Grayson: Twins (Members From Money Book 22)

by Katie Dowe

  “Okay then, I’ll move to one of the guest rooms for now. How about that?” she proposed.

  Allen shrugged but said nothing, just looked at her from beneath his eyelashes and walked down the hall to what she assumed was the master. She followed him, looking around their room. The bed was neatly made, with an off white duvet; a gray sheet peeking out from under it. The pillows were gaily patterned with red roses on a white background. The whole thing was very cozy and she could imagine burrowing in there with a guy on cold nights, just enjoying being warm. She could remember clearly all the cold winter nights she’d shivered through in her bunker. Clearly those days were far behind her but in her current state, they were pretty immediate.

  “This is a pretty room,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he agreed.

  “Lemme guess, I decorated it too?” she asked.

  Allen smiled, “We both did.”

  Frances took a deep breath, “I have a proposal,” she said.

  “Uh huh?” Allen seemed very aloof.

  “I was thinking about what the doctor said about doing things that might be familiar to jog my memory. So maybe I ought to stay in here…with you,” she said, unable to stop the color from suffusing her cheeks.

  Allen’s face brightened, “I’m okay with that.”

  “But no sex or nothin,” Frances hastened to add.

  Allen put his hands up to show how harmless he was, “Of course, yeah.”

  Frances breathed in deeply, “Great. That’s good. So what’s next on the agenda? I’m kinda hungry.”

  Allen laughed, “Yeah okay, this way to the kitchen. I think I can rustle up some sandwiches before dinner.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Why don’t you…relax, maybe look around and get your bearings while I get that sandwich?” he suggested.

  “Good idea,” Frances agreed, taking a step toward the bed. She wanted to see if it was as soft as it looked. Knowing her, if she’d had a chance, she’d have chosen the softest bed in existence. She sat down on it, all her expectations coming to fruition as it enveloped her in luxurious softness.

  “Aaahh,” she sighed in contentment, flopping back on the bed and spreading her arms out. The bed was huge, even if she slept with Allen, there was enough space that they didn’t have to even touch each other if they didn’t want to. Frances closed her eyes, luxuriating in comfort.

  “You fell asleep,” a voice startled her awake. She sat up quickly, scrambling around for her baseball bat before she remembered where she was.

  “It's okay, you’re fine,” Allen said standing in the doorway holding a plate. Frances just stared at him, trying to shake the instinctive panic that still curled her fingers around a non-existent weapon. He walked toward her, holding the plate of sandwiches out like an offering.

  “Here’s your food,” he said.

  “Thanks,” she whispered hoarsely and moved from the bed to the chair to eat her sandwich. She didn’t want to get crumbs on the perfect bed. She ate in silence while Allen sat on the bed and watched her. It was awkward but she couldn’t think of anything to say and apparently he couldn’t be bothered. She finished her meal and then looked up at him and smiled.

  “So,” she said. “Tell me about me.”

  Allen smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to wait for your memory to return naturally?”

  Frances shrugged. “Maybe, but I’d like to hear the highlights anyway. Especially the dirty laundry. For example, why are we together?”

  “That’s dirty laundry?” Allen’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair.

  “I don’t know, do I? How did we meet?” she asked leaning forward. A wave of nausea overtook her and she had to lean back again, “Ooh.”

  “What’s wrong?” Allen asked standing up as she put one hand to her head and the other to her stomach.

  “I don’t know,” Frances said. Then she stood up very suddenly and ran to the bathroom. She got to the toilet just in time for her sandwich to come pouring savagely out, as well as the contents of her saline drip at the hospital and any bile that might have accumulated. After that it was any air left in her esophagus and finally the heaving stopped.

  “What was that?” she asked very perturbed as she wiped her mouth.

  “I don’t know,” Allen said slowly. “Maybe we should call the doctor.”

  Frances shook her head, “No, it's fine, I’m feeling okay now, we don’t have to call anyone.”

  Allen shrugged, “If you say so…shall I make you another sandwich?”

  “Er, yeah if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind. Just go lie down and I’ll be right back.” Allen hurried out of the room as she watched. She crossed over to the bed and sat on it, ignoring the burning in her stomach in favor of enjoying the softness. She figured she’d probably been sleeping in this bed long enough to take it all for granted, but not long enough to have forgotten the hard floor and the barely there mattress; the funky smell of the bunker, the cold, wet, hunger…sure it was however many years ago it had been, but in her head, it might as well have been yesterday. The discomfort of nausea could hardly compare to the memory of all that.

  Allen came in carrying another sandwich with a glass of juice and some salad on the side. He really was a handsome fellow, and those eyes were to die for. She just didn’t see how they fit.

  “The cook’s arrived,” he said grinning at her.

  She smiled back out of politeness, “Great.” She took the plate from him, studying its contents. The nausea seemed to have disappeared so she ate with gusto and finished her meal. She held her breath for a few minutes, wondering if the vomiting would begin again but this time the food stayed down.

  “Huh…” she said. “Maybe my body just needed a salad.”

  Allen laughed, “Maybe.” He breathed in deep, “Soo, do you wanna watch a movie or something?”

  “Er, how about some entertainment news? I’d like to see who is popular now.”

  Allen laughed, “Since when do you care about such shit?”

  Frances shrugged, “Hey, it’s the fastest way to catch up.”

  “Catch up on what?”

  “On what people find important,” she said.

  “Don’t you wanna know what you’ve been up to?”

  “Oh. Wow. Do I wanna know?” she asked wincing in anticipation.

  Allen smiled, “Yes, you really do.”

  “Tell me tomorrow. I think I need a bath and rest for now.”

  “You’re the boss,” Allen said standing up to leave her to it.

  The next morning when she woke, Frances vomited again. Allen pulled rank and declared they were going to the doctor whether she liked it or not.

  Chapter 5

  “You’re pregnant,” the doctor declares baldly, coming into the room and placing the results of the tests in front of them. Frances stared at him in shock.

  “No I’m not,” she stated.

  “I’m afraid you are. We’ve done all the tests from MRI to UTI and that’s what came back,” the doctor replied. They had indeed done what was seemingly every test known to man. They had been at the hospital all day doing them. They took blood, urine, spinal fluid…it had been nerve wracking. Frances almost felt cheated that all they’d found was a baby. A baby! Oh my God, I’m having a baby!

  Frances could feel the hysteria building and building. She was ready to run away screaming. She glanced at Allen, sitting woodenly next to her. His face was impassive, whatever he was feeling was hidden deep inside. Frances felt her breathing escalate, she would be hyperventilating in a minute if she wasn’t careful. The doctor was gabbing on, something about options; abortion was mentioned. Allen seemed to be listening intently, taking it all in. He would have to fill her in later, once her ears stopped ringing. She looked from Allen to the doctor, seeing little pin pricks of light in front of them. Was she seeing stars? Suddenly, her vision went black and she knew no more.

  *****

  “Frances! Fran! Fran
nie girl you better wake up now and stop fucking around,” the voice was yelling in her ear and she turned her face to get away from it. It sounded terrified which was weird; what was there to be terrified about? Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked around. She was lying on something soft and a white coated gentleman was standing a few feet away. The guy who’d been there when she woke up was looming over her, his black curly hair falling into his terrified gray eyes. He really had the most amazing eyes she’d ever seen. He was saying something to her, sounding either annoyed or scared, she couldn’t really tell which. She felt dizzy and discombobulated. Her hand rose to close over his arm.

  “What’s happening?” she asked him, trying to remember what his name was.

  “You fainted,” he replied definitely sounding annoyed now.

  “Oh,” she said hazily. “That sounds unlikely, I don’t faint.”

  “Well, you just did,” he snapped.

  “What was your name again?” she asked eyes drifting to his face. His red, annoyed face.

  “Allen St. James,” he bit out. “I’m practically your husband so I’ll thank you to remember it.”

  “How’d I snag you anyway? Was it a love potion?” she asked. She felt a little drunk…I mean, how she assumed people felt when they were drunk. She couldn’t really remember.

  Allen laughed, his face lightening considerably. “You adopted me,” he said cryptically. She frowned at him, waiting for further explanation but he said nothing. The doctor took a step forward.

  “Mr. St. James in light of current events, I think it would be prudent to admit Ms. Hilton overnight,” he said.

  “I’m right here,” Frances said not liking the way he was talking over her. He turned toward her with an apologetic smile.

  “I’m sorry Ms. Hilton, I didn’t mean to leave you out of the discussion,” he said.

  “Forgiven. So why do you need to observe me overnight?”

  “Well given your accident and subsequent injuries, and now with the pregnancy and the fainting, we need to check that everything is fine, that your body is healthy enough for this, identify the reason behind the fainting; perhaps you’re anemic; nothing showed up in the blood tests but we can’t be too careful.

  “Maybe it was just shock? I’m pretty sure it was,” Frances said.

  “Yeah, it could be that. In fact, given the circumstances, most likely that’s what it is. But we can’t take the risk of taking that for granted.”

  “Fine. I’ll stay the night,” even to her own ears, Frances sounded sulky. Allen smiled.

  “It’s a good thing. Give us some time to get used to the new status quo and what not,” he said.

  She looked at him with a side smile. “Well, can I have a computer? I noticed that we had some in the apartment.”

  Allen laughed. “Sure you can, especially since it's yours. Did you er, wanna do some writing?”

  “Writing?” Frances asked uncertainly.

  “Yeah, you’re a writer,” he said. He sounded quite proud of her. her internal eyebrow rose to see it.

  “Am I any good?” she asked. Allen laughed.

  “Tell you what, I’ll bring you the book you wrote and you can judge for yourself.”

  “I wrote a book?!? Don’t you think you should have led with that?” she asked voice going high with shock.

  “Sorry,” Allen said not sounding at all apologetic. “Everything’s been crazy. It wasn’t exactly in the front of my mind.”

  Frances fell back; he did have a point. “Okay then. Well…I’ll just check in and you can go…bring the stuff.”

  “I’ll do that. See you,” he said looking at her expectantly as if she was meant to do something with that.

  “Bye,” she said with a small wave hoping it would suffice. She turned around to follow the doctor to her room for the night, she knew Allen was watching her go and put a little sway in her step. She didn’t know why but she wanted him to be attracted to her. She was attracted to him…it was strange; it had snuck up on her when she wasn’t looking. Maybe that was what had happened before and she had seduced him? Sooner or later she needed to get him to tell her how they met. The nurses got her settled in and she promptly went to sleep waking only when someone came to take her blood or other fluids or check her temperature or pressure readings. She hadn’t realized she was so tired until she let herself just relax and drop off. When she woke up much later, she saw that Allen had been and gone. A laptop sat on the bedside table and on top of it was a book. There was also an overnight bag sitting on the chair but Allen himself was nowhere to be seen. He probably had to go off and come to terms with the whole, ‘We’re having a baby’ thing too. She picked up the book and studied it.

  Confessions of a Former Street Urchin

  By Frances Hilton

  Based on a True Story

  The cover said. There was a picture of a cutsie little urchin on the cover. Some publisher’s interpretation of Frances’ own untidy haired intransigence she guessed. She stared at her name on the cover, fascinated to see her name on the cover of a book. Turned out that all those stories she used to keep under her mattress actually amounted to something. She turned the book over to see the back cover. A picture of her looking sophisticated, hair combed, actual make up on her face, stared back at her with a smug smile. She read the blurb at the back. The book was supposed to be about her life as she saw it. How convenient. She leaned back on the pillow and opened the first page, hoping her own book wasn’t going to bore her to death. She made herself comfortable and began to read.

  *****

  Allen came for her the next morning and she looked at him with new eyes. It seemed they had come from far together. The doctor gave them some anti-nausea pills to go home with as well as advising them to keep an eye on Frances’ blood pressure. He also gave them various pamphlets about pregnancy, adoption and abortion. Frances took them but didn’t look at them, just followed Allen out of the hospital. He didn’t drive straight home; instead he took her to an ice cream parlor and sat her at one of the window tables as he went to get their orders. He didn’t ask her what she wanted so she guessed she either had a particular preference every time or he was just that overbearing. The jury was out on which it was. He came back with peppermint chocolate ice-cream for her, and a vanilla one for himself. She tasted hers, and found that it was delicious so maybe this was the one she ordered every time. She pondered for a moment whether it was worth asking about but then decided they probably had more serious things to discuss. They’d skirted the issue for long enough and it didn’t look like Allen was about to bring it up. So Frances would have to.

  “So…about the baby,” she began after taking a deep breath.

  “Yeah, about that,” Allen agreed.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  “Wow, I was hoping you would tell me,” he said with a laugh.

  “Oh, so I’m like the Monica in this relationship?” she asked.

  “The Monica as in…?” Allen asked.

  “As in Monica and Chandler.”

  Allen laughed, “Not really. We’re more Phoebe and Mike.”

  Frances smiled. “Well that’s a relief. But back to the question at hand, what are we doing about the fact that we’re having a freaking baby?”

  “Frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before; we’ve been kinda careless in the past. But of course it would happen now, at the most awkward time in all humanity.”

  “Is it something that we would have wanted? You know…before?” she asked looking intently into his eyes.

  Allen looked away and didn’t say anything.

  “I’m guessing no…” Frances concluded.

  Allen shrugged, “It's been a tricky time.”

  “We’re not in a good place huh?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “And that’s why you’ve been so distant,” she concluded. Allen looked at her in surprise.

  “How would you know that? Have you remembered
something?” he asked, eyes hopeful.

  Frances looked regretful. “I wish. No, I just figured there was no way we could be like…the way we are. Plus I read the book; we’re portrayed as a lot closer than we seem now.”

  “Well, right now, one person doesn’t remember the other so it’d be a bit awkward to be close.”

  “I get you, but I get the feeling you’re mad at me. Could we possibly talk about that?”

  “Sure. You wrote a book, you blew up. Your life got busy. You didn’t have time for me anymore.”

  “Oh, so totally all my fault?” Frances said with a smirk.

  “Well, I was a pretty sulky big baby about it so I’m guessing that didn’t help,” he conceded.

  “Look at you! Growin up and shit…” she said punching him lightly in the shoulder.

  “Yeah, look at me,” Allen repeated dryly.

  “Anyway, so…now that I don’t remember my writing career, do we still got a problem?” she asked.

  Allen shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t need you to be unhappy so we can be good, okay? I just need you to make some time for me.”

  “That sounds reasonable. Especially since I don’t know you from Adam but I don’t know anyone else either so-“

  Her phone rang and she looked down at it in surprise. “Who is…Kareemshe?” she asked Allen. He grimaced and sighed.

  “He’s your ex-boyfriend who is turning into a chick,” he said.

  She stared at him with her mouth open, “Say what now?”

  Allen pointed at the phone, “You going to answer it?” he asked. Frances snatched up the phone, having totally forgotten that she's supposed to answer when the phone rings.

  “H-hallo?” she said.

  “Hey gowrrl, where have you been? So quiet. Are we in a fight?”

  “What? No we’re not in a fight. I’d have to remember you for us to be in a fight,” she said unthinkingly.

  “Ouch,” Kareemshe said.

  “I mean, I’m sorry, didn’t you hear? I had an accident, I have amnesia,” she hastened to say before Kareemshe became offended. Her friend burst into laughter.