Connor wouldn't say exactly what had gone wrong with the dinner. He'd been so curt and preoccupied when she called him that night that she had almost lost her nerve. But just before she hung up, she'd summoned all her courage. "Connor?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"Would you like to come with me to my doctor's appointment tomorrow?"
When his silence stretched out, she hurried to apologize. "It's okay if you can't. It's just the first appointment where they go 'yup, you're pregnant' and you go, 'kay, thanks I already knew that so I guess here's some money for telling me that I already know and whatever,' and you wouldn't miss anything. Honestly, why would you even come in the first place? I'm so sorry I even brought it up—"
"Baby?"
Rosalie hissed air in through her teeth. "Yeah?"
"Stop it. I'm coming. Of course, I'm coming. I'll be there for sure. And Rosalie?"
She felt faint. 'Yeah?"
"I'm coming over now, okay?"
She sat back down heavily on her bed. "Okay." Warmth, like she'd dipped her toe into a hot bath, bloomed in her core and spread out to her limbs, making her feel tingly and weightless.
That weightlessness continued until she arrived at her OB/GYN. She floated to the front desk and glimpsed her smiling reflection in the sliding glass window until the receptionist moved to take her name. "I'm here for Doctor O'Brian? And is there someone already here waiting for me?"
The receptionist shook her head. "Not yet, honey." She smiled widely. "But just sit tight. I'm sure he’ll be here in a minute."
Rosalie frowned at her patronizing tone. If she was insinuating that Connor wouldn't show, she was mistaken. Rosalie was sure now.
He'd been so different this past weekend. She'd always worried that he would never allow a real relationship to interfere with his business, but he'd been so attentive. Not even his usual hyper-focus. He'd really been there for her, which was why she'd asked him to come today.
It’s the baby. Nothing made a man rearrange his priorities like impending fatherhood.
"Don't get ahead of yourself." His wooing was definitely laying it on thick but ….
A glance at the clock showed he was now ten minutes late for their meeting. Had it not felt comfortable thinking that coming had slipped his mind, she’d have been disappointed. This would be just like the old Connor—the one she was used to—not the caring and attentive boyfriend of the past weekend. Obviously, he was still neck-deep trying to land the Coney deal. After working all night, he probably had no idea that she was waiting.
She'd just about convinced herself that all was okay when they called her name. She allowed herself one more longing glance before heaving a sigh and following the nurse to the exam room.
She'd just finished slipping into the paper gown when the door banged open.
"Mom, you gotta let me go. I'm here with her now," Connor grumbled into his phone. His eyes met Rosalie's in wide-eyed apology. "Yes. Yes, I will tell her. She's fine; everything is fine. We're checking now. Mom. Hang up. I'll see you later today, okay? Yeah, yeah, welcome to Aspen. Sorry." He rolled his eyes heavenward before hanging up his phone with a huff.
Rotating his head from side to side, he straightened his shoulders. "I … am … so … sorry …." He punctuated each word with a kiss to Rosalie's hands. "She decided to call me right as I was leaving to let me know she's in town."
"Your mom is in town?" Rosalie babbled. "In Aspen?"
"She skis a different mountain every year and I guess this year is Aspen's turn. Anyway, it doesn't matter. The point is she was chewing my ear off as I was trying to get here on time and …." His exasperation faded as he took in Rosalie’s paper gown and position near the ultrasound monitor.
"Oh god," he exhaled as he plopped down next to her. "I didn't miss anything, right? Tell me I didn't miss anything."
"You didn't miss anything." The nurse entered, chuckling, and donned her gloves. "I'm the one who's late. So sorry, my name is Lindy." She glanced at Rosalie's chart and smiled. "Congratulations are in order, I see?"
Rosalie bit her lip. "I hope so." Until now, being a mother had swirled in her head as only a vague abstract. But now, laying on the freezing cold table, with Connor's hand gripping hers so tightly that her fingers were numb, the situation was suddenly very real. She very much wanted this baby, and she wanted it to be perfect and healthy and whole. "Will we find out if everything is okay today?"
"You're nervous?"
"Very." Connor squeezed her hand tighter.
The nurse smiled gently. "Well, let's not have any more of that. Let's find out. Now this is going to be cold." She squirted the jelly onto Rosalie's stomach and circled the wand in it. "Hey there, baby, where are you?"
Rosalie's heart leapt to her throat at the image of black and white static. "There's nothing there?"
"Not at all." The nurse pointed at a piece of the screen flickering steadily. "There's a baby there. That's its heartbeat, you see. Want to listen?"
She flicked on a switch, and the room filled with the rapid tuck-a sound, unlike anything Rosalie had heard before.
Connor grabbed her other hand. "Holy—"
"It's so fast!" A tear slipped down her cheek.
"That’s because it's my kid. Always on the go." Connor's face split in a wide smile as he looked closer at the screen. "That tiny little blinking blob is our kid, baby!"
Rosalie's tears choked on laughter. "Don't call our baby a blob! She's perfect!"
"He," Connor corrected with a grin. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Or she, I suppose. Though I don't know what to do with a girl."
"I don't know what to do with a boy."
His lips curled against her forehead. "Well, you sure know what to do with me."
The nurse printed them an image of the Blob, as they kept calling the baby, and Rosalie cleaned the goo off her belly, swatting at Connor when he suggested they swipe some for later.
If she'd floated to the appointment, now she was flying. With her arm tucked into Connor's, the two of them left the office still laughing about the funny sound of the heartbeat.
"One time my cousins suckered me to going out to a nightclub with them," Connor remarked as they ambled down the sidewalk towards the center of town. "And I swear, the music sounded just like that. Actually, no, scratch that. Our baby's heartbeat was much better music than the crap they played that night."
"Maybe he'll be a drummer. He's got great rhythm."
"Or she will." Connor arched an eyebrow.
"I thought you wouldn't know what to do with a daughter?"
"Hand her drumsticks, I guess?" Throwing back his head, he laughed.
Rosalie furrowed her eyebrows. "You'd definitely teach her about business, right, Connor? You wouldn't pull that whole Daddy's little girl sexist crap, right? You'd teach her to be as successful as you?"
The smile slid from Connor's face. "Baby, I can't exactly call myself a success at the moment." He glanced away from her, his attention seemingly absorbed by a window display.
"You never told me what happened last night."
"Because I honestly don't know. One minute I swore I had Ed in the palm of my hand and the next everything went belly up."
"Maybe if I call this afternoon," Rosalie soothed, "I can talk with Dora. You know, I'm sure she's had an appointment recently too. It'd give us an in."
"I don’t really want to talk about it."
"You don't want to talk strategy? That’s a first."
"Rosalie, come on, let's not get into this—" He strode forward, as if he could outrun her questions. His long-legged gait led him away from her—
Straight into an elegant older woman.
The woman gasped as the man at her side growled. "Watch it!"
Connor jerked back, his mouth wide open. "Shit—uh, shoot," he corrected, offering the woman his hand. "I am so sorry, Mom."
Rosalie's heart stalled. She took in the woman's thick, dark hair, its sleek style barely taming its unruly te
xture. Her dark eyes glinted soulfully, just like her son's, as if all her attention was focused on the recipient.
Connor stepped to the side. "Mom, this is Rosalie, the one I was telling you about. Rosalie, this is my mother, Natalie McClellan."
"Call me Nat." She pumped Rosalie's hand up and down enthusiastically, her eyes on Rosalie's belly. "How are you feeling, my love? Gosh, you are so little! How are you going to look with a big belly? You'll be a beach ball!"
"Mom," Connor groaned. Rosalie could only gape.
"You told her?" Rosalie whispered.
Connor frowned, his eyebrows crinkling. "Yes. On the way to the appointment. You saw me."
"Oh."
"Connor tells me everything." Natalie interjected.
Connor narrowed his eyes. "But apparently, you don't do the same with me, Mom?" He held out his hand. "Connor McClellan. I'm her son. What's your name?"
The man at Natalie's side smirked. "Jerry Wright."
"I told you about Jerry, Connor!" Natalie protested as the two men shook hands, sizing each other up. "We've been dating a while now."
When disgust rippled across Connor’s face, Rosalie wondered if Natalie really had told him about her boyfriend.
"But how did it go, my dear? With the Ventura deal? You were telling me it was in the bag, last we spoke."
"Not now, Mom. We're in the middle of the sidewalk."
"Well, just tell me if there's anything you need me to do. You need this win, Connor."
"I know." Connor kneaded the spot between his brow. "I've got other things on my mind too now, Ma."
"Right, well, of course you do." Natalie grabbed Rosalie's hands in hers. "I've already decided I want to be traditional. None of this Mimi or MomMom crap. I want to be Grandma. It's a classic for a reason. Don't worry about teaching the baby to say it. I'll be over enough that it'll happen by osmosis."
"Mom." Connor looked pained.
Natalie straightened. "Right, well, Jerry and I have reservations for lunch anyway. But I want to have dinner, Connor. Oh, I want to hear about how well Jenny is doing as your secretary. Doesn't have to be tonight, but while I’m in town, okay? Don’t let me down."
"I never do."
After they made their farewells, he steered them quickly away from Natalie and Jerry. "Please. Not a word, okay?" he begged. "That's just the way she is."
"She's super involved."
"In everything. I know."
"You seem stressed."
"I don't want to talk about it, okay?"
"Okay."
With Connor’s dismissal, Rosalie felt about two inches tall. Rather than floating, she’d crashed back down to Earth. Hard.
12
Two days to fix this.
Rosalie chanted the refrain over and over and over as she flew about the chic space she'd rented for her last minute demo.
Connor still wouldn't say what had gone wrong in his dinner, but Rosalie suspected it had something to do with Dora. Ed's new wife was sweet, but there was a savvy sharpness in her eyes. She watched everything, taking stock of every fault and imperfection with a smile on her face, but Rosalie could very clearly imagine her laying into Ed behind closed doors. She wouldn't let him make a decision that she couldn't see the benefit of.
Which was why today, Rosalie had decided to set up a demonstration just for her.
The McClellan system shone brightest in the restaurant and hospitality fields, but Rosalie had sold it to more than a few boutique owners and upscale retail establishments. One of the happiest clients, Bumpáge, sold bespoke maternity wear and the owner had happily agreed to put together a small runway show and trunk show to both sell her wares and demonstrate the system she used to track clients and due dates.
This was what Rosalie excelled at, drilling down the client's exact needs and demonstrating how the software would meet them. It was what would make her the best regional outreach manager for McClellan. As she took her post near the makeshift runway in the center of the room, she glanced to the corner, unable to resist checking Connor one more time.
He'd been so strange yesterday. After the high of seeing their Blob, he'd shut right down. Today, she recognized the familiar preoccupation on his face.
Even though he wouldn't look in her direction at all.
Turned almost completely around in his seat, Connor held his cell phone jammed against his ear as he nodded and frowned. At only ten in the morning, he'd already scrunched up the sleeves of his pullover to reveal his tanned, muscled forearms. Rosalie let her gaze linger a little longer than was seemly for a business meeting.
Only the whole time she ogled him, he never turned looked back.
With effort, she dragged her focus back to the presentation she'd spent the night putting together. It didn't matter if he was paying attention now. So long as he paid attention when it counted. When she convinced Dora Coney that this deal would benefit her as well.
"Good morning!' she sang out as the guest of honor poked her head through the conference room door. "At least"—she chuckled self-deprecatingly—"I hope yours has been better than mine." She placed a possessive hand on her belly.
The attempt at connecting worked. Dora rolled her eyes as she took her seat. "I don't know why they call it morning sickness," she complained, "when it kept me up half the night."
Rosalie smiled sympathetically. "Second trimester is the one to look for, they say. The morning sickness clears up and you finally have a cute little bump to show off instead of just feeling like your pants don't fit." She smiled wider, pleased with her segue. "And once you do have the bump, your wardrobe needs will change, won't they?"
"Don't remind me." Dora’s nose wrinkled.
"With the right clothes, you'll look fantastic, of course. Which is why, I thought today would be a good time to show you the right clothes. Bumpáge is Aspen's premier maternity fashion house." At her cue, the lights dimmed and a techno-symphonic soundtrack piped in through the carefully placed speakers. Dora's eyes widened as the first model marched down the short runway and winked, turning one way and the other to show off the clingy confection highlighting her padded bump.
"Bumpáge started using McClellan's software for tracking clients two years ago." Rosalie slid effortlessly into her well-rehearsed pitch. "Since then, they have doubled their business and have dressed the bumps of everyone from Instagram's hottest influencers to Hollywood elites." Another model marched out in a maternity swimsuit that Rosalie already coveted. She winked at Dora. "I think Ed would appreciate that, don't you?" She glanced around, realizing that the main attraction still wasn't at his wife's side. "Is he coming?"
Dora twisted in her seat as the smile fell from her face. "Oh, he's with Connor." She sniffed.
Rosalie's stomach dropped. She tried to keep her sunny smile, but Dora’s lips pressed together sympathetically. "Hey, Ed?" Dora called to her husband. "You guys are missing quite the show."
Rosalie smiled her thanks at Dora. "Maybe fashion isn't their cup of tea," she demurred.
But the back of her neck was heating up anyway. No matter how hard she tried to push it down, anger rose inside of her.
Connor hadn't even allowed Ed all the way into the conference room. He'd been lying in wait. Had he even been on his phone earlier? Or had he been keeping her at arms-length so as to keep watch for Ed?
He had Ed now. The two men were deep in heated conversation by the front entrance. They barely looked up as the music pulsed and the models stomped and all of Rosalie's hard work went unnoticed.
She clenched and unclenched her hands. This was it, right here. She'd been waiting for the moment when his focus would swing away from her.
She hadn't expected it to hurt quite this much.
"If there's something you've seen today that really appeals to you, I've arranged with the owners of Bumpáge to send you home with something to start your maternity wardrobe off right," Rosalie recited mechanically, grateful for the dim lights. "They've sent along their most experienced
tailor to make sure you're fitted today."
"Oh, how wonderful!" Dora clapped. "Ed! I'm going shopping!"
"Have fun!" Ed called out distractedly.
When the lights came back on, Connor still hadn't looked up. He'd missed everything.
"Well that's fine with me," she heard Connor say as soon as the music cut out. At the sudden silence, it would have been hard to miss the next words out of his mouth, though she wished like hell she had. "Let's go grab a drink, just the two of us and hammer that out."
Just the two of them.
He'd cut her right out, not even looking behind him as he ushered Ed out the door.
A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye before she stopped herself. She was a professional, and he was her boss. It was his choice if he wanted to leave her out of everything.
She'd just go back to her room. And lock the door behind her.
* * *
"Baby?" The chain on her door rattled. "What the fuck?" Connor slurred and rattled the door again. "Rosalie, it's me."
She rolled over and checked the clock by her bed before sitting up in alarm. She'd fallen on her bed after lunch, intending to take a few minutes to focus her thoughts.
It was now midnight. Connor was at her door. And from the sound of it, he'd had more than just one drink with Ed Coney.
"Baby, why is this locked?"
Because you locked me out first, she wanted to say. She slid from the bed and listened, indecision raging in her stomach.
"I missed you so much today," Connor murmured against the door.
Her heart backflipped. Against her better judgment, she slid the chain out of the lock.
"Baby." Connor crashed into her, his hands tangling in her hair as he sealed his mouth to hers. Her protests died on her lips as he pried them open with a savage thrust of his tongue. He walked her backward, tugging her clothes from her body as he kissed her lips, her chin, her jaw, her neck.
"Finally," he sighed as he pressed her back onto the bed and sank to his knees between her legs.
"Connor …." Rosalie’s head fell back as her body responded to the full force of his attention. He'd swung his spotlight on her, and she was too weak to resist basking in it. "You're … drunk."
McClellan Billionaires: The Complete Series Page 8
