by Mia Carson
Rob continued in a low voice. “You see, Braden called me last week and asked if I could please not hire you or give you any leads.” Rob teetered a little as he stepped to put his drink at the bar, clearly tipsy, and added, “I think he did the same with other places you’ve applied. He really doesn’t want you to leave, Lexi—I think he’s in love with you. But don’t tell him I said anything. He’d kill me. Just pretend you coerced your way into a job, okay?” He held up a finger to his mouth, looking anxiously over at Braden again.
I was having trouble breathing and keeping the heated flame of anger from completely taking over my senses, I looked at Braden as well, my shocked expression turning into one of raging disbelief. He’d done what? He’d specifically gone out of his way to thwart my attempts to quit my job with him? Where did he get off controlling my life to that level?
Slamming my drink down and ignoring the pleas from Rob, I marched over to my boss and stopped right in front of him. After leveling him with a seething look, I glanced at the others in the group and said a general, “Hello.” Once they’d all greeted me, I turned my gaze back on Braden, my eyes glaring into his as I said in a fake sweet tone, “Can I talk to you for a minute about a private business matter?”
Braden’s eyes widened with wariness. “Of course. Excuse me, everyone.” He followed me quickly to an empty corridor just off the main party room. I whipped around, heat filling my veins. I tried to keep my voice low and under control. “Is it true?” was all I could think of to start with.
He blinked down at me then ran a hand through his gorgeous dirty-blond hair and responded, “Lexi, you look really upset. Is what true?” He appeared concerned, but I saw a knowing look flash in his eyes. I crossed my arms over my chest, not in the mood for games.
“Did you or did you not sabotage my attempts to get a new job, and invade my privacy, so that I’d stay working with you? Even going as far as to tell Rob Greenberg not to even respond to me?” My voice rose towards the end. I watched his face drain of all color and turn bright pink.
Braden’s mouth opened and closed several times before he answered. “I know it sounds bad, and I’m sorry to invade your privacy, but I was desperate. I just couldn’t let you go when I—”
I interrupted him, not wanting to hear his excuses. I saw red. “Braden Huntington, you have no right to control my life—my career—like you own me!” My voice had risen to a shout. “Here I am, trying to move up in my life since not all of us are handed money and careers on a silver platter, and what do you do? You pull strings like I’m your puppet—like you’re a god!” Braden’s face got redder, and he tried to speak, but I backed him against the wall, jabbing my finger at his chest. “Well, I’m through with your games, Braden. Rob Greenberg just offered me a job, and I’m going to take it. I quit.”
With one last look at his panic-filled, shocked expression, I whirled around and pushed my way through the small crowd of people that had gathered to watch our little drama and strode up to Clara, who was, thankfully, in the crowd.
I didn’t need to say anything. She’d probably heard it all. She put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me toward the exit. “It’s okay, don’t look back. I’ll take you home.”
***
The following three weeks after the Stellar Group, Inc. event and my confrontation with Braden passed in a whirlwind of change underlined with an empty feeling of great loss. I ignored the desolation by focusing on my new job with Rob, who was an amazing writer and a great boss, hanging with my dad, Sean, Clara, and Beth, and, of course, surfing.
Rob paid me a decent salary and agreed to give me the same health insurance benefits that included my dad and Sean. Though it wasn’t the extravagant money and benefits I’d had at Huntington Productions, I was making a comfortable amount and happy to get paid to do what I loved, both writing and editing scripts.
Braden had tried again to email, call, and text in an attempt to explain. At first, I refused to read or listen, but by my second week away from Huntington Productions, I caved and both read and heard how very sorry he was and how his feelings for me were so strong that he’d been terrified I’d never come back if I found a new job. He’d also added that he wasn’t trying to make excuses, just wanted to give me the reason. He even said I was right about how controlling and intrusive his actions had been. By the third week, after talking to Clara, Beth, and even Adrianna, who I’d had coffee with, I’d softened towards Braden and believed his motivations, though I hadn’t liked his devious methods.
On Friday morning at the end of the third week, I was running late for a meeting with Rob at his modest office in Santa Monica to go over the new scene in a drama screenplay we were co-writing. I was sleepy as I threw a strawberry pop-tart in my bag and pulled a brush through my hair. I’d been feeling more tired than usual lately. There’d been a heat wave the last week, and I assumed it was due to that.
As I drove towards downtown Santa Monica, I felt a little dizzy and sick to my stomach, so as I waited for a red light, I opened the pop-tart in my bag and started eating it with my to-go coffee.
I parked in the outside lot next to Rob’s office ten minutes later, my stomach full of pop-tart and coffee. I felt even more nauseous. “Geez, I must have a bug or something,” I muttered to myself as I ran to the building’s public bathroom and immediately threw up three times.
“You do look a little green,” Rob told me minutes later after I’d washed up and told him what had happened. “You should head home now and take a few days to rest and get better,” he told me with a concerned frown.
Late that afternoon, after I’d rested on my couch, going in and out of sleep most of the day, I realized something. I quickly checked the calendar on my phone and, sure enough, I was a week late for my period. My stomach heaved as I remembered the condom-free sex Braden and I had had about a month ago.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered to myself as panic began to run through me. I called Clara with shaking fingers and she was over at my apartment with two kinds of pregnancy tests within thirty minutes.
She reassured me. “It’s going to be okay, Lexi. I’m here for you, and we can raise your baby together… if there is one.”
She gave me a hug before I numbly stumbled into my bathroom and emerged ten minutes later with my heart racing out of control and another nauseous feeling invading my insides. This time, the sick feeling was from shock that both tests had shown positive. I was pregnant with Braden’s baby.
Braden
Two weeks after the night of the Stellar Group event, my stomach wrenched when I recalled the scathing, hurt look on Lexi’s face. She’d looked stunningly beautiful, of course, which didn’t help matters. I’d been ready to murder Rob Greenberg after Lexi had confronted me, quit, and stormed out.
I’d seen the two of them talking at the bar right before Lexi had come over and knew it was him who had spilled the beans—and given her a job to boot. But Rob had left before we could talk, and after I calmed down, I realized it was all for the best that Lexi knew about my job sabotaging. Everything was out in the open, and Lexi deserved the job working with Rob since it was perfect for her.
During the last two weeks, after trying to apologize profusely to her—though she’d predictably ignored my texts, emails, and calls—I was devastated that Lexi was completely out of my life. I had even bought a gorgeous, round-cut 2.35 carat diamond engagement ring that Adrianna had helped me pick out the Sunday after I’d come back from Rio.
By the Sunday three weeks after I’d last seen Lexi at the PR Agency event, I couldn’t take it anymore. I missed Lexi so much I ached deep inside. I had to get her to go to dinner with me so I could give her the ring and make everything right. At five p.m. I walked up to the run-down duplex where Lexi’s dad and brother lived, which I knew from HR since this address had been on the insurance forms. I’d tried Lexi’s place first, but when I found she wasn’t there, I walked to her dad’s and rang the doorbell. I waited with cold sweat on my hands. A tall teena
ger with pale skin, dark hair, and familiar green eyes opened the door and gave me a puzzled look.
“You must be Sean.” I smiled. “I’m Braden Huntington, Lexi’s old boss. Is she here?”
Sean scrutinized me for a few seconds, shrugged, and opened the door wider. “Sure, she’s here. We’re all out back on the patio having barbecue chicken and corn. Come on in, if you like.”
I followed him through the small living room and narrow, old-school kitchen and out to the concrete patio, smelling the delicious, tangy-sweet scent of barbecue sauce. The man who must be Lexi’s dad was sitting in a wheelchair, eating corn from a plate on his lap, and Lexi stood at the grill, turning some chicken over.
My throat felt dry and my pulse raced frantically as Sean announced, “You have a visitor, Lexi.” She turned, her brow creasing, and her mouth dropped at the sight of me. At the same time, her dad gave me a deadly glare.
“Hey, I hope I’m not intruding,” I hedged. “I was just in the neighborhood.” I mentally slapped myself at how lame and clearly untrue that sounded.
Lexi arched an eyebrow at me, and her dad shifted straighter in his chair, grunted, and added suspicion to his killer gaze. “Right.” Lexi turned more fully, grill tongs in hand and a curve-hugging red apron on that I tried not to look at. “Dad, this is Braden Huntington, my old boss—Braden, this is my dad, Chris. And I’m guessing you met my brother Sean already.” I nodded at Sean, who gave me a partially amused smile, and then I walked to her dad with my hand extended. He gave it one very firm shake and simply grunted again.
“So, since you’re here…” Lexi chimed in, glancing nervously from her dad to me. “You want some chicken and corn? Was there something particular you needed? I find it hard to believe you were just strolling through the neighborhood.” Her tone was casual, but she shot an intensely curious look at me before fixing a plate and handing it to me with a beer.
“Uh, thanks. And, yeah, I guess you’re right. I did want to ask you something in particular, but after we eat.” I looked at her, gauging her reaction as I sat next to Sean on a rusting outdoor metal chair facing the grill and her dad. Lexi handed her dad another beer, smacked Sean’s hand away playfully as he tried to grab one from the cooler as well, and sat with her own food in a third metal chair, facing all of us.
For a few moments we ate the mouth-watering food and sipped our drinks with a heavy awkwardness in the air—not to mention the death glares from her silently menacing dad. Finally, Sean turned towards me and broke the silence, “So, Braden, you play soccer?” And, since I had actually played in high school, we were able to launch into a conversation, Lexi and even her dad chiming in here and there.
We chatted about surfing, the heat wave, and the recipe for the amazing barbecue sauce. Before I knew it, we’d finished eating, and Lexi bid her brother and dad goodbye, agreeing to let me walk her home. Sean had been friendly in saying goodbye to me, and though her dad gave me a small smile when we shook hands again, he’d pulled me closer and whispered, “If you hurt her, you’re a dead man.”
Too shocked to respond, I’d just nodded and smiled, relieved to be out of there as I walked next to Lexi along the sidewalk a moment later. We were quiet for one block, then I ventured, “So, I guess you know I’m incredibly sorry?”
She regarded me and cracked a smile, nodding with a hint of sadness behind her eyes rather than the anger I’d been expecting. That was strange. “I know, Braden,” she said softly. “I believe you, and I understand why you tried to get me to stay. I really do. It’s just that things are a little complicated now.” We approached her apartment building, and she slowed to a stop in front and turned to look at me, her green eyes full of sadness and a nervousness that puzzled me.
“Lexi, I know what you think about us being in different social circles—though that doesn’t matter to me at all—and that you’re scared I’ll fall back into my playboy tendencies. But…” I paused to take a breath and locked eyes with her more intensely. “Will you please go out to dinner with me this Friday so we can talk everything out?” I chewed on my lower lip.
Lexi glanced down as she thought about my invitation. Finally, she answered, “Okay, Friday sounds good. We definitely need to talk.” Her words held a weight I couldn’t quite gauge, but my heart leapt with glee. She’d said yes, and I’d have my chance at last.
***
“Well, that was sensational.” Lexi dabbed the side of her mouth as we finished the second course at the best French restaurant in Malibu, not far from my house. I’d picked her up and been blown away by the flowy green dress she wore and how it matched her sparkling eyes perfectly.
She’d been sweet and conversation had flowed well, though there was an anxiousness that underlined her mood all night. I was brimming with unsettled jitters myself, my hand having reached into the inside pocket of my suit jacket to fidget with the ring box several times through the night. Lexi had truly forgiven me and hope gleamed. I might have a chance at her saying yes tonight.
Once we’d ordered crème brûlée and a cognac for dessert, though, I noticed Lexi hadn’t touched her wine through the appetizer and entrée. My stomach flipped as I considered popping the question before dessert. Before I could get a chance, she cleared her throat and said, “Look, Braden, there’s something I need to talk to you about… Something I need to tell you.”
I frowned and glanced at her hands that trembled noticeably on the table, causing me to reach out and enclose them with mine. “Lexi, what’s wrong? Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” She sighed wearily, her eyes filling with tears. She lurched and clutched her stomach, all the blood draining from her face.
In the next moment, I watched as if in slow motion as Lexi slid off her chair and fell unconscious to the ground. I immediately knelt at her side. “Lexi? Someone, call the paramedics!” I cried as several other customers and wait-staff hurried over. Several of them had their phones out and one waiter said, “They are on the way. Does she have a pulse? What happened?”
My vision blurred with panic and the man’s words sounded as if he were talking from a far-off place, but I managed to check her pulse, which was normal. “I… I don’t know, we were just talking and then…” I stuttered. Her face was paler than usual, and cold beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
Within five minutes, two paramedics rushed in and knelt beside her, also checking her pulse, then one of them wafted smelling salts under her nose. “It looks like she’s fainted. Let’s see if she responds to these,” he explained. In a moment, Lexi’s eyes blinked open slowly, looking confused and hazy.
One of the paramedics helped her sit up, and I helped support her back. “Ma’am, you passed out, but you’ll be okay. We’ll need to give you some fluids to make you feel better. Any chance you might be pregnant?
Lexi gave him a dazed look. Her eyes widened as his question sunk in. After a nervous glance at me, she looked at the paramedic, and I watched, dumbfounded, as she nodded and whispered, “Yes.”
I blinked down at her as waves of shock and disbelief crashed through my body, causing my head to spin and my vision to blur even more. My mouth dropped, and I automatically scooted my body back from her, watching as if in a trance while the paramedics talked. One came in with an IV full of fluid since she apparently was indeed dehydrated.
I observed it all as if I was in another place, like I was watching a movie. The words she’d whispered to the paramedics slowly sank in… ‘Yes, I am.’ Was she serious? Had she been pregnant all this time and not said a word to me? Then I thought about how nervous she’d looked Sunday at her dad’s, and tonight she’d been anxious and said she had to tell me something.
She was getting the IV fluids now, more alert and awake by the minute. She stared intently at me as I watched the scene mutely. I hadn’t known it was possible to feel such a contrasting storm of emotions, but I was filled with feelings of shock, betrayal, rage, and elation.
The paramedics packed up, ordering her to rest more and stay
hydrated, one of them even patting me on the back and saying, “Congratulations.” I was utterly speechless, trying to sort out the range of emotions coursing through me.
Once they were gone and the crowd around us dispersed, as we sat back at the table. I numbly gave the waiter my card for the check. Lexi looked terrified and apologetic. “You’re pregnant? Were you going to bother telling me?” My voice shook with anger as I spoke, which startled both Lexi and me.
“Let’s go out on the beach to talk,” she pleaded, nodding to the beach just outside and down some wooden steps.
“I can’t believe it. I almost want to get the hell out of here. Lexi, this is insane.” The waiter came back with my card, and I signed the receipt quickly and heaved a sigh. “Well, let’s go talk there, then. I just can’t believe this.”
Lexi
I made myself move with Braden down the steps of the restaurant to a bench at the edge of the sand, trembling as he held my waist with one hand and one of my hands with the other, a scowl on his face the entire time. Tears trickled down my cheeks from the overwhelming last thirty minutes, not to mention my heightened emotions from the pregnancy.
I felt stronger from the IV, and the salty ocean air helped me feel even better, but nothing was going according to plan this evening. After accepting the fact that I was actually carrying Braden’s and my child, verifying this fact at the OB-GYN, I’d been torn about whether or not to tell him. The idea of becoming a family and raising a baby with Braden filled me with unprecedented joy, which solidified the fact that I’d fallen in love with him. But I didn’t want him to help raise our baby or marry me out of pity or because he felt responsible. He was, of course, half responsible and had more than enough money to help support our child, but I didn’t want his sense of duty to be the reason he dated or married me.
