Underestimated u-1

by Jettie Woodruff

  “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Kelley,” Celeste said as her car was being pulled up.

  I smiled and nodded as our driver pulled up, as well.

  I didn’t have time to light into Drew the way I had planned once we were in the car. Drew got a call and talked business the entire ride. I stared out the window while he conducted business. I did turn to him with a glare when he placed his hand on my upper thigh. I picked it up and moved it to his own leg. He smiled, shaking his head.

  His conversation continued into the house and to his office. I followed him. We were having words. I was sure of it. He sat at his desk, and I sat in one of the wingback chairs across from him. Finally after another ten minutes of me patiently waiting, he ended his call.

  “I’m all yours,” he said, wearing the stupid little smirk that I wanted to slap right off of his face.

  “Are you sure about that?” I asked.

  “What?” he asked with a confused expression.

  “That you are all mine,” I stated the fact.

  “Come here,” he demanded.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No, I am not coming to you. I can’t believe that you hired someone like that to be your assistant. Did you not think that I might be a little pissed off about you traveling and working with someone that looks like that?”

  “Excuse me. Would you like lunch, sir?”

  “Hi, Marta,” I smiled turning to the open door.

  “Hi, Morgan. How are you?”

  “I’m good, we had lunch, but I would love a cup of coffee,” I requested.

  “Me too,” Drew said.

  “Morgan, you should see this woman’s track record. She knows her shit. I don’t care what she looks like. You should see her negotiate, the woman’s better at it than I am.”

  “Why didn’t you ask my opinion about it first?” I asked. I’m not sure that I had the right to ask. We weren’t even really talking but damnit all the way to hell and back.

  “I think I did, Mrs. Kelly. I asked you if you wanted to be part of the interviewing process. You did not. Remember?”

  Shit…

  I stopped before saying anything else when Marta carried our coffee in on a tray.

  “I’ll come and see you in a little bit,” I told her. I missed Marta. I really like her. She smiled and left us to get back to our argument.

  “Come here,” he requested again.

  I stood and leaned against the corner of his desk with my arms crossed.

  “If you tell me that you are going to stay right here with me, you never have to worry about another woman,” he promised, looking up to me.

  “I don’t want you with other women if I don’t stay,” I assured him.

  “And you think I want you to be with Dawson?”

  Okay, he had a point.

  “I have no reason to ever cheat on you, Morgan. I love you that much, and you are the hottest little thing that I have ever had between the sheets.”

  “You’re just saying that because of our fucked up sex life. Any other woman would run away, screaming.”

  He picked up my leg and moved my foot between his legs. He ran his hand up my calf and straight to my already throbbing pussy. “I love our fucked up sex life,” he said as his finger dipped inside of me.

  Fucking hell.

  I dropped my foot just as quick as he removed his hand from under my dress when Celeste cleared her throat from the door.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Marta let me in,” she said with her face as red as mine. She knew what she saw as well as I knew what I felt. That was twice in one day that we had been caught.

  “I’m going to talk to Marta. I’ll see you later,” I told Drew, leaving him to his business. “Leave the door open,” I whispered, kissing him just in front of his ear. I didn’t look at Celeste as I walked out. I couldn’t. I was too embarrassed.

  I visited with Marta in the kitchen for a while, and then went to my old room for a needed shower. I thought about talking to Drew about being pregnant, but decided to wait until after the funeral the next day. I wasn’t even sure that I really was pregnant. The test said that I wasn’t, and I guessed that the morning sickness could have been just a bug or something.

  Drew and I ate the evening meal that Marta prepared for us before leaving for the day. We sat at the table and talked. He asked me more about my stay in North Carolina and I talked about Caroline a lot. I did love her like a sister and missed the little shit already.

  “Morgan, there is a good possibility that Justin will be at the funeral tomorrow,” Drew informed me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I mean I would be ecstatic if I did get to see him. I wondered if he would even recognize me. He was barely five the last time I saw him. I tried to remember when I was five. I remembered bits and pieces, like kindergarten, and my pet chicken that my dad had killed for supper. I wasn’t sure if I would remember someone from when I was five. I barely recognized my cousin Bobby.

  Drew and I went to bed pretty early. Of course we didn’t go right to sleep, and had the most amazing fucked up sex ever. It consisted of the whole nine yards. Spankings, oral, anal, and I had even let him talk me into using one toy that I absolutely hated, the one that sent an electrical current to my clit, causing an immediate orgasm right before it stopped. It wasn’t as bad as I had remembered. At least I knew that I would come, eventually.

  Chapter 24

  The next morning, Drew and I had another round of sex. No. It wasn’t sex at all. He made slow passionate love to me while exploring my soul with his penetrating gaze into my eyes. It was great, unbelievable, and right on target with what I needed at the time.

  I sat up, deciding whether or not I felt sick. I didn’t. I pulled on a shirt and slid into my panties. As soon as my feet were planted on the plush carpet, I felt it and ran to the bathroom with my hand over my mouth.

  Fucking, son of a bitch.

  I turned to look at Drew between my bouts of heaving into the toilet. He was staring at me with a bewildered look. He knew.

  I looked at him through the mirror as I brushed away the nasty taste in my mouth. The tooth paste smell almost had me running back to the toilet. Drew never spoke. I swear he was in shock. I couldn’t help it at the time. He didn’t have to speak. I had to lie back down.

  I brushed past him and sprawled across the bed with a groan.

  “Morgan?” he questioned, sitting on the bed with me.

  “Yes, Drew. I am pretty sure I am.”

  “Is it mine, Morgan?” he asked.

  Fucking, shit…shit…shit…

  “I don’t know,” I told him honestly.

  He stood and paced the bedroom, running his fingers through his hair.

  “I fucking knew it,” he yelled.

  Great…

  “What did you know, Drew?” I asked, exasperated, already.

  “I knew you fucked him. You don’t fucking care anymore about me now than you did before you ever left here.”

  Damn, he was pissed. I sat up. I was on the verge of being pissed myself.

  “Really, Drew? You’re going to go there?”

  “Where the fuck would you like for me to go, Morgan?”

  “To hell right now,” I yelled. “What the hell, Drew? You don’t get that right. You fucking raped me, beat the hell out of me, humiliated me, and I be God Damned if you are going to stand here and fucking judge me for falling in love with another man. Fuck you!” I screamed.

  Drew grabbed me by both of my arms.

  “I have fucking apologized for the things that I did ten times over. I have been trying everything that I know to do, to make you realize how much I fucking love you. You don’t have the right. You throw that shit up to me every time you get pissed off.”

  “I’m scared, Drew,” I spit out. He had a cold dark glaze in his eyes. I was scared. I wanted him to let me go, and stop screaming in my face.

  He let me go, and stormed out. He locked himself in his office until it was time to
go.

  We were both dressed in black and rode the backseat in total silence. He stared out the window, resting his chin on his fist. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t know what to say. I could understand him being upset, and I was trying to be mature about it and not just say fuck it and run away back to my mom’s.

  I walked to the coffin with my hand in Drew’s. Mr. Callaway looked good. I thought his face looked a little sunken in, but overall he looked to be at peace.

  “There aren’t many people here,” I whispered to Drew, looking at the empty chairs.

  “Mr. Callaway wasn’t the most liked man,” he replied. I thought that it was sad, but could understand it. I had seen how he talked down on Drew the few times that I had seen them together. I looked around for Justin. I never saw him. His parents must not have been too fond of him either.

  I almost felt like there should have been more said at the funeral, but there really wasn’t. It was a simple funeral with very few people. There wasn’t even a graveside service per Mr. Callaway’s request.

  Drew opened my door and held my wrist before I could slide in. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I’m trying my best to comprehend that my wife may be carrying another man’s child,” he said. I could understand that. I touched his cheek and smiled, letting him know that I understood.

  “Can’t you pin point the time frame. I can’t stand not knowing,” Drew said on the drive back to the house.

  Fuck…

  “No, Drew. I can’t do that. I was with you three times in the two days that you were in Maine, and I was with him three times the following day.”

  Drew shook his head. He was angry again. I would be too, I guess.

  I looked down at my phone and saw that I had a missed call from Dawson.

  What the fuck? Neither of them had called the whole time I was at my moms. Not once did either of them call to see how I was, and now they both decide to pop back into my life at the same time.

  Drew sent Marta home as soon as we were back. He went into his office and I followed, removing my heels. I watched as he typed in the search.

  “Can you have a paternity test while being pregnant?”

  “Drew, I’m not even a hundred percent sure that I am pregnant,” I protested.

  “You’re a week late, you have been sick for the past two mornings, but feel better shortly after. You are tired, and hungry. I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure you’re pregnant.”

  “There!” he said, excited.

  You could have a paternity test while being pregnant. I didn’t know that fact.

  “Yeah, read the rest. The court system needs to be involved before a physician will even do it. It’s not safe for the baby,” I said pointing to the article that he was reading.

  “In rare cases,” he pointed out. “How far along do you think you are? We have to do it before the 14th week.”

  “Drew, will you stop.”

  “No, Morgan. If we can do this, we are. I am not spending the next nine months waiting to see if this is my kid. I can’t. I will end up hating you over it. How far along do you think you are?”

  “Not very, six weeks maybe,” I answered. I wasn’t doing this before the baby. It was right there in plain English. There was a chance that it could harm the fetus.

  Drew wasn’t listening to me. He was on the phone calling his judge friend. The one that forced me to marry him, I was sure. I listened while he explained the situation, and of course the crooked judge agreed to sign whatever he needed to have signed.

  He called Judith Bishop next, the gynecologist that used to come and give me my birth control shot every three months.

  “She’ll be here in about an hour,” Drew exclaimed. I wanted to run away. He was going over my head and doing whatever Drew wanted to do. It pissed me off.

  “Maybe, you could ask what I think before you go making plans for me,” I stated with an angry tone.

  “It doesn’t fucking matter what you think,” he said just as angry. Okay, this was the Drew that I hated. This was the Drew that disregarded my feelings. I was secretly wishing that the baby turned out to be Dawson’s. Dawson would never treat me this way.

  I stormed out of his office, and up to my own room. I wanted to call my mom, but I didn’t because I knew that Drew had probably already turned his computer to my room. He was more than likely watching me through the cameras, and he could hear every word that I said.

  I took my funeral clothes off and pulled on a comfortable pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I lay across the bed, staring up at the ceiling for probably twenty minutes or so in the same position.

  My cellphone rang, and after it had quit I text my mother and told her that I would call her back. It rang again a few minutes later. It was Dawson. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted Dawson. I needed Dawson. I wasn’t sure what to do. I knew, or I had a pretty good suspicion that Drew would hear every word I said. He hadn’t called in weeks if I ignored him he might think that I didn’t want to talk to him. I did.

  Fuck Drew…

  “Hi,” I answered, sitting up and crossing my legs.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he softly spoke. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath at the sound of his voice. I missed him. I wanted to be in his arms. And no, it wasn’t because I was mad at Drew. I really missed him. I hadn’t heard from him in almost a month.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Good, besides the fact that I miss you like crazy,” he replied. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay,” I lied. I was never going to be okay. Every time I thought I was making progress, life decided to throw another curve ball.

  “You don’t sound okay. Where are you?”

  “Vegas.”

  “Oh,” he said with a hurt tone.

  “I just got here yesterday. Mr. Callaway passed away, and I had to come here for the funeral. I’m leaving tomorrow.” I hoped Drew heard that.

  “Please tell me that you are coming home to me,” he begged.

  “I am coming there,” I said.

  “But not home to me, right?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Are you any closer to deciding what you want than you were before you left?”

  I snorted. Fuck no, I wasn’t, and I had just gone and made things ten times more complicated.

  “I haven’t been doing what I left to do,” I told him honestly. “I spent over a month at the beach with my mom and my little sister,” I explained. I was happy that he dropped it and didn’t try and pressure or badger me about it. He asked about my mom, my sister, and I told him about Jason. I talked to him for forty five minutes. It felt good. I told him that I had to go when Drew knocked on the door with Judith.

  “I love you, Ry.”

  “I love you too,” I said it. I didn’t care if Drew was standing right in front of me. I didn’t even care about the hurt look on his face. He deserved it.

  “How are you, Morgan?” Judith asked.

  “Fine,” I said with a bit of an attitude. I never did like her, and if I was pregnant she was not being my doctor.

  “Do you think you can go to the bathroom?” she asked, halting the nice act. She picked up on my defiance right away.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Morgan,” Drew chastised.

  I took the cup from Judith’s hand and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door a little harder than I meant to.

  I left the cup on the sink and walked out of the bathroom, right past the both of them and downstairs to the pool. I didn’t want to know the results. I knew that I was pregnant, and I didn’t want Judith fucking Bishop to be the one to tell me the fact that I already knew. Fuck both of them. I wished I had my car. I wanted to leave. I didn’t want to be there for one more second.

  I sat on the side of the pool, swirling my feet around the not so cool water. It was hot, very hot, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be in that evil house full of demons.

  “What are you doing, Morgan?” Drew asked, in a calmer voice
from the door.

  “Nothing,” I snapped.

  “Come inside,” he politely requested.

  “Why?”

  “So we can talk,” he said with a little more annoyance.

  “So we can talk or so you can tell me what I am doing?” I replied still sitting by the pool, not about to budge. I spent six years of my life listening to this man tell me when, where, how, what, and why, no not why, it was never any of my business, why. I wasn’t about to bow down to him.

  “Please come in the house. It’s a hundred degrees out here.”

  I got up and walked past him and into the kitchen. He followed. Marta was preparing our supper. I took a bottle of water and sat at the island.

  “Can you leave us, Marta?” He asked. She smiled and walked out.

  Drew straddled the stool beside me. “Look at me,” he softy spoke.

  I turned my head to his, but I didn’t look at him. I looked past his right shoulder at one of the replaced, tiny cameras that I had broken. What? Was he afraid someone was going to steal his food?

  Stupid idiot. Stupid fucking idiot…

  “Don’t you want to know what the results are?”

  I did look into his eyes with that, dead on with my cold, despicable glare. “I already know what they are.”

  “She can do the paternity test, and she can do the abortion if it turns out to be his.”

  Damnit, what the hell did I do with that gun?…

  “One, Judith is not doing shit with any test. Two, Judith is not touching me. I will find my own physician, and three. What would ever give you the idea that I would even consider an abortion?”

  “I knew you would say every bit of what you just said,” he admitted.

  “Then, why would you even suggest any of it?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Wishful thinking, I guess. What do you want, Morgan?”

  “Not you,” I assured him. He snickered.

  “You want to run back to your boring little life in Maine, back to your safe little sheriff.” He replied with a tone. It wasn’t a question, it was more of a statement.

  “Boring? Let me explain to you what boring is. Boring is being trapped in this house for six, very long years. Boring is being allowed to leave the house escorted to go to one place and check out one book. Boring is being locked in a room with nothing in it for days, boring is…”