The Billion Dollar Wedding: The Honeymoon Collection

by Cynthia Dane

  “So I know.” One of the first things she ever learned about Ethan early on in their relationship was that he had a vasectomy years ago. He even gave her a note from the doctor to prove she didn’t need to use birth control during their relationship! My boss knew what he wanted, and that was to fuck me hard and unprotected. Her boyfriend was much the same way, not that Jasmine complained about the lack of barrier between her and Ethan. “I don’t know what I would do with myself if that happened. I mean…”

  “It’s all right. I was shocked, for sure, but I wanted this eventually. It’s just happening a few years earlier than I anticipated. I guess I should be happy I never had to deal with the nerves of trying to have children. Just having it happen takes those nerves away. Nope. Now I have new mother jitters.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

  “I better. I’ve got the best ob-gyn and midwife on the coast, let alone the region. If something goes wrong, then it truly wasn’t meant to be.”

  Even now, when everything seemingly went right for this woman, Monica was paranoid that everything would actually fall apart. This went deeper than her shitty ex-boyfriend. Other things had happened in her life to give her that cynical outlook. “It’ll be fine,” Jasmine reiterated. “I firmly believe that.”

  “I believe it for you. All of this will pass eventually. The business issues… the lull in your love life…”

  “I hope so. I’m riding it out right now.”

  Monica held up her glass. “To an easy future for the both of us.”

  Jasmine hurried to hold up her glass as well. “May we both be fat and happy and in love.”

  “I’m getting much fatter much faster than you.”

  Their glasses clinked. Jasmine couldn’t argue with that.

  Chapter 7

  The flu returned with a vengeance.

  Jasmine woke up three days later, running to the toilet to take on a new form of the flu. For an hour she lingered in the master bathroom, only moving when Ethan finally got up to get ready for work at a bright and early 6am. Jasmine greeted him on the bathroom floor, hair tangled and smelling like her stomach contents.

  Ethan called for Belinda out in her house in the backyard, and she in turn called the doctor. By the time Ethan had his tie straightened around his neck, Belinda informed them that the doctor would be there at ten.

  “I’m sorry you still feel awful.” He kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket around her as she curled up in their bed. “You don’t feel like you have a fever. Maybe it’s a 24-hour relapse and you’ll be back to normal soon.”

  “Maybe…” Jasmine clutched his hand. She wished he didn’t have to go, but he was already grabbing his briefcase and checking to make sure he had his phone.

  “I’ll call you when I get off for lunch. Bye.”

  Jasmine rolled over in her bed and fell asleep until Belinda announced that the doctor had arrived.

  She was barely aware of his existence, even though by then she was starting to feel better already. This was the same man who tended to her and Ethan during their first round of the flu, and he implied that it was possible Jasmine had the strain going around that came and went without ever actually going away. “Five of my other patients have had this so far this year,” said the doctor who made house calls all around the Hills. “Seems to have originated at a party somebody held back in January.”

  “I don’t remember going to any parties.” She probably hadn’t. “I got this from Ethan.”

  “Even so,” the doctor continued, prodding this and pinching that. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  He was all up in her business. How often was she throwing up? What time of day? Did she have any other ailments? When was her last period? When was her next one due? What about family history?

  Jasmine blocked most of this interview out, simply because she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She felt miserable. The doctor’s job was to make her feel better. When he left, he told Jasmine that he would be back in two weeks if he hadn’t heard anything, and to call him if she got worse in the coming days.

  She did not get worse, but felt woozy every morning for a week. The one time Ethan tried to initiate sex after they both felt better, Jasmine had to put a stop to it because every time he touched her stomach, her breasts, or even her thighs, she felt a wave of nausea overcome her. Soreness. Tenderness that had nothing to do with love. Ethan had to go relieve himself in the shower while Jasmine freaked out on the phone with Selena.

  “Girl,” she said, while the shower ran in the other room. “You need to take a pregnancy test.”

  “Are you kidding?” Just the thought of being pregnant… how could that even be? “Ethan had a vasectomy.”

  “Didn’t your mama teach you anything? Vasectomies can reverse themselves over time. How long ago did he have it? Shit, Jasmine, he could be shooting full loads now!”

  “Don’t do that to me!”

  “I’m serious. Have you missed a period?”

  “No. I’m supposed to start in two days.” She had originally attributed her problems to PMS or the lingering flu. Not that her PMS symptoms usually included nausea or soreness of that magnitude… but… “I’m not pregnant.”

  “Whatever you say. I’ve got some extra piss sticks if you want them.”

  “Ew!”

  “What?”

  “Piss sticks?”

  “Yeah? Calm down Lady Bliss. Although now I would love to hear one of those highfalutin women from the papers call a pregnancy test a piss stick.”

  “I would not!” Yeah she would. A little. Mostly the uppity women from Monica’s bridal shower. At least I’m not throwing her baby shower. That was falling on someone else’s shoulders.

  Jasmine hung up a few minutes later, and when Ethan emerged from the shower, clean and relieved of his surge of virility, he asked her how she was feeling. Gross. So gross.

  It was best to put such an absurd notion out of her mind. Selena always jumped to the most ridiculous conclusions, and they almost always ended in someone being pregnant. Fainted? Pregnant. Feeling nauseated? Pregnant. Period a day late? Preggers. Looked at a picture of a shirtless ripped dude? Congrats, it’s twins!

  So Jasmine forced herself to forget about it for five more days… when her period was officially three days late.

  Selena got to her. She arrived at the manor the next time Ethan was gone, holding a brown paper bag.

  “You got the stuff?” Jasmine asked. When Selena popped open the bag and revealed two boxes of pregnancy tests, Jasmine snatched it out of her hand and stuffed it beneath her arm. They then went on to eat a huge bowl of popcorn while playing the bloodiest video games Jasmine owned. Belinda had to plug her ears whenever she entered the living room to tidy something up. Jasmine was ready to go deaf to drown out all the thoughts in her head.

  “So if you’re pregnant…” Selena shouted over the sounds of machine guns and grenades exploding in the background, “Are you gonna be one of those rich moms who buys designer baby bags?”

  “I don’t have to worry about that!” Jasmine shouted back. “Someone will give one to me. Like the actual designer or something!”

  “Say what?”

  “It’s true! Sometimes I get random pieces of jewelry and dresses to wear to functions Ethan is invited to as free advertisement for them!”

  “That’s awesome!”

  “You know that Prada bag I gave you for your birthday?”

  “Yeah!”

  “I got that for free!”

  “Here I thought I was special!”

  “Hey, out of all the people I could’ve given it to, I gave it to you!”

  “That’s true! You gonna get a Prada baby bag and be pretentious when I take you to lunch at Denny’s?”

  “Hell yeah!” That was the most enthusiastic Jasmine acted about being pregnant.

  She waited to take the test until later, long after Ethan collapsed in bed, mumbling figures and other numbers under his breath. Jas
mine stole into the bathroom to take a shower and test her fate. Literally.

  “This is the weirdest shit ever.” She read the instructions over and over, and not once did she feel comfortable doing the test. This will humble any woman. Not just the reason for shoving a stick between her legs while she sat on the toilet. The actual act itself. She reminded herself that plenty of those rich women who acted as if their shit didn’t stink had done this too.

  The worst was waiting. Jasmine dried off and groomed herself in front of her bathroom mirror while she waited, all while her cat Blackbeard insisted on barging in and meowing at her. What a time for him to show up. The fat loaf had made himself scarce while Jasmine was sick. As for the year-old kittens that were left in the backyard a long time ago? They spent most of their time in the study and Jasmine’s little salon. I used to take them out with me. Rich people took their pets to the high-end restaurants all the time. Jasmine caused a stir when she brought kittens in her bag one day… part of her intent was to give them away, but she only gave away one to Kathryn Alison.

  Now she was stuck with her pride and joy, Blackbeard, who sat in the middle of the bathroom floor swishing his bushy tail and staring at the pregnancy test balancing on the sink.

  “Don’t you dare,” Jasmine said. “That’s not a toy.”

  His look said, “I dare you tell me that when I bat it around this floor and start chewing on it.” Because he would. Blackbeard was the most well-behaved asshole when Ethan was in the room, but when it was just him and his inept mother – because that’s the only way Jasmine could think about it right now – he quickly turned into a naughty toddler.

  Jasmine pulled out a stool from beneath the vanity and sat, gesturing for Blackbeard to hop in her lap. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Please. We’re in a bathroom and you just peed on a stick.” Jasmine bent over and stretched her arm as far as it could go, Blackbeard slowly inching his way back and looking as if her hand stank. Even so, he never escaped out the cat-wide hole in the ajar door.

  After fifteen minutes, Jasmine inhaled deeply and grabbed the pregnancy test off the sink. Her eyes remained closed as she held it. Come on, girl. Be brave. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

  Two lines.

  Two fucking lines.

  Jasmine snatched the packaging and reread what that meant.

  “Congratulations! You’re pregnant!”

  Congratulations? Congratulations?

  This piece of shit had a funny meaning of congratulations!

  Jasmine stumbled out of the bedroom, bile shooting up her throat. The shock was too much. Her eyes clouded over. Her feet tripped over themselves. She practically clawed at her face while Blackbeard ran beneath her feet and shot toward the bed. “Haha. You’re pregnant.” He twirled his tail before sniffing Ethan’s arm cast over his face. Blackbeard nudged it, and when Ethan didn’t respond, curled up on his chest. Eventually, Ethan’s other hand landed on Blackbeard and squeezed him. The giant cat looked most pleased with himself as he glared at Jasmine, who still hovered by the bathroom door.

  Ethan.

  I’ll have to tell Ethan.

  Not only was Jasmine pregnant, but she would have to fucking tell Ethan!

  Chapter 8

  Best to rip the Band-Aid off. Jasmine knew if she didn’t tell Ethan soon, she would put it off until she was five months pregnant like Monica and trying to tell people she ate too many cookies and praying they believed her bullshit.

  There was only one good opportunity. None of the opportunities are good. But it was the best one in the immediate future. Ethan had scheduled his first day off in forever for that Sunday, so Jasmine arranged a home cooked meal that Saturday night. She gave Belinda and Harold the night off, sending them back to their one-bedroom house on the grounds, so she could have the most privacy possible with her boyfriend – and the father of her child.

  Nothing had come simple to Jasmine since finding out she was pregnant, and this included cooking. Fine idea to cook Ethan dinner. Quite another thing to attempt something as simple as baked chicken. Knives slipped from her shaking hands. Fruits and vegetables shot to the floor when she wasn’t looking. The oven refused to preheat – and then tried to nuke the chicken to the sun. Jasmine salvaged it before it got too dry, and then overcompensated with seasoning. When she tasted the chicken, she had to spend the next ten precious minutes trying to de-season it.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Ethan would come home tired, but hopeful for a day off. He had been interviewing potential partners all week. Taking them out to grand lunches and dinners. Running them by Monica, who was as busy as ever with her own life. Even running them by the likes of Henry and other important men like Ken Andrews, Dominic Mathers, and Spencer Alison. Men who had worked with everyone in the business world. Because Ethan was not partnering up with someone who didn’t have the experience and references to back themselves up. Basically, he would not hire someone like he had been years ago when he started after graduating from Harvard. Can’t blame him, though.

  A million scenarios ran through Jasmine’s head, running the gamut from Ethan sobbing in happiness at the news to accusing her of cheating on him before throwing her out of the house. Since she knew her boyfriend well enough by now, Jasmine knew the first scenario was highly unlikely to happen, especially when he was already stressed out. So this meant her hyperactive imagination and hormonal paranoia sent her into overdrive imagining the latter scenario, where she was clawing on Selena or Nadia’s door and crying because she was pregnant and dumped.

  Was this normal? Her brain was nothing but “exit plans.” What would she do if Ethan abandoned her? What would she do if she had no money? What would she do if she had nowhere to live? Don’t do this to yourself. Ethan would never… dump you without compensation. Ethan was generous with compensation. He’d probably be generous with child support too. Maybe buy her a house nearby to raise their child.

  The sun had set outside the panoramic windows in the kitchen by the time Jasmine set the dining room table with candles and a bouquet from the garden she handpicked that afternoon. A kitten ran underfoot, batting around a grape he got from God knew where. Belinda liked the cats, but she often complained that this one in particular was always in the kitchen getting into shit. Who knew where Blackbeard was. Staying far away from the children because he was a staunch, neutered bachelor, probably.

  Jasmine lit the candles and began serving the food the moment Ethan texted he was five minutes away. “Looking forward to your dinner,” was the last thing he said. Jasmine irrationally hoped that it wouldn’t be the last nice thing he said to her.

  “Where’s Harold?” That was the first thing he asked when he came through the front door. The butler was usually there to help him with his coat and briefcase. “This house feels empty…”

  “I gave them the night off.” Jasmine brushed something off his coat before taking Harold’s place. Ethan eyed her suspiciously, turning around and letting her help him take off his large coat. “Just you and me tonight.”

  “I didn’t realize you had that sort of authority around here,” Ethan said drolly.

  Even though she knew that was his usual humor, Jasmine still froze in the middle of hanging Ethan’s jacket up. “Well… it’s my place too,” she said.

  “Indeed it is. What’s for dinner? I made sure to save room.”

  Jasmine led him to the dining room, where he brusquely made comments about the candlelight and the romantic atmosphere it cast. He sat in his usual chair and picked up a fork. Jasmine barely had time to bring out the gravy from the kitchen before Ethan was already eating.

  If he thought it was mediocre, he didn’t say. Not that he didn’t say anything at all. Quite the contrary. Ethan was a bigger chatterbox than he usually was, going on about the incompetent investors at his meeting that morning and a big fuckup that occurred when Amber lost some important papers and Nadia had to bend over backward to retrieve them – while still doing her usual job. He didn’t sa
y it in any way that implied he had to fire his assistant, but he was not pleased, and she found out the hard way.

  Jasmine nearly choked on her chicken.

  “What?”

  “It’s just… that usually means you spank ‘em.”

  Ethan scoffed. “You know it’s not like that.”

  “I know. I’m just saying.”

  “Anyway, then I had lunch with a potential partner…”

  Jasmine barely had time to talk about herself. Funny. The one time she didn’t want Ethan to dominate the dinner conversation, and he wouldn’t shut the fuck up. He was hardly animated, and it took him forever to eat his dinner because he talked so much, but apparently Ethan had built up a treasure trove of topics to hash out to his girlfriend.

  Suffice to say, finding the opportunity to tell him the big news did not come easy. She had to turn to other tactics, like silencing him when she slid her hand over his knee and brushed against his thigh, her eyes never leaving his. Ethan stopped what he was saying mid-sentence and looked at her with a cool gaze.

  “You trying to tell me something?” He cracked a smile. “Oh, is that what this dinner is about? Well, I guess we haven’t done anything special recently. I’m sorry about that.”

  Jasmine shook her head. “It’s all right. There was the wedding, and then I was sick…”

  “Are you feeling better?”

  She became tight-lipped. “Feeling? I suppose…” Was this her opportunity? Her hand searched for his to squeeze. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to tell you…”

  “Remind me to email a guy named Gerald later. I need to thank him for setting up my lunch today, even though that guy is not compatible with me at all. Maybe I could get another lead…”

  “It’s rather serious.”

  “Oh, fuck it. I’ll go do it right now.” Did he not hear her? Apparently not, because Ethan got up, piled his silverware and napkin on his empty plate, and patted Jasmine on the shoulder on his way by. He disappeared, going upstairs to his office computer and leaving Jasmine with the dirty dishes.