by Cynthia Dane
Good thing she didn’t want something actually romantic tonight! Good thing she wasn’t bored and needy. Good thing she wasn’t pregnant or something! Jasmine tossed her napkin onto the table and let out a grunt of disproval.
After doing the dishes – since she refused to leave a mess for Belinda to wake up to on Sunday morning – Jasmine went upstairs and found Ethan in his office, talking business on the phone.
Was he or was he not taking some time off? Or did it not count until Sunday?
Ethan kept himself busy for the rest of the night. When he wasn’t on the phone, he was writing emails and making copies in his office. Jasmine tried to open a dialogue more than once, but Ethan was so absorbed that the only way she would be able to get through to him was by jumping his bones. That would send the wrong message.
On the other hand, it might get him to relax enough to listen to her. Would it be better to tell him after they had sex? Sigh.
Ethan had the nerve to take a shower without inviting Jasmine. She stewed in the bedroom, going over what she would say even more, editing things here and there to the point she sounded like a robot. “Mr. Ethan Cole. I am pregnant. Please do not throw me out. Thank you.” Jasmine plucked her cat off the bedroom floor and gave him an unwelcomed squeeze to soothe her soul. The moment Ethan popped out of the bathroom, looking for sweats and a shirt to wear to bed, Jasmine dropped the cat and…
And ran into the bathroom. She had lost her nerve.
This is why I needed to tell him earlier! She knew this would happen. She knew she would make a fool of herself. Jasmine undressed and used what hot water there was left right after Ethan’s long shower.
The moment she cracked open the bathroom door after her shower, she heard him on the phone. Again.
Something welled in the corner of her eyes. Jasmine refused to cry. Hormones. It’s the baby hormones. Oh, no. She thought about the… the…
She still couldn’t think of it as a baby. Okay, she could think pregnant. Pregnant was medical. It was logical. It had steps to take to ensure success. Baby, though? Baby was a whole different galaxy. Baby was emotional and impractical. It made people do stupid shit. That’s why she resolved to tell Ethan she was pregnant, not that she was having a baby – even though they had the same exact meanings.
Am I pregnant, though? There was another pregnancy test in her personal drawer. Jasmine slowly opened it and went through the same embarrassing motions.
If nothing else, her body was producing a very specific pregnancy hormone, because this was her second positive in a few days.
“Fuck,” she sighed, tapping the stick against her palm as she tried to build up the nerve. How did one tell her boyfriend that she was pregnant? At this rate, she would have to send smoke signals. Or a text. The only way to communicate with Ethan Cole was to get into his phone, his real second mistress.
Jasmine walked out of the bathroom, resigned to waiting another day. Maybe they could have sex. It had been a while since they really went for it. She didn’t have to worry about that while being pregnant yet, right? Jasmine threw on her baggiest T-shirt and shortest shorts. This was her personal hell.
Ethan hung up. “That’s it. Phone is off.” He tossed it onto the nightstand beside him. “Do me the honor of coming over here, my flower. I haven’t taken care of you in a long time.”
Jasmine went, but she wasn’t cheery – and she should have been. I should be happy he wants to spoil me now. Even if it’s because he’s aroused and needs to have sex. I shouldn’t care. I love it when he ties me up and makes me take it. That would change with a baby on the way.
“You okay?”
Jasmine was standing beside him as he lay in bed, looking like an average guy in his cotton and polyester. But he wasn’t an average guy. He was Ethan Cole, one of the richest men in the country and liable to implode his company if he didn’t pick the right partner. Not to mention imploding himself…
Those things welling in the corners of Jasmine’s eyes? Yeah, they burst now.
“Jasmine!” Ethan jerked up, grabbing her arms as she shook him off to wipe away the tears. “What’s wrong?”
She tried to tell him, but every time the words attempted to come out, she sobbed harder, salt and tears and God knew what else cascading from every orifice.
Ethan tried to get her to calm down, but his soothing voice and the way he rubbed her arms did not help. He was a reminder of what was happening. The changes coming. Something neither of them could have prepared for, let alone expect.
“Ethan…” She gagged on his name, but only because he was looking her straight in the eye. This was not how she wanted to earn his undivided attention! “I’m pregnant!”
She would have said that time stopped, except she kept trying to hyperventilate to the point Blackbeard shot out from beneath the bed and yowled at the door to be let out of crazy town, population Jasmine.
“What?” That was all Ethan said, his grip on her falling lax. “What?”
Jasmine couldn’t bear to say it again. So she broke free from his grasp and ran back to the bathroom, where she grabbed her latest pregnancy test and raced out to shove it in his face.
“This is the second one I’ve taken!” she managed to say between sniffs. “This week!”
Ethan snatched it from her hand and stared at the results. “I don’t understand this.”
“Two lines mean I’m pregnant! God, it’s like on every TV show!” Her life was a TV show right now.
Finally, quiet settled in the bedroom. Ethan had already been silent. Jasmine stopped crying so loudly. Blackbeard halted his yowling and instead flopped in front of the door, tail bouncing in irritation.
“How?” Here it came. The accusations Jasmine dreaded. “How can you be pregnant? I had a vasectomy.”
She thought those words would be laced in anger. Disbelief. Poison. Instead, Jasmine heard something she never expected: fear. She looked down, finding her usually put together boyfriend – the rational one between the two of them – paling in fear. No. No, don’t do this to me. Don’t get scared. I need you to be the solid one here, Ethan.
“I don’t know. They can reverse themselves, I guess. The longer it’s been… the more likely it is, I guess. Have you been tested recently?”
“You mean had my sperm tested? Not since I started dating you.”
“Okay. Okay… so maybe… in that time…”
They were quiet again. Jasmine was already flinching in preparation of him accusing her of cheating.
It never came.
“Jasmine.” Ethan steadied her with his hands. His strong, hands. Color returned to his face. Good. Here came the man Jasmine depended on being the problem solver. The man who almost single-handedly built a billion-dollar business from nothing. If he couldn’t make sense of this, then nobody could. “Have you been to the doctor?”
“No, but…”
“Then it might be a false positive.”
“Two times? Ethan, I’ve got that hormone in me. I’m pregnant!”
“Is that all? What about your period?”
It wasn’t accusations she was getting. It was the nth degree about her body. From the one man who knew it inside and out – daresay better than her gyno.
“I missed it.”
“How many?”
“Just the one… but I’ve also been super sick in the mornings. And I’m sore and tender all over. This isn’t like PMS. This is something totally new to me. My body is changing. I can’t stop it. I can’t control it. Everything is pointing to me being pregnant… and you’re the father, Ethan.”
“Of course I’m the father! Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?”
Jasmine gasped, unprepared for this side of Ethan after all this time. His anger quickly subsided, however. “I’m sorry…”
“What are you apologizing for?” His voice softened. He also lessened the pressure on her arms… but there would probably be bruises. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. It’s all me. I’m the one
responsible for this.” Ethan interrupted her. “No, Jasmine, look. I’m going to get you and me to the doctor ASAP. This next week if they can fit us in. You’re going to get an expert’s opinion, and I’m going to…”
Jasmine couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re going to jack off into a cup.”
“Whatever I have to do.”
Jasmine’s laughter intensified. “You’re going to jack off into a cup while some stranger man gets all up in my business.”
“What’s funny about that?”
“I have no idea, but it’s better than the alternative!”
“I suppose…” Ethan turned from her, hands bunching into fists. “If you’re pregnant… no, we can’t think like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean let’s not set our minds on anything until we get official word from the doctor.”
She didn’t like his tone. “Are you angry?” she asked. “I didn’t do this on purpose.”
“Why would I think you did anything on purpose?” Ethan linked his arms around her waist, bringing her against his chest, chin digging into her abdomen where their child supposedly grew. “If I appear angry about anything, it has nothing to do with you.”
“It has to do with the…” She almost said it. The B word. Don’t go there yet. Don’t form that emotional attachment yet, dumbass. Pregnancy. The pregnancy. A woman had to remain as practical – if not uncomfortable – as possible until she had all the facts. “You’re mad about it. You can say you’re not, but I can sense it.”
“Some super pregnancy sense, huh?” His voice and the movements of his mouth vibrated through Jasmine’s midsection. If there is a kid in there, can it feel that too? “I’m not angry.”
“You promise?”
“If I’m angry, it’s because I’m stressed, and this would add to it. I won’t lie about that.”
“Of course.” Jasmine knew that. The last thing Ethan needed right now was the stress of a new baby and becoming a father. Not that there would ever be a good time for such a thing with a man of his station, but now was probably one of the worst. Jasmine imagined long, grueling months ahead of her, first being pregnant, and then being frazzled from a baby that wouldn’t sleep. She would have to do everything because Ethan worked himself to the bone. Maybe hire a nanny. Is Monica getting a nanny? Probably. Probably not. That could go either way. “You’re right, though. Let’s not freak out until the doctor tells us to.”
“That’s not quite what I said.”
Jasmine threaded her fingers through his hair. There was something comforting about it. We both have black hair. Our baby would stand no chance for variety. She thought the B word.
“That’s what I interpreted.”
“I know.”
Jasmine embraced him, feeling his body, his heartbeat next to hers. “You’ll take care of me, right? No matter what happens, I need to know you’re with me, Ethan.” She sucked back more tears. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He rubbed her back, those strong hands protecting her and whatever else may lay between them. “I’m with you.”
Her fingers dug into his shoulder blades. She had to believe him. That belief was the only thing that would get her through the next few days until she could go to the doctor and have her fate sealed.
Chapter 9
Not even Ethan’s reputation and money could get them a Monday appointment. That worked out for Ethan, who had important work to do that day anyway, but for Jasmine, it meant more days of sheer torture.
Instead, the earliest he could get them to the doctor was Wednesday afternoon. Until then, Jasmine was stuck in a limbo of “Am I pregnant or not?”
Her body showed all the signs. Morning sickness. No period. Tenderness and soreness all over. Monday morning she craved pesto for breakfast. Pesto. That was not normal.
But Ethan was supposedly incapable of having children, and since she was pretty sure she wasn’t fooling around with other men in her sleep, it meant something had gone wrong: like Ethan’s vasectomy deciding that they could both go fuck themselves.
On Monday, Jasmine had a hair appointment downtown. Normally she would drive herself in the car Ethan bought her for her birthday, but her nerves were so delicate that she called in her personal driver and asked him to drive her downtown in the house Town Car.
“Jasmine!” cried Raul, the man she had entrusted with her hair for over a year now. He and his husband Tim ran the most exclusive salon in the city. With only the two of them cutting, dyeing, and styling hair, Jasmine needed her boyfriend’s name – and money – to not only score an appointment, but afford it as well. They were well worth the money, however. Since Raul took over as her stylist, people constantly commented Jasmine on her wavy black hair that bounced with every step and was as soft as the most sought after silk. “So good to see you! You don’t come by often enough.”
Once a month isn’t often enough? Jasmine knew of rich women who went every two weeks, if not every week, but they had more upkeep they didn’t want to deal with on their own. The most Jasmine got were professional washes, trims, and the occasional curl if something special was coming up, like Monica’s wedding. This was her first time returning since then.
“It’s good to see you too.” Jasmine stepped up into Raul’s chair. His work station was cordoned off by a rice paper partition hand decorated with cherry trees and Japanese kanji characters. Jasmine didn’t read Japanese – or Chinese, for that matter – so she imagined it saying something like, “And then Tom said unto Gladys: “Look at those freakin’ trees. They are pink.”
This partition meant she couldn’t see Tim’s workstation on the other side of the room. She could hear him, however, as he leaped up from his desk and greeted a woman who walked in right after Jasmine.
“Kathryn!” Both men spoke fluent hairdresser, intonation and all. “Was starting to wonder if you were caught up in that awful traffic on the other side of town.”
“Isn’t it awful?” she replied, heavy heels clacking against the floor. “I took a cab like I usually do, but we were hung up just between Flanders and 3rd for a good twenty minutes.”
“Well, you’re here now.” Tim continued to talk while Raul fished out his cape and swung it around Jasmine’s body. She glanced in the mirror and saw a head of blond just outside the partition. Tim walked back and forth, picking up his supplies and staring at Kathryn in the mirror, his hand sometimes fluffing the strands on top of her head. “What is going on here?”
“I know! It’s a fucking mess. I swear I am losing hair.”
“Oh, honey…” Tim plucked a comb off the shelf and parted the hair on Kathryn’s scalp this way and that. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. Maybe some stress. Genetics? Let’s hope not. You don’t seem to have folliculitis. If you did, I’d be screaming.”
Raul silently parted Jasmine’s hair as well, but he wasn’t looking for infected follicles. Instead, he picked her hair with a comb, making sure it was nice and ready for any work he did shortly afterward. Jasmine ignored the prickling pain on her scalp and eavesdropped – it was better than obsessing over what was going on in her stomach.
“It’s probably my boyfriend,” Kathryn said, following it up with a snort. “He’s making all my hair fall out. Probably making it turn gray too. Bastard.”
“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?”
“Hardly. Just… this morning he sent me a text out of the blue saying I was being disagreeable and a pain in his ass. Out of the blue!”
“Whaaaat?”
“Turns out he meant that for someone else. Or so he swore in another text following it up five seconds later. Until then I was ready to go to his condo and throttle him. I would show him disagreeable.”
“That kind of stuff ends relationships. The text, I mean.”
“You’re telling me.” Kathryn sighed. “No, if anything is stressing me out enough to make my hair fall out, it’s definitely the charity I’m trying to start up.”
“What
charity is this? You’re always doing something or other.”
“No, I help out other charities. This time I’m actually trying to start one. Do you know what a legal fuckall it is?”
“I can bet. What are we raising money for?”
Raul stopped combing and told Jasmine it would be a second before the wash station was ready.
“I’m trying to launch a new pet shelter. Not just any kind, either. The idea is that it’s not only no-kill, but it’s out in the country, with lots of acres for running around. Give the cats and dog and whatever else a happy life even if they’re not adopted.”
“That’s pretty sweet.”
Another sigh. “Yes, but, I’m gonna have to look into finding some volunteers to help me. Need to start making some calls to people who owe me big time after I helped them, if you get what I mean.”
“Uh huh.”
Jasmine was led to the wash station after that and couldn’t hear anything more over the sound of rushing water all around her ears. By the time Raul was finished massaging her head and making sure every black strand was properly washed, Kathryn was also at a wash station, and nothing more about her charity came up while Jasmine was there.
Maybe I should do some volunteer work. That’s what Jasmine thought as she walked out of the salon and got back in the Town Car. She checked her phone for messages from Ethan – nothing. He was still in meetings. Jasmine thought about swinging by his office to see if he could do lunch, but decided against it. She didn’t want to be reminded of their current issue until it was sorted out.
She instead asked her driver to take her to a restaurant she liked near downtown. He dropped her off just in time for her to beat the lunch rush, and this place often had a lunch rush, because they didn’t do reservations.
Jasmine liked coming to these sorts of establishments for the atmosphere – the “real people” atmosphere, where she didn’t have to watch her manners as much and where people didn’t shoot her dirty looks because they heard she was Ethan Cole’s whore. People at this restaurant had no idea who she was and didn’t care – unless she came in wearing super designer clothing and carrying her favorite bag. Today she carried Michael Kors, and nobody really cared. They could buy that at Macy’s. Yet I got the periwinkle bag I’ve always wanted! She only had to pay three-hundred!
