She got up from her chair, entered the house, and within moments, returned with another glass and another bottle of wine. “I’m really, really sorry about the glass. What kind was it? I’ll search for a replacement.”
“Heinz 57. I bought it at the antique store years ago. They had a ‘non-set’ of twenty-four stems. I loved the look on the tray.”
When she sat down in the chair, I noticed her shoulders relaxing. “Tell me your ideas for the space. I promise not to interrupt.”
Chapter 15
The next morning, Shawna met me at the store and accompanied me to the surgeon’s appointment, a maxilo-facial surgeon, someone that specializes in fixing up tore-up faces. God knows mine was.
My stomach was doing flips, and I’d been nauseous since waking up, just like morning sickness.
Fuck me. I counted the days in my brain. Not possible. We’d used protection. Besides, I’d been told it would be almost impossible to conceive again, especially with only one, very scarred ovary left.
Shawna elbowed me as I stared at the magazine in my lap.
“Ms. Peterson,” the nurse called my name.
“They’ve called you three times. Are you okay?”
“What? Yeah, I’m okay. Just nervous.” I grabbed her hand. “Come with me.”
Without speaking, we followed the nurse to the exam room. At least this kind of appointment didn’t require any removal of clothing. The nurse took my vitals and then sat at a computer and started asking questions.
“Are you still taking the pain medication?”
“Yes, when I have the headaches, but they are becoming less and less.”
“When was your last menstrual cycle?”
There it was. The elephant in the room. I thought about the last one, the only one I remembered had been four or five weeks prior. So, I was a week late.
“Late November or early December.” I kept my voice calm.
I felt eyes on me and looked down and over to my left in time to see Shawna’s fingers moving. When I raised my eyes to hers, she had the look of a big question mark.
“Are you pregnant?” she blurted out.
“I, um, don’t think so.” I looked at her, then back to the nurse and back to the floor.
The nurse touched my arm. “We need to be sure, Ms. Peterson. Is it okay with you if I order a test?”
I nodded. Then I went to the lab with Ms. Nosey on my heels. After they drew the blood, the nurse put us back in the same room to wait on the doctor.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I’m not pregnant, Shawna. When that ovary ruptured and I miscarried, my doctor said he really should’ve removed both ovaries, because the other one was too scarred. It’s not in the cards for me. It just gave Carson another reason to find me a failure.”
“You don’t know that. Have a little faith. This could be a beautiful surprise.” She stood and hugged me. “You beat yourself up worse than any human I know. Unlike Carson’s stupid, fucking accusations, you aren’t a murderer. You didn’t know you were pregnant.”
A knock came on the door.
When the doctor entered, he wasn’t smiling. I couldn’t read him no matter how hard I tried.
He removed my eye patch and did several tests with lights before allowing me to sit up.
“I’ve got good news and not so the best news. Which one do you want first?”
“Really, that’s the way you start the conversation off?” I nervously brushed my fingers through my hair.
“First, you’re not pregnant. I don’t know if that’s good news or not to you, since I’m not your doctor for that kind of thing. I apologize for my bedside manner. I tried to be funny. It didn’t come out like I wanted it to.”
I was ready to get to the point of my vision. “Is there more bad news?” I wanted to hold back my tears, but they dribbled down my cheeks anyway.
“I’m afraid there is. Externally, your bruising has healed fabulously, but internally, there’s still a great deal of pressure that needs to be minimized. The longer we wait, the more risky it becomes in restoring your sight.”
“There isn’t anything you can do? I’m going to be blind?”
He took a seat on the stool in front of me. “I’d like to schedule you for surgery in two weeks. In the meantime, I’m going to give you steroids to try and relieve the inflammation. If we see progress in that time, we’ll cancel the surgery. If not, you’ll be ready to go. Also, we’ll need to repeat the pregnancy test if you haven’t started your period by then. I won’t do surgery without it.”
“I thought it was negative.”
“There’s always room for error, and I don’t like to make mistakes, Ms. Peterson. Not with my patients, nor with their babies.” He smiled.
I didn’t.
Silence was thick in the car as we headed back to the boutique. Before she pulled the car into the back parking lot, Shawna made a U-turn and headed in the opposite direction.
“What are you doing?”
She laughed a little, and then her giggles increased more to uncontrollable laughter. “I remembered it was happy hour and slushes are half-priced. We always do half-priced happy hour.”
Shaking my finger at her, I said, “You’re nuts. I need something more than fruit and sugar. Find a real happy hour.” Then, I started laughing with her.
She pulled the car into the first slot at Sonic. “You need to eat with those pills anyway, so what will it be?”
“Mozzarella sticks and honey mustard dip, instead of marinara sauce.”
She just stared at me. “That’s some weird shit. You must be preggers.”
I dug in my purse for my wallet. “Oh, please don’t go there. I can’t take the stress right now, so let’s pray I start my period.”
“You have to tell him.”
She placed our order, and I waited patiently for her to give up on the idea. I refused to consider it a possibility, and worse, I didn’t want to have that conversation with Ian. Just imagining us sitting down to explain it to our boys left me wilted.
They say things come in threes. Well, if that were the case, then pregnancy made the third stressful issue I’d undergo, and one I sure as hell wasn’t ready for.
“What have you decided about the building?”
“I haven’t seen the plans yet or discussed costs with a contractor, but I’m leaning toward doing it. I was hoping to have a more definitive answer on my sight today, but you know the rest of the story.”
“Oh, before I forget, Jorge is cooking tomorrow night and has invited the neighbors over. Can you make some of those apricot zinger things?”
“Sure. What’s he making?”
“Cornish hens. He has a new recipe. I swear I need him to open a restaurant and get it over with.”
“Sounds amazing.”
She helped me unpack boxes and sort through inventory, pulling out a couple of new blouses that never managed to make it to the display. She was a walking billboard for me, so I never turned her in for using the “five finger discount.” I welcomed her telling people about my store. Her flight attendant friends kept me in business.
Jim stopped by with the new drawings. I was totally amazed at the renderings. One plan was to put sliding barn doors across two openings from the boutique into the other side. He commented that they could be open in the day for customers to go back and forth into the bistro. But, it could be closed at night for a wine bar.
One of the other renderings had the two spaces completely separate, and the other side was a bar and grill type space but with an old fashioned saloon type facade.
“During our planning investigation, we discovered this place was actually a brothel at one time.”
“Don’t kid about that.” I elbowed him.
“I’m dead serious.”
I stopped studying the drawings and stared at him. He was definitely serious.
My building used to be a whorehouse.
Shawna started giggling; then I joined her. But, it made sense
with the apartment upstairs and all the tiny rooms off the main open room.
Oh, my God.
Later that evening, I studied the plans and made the decision to buy the building and go with the barn door designs. Because they could be locked, I could always lease that side to someone wanting to open a bar or restaurant later if I changed my mind, but for the time being, it seemed perfect for what my mom would’ve wanted in a bistro. The other side really didn’t need much in the way of structural change, so costs would be minimal.
Chapter 16
I rang the doorbell, and Jorge greeted me. “Did you bring me my shit?”
“Yes, hello to you too.”
He peered around me. “Where’s Ty?”
“At a birthday party.”
Jorge gave a catcall whistle over his shoulder. “Oooh, Momma gets to get rowdy tonight.” What was he trying to do, make an announcement? Remind me of my recent drinking binge? No thanks, repeats weren’t necessary.
I walked past him and punched his arm in the process. “It’s an early night for me. Isabella’s off tomorrow.”
When I turned into the kitchen with my tray of goodies, I spotted Ian searching the fridge, his back to me. Quickly, I set down the tray and turned to mingle in the crowd.
“Can I get you some wine, Chelsie?”
I froze. Dammit. I wasn’t fast enough. “Um, sure. What’s open?” I turned around to face him.
“Wow, you’re healing nicely. Oh, there’s a chardonnay, pinot noir, and a—”
“Chardonnay is fine.”
He poured a glass and handed it to me. I tried to avoid eye contact with him. Because he was very observant, it would take all of two seconds for him to see my eye wasn’t right, and I was keeping something from him.
“Hey, pour me one too,” Savannah, one of the neighbors from the street, yelled over the bar.
I used it as my time for escape and quickly darted out of the kitchen. When I got outside by the fire pit, I huddled up close to the fire, but I couldn’t get warm.
“I brought a couple of blankets if you want one?” Ian’s voice was soft and endearing behind me.
“Thank you that would be nice. It’s really chilly out tonight. Where’s Oliver?”
He wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and took a seat by the fire. “He went to Phillip’s after practice. I’ve got to pick him up in a little bit. And Ty?”
“Birthday party sleepover. He’s got a sitter tomorrow. I’m working at the boutique, since Isabella’s out of town for the weekend.” I sat across from him. The flame’s reflection on his face was sinfully smoldering. I had a flash of what his eyes might’ve looked like the night he poured oil on my back.
My body instantly defied me and pebbled with goose bumps. I inched toward the flame, yet I couldn’t get close enough to the fire to make them go away.
“When were you going to tell me about your vision?” There was softness in his eyes. He was concerned, yet there it was, his all too questioning persona.
“Not much to tell really. It’s still one day at a time.”
“Not being able to see—that’s a lot to tell.”
I stood abruptly. I felt the same argument I had with Shawna surface. “Shawna had no business telling you. I’ll rip her a new one for this. Look, Ian, you need not worry about me. I’ll be fine, and the steroids are going to work, so they won’t have to do surgery.”
I took a few steps toward the door behind him when he grabbed my arm. I glared at him.
“Surgery? I didn’t know about a surgery, and Shawna hasn’t spoken to me about it. I guessed you couldn’t see from the way your eye reacts to light. Please, if we’re friends, know that you can talk to me about it.”
He was right. He was a physician and knew about the latest and greatest in technology that hospitals purchased. He might not be a facial surgeon, but he still worked in the environment. Besides, if we were going to be friends, what harm would it do to talk to him about it?
I sat back down in the chair. “I really don’t want anyone’s pity. I’d hoped my vision would’ve returned, but it hasn’t. Ty knows nothing, and I don’t want him upset. I’m on steroids to reduce the inflammation, and if it’s not better, I will have surgery two weeks from today, which scares the shit outta me.”
He reached across the distance and gripped my hand. “Don’t be scared. We’re all here to help you and support you. Ty can stay with me and Denise, so that’s not going to be a problem. Shawna and I can help you after the surgery if it comes to that. I can also arrange for a good nurse at home, if necessary.”
“On another note, I have something interesting to tell you. My building is for sale by the owner, and I’m going to buy it. I’ll have both sides and the apartment above the stores.”
Ian just stared at me, then chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “Are you moving? Running away?” I read the question he wasn’t really asking.
I shook my head. “Not a place for a child. Isabella wants to lease the apartment. I have renderings for the downstairs. It’s going to be a bistro like my mom always wanted. Want to see them?”
“Love to.” He smiled. It was a flash of something brilliantly personal that first attracted me to him. When he grinned, his full rosy lips were framed by glorious dimples that I wanted to kiss.
I stood and started toward the gate. I heard him right behind me. “I’ll go with you.”
Silently, we walked beside each other, spaced about a foot apart. Approaching my front door, I heard a sigh from him as I opened it and entered first. With my wine glass empty, a new bottle in the fridge was calling my name and would pacify the silence. Being alone with him prompted me to think and feel things I didn’t want to, and I tried desperately not to. The internal struggle between my head and my heart were ripping my insides to shreds.
I craved his touch, the feel of him kissing my skin, hearing the urgency in his breathy growls. At the same time, to care for him scared me. I’d loved once with all my heart, and the pain of betrayal was one I couldn’t live through again. I feared I’d never make it to the other side if it happened again.
My hands shook as I tried to open the wine.
He took the bottle and the opener from me. “Allow me.”
I looked at his face through my lashes. “Okay, I’ll get the renderings.”
We sat at the table, drinking wine and discussing the plans like a couple building a house. It was comfortable, and I appreciated his help. He agreed with me that the barn door design was the best and pointed out I could have a pair hung on each side, adding security as well as a decorative element for very little costs.
He studied the drawings with an expression of excitement. “I’d love to see this in person. Maybe I could stop by sometime and look at it.”
“Sure. Right now, it’s full of antiques going up for auction in a couple of weeks. Would you believe the history shows this space used to be a brothel?”
He started laughing. Seriously, a hard, belly-roll laugh. It sounded great, and my chest instantly gripped in an imaginary vice.
“I love your laugh.”
He smiled. “I love your giggle. Feels like I haven’t heard it in forever.” His hand was covering mine.
“We should go; they’ll be missing us for dinner.”
“I miss you, Chelsie. I can still feel your skin on mine, yet my flesh is cold without you. I miss our walks and our talks and your texts.”
I searched his eyes. They were so blue, and his dimple was nowhere to be found on his face, undoubtedly marked with stress.
“I can’t do this right now. I’m anxious about my eye and how risky the surgery is and adding a bistro and—”
He spread his arms out wide. “All this can wait. But if you’re going to be stubborn, remind yourself you don’t have to do everything alone. As a friend helping a friend, I’ll be there for you.”
“Yes, but you’ll want more, and I’ll end up disappointing you, and you’ll leave just like they all do. The only per
son I can be true to—is myself.”
“I’d like to sucker punch whoever fucked you over. You’re beautiful, sexy, and more of a woman than I’ve ever known. One day, you’ll believe me when I say it.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“One day,” he uttered.
I knocked a pen on the floor, and as I leaned over to pick it up, a tear escaped the puddle that had been building in my eyes. I swiped it, hoping I did so before he could see. “I’m gonna head back over, you coming?”
“No, I’ve got to pick up Oliver.” He took the last sip of his wine and put his glass in the sink. “If Ty gets bored with the sitter tomorrow, give me a shout. Oliver would love to play with him, and it makes my life easier.” He rolled his eyes.
“Sure. I’ll ask him and let you know. Have a great night, Ian.”
He didn’t say anything else before he left out the front door, but I noticed the look of defeat on his face. I crossed the street just in time to see him go inside his own front door. His shoulders were slumped, and I could only imagine what he was thinking.
I couldn’t deny I missed him. I’d spent sleepless nights fantasizing and replaying the sex we’d had. My vibrator no longer worked for me, and nothing I tried brought me much needed relief. I couldn’t catch a fucking break if I tried.
Sexual relief and a finding the true heartbeat of my life were two conflicting strategies.
Chapter 17
The following week was a busy one as I started the purchase of my building and interviewed contractors. The contractor Jim recommended kept calling me “Little Missy” to the point it drove me nuts in a very short amount of time, so I was left to find one on my own. After speaking with two different guys and getting very different vibes and quotes, I decided to take Ian up on his offer to help and sent him a text.
Me: would u be willing to give your opinion on contractors
Ian: u bet I’m no pro though
Me: ur a man and you can read bullshit, right?
Ian: u getting sucker-punched already?
Me: men will be men
Conflicted on 5th: A 5th Avenue Romance Novel, Book One (5th Avenue Romance Series 1) Page 11
