can barely breathe. I punch him in the kidney, hard enough he should be pissing blood tonight, then throw him off me.

  We’re both gasping for air as we lay on the deck, me on my hands and knees, Marshall in a ball. “Jesus Christ man, take a breath. You never get to drink again. How many have you had?”

  “A couple. It’s just, she’s not a bitch, don’t call her that. She was trying to protect herself and Cara. My profile was clear, no kids. I was the one to contact her, she took a chance. She didn’t think we’d make a connection, except we did. Since I was the only guy she genuinely liked, not just thought she could put up with, she took a chance.”

  Leaning against the railing of the deck I watch him climb back into a deck chair. “Since you aren’t willing to let her go, what are you willing to do?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  “Well, you’d better figure it out, and while you do, don’t forget there’s a little girl you have to factor in.” His face lights up at the mention of the girl. He goes on to tell me the story of Rachel’s baby daddy who couldn’t care less about his kid. How the girl knew nothing about her father, had never met him. What a surprise it had been the way Cara climbed into his lap within seconds of meeting him. Then demanded to be read a story then another and then another.

  How unhappy and sad Rachel had looked when she found him in her daughter’s hospital room. A daughter she wasn’t supposed to have. She had been angry at him for going to see Cara, not caring Cara liked him, that Cara begged for him to come back to read her more stories.

  When I notice his words slurring, I go into the kitchen and he follows me inside. I make some coffee then open the fridge to find a bunch of meals prepared, ready to be microwaved. Grabbing one for him, it takes a while before I find one appealing enough to eat. Through it all, Marshall keeps talking, as if he has to get it all out. As we eat he tells me Cara hates peas.

  Finishing his second cup of coffee he sighs, finally, he seems talked out. “I’m sorry, man. About all of this, me babbling like a girl, trying to choke you out like a nut job.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Falling in love for the first time after not believing in it for so many years will make you nuts. Finding the woman you love comes with a kid you never thought you’d have is even rougher.”

  His laugh is forced. “I’m not in love with Rachel. Don’t go putting your crazy love thing on everyone else.”

  “Once you stop fighting it you’ll be much happier.”

  “No, man, no way.”

  “If you beat us to the altar I’ll be bummed but not surprised. Go take a shower and go to bed, you look like you’ve been up all night.”

  “I have been. I do need some sleep, but I’m not in love with her.”

  I laugh as I leave, not bothering to argue with him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I’m woken by a rough smack to my ass. “You only have time for a shower this morning. A quick one, then pack your toiletries. I’ve already packed your suitcase. When you’re done get your ass in the kitchen for breakfast. We leave in a half hour, no later.”

  He’s gone before I’m able to take it all in. God, what time is it? I roll over to find his clock glowing telling me it’s five minutes after five in the morning. Is this some form of punishment? Is he mad at me? Wait, suitcase... well fuck, if I want to find out I have to get out of bed. I stumble into the shower, and start pushing buttons, careful to stay out of the spray before the temperature is where I want it to be, then get in and stand there. It takes a while before I start moving again. I’m drying off when Grant walks into the bathroom.

  He’s frowning, “Anne, come on. Your breakfast is getting cold.”

  “Shut up, don’t talk to me while I’m trying to wake up. You couldn’t even wake me up with sex, you have to send me in to take a shower. No more talking.” I snap, as I fill my glass to take my pill then brush my teeth.

  Grant stands behind me, when I’m done he hands me a small carry on to fill up. I throw things in without really paying attention, then let my towel fall as I make my way to the closet.

  An outfit is waiting on the island and I’m relieved enough I don’t even question it. I just put on the bra and panties and the long sundress. I slip on the comfy shoes I usually wear, and check to see Grant has packed the other pairs. Grant grabs my hand, leading me through the condo to the kitchen where he pushes me down at the table where a plate and coffee is waiting. He’s smart and hands me a cup of coffee already prepared the way I like it. I drink almost half of it down as I try to wake up. There are questions I want to ask.

  I finish the cup of coffee and Alice urges me to eat my eggs and bacon as she makes another cup of coffee for me. The smell of the bacon makes my stomach grumble, I turn my focus back to my bacon. By the time the bacon and eggs are gone I’ve finished my second cup of coffee and am being handed my glass of orange juice by Alice.

  Grant is coming into focus, he’s leaning against the island in the kitchen. “She has orange juice every morning?”

  “Yes, she likes it fresh squeezed.”

  I finish the juice and hand the glass to Alice for a refill and wonder why Grant asks a question I thought he knew the answer t
o, over the last few weeks we’ve shared breakfast often. There’s a more important question I remember, as I down my second glass. “Where are we going and why are we going in the dead of night?”

  Alice laughs, “Have fun, dear.”

  Grant pulls me up. “It’s a surprise and it’s only the dead of night to you.”

  I want to say I don’t like surprises, but he knows I do. Giving up, content to wait for my surprise. I’m even more surprised when we pull up to a small commuter airport outside of Chicago. Then we are driven to a jet that’s huge. “What is this? It’s huge.”

  “It’s a G7, I bought it last week.”

  “You bought this last week? Why?”

  Grant hands over my passport and I wonder again where we are going, as we go through the very polite preflight preliminaries. “Because you said you wanted to travel. One of the things I’ve always hated about traveling was being on someone else’s timetable and sitting on the tarmac. I figured if we were going to be traveling we should do it in the most comfortable way possible.”

  As we board, I’m blown away by the gleaming wood and new leather smell. “Wow.”

  “You like it? I had them fit it for a family, not business travel. We have a full bedroom with a queen bed and a full bathroom, with a shower, though no bathtub.”

  “It’s gorgeous. This huge jet just for us?”

  “Well, we aren’t going to stop traveling when the baby comes, and I’ve heard they require a lot of room and accessories.”

  The casual way he refers to the future has me pulling him to me for a kiss that takes us back to the bedroom. A little smaller than our king bed at home, but extremely comfortable. I fall asleep with Grant still inside me.

  This time I wake up in a much better mood. I’m alone and with a sigh I go in to take a quick shower before getting dressed again. Leaving our room, I find Grant with his laptop out but in deep thought, the laptop forgotten. It isn’t something he’s done before, then again neither is this trip. I let it go. “Do I get to know where we are going now?”

  He looks up in surprise, huh, he hadn’t heard me. “Not yet. When we land is soon enough.”

  “When will we be landing?”

  Checking his watch he smiles. “You slept quite a while, we still have almost six hours though. Can you think of what we can do to pass the time?”

  Ignoring his hint, I jump up from my seat. “Harry Potter movie time! There are all the discs in the tv room. Come on!”

  We spend the next few hours in the tv room, cuddled together on the comfy long couch bolted to the floor. The flight attendant is a very nice, very pretty woman who isn’t the slightest bit interested in Grant, so I like her. She’s quick to assure us the galley was fully stocked. As the flight goes on, everything we ask for we get. Including the burgers and french fries Grant asks for.

  The third movie is ending as a voice comes over a loudspeaker. “We are now approaching our destination city of Rome and will be making our final descent for Ciampino airport. Please take a seat in the forward cabin and fasten your seatbelts.

  “Mr. Dexter your car is waiting. Local time is nine-thirty pm, if you turn your phones off then on again they will adjust to the new time. I hope you both enjoy your time in Rome.”

  I squeal, unable to hold it inside. “Grant!”

  “Good surprise?” He asks, as he fastens my seatbelt.

  “Oh, my god, this is amazing. You are amazing, I can’t believe this. How long are we staying? Where are we staying?”

  “Well, since this is last minute I couldn’t get us quite ten days here in Rome. We’ll be at the Hotel De Russie for eight nights then we’ll do a short hop to Florence for six nights then on to Venice where we stay for two weeks.”

  I’m in a puddle of mush by the time he’s done. I have no words to express my happiness. The cities he’s listed are ones I’ve fantasized about, to know I’ll be walking through them, sharing it all with Grant, leaves me feeling overwhelmed with emotions. “Oh.”

  Grant laughs, “I have learned that’s a good ‘oh,’ so I will take that as you’re happy.”

  I nod fast, then burst into tears, surprising the both of us and the flight attendant. The flight attendant is the first to move, quick to hand me a box of tissues. “I’m sorry.”

  His hand wraps around mine. “If you don’t dry your eyes soon you’ll miss seeing Rome as we descend.”

  As a way of stopping tears, it works. I wipe my eyes as I press against the glass to see the city below. It’s beautiful.

  I’m in awe and stay that way over the next hour, for the drive through the city to check in at one of the most famous hotels I’ve ever heard of. I’m shocked to hear Grant introduce me as his wife, then start speaking Italian in a rapid fire stream. My awe stays with me all the way up to the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen. Then Grant walks me out to the rooftop terrace and I’m crying again.

  Grant takes me into his arms. “Sweetheart, I really have to tell you, these tears aren’t something I’ll ever get used to.”

  “I just, no one has ever gone out of their way to make me happy the way you do. You could have stopped at the time here in Rome and I would have been happy but you didn’t. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s just a small part of what being in love does to someone. You’re willing to do whatever it takes to make them happy, because when they are happy, the craziest thing is, so are you. I figured it was time we expanded our horizons outside of Chicago. I made sure to pack your camera and a couple of memory cards for you to shoot your way through our time in Italy.”

  Over the next week we wake early to explore the city, then, per Grant’s very bossy orders, we went back to the hotel for a nap during the hotter part of the day. Although Rome in May isn’t nearly that hot, it is pretty humid and I find myself growing tired quicker than I remember in Chicago. I put it down to getting up earlier. I also get frustrated how Grant flatly refuses to let me eat the cheeses that make up such a unique part of the food in Rome unless it’s pasteurized or cooked thoroughly.

  With only two days left, I’m excited for the day. As we have every morning, we have breakfast on the terrace. I try to get Grant to move faster, to no avail. Climbing onto his lap only leads to slow lovemaking on the terrace. I had no idea Grant had never had sex outside, and found it very exciting. Seeing how much it turned him on made me just as hot.

  Laughing, we make our way inside to shower before leaving, only I never make it. The world goes black when I stand. I come to on the couch in the living room with a pleasant looking man in a very nice suit looking down at me in concern.

  He and Grant are talking in rapid fire Italian. Hearing Grant speak Italian never fails to surprise, no matter how often he’s done it since we’ve been here. Apparently, he had worked on a few programs for an Italian based company years ago and learned the language then.

  I catch the word bambino and the world spins. I don’t speak Italian but I know that word. “Pregnant? He thinks I’m pregnant?”

  Grant looks down then crouches down beside me. His hand trembles as he brushes my hair away from my face. “Yes, and so do I.”

  Feeling betrayed, I push his hand away. “How could you think that? I’m on the pill.”

  “A very low dose pill you take every morning and less than an hour afterwards you drink orange juice, which changes the effectiveness of the pill. Then this past month you didn’t have any type of period. I checked and you still should have had a small amount of a flow, you didn’t. There are also all the changes to your body, every day it seems like there’s something different.”

  “Wait a minute, you knew? How long have you known and when the hell were you going to tell me?”

  “Suspected, I suspected that was all. It wasn’t until you fainted and I told the doctor what I was thinking and he agrees. Even then, we aren’t guessing. We’re going to a clinic, today. The doctor made an appointment for us.”

  This isn’t happening, I can’t take it all in
. Rolling off the couch I run for the bathroom, slamming the door, making sure to lock the door. In a daze, I run a bath more out of something to do then out of any desire. Sitting on the edge of the bath I run my hand over my stomach, a baby. A baby. Grant’s baby. Happiness gurgles up inside me until I’m crying again.

  I startle when Grant wraps his arms around my middle, he’s on his knees. “Please don’t cry, sweetheart. This is a good thing, this is a wonderful thing, a baby, our baby.”

  Seeing Grant looking tortured stops my tears instantly. “I know. I’m happy. I’m crying because I’m happy.”

  “Oh, thank god. I was dying then I heard you crying and I would rather you have smack me than to think you were upset at the idea of being pregnant. Especially when I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

  “Really? You’re really happy about this?”

  Grant’s eyes glow, his hand on my stomach. “This is our baby, and I have never been happier than this moment knowing you’re pregnant with our baby.”

  “Oh.”

  He laughs, as he mimics me. “Oh.” His kiss is gentle as he lifts me up only to set me back down in the bathtub. “Quick bath, sweetheart, our appointment is only twenty minutes from now. It’ll take that long to make it to the doctor’s office.”

  “Okay.”

  The doctor is the same one from the hotel room, now he speaks English to tell me the blood test confirms I am pregnant. To hear it again, causes a new flood of tears. Grant explains, as he holds me, rubbing my back. He and the doctor are back to Italian.

  “Sweetheart, can we do an ultrasound? We won’t be able to see much, I’m just kind of excited and the doctor says it’s common to do one now to confirm.”

  He sounds so excited I nod as I cry again. The doctor starts chattering in Italian and I look up to see him frowning down at Grant. “I’m happy, I am. Hormones, I guess. Please, I would like to have the ultrasound, and don’t frown at him, he’s the one who’s made me happy.”

  “Ah... you Americans and tears, basta, this is a happy moment. I’ll go get the technician, you drink this it will help.” He hands me a bottle of water.