by Hazel Parker
Inside of the cool conference room overlooking a view of downtown Atlanta, Nora thinks of her interview. Nearly two months ago in an identical office in Savannah, she negotiated a seventy-day trial period with Price Holdings. Now, she’s seven days shy of the day when she’ll have full benefits and be a full-time employee. She suppresses a smile at her negotiating skills.
Her smartphone lights up with a text message from Arabella. She clears it from her screen with her red-manicured index finger. She taps her right leg nervously. She needs to talk to Arabella. Nora called her last night, but Arabella was in the middle of a coaching session. Sebastian glances quickly at her and away. She stops tapping. He moves to stand in front of the windows and says:
“And that’s why I’m proud to announce the acquisition of Barcelona Brand Supermarket.” He clicks a button on the remote in his hand, and the projection wall at the end of the room comes to life. A short video plays presenting the company’s many chains, happy employees, and smiling returning customers.
“Who authorized this?” a balding board member asks.
“I did.” The CEO walks to the frozen video of a flowchart of the supermarket’s profits. “This is a win-win situation.” He smiles confidently at his board.
“Nora, what do you think of this?” a gray-haired board member asks.
“I…” she pauses.
She wants to be a team player. She can hear her former employer’s accusations ringing in her ear.
She decides to break her pattern. She decides not to do what her boss expects her. She thinks that he wants her to back him up. But he knows she doesn’t support this business venture. They’ve argued about this over and over. She thought he was over this.
She inhales deeply and launches into her speech about grocery stories not being economically sustainable because they sell intrinsically perishable goods, which is a recipe for low profits and high loss. She ends by saying:
“With all of the competition in the industry, I don’t think it’s a sound business move to buy a grocery store chain.”
The icy blue color of Sebastian’s eyes tells Nora that he is furious. She can’t worry about his anger. She has a more pressing matter. She shoots a text off to Arabella: Can I call you tonight? Arabella responds quickly: Yes!
Preoccupied, Nora doesn’t notice that Sebastian has asked her a question.
“Are we distracting you, Miss Thomas?” The cool tone would normally unsettle her, but she won’t coddle him.
“No, Mr. Price. I believe the board has concerns about your acquisition.”
A flurry of nods and yeses ensue. One after another, each board member tells Sebastian why he has made a mistake. They warn him that the shareholders will most definitely make a move to thwart his business venture.
“Let them try!” He stalks around the table. “This is my company. I can afford to buy their shares.”
An uneasy silence settles in the room.
Nora needs to go. She’s starving. Her appetite has increased tenfold in the last month. Her stomach growls. She hopes they think it’s the man beside her.
“Miss Thomas, what do you think...about all this?” the CEO spreads his arm at the board members.
“I think...there are some people who know the price over everything...and the value of nothing.”
Sebastian tilts his head to the right and meets her gaze head on.
“That will be all.” He sits up straight and stares down Nora.
She leans forward. She’s ready for a knock-down drag-out argument.
She is through with being a team player.
She is through with being a yes-woman.
She is through with doing whatever the boss wants her to do.
Through with saying whatever the boss wants her to say.
She doesn’t care that the boss is her lover—secret lover.
She doesn’t care that he promises to marry her, to love her forever.
This is work.
This is business.
She has ethics. Morals. She cannot dilute her opinion just because her boss has a different point of view.
The board members leave hastily for a group of overweight and gray-haired men and women. Nora admires their retreat. She wants to leave, but for a different reason. She’s not running from Sebastian. She’s running to the Jamaican lunch truck to get a large portion of oxtail with rice and peas and fried plantains.
Her stomach growls.
“Sebastian—” She gathers her smartphone, yellow legal pad, and tablet.
“What was that?” He leans forward.
“That was the truth.”
“Not about the grocery stores. That last bit you said to me.”
“That was also the truth.”
“It felt personal.”
“I would caution you not to be all in your feelings at work.”
Her hunger is making her less cautious about the words she chooses. She wants to get out of there. She’s ravenous. She doesn’t care that his feelings are hurt because she spoke truth to power.
She feels invigorated.
“Watch your tone, Miss Thomas. We’re at work.”
“Exactly. Check yourself, Mr. Price. This isn’t about you. This is about your rash decision to buy a company that I vigorously disagreed with you about buying. Why consult me—”
“Consult with you!” He balls his hands into fists. “Not asking your permission. This is my company! I don’t need your blessings to buy any company. I can do what I want. It’s my name on this company!” He’s practically yelling.
Svetlana approaches the door. He holds his hand up. She frowns at him. Waits outside of the door.
“Keep saying that, Mr. Price. Maybe if you scream it from your soapbox then the shareholders will hear you as they buy out your shares.” She stands, stomps to the door, grabs the handle, and shoots back over her shoulder. “I don’t argue with children.” She marches out of the conference room; her shiny black patent leather high heels click-clack down the marble hallway and out to the mirrored elevators.
The interns and other employees sitting at the glass tables in the open office floor plan stare wide-eyed after Nora. She jabs the elevator button. When it arrives, she gets on, turns around, crosses her arms, and glares at the CEO. He returns her glare as the elevator doors close.
*****
That night Nora goes straight to her condo. She doesn’t have dinner with Sebastian. There will be no sleepover tonight. He doesn’t call her. She doesn’t call him. She reads to distract herself, tries to stop checking the screen every five minutes for a text message. She tells herself that she doesn’t care if he calls or texts.
But she jumps up when her phone rings. She turns it over; it’s Arabella.
“Arabella!” She drops her novel and crosses her living room in a few steps.
“Hey! How’s everything, hun?”
“I need your help.” She walks into her bathroom and picks up the at-home pregnancy kit.
“What’s up?”
“I—I don’t know how to say this.”
“Just say it.”
“I’m holding a pregnancy test.”
“What? You’ve been going raw with the CEO?”
“No!”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I’ve been eating enough for two, and the smell of mint is making me homicidal, and I’m hornier than a virgin on prom night.”
“You’ve been living in Atlanta so long you sound like a local. I love it.”
They giggle.
“Don’t make me laugh. I’m scared.”
“Well, you know what to do.”
“Will you stay on the phone with me?”
“Yes, but mute it. I can’t stand the sound of peeing.”
Nora snorts. “Yes, mom.”
“Hey, no backtalk.” They laugh together.
“I needed to laugh. Thanks. Okay, hold on.”
Nora puts the phone down and follows the directions on the pink pregnancy
test box.
“I’m back.” She places the white pregnancy stick beside the sink and stares at the little window waiting for one line—not two—to appear. “Now we wait.”
“How long?”
Nora picks up the box. “Five minutes.” She puts it back by the sink. “What if…” She can’t finish the question.
“Do you want kids?”
“Kid. Singular. Yes.”
“It could always be twins.”
“Shut your mouth.” She looks fearfully at the pregnancy stick as if Arabella’s words could put a spell on it.
“Do you want a kid?”
“I’ve always wanted to have children. Just…when I was older. You know? And married. No offense.”
“None taken. Everybody is different.”
“You don’t regret it?”
“No way! Never! I love my baby boy. Although, he’s not such a baby anymore. You should come visit us, Auntie Nora.”
They giggle.
“We could have play dates,” Nora says wistfully.
“Look at you.”
“A line is appearing!” Nora’s voice rises. She stares at the oval-shaped window as one long dark pink line appears.
“Just one line?”
“Yes.” Nora holds her breath. Slowly, a second dark pink line appears parallel to the first one. “No.” She can barely get the words out: “Two.”
“Oh, hun. How are you feeling?”
“I’m scared. Torn. Would it be wrong if I…”
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know. I’m scared.”
“Are you going to tell the CEO?” She doesn’t name him. Nora asked her not to mention his name in case someone overheard and rumors started. Their circles are small. Arabella has learned that men gossip just as much as women.
“Maybe. He’s mad at me.” She recounts their argument over a business matter without going into the details. She knows better than to violate her nondisclosure agreement.
“Good for you for your standing up for yourself!” Arabella says.
“I just wish he felt the same way.”
“Why? You don’t need his validation. Your anger was well placed and justified as far as I can tell from what you’ve said. You’re an expert in corporate law. He wanted your expert opinion, and you gave it to him.”
The two laugh.
“I sure did.”
They laugh some more.
“Oh, Arabella, what am I gonna do?”
“Just follow your heart.”
“My heart tells me to call him. But he was so angry.”
“That was earlier. And that was business. This is personal. I’m sure he would want to know.”
“You think?”
“Trust me.”
“Okay. I’ll call you if things go south.”
“Later, love!” Arabella says.
Nora hangs up without saying goodbye.
Standing barefoot on the cool white tiles in her bathroom, staring at the pregnancy test, Nora dials Sebastian’s number.
It rings once.
Twice.
“Hey.” He sounds surprised.
Relieved?
“Hey.” She pauses. “Can we...talk?”
“Uh, yeah.” He sounds hopeful.
“Meet me at my place.”
“When?”
“As soon as you can.” She doesn’t want to sound desperate. But she wants him to know immediately. She would hate to keep the information from him.
If she were a man, she would want to know that her lover was pregnant with her child.
She touches her breasts. Thankfully they haven’t swollen or become tender as the blogs she read online said would happen around six to eight weeks. She has a few more weeks to enjoy her b-cups before they blossom. She stares at her breasts in the white tank top and cotton white bra. She turns to the side and looks at her stomach. Still flat. No sign of a baby growing inside.
Nora pets her tummy.
“Are you in there?” She sighs.
The doorbell rings.
“That was fast,” Nora says to her reflection. She runs a brush through her long auburn waves, carries the pregnancy test to the front door, and holds it up like a pointer for a presentation or like evidence in a trial. She stuffs into the pocket of her black yoga pants. Then opens the door.
“Hey.” She’s overwhelmed by Sebastian’s boyish good looks.
He wears black jogging pants and a white t-shirt that hugs his muscles. Her stomach clenches at the sight of his arms that held her so many nights. She wants to pull him against her, kiss him, hold him. But she restrains herself.
“We match.” He half smiles.
“Come in.” She steps back.
She decides to be direct. She doesn’t want to waste time talking about the weather.
“It smells like apple pie in here.” He looks around as if searching for the dessert.
That is Arabella’s fault. When she learned that Nora was dating the billionaire, she sent her a package of apple-pie scented room plug-ins. She said that if a man smells baking or cooking in your home, then he’ll want to nest with you. Nora laughed at her friend’s old-fashioned tactics. But she plugged in the air fresheners because she liked the way they smelled and because she ran out of her usual floral scent.
“Have a seat.” She gestures to the large dark gray leather couch. She sits on the opposite end.
“So.” He angles his body towards her. “If this is about earlier, you don’t owe me an apology.”
She frowns. The nerve of him. Assuming that she wanted to talk business outside of work and that she would apologize to him. Who does he think he is?
“This isn’t about earlier.” She says curtly. She interlaces her fingers and presses her thumbs in the space between her thumb and her index finger to keep calm.
“Oh, good. Because I respect your opinion. I value your legal expertise. What I did was…” He clears his wrong. “Was wrong.” He peers into her eyes. “I’m not one to apologize. But when I’m wrong, I’m wrong.”
“Apology accepted. Listen, Sebastian.”
His eyes widen.
“What’s wrong Nora?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Well, wrong isn’t the right word.” She searches for the right way to tell him. Words escape her. Once again, she finds herself speechless and staring in Sebastian’s ridiculously attractive face.
“What is it?” He appears tense. The muscles in his neck tighten.
“I don’t know how to say this.” She wrings her hands.
“What?” He swallows. “Are you… Are you?”
“What?” She wonders if he’ll guess that she’s pregnant.
“Are you...breaking up with me?” His voice is a whisper.
“No! Gosh no. No!” She moves towards him. Then stops herself. She stays on the opposite end of the couch.
“Then what?” He leans towards her, his eyes wide with apprehension.
“Oh, here!” She yanks the pregnancy test out of her pocket and shoves it at him.
He takes the white stick from her and stares at it. Confused. He turns it over. Then he examines the two pink lines. He looks up at her. His eyes widen. A smile spreads across his face like the sun at dawn.
“You’re pregnant!” He leaps towards her, throws his arms around her, and pulls her into a bear hug. “We’re pregnant!” He can’t stop grinning. He runs his hands through her hair. He holds her face gently in his hands. “Babe, we’re pregnant.”
“Sebastian, you want children?”
“With you, yes!” He strokes her cheeks with his thumbs.
Her eyes water. She’s surprised that she’s tearing up. She didn’t expect such a joyous response.
“But you don’t have any children...and you’re thirty… So, I assumed.”
“Never assume.” He winks at her. They laugh.
Gently, he kisses her.
“So, you want to keep it?” She blinks back her surprise as happy tears str
eam down her face.
“Of course!” He kisses her tears away. “Nora, you’re the most resourceful woman I know.”
“What does that even mean?” She rests her hands on his.
“It means that I know that I can trust you, I can rely on you, like, like…if I’m ever locked up abroad; I know you will find a way to get me out.”
“So you like me because I can get you out of jail?” She grins at him.
“That’s why I love you.”
“Come again?” She wants to hear him say the l-word again.
“I love you, Nora Thomas.”
Then he gets down on one knee in the narrow space between the leather gray couch and the wide gray ottoman that serves as a coffee table and a foot rest. He pulls a little black velvet box out of his pocket and opens it. Inside is a gorgeous giant flawless diamond, emerald cut with a sparkling split shank. Carefully, he takes it out and reaches for her left hand. Tenderly, he takes her hand and slips the perfectly fitted ring onto her finger.
“Nora Thomas, as I said in Barcelona, I know we’ve only known each other a short time, but it doesn’t take a long time to recognize the genuine. You’re brilliant. Honest. Loyal. Beautiful.” He kisses the back of her left hand and then her right. “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for all my life.” He squeezes her hands. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” She throws her arms around his neck. “I love you, Sebastian Price. I love your light-hearted, mercurial, stubborn, genius self. There’s nothing I want more than you be your partner in love, and in business, and in life.”
“Partners for life.” He kisses her.
“Always.” She blushes underneath his butterfly of kisses on her cheeks and nose and forehead.
“Forever.”
THE END
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Abby Walker nervously wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Once again, she tried to remind herself that she had no reason to be nervous. She had a plan, she could put it into action, she could carry it out.
She was settled now in the front row at one of the largest fashion houses in New York, waiting for their latest fashion show to start up. She looked stunning in her low cut, short black dress and six-inch Jimmy Choos. Abby loved fashion. She’d grown up with it, and the models that went through it, her entire life.
