by A. P. Jensen
“That’s fine.”
He made his own plate and began to eat when the phone rang again. He grimaced, got to his feet and walked out of the kitchen. She ate in silence and heard the rumble of his voice in a distant room. She finished her meal, washed her plate and cleaned up the kitchen. She peeked in on Peter, but he was now tapping on his laptop while he talked and he didn’t sound happy.
She wandered through the penthouse and finally walked out onto the balcony that looked out across the Seattle skyline. It was chilly, but she enjoyed the cold. She took a deep breath and tried to rehearse the words she would say. How do you tell a guy that you were going to have his baby? If even normal guys had a problem with becoming a father, what would it be like for Peter? His mom left him behind and he lived with an evil aunt who didn’t care for him. No wonder he was so wary of women.
Emma walked back into the penthouse and still Peter talked on the phone. She peeked into the rooms tried to imagine dirty diapers, rattles, toys and a crib but it was impossible. She couldn’t imagine a child in a setting like this. What if he insisted on raising the baby in Seattle? If it didn’t work out and they had joint custody, would the baby have a nanny and security guards? When their child grew older, what if they chose to live in the city? She shoved away those unwelcome thoughts and began to get ready for the party.
She received a text from Anna as she did her hair and makeup.
Have you told him yet???
Her stomach lurched. Not yet. I’ll tell him tomorrow.
Good luck! Love you!
Love you too.
Emma struck a pose when she finished. She twirled in front of the mirror. The dress fit her perfectly. She felt beautiful and not at all like a pregnant woman. When she came out into the living room, Peter still talked on the phone, but he found time to get dressed in a tux that made her want to pull him back into the bedroom. When he saw her, he stopped in mid-sentence.
“I have to go,” Peter said into the phone and came to her. “You look…”
“Yes?” she teased.
“Like mine,” he said possessively and kissed her. His hands splayed over her bare back. “Did you bring another dress?”
Was it inappropriate? “No. Why?”
“Because Derek is going to hit on you and I’m going to have to kill him.”
Emma laughed and patted his chest. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You better not. Oh, I almost forgot.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a long velvet box. Emma opened it and found a stunning sapphire necklace.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“You can,” he insisted and set it around her neck. “It matches your eyes. Now, you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” she said and kissed him.
“If you let me, I can give you a lot more.”
“I don’t need anything. I just want you around more.”
“I’m working on it.”
Thirty minutes later, they walked into the party and Emma clutched his hand like a lifeline. How did he stand the constant scrutiny? Peter introduced her and kept her close to him at all times. She saw beyond the false smiles and sweet words to the malicious people behind the masks. It was obvious that they didn’t think she was on their level and they were right. She met their stares blandly and resisted the urge to walk out. Peter didn’t seem fazed by anything. He talked business and tried to include her in the conversation, but she was so out of her depth that there wasn’t much she could contribute. The confidence she regained after they made love began to drain away. The men eyed her as if she was a brainless bimbo and her cheeks flushed. The dress she thought was so beautiful now made her feel cheap.
She excused herself to go to the bathroom and found herself cornered by a gaggle of finely dressed, catty women.
“So you’re his mistress,” one said archly.
Emma raised her brows. “If you want to call it that.”
“Haven’t you been dating over a year? You haven’t gotten him to propose?” another demanded.
“What do you care?” Emma asked with her arms crossed.
“He’s going to tire of you. He always does.”
“Let me worry about that. Thanks for your concern,” Emma said and walked away. “Bitches.”
“Do my ears deceive me or did you just cuss?” Derek appeared out of nowhere, looking handsome and sophisticated.
“Don’t talk to me about cussing. I heard you swear up a storm when you carried me to Peter’s office,” Emma said irritably.
“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, eyeing the women that filed out of the bathroom.
“Catty bitches,” Emma muttered and tried to shake off her anger.
“I can-” Derek began, but she grabbed his arm.
“Don’t. I can deal with it myself.”
Derek cocked his head to the side, as he looked her over. She grit her teeth when he circled her. When he stopped in front of her again, his eyes were alight with appreciation.
“Hot damn. No wonder they attacked you. They know there’s no chance in hell Peter’s giving you up.”
She felt her heart lift a little. “You think so?”
“He’s been warning off everyone. He might as well put a ring on you. It’ll be easier,” Derek said, exasperated.
Emma’s heart leapt, but she reeled herself back in. Peter, married? Peter with a baby? She looked across the room at the people crowded around him, hanging onto his every word. He looked powerful, in control and gorgeous. Emma noticed a woman beside him, clutching his arm. He didn’t seem aware of her, which meant this was a regular occurrence. The sight turned her stomach. He had to socialize with clients and before her; he’d been through more women than she cared to think about. She knew that, but…
She couldn’t imagine raising a child in the city, in this environment. There was no sign of anyone under the age of twenty-five, no sign that any of these people had children. In Bellingham, there were kids everywhere. Her little town would be a happy, safe place to raise a child. What would people say when they found out she was having a child with Peter Logan? Would they think she’d done it on purpose? Would Peter? He wanted to make their relationship work, he wanted her, but would he want the responsibility of being a father? It would turn his life upside down. Her stomach flipped. He barely had time for her, much less being a father.
“What did I say? Was it the ring thing?”
Derek broke into her line of thought and she shook her head and waved a shaking hand.
“Give me a moment,” she said and dashed back into the bathroom.
She was grateful the bathroom was empty or the women would have told Peter she was pregnant before she had a chance. She stumbled out of the bathroom stall, trembling and suddenly chilled. There were handy toiletries on the counter including mouthwash. She grabbed a wad of paper towels and dabbed her sweaty face.
The strain of interacting with these people exhausted her. She suddenly wished she were at her house in Bellingham where it was quiet and she felt like herself. She looked at her reflection and though she was pale, she looked the part of a rich man’s eye candy. Her hands drifted down to her stomach and she took a deep breath.
“Emma?”
She whirled as Peter walked into the lavish bathroom.
“Peter, you’re in the women’s bathroom.”
“Derek said you were sick again.”
Emma didn’t want to talk to him, not now when she felt so horribly exposed and needy. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Derek said some ladies were bothering you.”
“It was nothing.”
“We’re leaving.”
He grabbed her hand and several women walked in and stopped, mouths agape. Emma didn’t protest until they left the bathroom. She dug in her heels and he wheeled around.
“I’m fine. This is just… a lot, okay?” Emma said.
“It’s not okay. If you’re not feelin
g well, we can leave.”
“Do you have clients to talk to?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She would be damned if Derek accused her of causing Peter to mess up their business.
The night became a blur of faces, whispers and small talk. She hated it. She wished she could down the champagne circulating, but she couldn’t because of the baby. People that wanted to talk business gave her pointed looks, clearly expecting her to leave, but she ignored them.
A woman named Leslie sashayed through the crowd. The slit of her dress was indecently high and her cleavage was on display for all to see. Her perfume made Emma’s stomach turn. Leslie ignored Emma and pouted up at Peter.
“You haven’t called me,” she cooed.
Peter tightened his hold when Emma tried to slide her hand from his. She wanted to punch Leslie in the face for the blatant, hungry look she shot Peter, but the potency of her perfume began to make Emma’s stomach rock.
“Emma and I were on vacation,” Peter said.
Leslie raised razor thin eyebrows. “Is this the girlfriend you told me about? The one that hates the spotlight?”
Leslie surveyed Emma with a sneer from her model height.
“Emma grew up in a small town,” Peter said.
“That’s not an excuse to be anti-social. If you want to be with Peter Logan, you need to learn how to deal with his caliber.”
Emma narrowed her eyes at Leslie. “And I’m sure you know everyone here.”
“Of course,” she said with a smile. “You know, Peter and I had a conversation about you several weeks ago. He said he’d never marry you. You might want to look for a replacement.”
Emma went numb. Her hand in Peter’s went cold and her heart sank to her toes. Peter discussed their relationship with a woman like this? All Leslie cared about was status. Emma didn’t have to know about fashion to know that Leslie’s outfit probably cost more than her monthly income. Emma’s ears began to ring and she wanted to rip her hand away from Peter’s, but she didn’t want to cause a scene. Had he been seeing Leslie whenever he was in the city?
“Leslie, that’s enough,” Peter said coldly.
Leslie let out a tinkling laugh and gave Emma a sly wink. “If I were you, I wouldn’t trust him in the city by himself. After all, the city has a lot more to offer.”
The implication was obvious and Peter tightened his hold on Emma when her hand clenched into a fist.
“And when did you discuss this?” A part of her knew Leslie was trying to get a rise out of her, but she couldn’t help it. She needed to know and Peter’s silence was damning.
Leslie pursed perfect lips and gazed at Peter intimately. “Two months ago? We were at a party. September fourteenth, I think.”
Their anniversary, Emma thought through a haze of pain. Instead of being with her in Bellingham, he’d been at a party talking to Leslie about how he’d never marry her. The stab of pain was deep and quick. Before either of them could respond, Leslie saw somebody in the crowd and excused herself. Peter turned towards Emma, face pained.
“You were with her on our anniversary?” Emma’s voice was hoarse.
“It was a business function. She’s an acquaintance.”
“So, on our one year anniversary you told an acquaintance you had no intention of marrying me?” Her voice was flat.
“We never discussed marriage,” he said defensively.
“No, we haven’t, have we? I guess that says a lot about our relationship.”
“We’re taking things slow. We’ll see how I can move things around in my schedule and visit during the weekends. We’ll see where things go from there.”
Emma stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. When he reached for her, she took a step back.
“Emma,” Peter began, when an older man came over and slapped him on the back.
Emma slipped away while Peter was distracted and easily lost herself in the crowd. People eyed her as if she were a leper. She didn’t belong here. She hit her breaking point and made her way to the exit. A butler retrieved her coat and offered to call her a cab.
“No, thanks,” Emma said.
“Is Mr. Logan leaving with you?” he inquired, concerned.
“No, he’s staying.”
She walked down the steps and hugged her coat around herself. The air was chilly and being alone made her feel marginally better. She wanted out of the city, away from Peter and his rich lifestyle. These people were so cold; they were from another planet. How could Bellingham and Seattle be only an hour and a half away from each other, yet she couldn’t relate to the lives of these people? She wanted to go home to her humble, old house and go to sleep. Maybe everything wouldn’t look so bad in the morning. She thought of her car in Peter’s underground garage and all the guards who would know she shouldn’t be there. She could call a cab, but she had no money on her. It was late, but maybe Anna could-
“Emma?”
She whirled around. “Why do you always catch me at my worst?”
Ben held up his hands. “It’s tradition, I guess. The first time we met, I pulled you out of a mud puddle.”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Georgina helped me get a job. My apartments not far from here. What are you doing?” His eyes narrowed on what he could see of her gown.
Emma fumbled. “I’m, um-”
“Going to a party?” he asked helpfully.
“Leaving one.”
“Alone?”
The concern in his voice started the tear flow she didn’t want or need. She held up a hand when he took a step forward.
“I’m fine. I’ll see you around.”
“Emma, it’s almost midnight. Do you need a cab?”
“And go where?” Emma said wildly, flinging her hands out. “I have horrible taste in men.”
“What happened with Logan?” Ben’s eyes fixed on the sapphire necklace.
She shot him a withering glance. “Nothing, as I expected. Why am I talking to you about this?”
“We were friends once,” he said gently.
While she was at the cabin, she thought of him a lot. He turned up in her sketches no matter how she tried to wipe him from her memories. He’d been an integral part of her life no matter how hard she tried to deny it. He’d been her rock through school, when she started up the business and now… He was just gone from her life.
“We were friends,” she whispered and couldn’t stop the wistfulness in her voice. “Why did you come back to Washington?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s home.”
She nodded and crossed her arms protectively around her midsection. She was in the middle of the city at midnight and several questionable looking characters leered as they passed. She shifted uneasily in her heels.
“What’s going on? Do you need help?” Ben asked.
Rain began to patter from the sky. Emma wrapped her coat more securely around herself. The rain came down harder, but Ben didn’t walk away. He waited for an answer. She looked at him, former friend and fiancé. It couldn’t be coincidence that they ran into each other.
“You said your apartment’s close?”
He nodded quickly. “Come on. You’re soaked through. This way.”
Ten minutes later, she shrugged out of her jacket in Ben’s apartment. It was nothing fancy and it was cluttered and comfortable. She couldn’t help comparing it to Peter’s home. These men had absolutely nothing in common.
“Here,” Ben tossed her a towel, sweat pants and sweater. When Emma hesitated, he shrugged. “You’re soaked through. You don’t have to put them on.”
The clothes smelled of him. It was so familiar and filled her with such nostalgia, her legs buckled and she sat down hard on the couch. She buried her face in the clothes as past and present clashed together in a storm of emotion.
“Emma?” Ben sat beside her, but di
dn’t touch.
“Why’d you walk away from me? Did you even love me?” Emma sobbed into the clothes. “If you really loved me you wouldn’t have left.”
“I loved you. God, I still do but-”
“But what?” Emma shouted, raising her tear-streaked face.
Ben clenched his hands in his lap. “When I was six my grandpa and I went into the forest to cut down a Christmas tree. He lost control of the chainsaw and cut himself here.” He made a slashing gesture over his belly. “I didn’t know what to do. I tried to drag him back to the truck, but he was too heavy. I couldn’t leave him, so I stayed. I watched him die.”
The clothes fell from Emma’s hands. She stared at him in horror. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He rose and walked to the window. “I don’t talk about it.”
“Six years old? I met you when we were seven,” Emma said.
He leaned against the window. “You… saved me. As long as I had you with me, everything was fine. You loved me, I loved you. Everything was perfect and then the accident,” he ran a hand over his face. “It was deja vu. I couldn’t- I’m so sorry.”
Emma was stunned. Two years of hating him, of not listening and the whole time he’d been drowning in his own nightmare. When he ran a hand down his face, she saw it shake.
“That doesn’t excuse me from walking away. I know that. I can never forgive myself for putting you through what I went through alone. I should have been there. I should have fought my natural instinct to run away and stay, but by the time I came to my senses, the ambulance had come and gone and only the police were left at the scene.” Ben rubbed damp palms over his jeans. “Let me make you tea or do you want brandy?”
“Tea’s good,” Emma said faintly.
Ben dashed off to the kitchen and she shivered in her thin, wet gown. She went into the bathroom and changed into his clothes. She looked into the mirror and fingered the sapphire necklace, which clashed horribly with Ben’s faded sweats. She unclasped it. She would give it back to Peter. God, she looked like hell, felt like it too.
When she came out, Ben paced, kicking DVDs and books out of his way. He held out a plastic grocery bag for her wet clothes and she cringed, knowing how expensive the dress was. Anna was going to kill her. She dropped the necklace on top of the dress and saw Ben wince.
