by Adair Rymer
“No, don't be sorry!” Jonas sat next to me on the bed. “You're just emotional right now. It's alright.” She paused, “I take it you haven't told the significant other.”
“Maynard? God, no. We're—” What the hell were we? Broken up, I guess. I never said I wanted things to end I just said I needed time. He never got back to me so I had no idea what he thought. “It's complicated.”
“Yeah, babies tend to do that. They can be inconsiderate dicks sometimes.” Jonas handed me a bottle of water from her bag. The pipes in our building had recently been turning the water rust-colored so I wasn't surprised that she had bought her own.
I took the bottle and choked out an exasperated giggle at her quip. That wave of panic finally started to recede. I was already glad I called her. I drained half the bottle in one go, I didn't realized I was that dehydrated. Did I really cry that much before she got here?
“Do you have any children?” I asked, suddenly feeling bad that I knew so little about the woman who came to my rescue.
“I have a little menace named Maximilian.” Jonas smiled, thinking about her son. “He's going to be twelve next month.”
“Twelve?” I wiped the last of the sorrow from my eyes. That was surprising. Jonas looked a little older than me, maybe in her mid-thirties. She didn't look old enough to have a near-teenager. “How old were you when you had him?”
“Thirty-one?” She asked herself, remembering then clarified. “I was thirty-two when I had Max.”
“Thirty two?” I was astonished, that would put her in her mid-forties. I saw the smile on her face shift into more of a knowing grin before I realized how insulting I was probably being. “You just look great for— I'm so sorry!”
Oh my god shut up, Claire! I winced, covering my face.
“Wheatgrass and red wine are concentrated magic,” Jonas laughed, diffusing the situation. If this bothered her she wasn't showing it. “Hold off on the wine till after the baby though. Are you going to keep it?”
“What?” It was a valid question, just not one I ever considered. All I could think about since my fifth home pregnancy test this morning was how I was going to raise the baby. Abortion hadn't even crossed my mind. “I mean, yes. I'm going to keep him—it—the baby! I'm going to keep my baby.”
God that was hard to get out. This sort of thing was so layered with new emotion.
“Then you should tell the father.”
“I know. I will. I just need a little time to figure out how to do that.” I buried my face in my hands. “We're just not talking to each other at the moment.”
How was I going to tell Maynard?
“How did you do it?” I looked up and asked Jonas. I didn't bother trying to hide my watery eyes from her. “Were you two still together when you found out you were pregnant?”
“Technically yes, but I had just asked for a divorce two weeks before I found out.” Jonas frowned in embarrassment. “Jeffrey, Max's father, was my best friend and high school sweetheart. We got married right away and spent years trying to have children.”
“Wow, what happened?” I quickly added, “If you don't mind me asking!”
“It took a long time, but my love for him sort of evolved in way that wasn't intimate anymore. I was hoping that a baby would bring us closer together. We tried one last time and then I realized that I was the problem, not him. Biologically speaking I was fine, I was just doing everything for the wrong reasons. Right after that I met Lucy at the bookstore and we've been together ever since.”
“Oh. That must have been super awkward.” I cringed.
“I had to tell my husband that I wanted a divorce, I was pregnant, and I was switching sides all in the span of three weeks.” Jonas laughed in an indomitable, but fully self-aware way. She recognized how crazy her situation was but she owned it. “Super, super, super awkward. I told you babies can be jerks. Or, rather, they can have terrible timing.”
“Yes, they can!” I exhaled, chuckling as tears streamed down my face. The way Jonas was able to laugh about something that painful-sounding gave me a little hope. Maybe everything wasn't as terrible and world ending as I thought. Maybe I could get through this. “How did you get through all of that?”
“It was hard, especially since I could no longer drink my liquid courage.” Jonas sloshed around the bottle of wine in her bag. “I don't know exactly, I just pushed through my fear and laid it all out on the table. Jeffrey was mad and hurt, but he knew I wasn't coming from a bad place, so we just talked it all out.”
I nodded. Maynard might not want anything to do with the baby, but I was confident that he would at least hear me out.
“Do you still see Max?”
“Every weekend like clockwork, and each summer. Jeffrey and his wife live in a better school district so I'm happy with the arrangement.” Jonas flashed me a warm smile. “Don't let this eat you up inside. Call Maynard and let him know.”
“You're right,” I pulled out my phone while I still had the strength. I squeezed Jonas' hand and looked at her. For the first time all day I knew what I had to do. “Thank you so much.”
“Don't mention it.” Jonas stood up and slung her bag over one shoulder. She didn't want to intrude on what was probably going to be a very emotionally-charged conversation. “I'll check in with you later. If you need anything please let me and Lucy know.”
“Are you going to give me rides to the doctor's on your bike?” I laughed, wiping my eyes again. Sometimes I felt like such a crybaby.
“As long as you don't mind sitting in my basket like produce.” Jonas gave me a friendly wink then let herself out.
“Oh hey, before I forget.” Jonas pulled a folded note out of her bag's side pocket and handed it to me. “This was sticking out of your mailbox this morning. I didn't want anyone else to snag it before you saw it.”
“Thanks,” I said absently, as Jonas left for real this time. Was this from Maynard? Was he finally writing back to me?
I peeled off the tape and unfolded the letter. It wasn't a letter. It was two sentences that read: Maynard was at the Valley Chez last night. He's been a bad, bad boy.
The message had to be from Anthony. It terrified me that he knew where I lived but what could I do with him blackmailing me?
What did that asshole mean when he said that Maynard was a bad boy?
I cleared the call function on my phone and brought up the internet browser. My thumbs hovered over the keypad. With each character I typed the bar began auto-filling probable suggestions. I was slowly drowning in dread like it were quick sand.
“Billionaire celebrity Maynard Cooper caught with prostitutes at super elite club last night,” was the top result on Google. I skimmed the brief news article dismissively; things like this were always being written about Maynard and every other celebrity out there.
It was the pictures at the bottom that broke my heart in half then crushed it.
Chapter 22
Maynard
“You certainly have a knack for obscene headlines, haven't you?” Bianca declared just after opening the front door to my apartment.
It had only been a day so the media was still ripping into me ruthlessly. Typically I'd have worked through the weekend but I was taking it off. It wasn't worth it. The building was probably being swarmed with reporters and photographers.
“I like to think of it as a skill.” The negative press never bothered me before, I was used to it. I just had to lay low until the next scandal broke and sometimes that wasn't even a full day. “I keep forgetting you have a key.”
“You may have my company but I still own your hotel.” Bianca removed her white alpaca coat and reverently placed it on the coat rack.
“About that.” It was hard to believe that it had been months since we last talked. We bickered like there wasn't any time lost. “I want you to know that I had nothing to do with you getting kicked out.”
“Of course you didn't. You wouldn't have the slightest idea how to go about removing an existin
g CEO.”
“I do enjoy our little talks, Sis.” I smiled at her cutting, and unfortunately true, remarks. She was right. Even after spending the last month poring over corporate documents, I still barely knew a damn thing about circumventing company policies. “Drink? Flagon of virgin's blood?”
“Tea.” She said, unfazed, as if all the options were equally acceptable. Bianca could make ice cubes shiver.
We walked from the foyer into my kitchen. Some of Claire's clothing and clutter was still laying around. I'd always been meticulous about maintaining my apartment but I couldn't bring myself to remove her things. They were the only thing keeping the place from feeling like a mausoleum.
Rule number three— Never bring girls home. No other woman had ever seen my apartment, let alone spent the night. Claire was different, she practically lived here for a short time. That was a big deal for me.
Now that she was gone I couldn't bring myself to restore the place to how it was. It would be like she was never here. I wasn't quite ready for that.
“Help yourself. I stole the tea from your first floor restaurant.” I pointed over toward the correct cupboard, filling a rocks glass with bourbon. “If you weren't upset at me then why didn't you answer my calls?”
“I was busy.”
“No, I understand. The job market is crazy right now. If you'd like I can put a good word in for you at the Starbucks across the street. I hear they're always hiring.”
“They are?” One side of her lips cracked upward, it was the closest thing to a smile she was capable of without hurting herself. “I own that building too and I'll have to inquire as to their employee turnaround.”
“Was that a joke? Should I call an ambulance?” I smiled, watching her cracked grin deepen ever so slightly. Bianca refused to reply as she steeped her tea so I changed the subject and continued. “I'll have you know that I've been working tirelessly to find a way to get you reinstated.”
“The only thing you can do is nothing.” She looked at me flatly, then discarded her tea bag. “As a safeguard against corruption, the bylaws prevent anyone ousted from the top position to be reelected for at least six months.”
“Nothing?” I scoffed. “Was that an insult or should I write that off as constructive criticism?”
Absorbing and studying and meeting people in a business setting made these last few months hellish. I worked my ass off for what was probably the first time in my life and to hear her brush all that off was cutting.
“So I'll be leaving for Hawaii tomorrow, you let me know how everything worked out.” I held up my glass, toasting to her. It was a joke, I had one more thing to do before I ever left NYC.
“Nothing of any negative media attention.” Bianca didn't bother to address my fake vacation plans. “Stay in good standing with the Board Members. Make them money. Keep our stock lowering any further, and at the end of the six months, hold a vote to bring me back in as CEO.”
“Because that went so well last time.” I took a sip and pointed out the obvious. They kicked her out, why would they ever elect her back? “Why doesn't Adam Boniello like you? Aside from your glowing personality, of course. You didn't turn one of his relatives to stone with one of your glares, did you?”
“I'll deal with the Board Members, including Mr. Boniello. For the next three months stay out of the media and whatever you do, do not go see Claire.”
“She's not answering my calls. I need to tell her what happened.” I was pretty sure that if she hadn't blocked me before, she definitely did after those pictures were released. I had to find her and explain what happened. Then my fists and I were going to have a few words with my former best friend.
Why had he done that? What did Anthony have to gain by betraying my trust like that? Questions and resentment rattled around my head like rocks in a tin can.
“Absolutely not.” Bianca stated bluntly. “If you get caught anywhere near her the media will make it out that not only did you cheat on her, but now you're groveling for her to come back to you.”
So many things were wrong with that statement.
“I never touched those girls.” I said, my mind flashing back to Anthony's set up. I mixed my rising anger with the last sip of bourbon then swallowed them both. It wouldn't do me any good to be upset at Bianca. I'd need to save that rage for the next time I saw Anthony. “Besides, that was two and a half months after Claire dumped me. Who cares?”
“You really think that's the story they're going to run with?” Bianca shot me an incredulous look. “For a man who's been in the media so often, how are you still so naïve? It doesn't matter what's true; the only thing that matters is what sells. You should know that by now.”
“Fuck them. They can write whatever they want.” It was such an easy position to fall back into, it was almost a personal philosophy of mine. I did what I wanted, or what I thought was best, and everyone else could go screw themselves. “No one gets a say in what I do with my life.”
“Let me make this crystal clear.” Bianca's tone went up slightly like it used to when she would attempt to discipline me after she became my legal guardian. “If you're seen with Claire, public opinion will crucify you and that will drive down our stock value. We're a family company, Maynard, and until I can get reinstated as CEO, you are the face of that company.”
“Stocks fluctuate all the time, who gives a shit if we take a hit now and then?”
“Do you have any idea how dangerous the corporate world is? If our company looks weak we're liable to get bought out by someone else, then merged.”
I shrugged, leaning forward in a So What gesture. There was still a lot that I didn't know about business but partnering up with another company didn't sound too bad for us, especially if they let us keep our family's name on the company. There was also typically a huge buyout for the original owners.
“Whenever that happens there's almost always staffing redundancies and that means massive layoffs. Thousands of our employees will lose their jobs, Maynard. Is pleading your case to your ex-girlfriend really worth destroying the lives of so many people that have always supported our family?”
I stayed quiet. I hadn't thought about that. I didn't like this world. I was doing the best I could but it was never enough. I wasn't cut out to be in charge of a company.
“I understand that you care very deeply for Claire, I do, but wasn't she the one who asked you for space in the first place? Honor that, at least for a few more months, for all of our sakes.”
Bianca's phone vibrated. She checked it, then texted back for a few minutes. Finally she broke away long enough to make her way back to the coat rack.
“You're leaving already?” I followed after her.
“You're not the only one working on getting that charity foundation off the ground.” Bianca slid on her white coat, the color and cut made her look like nobility. “Good work by the way.”
“Be still my beating heart,” I gasped in mostly mock surprise. “Was that a compliment?”
I immediately regretted my sarcastic tone. I could count on one hand the amount of times Bianca had complimented me. In truth it did make me feel really good to know that she was still working on the organization and that she approved of what I'd done on it so far.
“Stay away from Claire,” Bianca warned, instead of acknowledging the ribbing.
“Scout's honor,” I said, holding up the three fingered Boy Scout salute.
I had absolutely no intention of keeping my word.
“I'll be in touch.” Bianca narrowed her eyes at me, passing judgment, then closed the door behind her.
When I was sure she was gone, I walked back into the kitchen for my phone. I thought about my next course of action very carefully. This was a delicate time for everyone; I had to be extremely careful about which path I chose going forward.
The right answer was to listen to Bianca. I should stay home and keep my head down for the next few months while I rebuilt my reputation. Soon the Board would vote Bianca back
in and then we could launch that charity.
There was a dark side to that though. If I let three more months slip by without any explanation, I would definitely lose Claire forever. Could I really let that girl slip away without fighting for her?
“Yeah, I was never a good Boy Scout.” I reminded myself as I called Christian. I had always done the right thing for the wrong reasons.
It was time to do the wrong thing for the right reasons.
“Any word from her apartment?” I asked.
“Unfortunately no, sir. Ms. Tremont's neighbor said that she had gone home to visit her family.”
“Damn.” That was going to make things much more difficult. I lowered the phone to think for a moment then came up with a plan. It wasn't a great plan but it could work.
“Christian, please send up some inconspicuous clothing. Baseball cap, jeans, a thick scarf, that sort of thing.”
“Something other than a suit?” Christian asked warily, his dry sense of humor showing despite his efforts. “Are you feeling well, sir?”
“Make sure the jet is fueled up. I'll hopefully be feeling better when we get to Chicago.”
Chapter 23
Claire
“Was this room always this small, Angry Cat?” I stared at the once glow-in-the-dark stars that lined the ceiling of my old bedroom. I was too exhausted to sleep. My whole apartment in NYC was basically one big bedroom. Maybe it was the lack of a kitchen in here that made this room look tiny.
Angry Cat didn't reply.
After everything that had happened these last six months with Chance, then with Maynard and now with the baby I almost expected the stuffed animal to give me a response. My plushy cat was the only thing other than clothes and my laptop that I brought with me to my parents' house.
I couldn't be in that apartment any longer, there were too many memories. It was crazy how many big moments in my life happened between those walls. They weren't all bad experiences. I did have some good times with that jerk, Chance, and it was in that apartment that I hooked up with Maynard for the first time.
