by Nikki Chase
With that, I rush down the hallway and mash the elevator button until the door finally opens.
I need to stop Kat before she makes a big mistake she’ll regret for years and years to come.
Kat
I sit in the front row, clutching a piece of paper in my shaking hands, which I rest on my heavy belly. At least the podium on the stage will hide my tremors.
It’s not easy to mentally block everything that’s going on around me. The reporters are abuzz with activity, putting together their equipment and pointing their cameras at the spot where I’ll stand—only five more minutes from now.
Good thing Angela gave me a short list of bullet points, instead of some long-winded statement. This will be torture, but it’ll only last a minute or two.
God, and I thought my first press conference was going to be about my book—preferably the debut one.
I look around me, imagining myself holding my first book instead of this stupid list. This is just a function room in the office building, but it looks nice enough. The reporters seem eager… Oh, if only they were here for my book, enthusiastically waiting to hear all about where I got my inspiration from, and whether certain side characters are going to be featured in my future stories.
As I scan the room, my eyes land on a tall, imposing figure just outside the function hall. He’s moving with confidence, like he’s on a mission.
Shit.
I try to get up, pressing my palms against my seat cushion to push myself out of it. Damn it, why do I have to be so fat?
Yeah, I know I’m just pregnant. But it’s hard not to feel large when my calves have merged with my ankles.
I move quickly—as quickly as a heavily pregnant woman can move.I waddle up the three steps of stairs up the stage and reach the podium.
Immediately, all eyes and camera lenses turn to stare at me. Conversations grind to a halt as people abandon whatever they're doing to give me their full attention.
Whoa. I’ve never had so many pairs of eyes on me before. And to think there will be even more when those cameras put my face on TV and on tabloids—not to mention newspapers, if this gets big enough.
The mic on the podium sits a little too high, so I pull it down. Sharp audio feedback pierces through the room, and everyone winces as if in pain.
“Sorry,” I say into the mic when the noise finally stops.
Angela’s watching me with eyes as big as saucers and a facial expression that, without using any words, says, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?
This is not what we’ve planned. Angela was supposed to introduce me and stay beside me as I speak, but I need to improvise.
I catch Angela’s gaze and glance in the direction of Heath, who’s about to enter the function hall. He’s got the same expression as Angela, only with more anger. He asks the same question—what the fuck do you think you’re doing?—but his possessive gaze tells me he thinks he can tell me what to do.
Well, Mister, I’ve been patiently doing what you want me to do. The bed rest? Wasn’t even necessary. But I did it anyway. For you.
I probably shouldn’t admit at this point that the bed rest wasn’t horrible. I mean, getting to stay home and sit on my ass to write all day? That’s the life.
Angela follows my gaze and notices Heath. She seems taken aback. But then, she adjusts her glasses and starts marching toward him. She blocks his way and exchanges words with him.
It won’t take long for Heath to get past Angela. I don’t know what Heath plans to do to disrupt this press conference, but I’m not waiting to find out. I need to put whatever time I have to good use.
“Thank you for coming out here today,” I say into the mic. I pause for a second, distracted by the echo, and hold my cheat sheet in front of me. “I have a short statement to make regarding the news that’s circulating about Heath Anders and me.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but now there’s even more attention on me. Cameras freeze, pointed directly at me. Everything stands still. I don’t even notice any breathing.
So I take a breath and enjoy the silence for a moment. It’s hot here, under the intense lighting camera crews point at me. A thin film of sweat forms on my skin.
“I understand my name has been mentioned as Heath Anders’ victim. My name is Katherine York, by the way.” I feel dumb introducing myself in this way. Is this too late in the speech? I don’t know. This was supposed to be Angela's bit, but now I’m just playing it by ear. “That’s right. You saw my name on the contract that was shown this morning by Jeff Scott.”
Some of the reporters sitting in front of me scribble things on their notebooks, and I wonder which parts of my statement will make it to whose articles.
“I’d like to state that there’s been no improper conduct, much less harassment, from Heath Anders, in the entire time I worked for Anders Capital Management,” I say again into the mic.
Whispers turn into a low buzz among my audience, and I know I’m losing control of the situation. One man speaks up. “Katherine, are you carrying Heath’s baby?”
“Yes,” I admit, to the shock of almost everyone in the function hall. I can see the widened eyes, and the dropped jaws. “We’re together, and we’re having a baby. There’s nothing strange here. Just a couple who has decided to start a family.”
“What about the contract?” a reporter pipes up, his voice a little louder than the rest of them.
“The contract was just for fun. We didn’t mean it,” I say, as casually as possible. Easy and breezy. I put on a big smile and raise my eyebrows, as if I’m asking them, can you really believe Jeff thought it was real? He’s one crazy dude.
“Katherine,” a woman calls my name. “Did you start seeing each other when you were still working at Anders Capital Management?”
“We first met because I was Heath’s assistant. But as soon as we started to date, we decided it wasn’t a good idea for us to keep working together, even if there was no policy against dating in this office.” I smile.
This is easier than I thought it would be. Just tell them the truth, right? I can do that. I have to improvise a little, but I’m pretty good at fiction, too.
My reputation is going up in flames, and there’s no way for my name to not be forever associated with this scandal.
But I don’t mind it. If anything, this feels liberating.
I can finally do whatever I want, without caring about people judging me.
I don’t even care anymore about Vera, because I have my own little family now. Jesus, I can’t believe how much I used to worry about what she’d think when it shouldn’t have mattered.
She’s been asking a lot of questions about how I afford to hire a nanny to babysit his son for me. I guess now she’ll find out.
“What’s being pregnant like?” asks another reporter.
“Oh, it’s nice, but it’s not magical like some people say it is. I feel duped, honestly.” I’m starting to feel good about myself, having made a bunch of reporters laugh.
That’s when someone sidles up to me, making me jump in surprise. From the way my skin sizzles at his touch, I know who it is. I don’t even have to see his gorgeous face to know it's him.
Heath wraps his muscled arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. He smiles at our audience of reporters, but the strong grip of his hand on my upper arm tells me he’s ticked off.
Heath holds me in place while he adjusts the mic. The audio feedback makes everyone grimace again, but he makes no apologies. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have today. Thank you for coming out here.”
Heath pulls me tight against his side and says, in a low voice, “Smile.”
I bristle under the assumption that I’m just a little woman who does what Heath tells me to do. But I do it anyway. I smile. Because I’m done anyway, thanks to Angela’s short and concise note.
A million lights flash around us, almost blinding me, as the reporters sense a good photo op.
&nb
sp; Kat
“What do you think you’re doing?” Heath asks as the door closes automatically and the elevator takes us up the building.
“Me?” I ask in outrage. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Saving you,” he says, without a hint of irony.
“I didn’t need any saving. I was doing fine on my own!” I insist.
“You obviously don’t know the limits of your own body. That’s why I have to be the one with the level head here.”
“I’ve told you again and again, I’m not as frail as you seem to think I am. And I do know my limits. A doctor, who’s just as legit as your doctor, told me I don’t need bed rest.” I challenge him with a glare. “What, you can’t admit there’s a possibility that you’re wrong?”
“I know I could be wrong,” Heath admits. “I deal with possibilities all the time in my work. There’s never a 100% chance that I’m making the right decision.”
“Then why can’t you let me make my own decisions?” I ask, frustrated. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“I told you this morning, when it comes to you and our baby, I want to play it safe.” The way he says “our baby” makes my heart instantly melt—must be pregnancy hormones—but I press on.
This has been bothering me for a while. Ever since I fell in front of Heath’s parents’ house, I’ve never been allowed to make the kind of decisions most adults take for granted.
During the day, I can write and do whatever in the apartment, so it’s not too bad. But when Heath’s home, I can’t do anything. We’d just laze around on the couch or in bed, being sedentary.
There are moments when Heath’s protectiveness makes me feel precious and loved—something I’ve always craved since my father left us without an explanation. But at the same time, having relied on myself for so long, I bristle when someone tries to tell me what to do, and Heath does a lot of that.
“I know you want to keep me safe and healthy, and I appreciate that. But I’m still a human being, Heath, not a decoration or a pet that you can just confine to your home.”
Heath frowns. “Is that how you see it? You think I’ve been treating you like a thing, or an animal?” He runs his fingers through his hair, letting it fall messily across his forehead. “Fuck, I’ve never treated anyone better than I treat you, and that’s still not good enough?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” I raise my volume. “You pay me enough attention—and affection. Too much, even. I just—”
“Too much? Too fucking much?” Now it’s Heath’s turn to raise his voice. With his palm, he hits the emergency stop button on the silver panel by the door.
The elevator jerks to a stop, and I have to grab hold of the wooden railing to maintain my balance.
“What are you doing?” I ask, alarmed.
“We’re not done talking, and there’s someone in my office. A client from China.”
“Mr. Zhang is here?” I ask.
I’ve spoken to people from his Beijing office, and I know he’s been planning his visit for a long time. He agreed to let Anders Capital Management handle his investment portfolio before he even met Heath, deciding to choose this company based on its reputation and track record.
“Yeah,” Heath says.
“You should go back up to see him. He’s traveled a long way to see you.”
“We’re not done here. And I decide what to do with my business,” he says.
“I wasn’t even…” I stop and take a deep breath, worried I’ll say something I’ll regret. Anger simmers just beneath my skin. “Even you must see how unfair you’re being. You want me to stay quiet about how you run your business, but you make me do all kinds of things and expect me to obey just because you say so.”
“It’s all for your own good,” Heath says.
“Oh, so now you know what’s best for me?” I ask, my irritation growing despite my desire to end this argument. “You know what I need, better than I do?”
“When it comes to the bed rest, yes. Obviously, it’s safer for both you and our baby to stay home.”
“It’s not as obvious as you think. What about my second opinion?”
“Like I said, I just want to play it safe,” Heath repeats. We're just going in circles now. The words are starting to lose their meaning.
One side of this elevator is clear glass that lets us see out into the city. It should make this space feel generous. But right now—I don’t know if it’s because I’m angry or because we’ve been trapped here for too long—right now it feels too small. Suffocating.
“But is safety all that matters, Heath?” I ask. “What about what I want? Does that not factor into anything?”
“You want a healthy baby, don’t you?” Heath asks, his sharp gaze piercing through me.
“You don’t get it,” I say quietly.
“What don’t I get? All I’m doing is try to protect you, but that makes you angry.” Heath shakes his head. “I’m sorry I care about you.”
“You don’t get it!” I exclaim, my patience running out. “I’m not just a baby incubator, Heath. I’m a person, whom you supposedly love. You should care about what I want.”
“I do,” Heath says softly. He steps closer and touches my shoulder, but I jerk away.
I can’t… I don’t want anyone, or anything, to touch me right now. This elevator is already too small. I already feel like hyperventilating.
“Let me out of here,” I say in a small voice as my breathing gets more labored. I probably look pale right now.
“Are you okay?” Heath asks as he presses the button for me.
I remain quiet until the elevator door opens at the ground floor. There are still reporters milling around, probably exchanging notes and asking for more information from people who work in the building.
Heath won’t be able to make a scene now. He knows it’ll end up in the media and hurt both of us—and the baby too, by extension.
“I’m leaving.”
“I’ll see you at home,” Heath says, worry filling his blue eyes. “I’ll call you a cab, okay? Or should I take you home? I’ll take you home. Stay here, okay? I just want to go up there and let them know I’m going home. I won’t be long.”
I nod, knowing there’s less chance of complications this way.
But I don’t intend to do as he says. No way. Not this time.
I’m tired of living by Heath’s rules. I want to live my own life.
As soon as Heath leaves, I waddle across the lobby as reporters watch and take some more pictures. Outside, I hail a cab and tell the driver to take me to Jane’s.
I’m not going home to Heath tonight. Maybe never.
Kat
“Kat, your baby daddy's here,” Jane says as she peers into the screen of the video intercom. She raises a smug eyebrow.
“Yeah, okay, fine. The video intercom is not useless,” I say. “But just ignore him.”
“The peeps at my office would freak out if they knew Heath Anders wants to be buzzed up to my apartment.” As Jane turns around, she catches sight of my displeased expression. “Not that I’d tell anyone about it.”
“About what?” Colleen, Jane’s roommate, wanders down the hallway.
“Kat was just appreciating our new video intercom,” Jane says.
“Oh, yeah, it was my idea.” Colleen giggles. “I had too many randos trying to come up here, and this little thing lets me filter them.”
“Colleen’s kind of a slut,” Jane says with a teasing grin.
“Hey!” Colleen protests. “Don't slut-shame me.”
Colleen works at the same place as Jane, and makes just as much money. The video intercom isn't the only upgrade they've made since I moved out of this apartment.
“Besides, it's not just for funsies. It's for our own safety,” Colleen says.
“And by that she means it's so she can make sure nobody's following the guy who delivers her weed.”
Colleen grins cheekily as she enters the liv
ing room, where Jane and I are sitting on the Ikea couch we bought together back in the day. She notices the screen of the video intercom is still on, and she stops in her tracks. “Mmm… This fine man can come up here any time.”
He's mine, bitch.
Luckily, I only said that in my head. Still, I’m surprised by my own instinctive response. The urge to lay my claim on Heath surges quickly and overwhelmingly.
“That man also happens to be this woman's baby daddy, so I’d back off if I were you,” Jane says with a grin. She's noticed my sudden irritation.
“Oh, I didn’t know he was taken. Sorry,” Colleen says with a giggle. “Oh, hey, you look familiar, by the way. Have I seen you before?”
“I don’t think so. But maybe there’s still a picture of me on the fridge or something. I used to live here.”
“Oh, you’re Kat… right?” she asks.
“That’s me.”
“I have to say, you have great taste in men, Kat,” Colleen says. She peers closer into the screen, which is still glowing. “In fact, he looks familiar, too.” She pauses while she studies the grainy little black-and-white video feed. “Oh shit.” She snaps her gaze toward me and stares. Pointing at the screen, she asks, “That’s Heath Anders, right?”
I turn to look at Jane, who just shrugs.
I weigh my options. At this point, what’s the difference if another person knows about Heath and me?
“Yeah,” I admit, my heart pounding. Somehow, saying it out loud feels exhilarating.
“You’re on all the gossip blogs right now,” Colleen says in amazement.
“Yeah.” I give her a polite smile.
This feels strange. I’ve never had anyone get star-struck at the sight of me before. But then I’ve never stood at the center of a media storm before either.
Colleen turns to look at the screen again. “Oh, hey, he’s gone.”
