by Pamela Ann
Watching him effortlessly take that shot without as much as a dry hiss like he was sucking air made me inwardly cringe. I loved my wines, but whiskey was a whole different matter altogether. It was too strong, too bold for my liking. I supposed, in a way, it showed the typical French blasé sophistication. It gave the impression that they weren’t easily disillusioned, a cultured breed that thrived on superb quality, openly expressed sexuality, proud history, profound art, and panache: the laissez faire doctrine—a mastered trait that was purely and significantly French and one I had always resented being amongst the women in Hugo’s company. Sherry and Chantel surely had it in spades, while I appeared unrefined and unpolished.
Damn you, Hugo. I had no doubt in my mind that he had brought one woman with him, if not all three of them just to whet his insatiable appetite for carnal pleasures.
The immediate ache in my heart felt as if I had just been stabbed right in the middle before the knife twisted, making my miserable organ constrict in protest. He was living his life as if he hadn’t come upon my existence, as if I was simply that easily replaceable chit that wasn’t important nor deemed memorable. Damn it to Hell! I had already known he would resume his lifestyle, but hearing it from Julien … His confirmation grievously delivered a new wound to me.
How long must this suffering go on? I wondered as I closed my eyes, desperately trying not to shed a drop of tear. Breaking down right this moment wasn’t an option.
I scolded myself as I tried to breathe through the slight parting of my lips, inhaling and exhaling in short measures, as I wretchedly attempted to push negative thoughts away. Think of the baby and nothing else. Silently, I urged myself to pull through before Julien took notice of me.
“Do you wish to dine in or out for dinner? Is there any cuisine you’re craving in particular?” Julien asked in a caring manner.
The tone of his voice made me wish it was Hugo asking me.
“I think I’m going to skip dinner altogether actually. I might order in soup later, but as of now, I’d rather take a nap.” Sleeping was the only way I could escape my thoughts and the ache in my heart, not to mention how exhausting it was to talk and think about what the road would look like in the future. “Why don’t you go out? I’m sure you’ve been chipping away with boredom dealing with my woes. Go out, surround yourself with lovely folks, and tell me all about it in the morning.”
The man needed to let loose and do whatever men did to get their mojo going. Ever since we had gotten here, he hadn’t socialized at all, and knowing how Julien was, I would bet my soul that he had probably declined all invitations that came his way. I felt such a burden as it was, so I didn’t want to alter his lifestyle, as well. I knew he came back here out of worry and concern, but with the security he had hired, there was no chance someone could harm me.
Julien was quiet a moment, as if he was pondering my suggestion. “Are you sure that you’re okay with that?”
Most definitely.
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.” I made a small yawn as I got up from the sofa, hopelessly lethargic. “Honestly, Julien, I don’t want you to change your life because I’m here, asking for your help and protection. You’re doing enough for me, so please, do us both a favor and go have fun, yeah?”
His pensive look turned into a bright smile. “As you wish, Isobel. I’ll see you in the morning, and perhaps I’ll tell you the tales of my wickedness.”
“Oh, please do. I look forward to it.” I laughed, wondering what he intended to do tonight. He and Hugo were mates, and judging from Hugo’s decadent appetites, I was left wondering what this man preferred. Nevertheless, it wasn’t my concern.
+++
The next day, I was ushered into a private clinic to see the obstetrician. She was a pleasant woman who seemed to be in her sixties. With her salt and pepper hair, soft voice, and warm eyes, I felt at ease in her presence, secure and safe. Therefore, it was no wonder that I easily barraged her with question after question about pregnancy and anything related to the baby.
Doctor Smith was patient, addressing all of my concerns, and I appreciated the fact that she understood how I was feeling, being that this was my first pregnancy, and the fears that came with it. One would say that this was part of her job, guiding and holding our hand as we tread along the unchartered territory that was called motherhood. Nevertheless, I was beyond thankful for her kindness. Maybe it was because I couldn’t confide in my mother or Claire and I needed a woman to soothe my blasted fears. And she did. She was brilliant at it.
Afterwards, she led me into the examination room to see how far along I was and to check how the baby bean was doing. I was wired with anxiety and excitement. It was a good thing I had declined Julien’s offer to come with me. I was grateful he hadn’t pushed the issue, but insisted only that I take the security with me. I complied without a fuss.
This appointment was too sacred, too intimate, to share with anyone. Most of all, by going alone in the exam room as I listened to my baby’s heartbeat, it sealed my fate. I didn’t want to share that moment with anyone, not yet. This was such a beautiful gift and I vowed never to give up on it. Until my last breath, I would protect my baby at all costs.
I was still basking in the idea that I was going to be a mother soon and how I suddenly became so protective of my growing baby when I noticed how silent the doctor had gotten.
“Is something the matter?” It was a simple question, yet it was loaded with alarm and concern.
She continued to stare at the screen with an intent look, her brows furrowed in concentration while her eyes scanned the image before her.
My mouth ran dry as my heart began to stampede against my chest. If there was something wrong with the baby, I would prefer she told me immediately.
“Doctor?” I pressed, hoping she would voice whatever it was that had concerned her.
“It looks like you’re going to have twins,” she said without glancing at me. “Give me just another second … Yeah, you’re definitely having a set. Congratulations! This is such a sweet surprise.”
Oh.
Dear.
Me.
Twins?
I stared at her, astounded. Speechless. All of my fears before … Well, they definitely skyrocketed to the roof in the span of a mere second. Rendered silent, I wasn’t sure how to respond to her since I was still reeling from shock.
“And it seems you’re eight weeks along, not three.”
I gasped as my mind raced, trying to figure out when I might have gotten pregnant with Hugo. Damn and blast. And here I had thought I wasn’t that far along, but eight bloody weeks? Oh, my hell. Okay, maybe I had given that little plastic stick too much credit, believing I was about three weeks, give or take. This was a result of my idiocy. That was what happened when one was stuck in denial for so long and didn’t want to face facts and the compounding fear and uncertainty that came with it.
When it was time for the doctor to give me the list of dos and don’ts of being pregnant, I felt as if I was in a haze, as if I was watching her from someone else’s eyes. As she explained the vitamins that I was supposed to take, my mind flashed to an image of a woman floating in a pool of her blood … crimson red … pale and lifeless … before Hugo found her.
The image left me cold as my mind recalled the warning Julien had given me ages ago. It wasn’t my turn, was it?
I was out of Hugo’s life. I had to be off the radar as the next target.
I had to be.
Chapter Eleven
When I arrived back in the hotel suite, still obviously shaken from the distressing images my mind kept conjuring up, I was surprised to find Julien waiting for me. He was in the dining area on his computer, an untouched coffee to his side, ignored due to the fact that he was engrossed in his work. The second he heard me enter the room, though, he immediately looked up as his eyes scanned my face, probably gauging how I was feeling about the visit to the doctor.
“Well?” he pried with an
expectant look. “How did it go?”
I might as well share the unexpected surprise, I figured as I met his gaze, strengthening my resolve.
“I’m around eight weeks,” I responded as I made my way towards him before taking the seat across from him, despondent.
He stared at me with a blank expression for a moment or two before eventually nodding, shutting the lid to his laptop and placing all of his undivided attention on me. “I know this must be such an arduous situation for you. I’ve heard pregnancy is such a rollercoaster of hormones. I can’t fathom how hard it must be without your mother to guide you through this life-changing process, but you chose this path and you chose me to help you get through this. If you want to talk, I’m here. I worry that, if you bottle it all in, you might struggle as this progresses. Let me worry about the rest. You just focus on the baby.”
Julien was my savior. There was no other way to put it. Emotions overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t help feeling beyond touched. He and I had a social friendship, a camaraderie built from Hugo’s introduction, yet Julien hadn’t even hesitated to lend his help. The mere fact that he wasn’t intimated by Hugo—not one iota—was rather remarkable. Admirable.
His willingness to come to my cause spoke volumes. I didn’t want to pry what drove him to take me under his protection. There had to be one.
Diverting my mind back to the present, I dwelled on his heartfelt statement.
“I’ll definitely keep that in mind, but so far, so good.”
He arched one aristocratic eyebrow. “You look far from good, Isobel. It’s as if the weight of the world is on your shoulders.”
Not in that sense, but in some ways, it felt as though I was digging myself a hole. No matter how much I tried to convince myself there was a way out of this, I always reached a dead end, and my brightly colorful imagination didn’t help an iota. And upon learning this new tidbit from the doctor today, my spirits were at an all-time low.
Sighing, I tilted my chin as our gazes connected. “I’m having twins.”
“Oh.” He looked perplexed, grappling at the sheer fact.
As was I.
I mean, bearing one baby was enough to cause a ripple, but two? It would cause a tidal wave.
“This is terrible news, isn’t it?” I asked.
“The only terrible in this entire situation is neither you nor the twins, Isobel,” he said before directing an encouraging smile at me. “Well, all that aside, I’m letting you know I’m taking you out to dinner tonight. And before you decline my invitation like you normally do, I think you deserve a little celebration. Give yourself a break, even if it’s only for a couple of hours. It might help lift your spirits a little.”
A celebration.
It was a foreign concept given how dire it was for me, but he could be right. The constant stress had worn me down. Maybe I could allow myself to push all my worries aside and simply live in the moment for a few hours.
“Dining out it is, then.” Slowly getting up, I checked my wristwatch, which indicated it was four in the afternoon. “Let me unwind for a bit. How does six sound?”
He gave me a slight nod. “Six is perfect.”
“Brilliant,” I responded as I watched him get back to work.
Retreating back to my room, I made a delirious sigh the second my eyes spotted the comfortable bed embellished with the softest, most heaven-like goose down comforter that I had ever felt in my life. Julien wondered why I had contained myself for the past week in the hotel room. It wasn’t a difficulty, not when this bed felt like I was being cradled by the feather wispiness of clouds. Who could resist such a dreamlike state? I sure wasn’t able to.
There was something about power naps that refreshed one’s vitality, although frightening images plagued me in my sleep. It was as if it was imbedded deep into my subconscious and reminding me of the underlying dangers ahead. I worried. How could I not? But at the same time, I consoled myself that I was probably overreacting. Most pregnant women did, so why would I be any different?
I finally decided not to give another moment to my wayward imagination. Chances were that it would only agitate me, leaving me anxious for something that might or might not come into reality. Besides, there were no threats—blatant or otherwise—with the exclusion of my father. As a result, for the time being, I only had to worry about my pregnant state and how to achieve my goal without getting Hugo involved.
Tonight was the perfect time to finally start discussing how to properly achieve this.
With that sole purpose in mind, I compelled myself to slide off the bed to have a quick shower at the stroke of five fifteen. I had forty-five minutes to get myself ready, and knowing Julien’s preference when it came to dining, I best get properly dressed to appear presentable being seen next to him.
After a shower, I lathered my body with body cream before adding another layer on and around my stomach. Given that I was expecting twins, I could only imagine what it would do to my skin. Stretch marks were inevitable, but if I could prevent a few from sprouting or if it was possible not to overstretch my skin by keeping it hydrated and supple, then I would happily smear double to triple layers of oils and lotions. At eight weeks, there was barely a recognizable bump unless one seriously stared at it. However, as the doctor had warned, I should closely watch my salt and sugar consumption, or I would balloon up. Maybe that was the problem: I barely eat, and when I did get ravenous, which was spotty at best, I indulged in cheese platters and desserts. Apart from those rare occurrences, I would nibble on my meals. Some truly smelled divine, enticing my senses, but the moment I indulged, I found the food unappetizing. It was bizarre, but apparently not a new discovery in the universe called pregnancy. Hopefully, tonight wouldn’t be a hardship.
Feeling rather optimistic, I strode to the bedroom and opened the closet, scanning the small selection of clothes that Julien’s driver had packed in an overnight bag when he had gone to fetch my passport at the flat. Since there were only two dresses to choose from, with the other option being black, I decided to don the lilac maxi dress. The tag was still attached to it, so I pulled it off with one hasty tug before slipping it on my body. Matching it with silver strappy heels, I then strode back into the bathroom to dry my hair and apply some makeup.
Just as I was about to dry my hair, I noted how the dress brought out the purple hue in my eyes. For a quick second, my mind retreated to the past, to the time when the man I loved stared deeply into my eyes as if I was the most precious thing he had ever set his eyes upon. Each time he had done that, I had caught my breath, my heart galloped, and the butterflies would dance in my stomach from the anticipation of his kiss.
Shaking the madness away, I steeled myself and got on with doing my hair and makeup. There was no turning back. I simply had to deal with the fact that I was heartbroken, beyond pregnant, and about to embark on unchartered territory with unknown dangers that lurked underneath its feral, dark waters.
It took about another ten minutes before I declared myself ready. I went out of my bedroom to meet Julien, who was already nursing a whiskey at the living room bar whilst attached to his phone, quite possibly going through emails and such. Upon hearing the echoing click, click of my heels, he glanced up with a surprised look on his face, and then it broke into a dashing smile.
“Well, well, well, I should take you out more because you look radiantly beautiful, Isobel.” Julien slipped his phone into his pocket before coming towards me, ready to escort us both out of the hotel and to wherever he had made reservations for tonight.
Quietly thanking him, I was jubilant I had made the effort to spruce up my appearance for tonight. For weeks, I had gotten used to not washing my hair and skipping putting any artifice on my face after applying my moisturizer. I supposed it was true what they said about taking care of one’s self in this aspect—one seriously shouldn’t let oneself go, even if my heart was barely beating because I was beyond shattered inside. Alas, I admitted that, even though the temporary transformat
ion was external, it made quite a difference to my mood. It was uplifting, and I found myself positively enjoying being in Julien’s presence for the first time since learning about my condition.
Upon exiting the hotel, we were ushered into a limo while his security, along with mine, closely followed behind us in an unassuming black SUV.
The place Julien had chosen for tonight was an upscale French restaurant in the upper Eastside that boasted an old-fashioned fine dining experience. With dimmed lighting and beautifully lit candles against starch-white table linens and the intoxicating mixture of aromas from their specialty foods teasing my senses, I found myself salivating.
It didn’t take long before we were greeted and seated. While Julien busied himself with a glass of wine, I studied the menu while casually sipping my iced water. Undecided on what to order, I asked Julien if he would choose for me anything that would not be too heavy on my palette since French cuisine was particularly known for its creams and sauces. He ended up ordering me vegetable soup for my appetizer and seared salmon with green salad for my entrée. The meal was superb. Although I finished half of the soup, the main course was slated clean. I could barely remember the last time I was this sated, and even though I felt beyond bloated, I had never been so relaxed in my life. For once, I let my guard down and simply basked in this rare moment of tranquility.
“What’s with that soft smile playing upon your lips?” Julien questioned as he finished his meal, reeling me back into reality.
