by Vivian Wood
He started to grow hard and shifted against the bar to hide it. Ellie moved like a cat hunting in the night and made those staggering heels look like nothing. The sole point of modesty featured was a high neckline and merely a suggestion of cap sleeves. But the lace bundled and puckered into what looked an explosion of a bouquet just below her jaw. It made her impeccable face the ultimate showstopper.
Somehow, she’d managed to contain that wild hair. It was tucked neatly into a chignon but the sheer volume of it required a dangerously large updo. Even from here, he saw how the cherry-red of her lips was the only touch of color she needed. She looked absolutely perfect—were it not for the man whose arm she’d threaded hers through.
Who the fuck was he? Henry knew he and Ellie hadn’t actually talked about it, but he’d assumed they wouldn’t be bringing dates. And he looked like a fucking GQ model with bronzed skin and slicked-back hair. The man whispered something into her ear, and she laughed up at him, giving him the look he’d thought was reserved just for him.
Did she think he’d just let it slide? Fuck no. No pretty boy could intimidate Henry—not in this state.
He put down his drink and started walking straight toward her. “Hey!” the bartender called. “Your drink!”
Henry didn’t answer her, but met Ellie and her boy toy just as they reached the bottom of the staircase. Ellie gripped her date’s arm a little tighter. “Can I talk to you?” he asked curtly.
“Good evening,” the model said to him and reached out his hand. His accent was so syrupy thick Henry could hardly make out the words. Henry brushed his perfectly manicured hand aside.
“Uh, sure,” Ellie said. “I guess so.” But she didn’t move.
“In private.”
“Is all okay?” the model looked at her with concern. “We are the, how you say, on a date. If you don’t mind,” he said to Henry.
“Nobody asked you,” Henry said. Ellie was hesitant and made a face. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say right here.”
Henry glowered, and Ellie reached out to touch his arm.
“Would you like the drink?” the model asked her.
“Yes, Dante, that would be lovely,” she said, and allowed the ethereal being to lead her away. Henry followed their every move. They ordered from the same bartender, Ellie a white wine and the model either water or a gin and tonic. Ellie licked the glass rim in what she probably thought was a discreet manner. To Henry, it looked like she about to give the glass the ride of its life. He stirred once again in the wool black pants and made an awkward adjustment at the tiny bartop table.
“Henry! Hey, man, glad you could make it.” Eli was suddenly at his side, skirted by his usual brigade of security.
“Oh, hey! Good speech up there. I was really moved,” Henry said. He did his best to act natural.
“Oh, yeah? What was your favorite part?”
“The part about the arthritis,” Henry said as he tried to keep an eye on Ellie and her god of a date.
“You could at least get the disease right,” Eli said. “What’s wrong with you? You seem distracted.”
“Nothing. Just tired is all.”
“Let me get this straight. You go to my cabin without even telling me—not that I mind, of course—won’t take my calls—”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“Is this about a girl?” Eli asked. Henry didn’t answer, but Eli didn’t give up easily. “Come on, I know you. So tell me. Who is it?”
“Eli,” Henry started. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”
“It is about a girl,” Eli said. For a moment, Henry saw only the laidback, long-haired kid in Eli he’d grown up with.
“Mr. President, the Davidsons want to thank you.” A stern-looking woman in a red suit tapped Eli on the arm.
“Going to have to raincheck that. Duty calls,” said Eli as he let the woman pull him toward a geriatric couple who clutched matching Manhattans.
He was frustrated, but why? You weren’t going to man up to him anyway. What were you going to say? That you deflowered his baby sister and that—now—things are awkward between you and her?
Henry caught a glimpse of Ellie on the dance floor with her date. It was no dive bar, so she held herself a little more composed. Even so, Henry watched as the model traced circles on her bare back and rested his palm a little too low on her hip.
He could no longer keep his cool and stalked directly over to her. “We need to talk. Now,” he said. Henry grabbed her arm and started to pull her across the dance floor.
“She will not go,” the model said. He tried to position himself between Ellie and Henry.
“I suggest you back the fuck off right now before I destroy that pretty face of yours.” The model retreated, and one hand moved up to protect his face.
“Henry,” Ellie hissed, but he didn’t care if he caused a scene.
In the hallway, Henry checked two doors before he found an unlocked supply closet. “They took ‘get a room’ literally,” he heard a middle-aged couple laugh as he shut the door behind them.
“What the hell do you think—” Ellie started, but he shut her up with his mouth on hers. Henry pushed her up against a wall, her skin like hot velvet.
It wasn’t what he’d intended. He’d meant to lecture her, scream at her, get all his frustration out. Instead, his mouth was devouring hers, and it was like he’d rediscovered her all over again. When he cupped her ass and found she wasn’t wearing anything underneath that skimpy dress, his cock began to throb. “Bad kitten,” he told her, and dropped to his knees.
Henry couldn’t get his mouth on her fast enough. Even with only the glow of the dim red night security lights to illuminate the room, she was almost too much to look at. It took just one roll of her lace hem to expose her. If this was going to be his last time tasting her, he was going to make every second count.
As Henry’s tongue worked her like only he could, she raked her fingers through his hair and began to moan. Knelt down between her legs, he watched her flawless face shaded completely red by the lights. Her eyes were closed and her lips barely parted. She tried to be quiet, and as her thighs squeezed his head, he could hardly hear a thing. Still, he saw that she mouthed his name time and time again.
He kissed and nibbled her clit as he slid one, then two fingers into her. “Are you going to come for me?” he asked her.
“Yeah,” she said through clenched teeth. He knew the signals of her body, could already tell she was close.
When she came in his mouth, he memorized every note of her and kept his fingers buried deep inside. Henry felt the wave of her orgasm as it gripped his hand tight. Softly, he flicked his tongue across her clit. Each time, it sent a shockwave through her entire body.
Ellie had opened her eyes and was smiling down at him. He removed his fingers and sucked her come off of them. His cock rocked almost painfully against the zipper of his trousers, but in that moment he didn’t care. He wanted her—he always wanted her. But there was something they had to do.
Ellie grabbed his shoulders and urged him up. She reached for his belt, but he put a hand on hers. “We need to tell Eli,” he said. No matter what the outcome, he couldn’t keep lying to his best friend.
“Don’t be stupid,” she said, and reached again to unbutton his trousers.
“I’m serious,” he said, his face still wet from her come.
“What the fuck?” she hissed at him. “You’re the one telling me not to plan my life around you. And now what? What the hell do you want?”
Henry went silent, his jaw clenched. She was right. He didn’t want her to change her plans, her life, for him. He didn’t want to stop her from going to school in California or anywhere else. But he wanted her, needed her. “It seems so permanent, making plans,” he said. She looked at him, dumbfounded.
“You’re ridiculous. This is ridiculous,” she said as she pulled her dress back down and smoothed her hair. “I’m ridiculous.”
Ellie pushed pas
t him and opened the door with a snap. The lights outside were blinding, and Henry could see couples, two by two, in formal wear as they traipsed by. He wanted to go after her, to explain, but he felt frozen.
26
Ellie squatted over the toilet with the pregnancy stick between her legs. She didn’t know how, but she was late—really late. She’d never missed her period before, although she’d known plenty of girls in the sorority house who had. Only one of them had actually been pregnant. It had been two weeks since Eli’s gala, and just a little longer since the last time Henry had come inside her.
She’d been trying to console herself with all the soothing words she recalled from college. Sometimes women were just late. Maybe it was stress, both physically and emotionally. There were countless reasons she could be late, but somehow she knew the truth, felt it in the pit of her stomach. She’d also heard this before. Women just know.
As she placed the pregnancy test on the counter to wait for the results, images of Henry swirled in her head. Despite her best efforts, she had seen him since the event. Eli kept bugging her about attending White House events and said it would be good to keep busy. Not to mention great networking opportunities the vast majority of people never had. Every time she spotted Henry, he just stared at her from across the room with a brooding look plastered on his face.
Once, he’d even brought a stunning date of his own. And Ellie knew he didn’t have Sam with her deep connections to the modeling world to make her jealous. Dante had been happy to help Sam out, and she’d loved the intense jealousy the male model had fired up in Henry, but the outcome hadn't been what she’d expected. “That’s because you let him have his way with you!” Sam had chided her when Ellie told her what had happened. It was true. It wasn’t Sam’s, or Dante’s fault. It was hers.
Ellie had watched out of the corner of her eye when Henry had waltzed into that luncheon with that knockout blonde on his arm. Not only was the girl unbelievably gorgeous, but clearly she had charm and intelligence, too. Ellie could tell in the way she carried herself and didn’t even falter when Eli introduced himself. Most women were entranced by Eli, the best thing to happen to the White House since Kennedy. At least according to the news. The blonde kept trying to engage Henry, but he wasn’t having it.
He never talked to her at these events and hadn’t sent a single text or email. Now here she was, peeing on a freaking stick. How could this have happened?
Ellie hadn’t a clue. She knew they’d been careful, not that it had required much work. Sam had convinced her freshman year to get an IUD. Sam swore by them, loved not having to worry about taking a pill every day. “And the Mirena makes it so a lot of women don’t even have their period!” she’d told Ellie, like she was going to get a commission if Ellie went with Sam’s suggestion.
“Does it hurt?” Ellie had asked.
“Nah,” Sam said. “Super quick.”
It had been the most painful thirty seconds of Ellie’s life. It didn’t sound like much, thirty seconds, but when the pain was that intense, it stretched out. The OB-GYN had patted her foot and said, “Sorry, honey. Some women have more nerve endings in their cervix than others. I guess you’re one of the ‘lucky’ ones!”
When Henry had asked her if she was on anything, she’d been quick to claim her propensity for safety. At first, he’d faltered when asking about a condom. “I’ll use it if you want me to,” he’d said. But she hadn’t. Ellie had heard it all before, that you never really knew if someone had an STI unless you saw a recent full panel screening for yourself. Some things took years to show up on a test. Even HIV sometimes. Her mother had pounded the idea that some diseases were forever, whether it was HIV or herpes, in a scare-tactic campaign that Ellie had thought was indestructible.
All it took was the idea of a barricade between her and Henry to throw all of that knowledge out the window. The thought that she wouldn’t feel the rush of his come into her nearly broke her heart. “It’s fine,” she’d said. “I trust you.” Henry had remained unsure until he came in her that first time.
“I’ve never done this before,” he’d said, and her heart swelled up with happiness. In a way, she was his first, too.
Ellie’s timer on her phone beeped, and she drew in a big breath. This was it. The test wasn’t wishy-washy. A big, clear, pink plus sign had appeared.
The rush of tears overcame Ellie in an instant. Fat, salty tears raced down her cheeks. She was twenty-two years old! Who the fuck gets pregnant within the first week they have sex? She had a goddamned IUD! The tears started to turn ugly, and Ellie gulped for air.
When there were no more tears left in her, Ellie wrapped the test and box in tissue and buried it deep in the garbage can. There was no way her mom could find out. In her room, Ellie fell back onto the little twin bed. This room is so pink, she thought. The last big change she’d made to it was when she was fourteen years old. Then, it had been a big deal to get fancy white crown molding installed along with a crystal chandelier over the vanity. She’d thought it had made her seem more grown up, the bedroom of a Hollywood star. It was where she could get red carpet ready.
She’d been an idiot. Now she was too grown up for it. What would her high school self think if she knew she’d be knocked up at twenty-two without even having a boyfriend? She’d never even been in a relationship with Henry! At least some girls could say they’d been actually dating the guy who got them pregnant.
Ellie took in the light pink walls, the pink bedding with the Laura Ashley pattern, and the “accent wall” with the Barbie pink wallpaper with gold features. Actually, this is right where you belong. In a little girl’s room. Too immature and stupid to see a situation for what it is. You couldn’t even keep yourself from getting pregnant.
What would Henry say if he found out? Would the baby look like him? She wasn’t sure if she’d want that. Of course she wanted to see Henry and all his perfection in their baby. If she couldn’t have him, at least she could have the next best thing. Maybe a better thing, she thought to herself.
On the other hand, she didn’t know if she could handle seeing pieces of him every day and not having him herself. Would the baby have his dark blond locks, or her own stream of auburn tresses? His intense brown eyes, or her own lighter irises? How would they move, and would they inherit his ski slope nose or her slightly broader version? The possibilities were, of course, endless. At the idea of having Henry’s son or daughter, her heart squeezed in that way that was now so familiar. Lovesick.
A baby. It was insane. Ellie had always understood, from an outsider’s perspective, how some women wanted them. The debate of biological and adopted came up a few times in college. Ellie saw both sides. Nobody could argue that there wasn’t a surplus of children who desperately needed homes around the world. “It’s so selfish to have bio kids when we’re already having a population problem—and there are children who need homes!” said one of her sorority sisters.
Sam had rolled her eyes. “Fuck, worry about yourself,” she’d told the girl. “Some people want the whole pregnancy experience thing. I mean, I don’t and apparently you don’t either, but don’t hate on something just because you don’t get it.” Ellie had kept quiet, but she’d agreed with Sam. The whole miracle of childbirth thing had seemed so distant back then. She was sure it was a miracle, but not one she could even fathom having an opinion about at the time.
Now, she got it.
Motherhood, in reality, had never crossed her mind. She’d assumed she’d have kids, one way or another, one day. It was a decision that would be made down the line. Sean had brought it up to her, a couple of times, but in that innocent “What would we name our baby?” way. They’d never talked seriously about kids, whether it was how many they wanted, adoption versus bio, or anything else.
This is real. This is really happening. Ellie grabbed her phone and thumbed through her contacts. Her first instinct was to call Henry. He was the father after all. She felt a pang in her chest when she realized he w
as slowly creeping down her recent contacts list. She clicked his name and held the phone to her ear. One ring. Two. She hung up. You don’t need Henry or his questions right now, she told herself.
Ellie scrolled to the top of her list. Sam. She needed Sam. She needed unconditional support.
“Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?” Sam asked, groggy with sleep. “Actually, why are you calling me at all, texting queen?”
“Sam. Can you come over?”
“Now?”
“I need to talk.”
Sam’s voice was clear, instantly awake. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here.”
“Um, no, you’ll tell me right now.” Sam had a unique way of going from party girl to doting mother in a second. It was one of the things Ellie had always loved about her. She put up a tough façade, but that was all it was.
“I can’t—” Ellie began.
“You can,” Sam said. “You can’t just call me up all mysterious and expect me to worry about you the whole drive over there. Just tell me what’s wrong. I’m coming, just putting shoes on now.” Ellie could hear her banging around on the other end. “Shit,” Sam said. “You need to go,” she hissed to someone on the other end.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” Ellie said. “Sukhdeep’s there—”
Sam said something so quiet Ellie couldn’t hear.
“What?”
“I said I got rid of the lamp.”
“Oh.”
“Ellie. You tell me what’s going on right now. I’m getting in the car.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Fuck.”
27
“I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it,” Ryan said. He rested one arm each on Eli and Henry. “The boys are back together again.”
“Well, at least for forty-eight hours for me,” Eli said. He poked at the fire.
