Dare

by Glenna Sinclair

  I jumped off the bed—as gracefully as my swollen belly would allow—and grabbed her shoulder before she could leave the room.

  “When did you find drugs in here? When Aurora was here?”

  “No, Ana.” She turned toward me, sadness in her eyes. “I know you like him.” Her eyes jumped to the bed behind me, to the sheets that were so disarranged that they told a story that I might have been ashamed of if it hadn’t been so good. “But there are things about him you don’t know. The sooner you have those babies and get out of this house, the better.”

  “You used to talk about what a great man he was. You said he was the kindest person you’d ever worked for.”

  “I did. And it was true, back then, before he married that woman. But it doesn’t mean he was a saint.”

  “What don’t I know?”

  Constance touched my cheek lightly. “I love you like you were my own, mija. But this is something that you should hear from him.”

  “Constance…?”

  “Go wash your hands. You don’t want to get any of this poison in your bloodstream. There’s no telling what it might do to the babies.”

  She walked away, leaving me alone with words that left a heavy stone tied around my heart.

  Chapter 19

  I lay in bed almost a week later, the bag of Xanax in my hands. Constance hadn’t said another word about the drugs and Nicolas hadn’t mentioned it. Not that I’d seen much of Nicolas. He was working a full day, from dawn until late into the night, sometimes only coming back to the house for a shower and a shave before he went right back to work. I wasn’t sure how he did it, but then I was afraid I did.

  What if everything Nicolas had told me was a lie? Was it possible he was a drug addict? Was it possible he lied about Aurora’s addiction, covering for his own actions? It didn’t make sense, to be honest. It never really had. The Aurora I met was so different from the woman Nicolas talked about.

  There was one meeting, not long after our first, when Aurora seemed a little off. We met at her country club where she was waiting for a tennis partner to show up. I remember she called me in a hurry that morning, asked me if it would be okay if we met during my lunch hour.

  “I have a meeting tonight and then I’m flying to Paris in the morning for a photoshoot for this movie we start filming in a few months. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No,” I said, thinking how glamorous her life seemed. I always wanted to travel, and she mentioned Paris like it was just a nuisance she couldn’t get out from under.

  “I can’t imagine what you think of me,” she’d said, almost as though she could read my thoughts. “Here I am planning to have a child and I can’t even clear a moment in my schedule to talk to you about the doctor who’s going to do all the medical stuff for this.”

  “It’s fine,” I remembered saying.

  “Fine,” Aurora sighed. “That’s a word I don’t hear often. It’s blasphemy in this house. Can you believe that?”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. Blasphemy to say ‘fine’? It just didn’t make sense. But Aurora was often saying things that didn’t make sense. There was another time, just a week or so before the implantation appointment when I asked if Nicolas would be at our next meeting—I think it was the day I was to sign the last of the paperwork—and she told me he was with his friend Bill. And then she laughed almost hysterically.

  “Isn’t that the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard?”

  I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just agreed with her that it was ridiculous and she changed the subject.

  Aurora was a beautiful woman who was used to getting everything she wanted when she wanted it. She knew how to flirt, how to be charming, how to be everything a man needed her to be. But she never really learned how to act around women. It was that, the latter, that I assumed was the reason for some of her odd behavior.

  Was I wrong?

  I leaned over and shoved the bag of Xanax into the nightstand drawer, still not sure what I was doing with it. I needed to get rid of it, but I wasn’t sure how. They were always running those little things on television telling people not to put unused medication down the toilet because it was getting into the water supply. But I didn’t know how else to get rid of it. I could give it to Adam, but I was afraid he would recognize the significance of it as much as I did. Some part of me that still whole heartedly believed that Nicolas was innocent didn’t want to run the risk that Adam, one of Nicolas’ oldest allies, might turn on him given the opportunity. I wasn’t really sure Adam would, but even the smallest doubts sometimes grew into huge, unignorable truths. Nicolas needed all the support he could get right now.

  But I couldn’t just keep it. What if the police came to search the house again?

  The last time, it was such a mess afterward that Constance was still complaining about it. Drawers dug through, plants turned out of their pots, books taken from their shelves and left piled on the floor. Nicolas’ laptop was still in the police evidence locker, waiting to see what might happen with the district attorney. If they came again, Constance might force the whole group of them to commit hari-kari. But they might also find the Xanax and that would definitely not be good.

  I closed my eyes, my hands restlessly moving over my belly. One of the babies immediately kicked, forcing my hand to bounce a little.

  “It’s okay, baby,” I said softly. “I won’t let anything happen to your daddy.”

  Almost as though he’d heard me, Nicolas tapped on the door and stuck his head inside. “You asleep?”

  “No. Come in.”

  He looked absolutely exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes and a slope to his shoulders like he was carrying an incredibly heavy weight. I slid out of the center of the bed and pulled the sheet back, making room for him.

  “You just get in?”

  “We had to shut down production because of some issue with the cameras. I spent about an hour with the actors and then decided I’d earned an early night.”

  “Of course you have. You’re the boss, you know. You get to decide when everyone goes home.”

  “Yeah, well, from your lips to the producer’s ears. He wants this movie wrapped in two months.”

  “Isn’t that pretty quick?”

  “Yeah. A movie of this scope usually takes three months, sometimes more, to complete. But this producer wants it ready to release next spring, and there’s still the editing process, the music score, and half a million other things that go into a finished movie.”

  “What’s the hurry?”

  Nicolas curled up next to me and lay his head on my belly. “I think he expects I’ll be on trial about then, so he wants the movie to come out while that’s happening so he can capitalize on my name being in the tabloids.”

  “That’s morbid.”

  “No. That’s Hollywood.”

  He lifted my sleep tee, running his hand over the lower section of my belly. The babies responded, one of them doing some sort of roll just below where his head was. Nicolas laughed.

  “You think he’s trying to run away from me already?”

  “I think he’s turning over to say hi.”

  Nicolas sighed. “I like that idea.”

  I ran my hand over his shoulder, too aware of the tension that was living there. I wanted to do something to make it go away, to make him feel better. But I didn’t know what.

  He ran his hand over my lower belly again and whispered against my belly button like it was a direct link to the babies, “I can’t wait to meet you, my sweet children.”

  “You’re going to be such a good dad.”

  He pulled away as though I’d said he was a rotten father and should never be allowed to see his children. He climbed off the bed and headed for the door.

  “I should let you sleep,” he said over his shoulder.

  “I have a doctor’s appointment the day after tomorrow. Will you be able to make it?”

  He paused, his hand on the doorknob. “Wha
t time?”

  “Nine, I think.”

  He turned and looked at me, his eyes moving to my belly where it was still exposed. There was a line of bruises along my hip, places where I’d given myself my insulin shots. His eyes fell on those, and he studied them for a long minute, clouds rushing through his eyes like a storm coming in. Then, he turned and left the room without answering my question.

  ***

  “The baby’s look good,” Dr. Bishop said. “All the measurements are right where they’re supposed to be at this age. The internal organs look good. And the movement…well, I guess you know how well they’re moving.”

  “I do,” I said, smiling more from relief that everything was okay than with amusement at what he’d said. I knew that things were going well, but there was always that little voice at the back of my mind that kept listing all the complications that could come with a multiples pregnancy, especially when gestational diabetes was thrown in.

  “I’m sorry your husband couldn’t make it,” the nurse said.

  “He’s working on a new movie. He couldn’t get away from set.”

  Which wasn’t completely true. He’d left a note on my door that said he thought it might be better if I went to the doctor on my own because of the paparazzi. He didn’t want them getting wind of what was going on. Which was also why I couldn’t leave the house through the front door anymore and why Adam made me lie down on the backseat of the SUV whenever we drove out the back gate.

  That was all Nicolas needed right now, the press getting hold of the information that he had a pregnant woman living in his house. A pregnant woman who was carrying his and Aurora’s twins.

  “Did you want to know the sex?” Dr. Bishop asked. “A lot of my expectant mothers want the sex put into an envelope so they can have one of these gender reveal parties.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought about it.”

  Actually, it was all I’d thought about these last months. I was convinced, once upon a time, that it was a girl. But now that I knew I was carrying twins, I wasn’t as positive. Maybe two girls? Or a boy and a girl? It could have been any combination since the fertility doctor implanted four embryos, so the chances that they were identical twins was less than zero.

  I wanted to know. I just wasn’t sure Nicolas wanted to know. Or wanted me to know. And I’d been afraid to ask.

  “Let’s put it in an envelope,” Dr. Bishop said, patting my arm lightly. “That way, if you decide you want to know once you get home with your husband, you can look together.”

  “Thank you.”

  The doctor and nurse left a moment later, leaving me alone to re-dress. It was something of a struggle trying to put back on the dress I’d worn because it had to be zipped up the back. I hadn’t thought of that when I chose it because Constance was there to help me. But she wasn’t here now. I was alone except for Adam waiting outside in the car.

  I managed to get it on and slipped out of the exam room. The nurse seemed to be waiting for me. She handed me a plain white envelope and smiled. “Congratulations,” she said sweetly, too sweetly.

  “Thanks.”

  I started to move around her, but she stepped into my path.

  “I’ve been following all this stuff in the news about Nicolas. People can’t seem to decide if they think he killed his wife or not.”

  I glared at her as I again tried to move past her and she blocked me.

  “I’m sure the press would love to hear about the surrogate he’s got parading around town as his wife.”

  “I never said I was his wife.”

  “But you’ve never tried to persuade us otherwise.”

  “Does it really matter?”

  Another nurse walked past us, throwing a curious glance at me. However, she didn’t say anything or ask what was happening.

  “I think it would matter a lot to the press.”

  I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

  “I wouldn’t call it blackmail.” She stepped closer to me again, leaning in so that only she and I could hear what she was saying. “I would call it college tuition for my two boys.”

  “Then you’re barking up the wrong tree because I don’t have any money. And Nicolas? He’d never give in to someone like you.”

  “Yeah, well, Nicolas Costa is about to go on trial for the murder of his wife. I think that will probably motivate him to do what I asked.”

  “Then ask him yourself.”

  I pushed past her and stormed out of the office, not even stopping to get my next appointment set up. Tears were running down my cheeks as I stepped out into the bright, November sunshine. I reached up to wipe them away just as Adam appeared, seemingly from nowhere, at my side.

  “What happened? Is everything okay?”

  I shook my head, an anger building in my chest that I didn’t know what to do with. I wanted to scream and yell, to rip my hands into something, anything, just to make the pressure and the pain of that anger go away. Not only that, but I wanted to see Nicolas, to have him hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. However, I knew he would never do that and that realization just made the anger and the hurt and the frustration and everything else that had been building since I met Aurora Parker build to a frenzy that I couldn’t control.

  So I did something I’d never done before in all my life.

  I slammed my fist hard enough into the side of the SUV to actually feel bones break.

  Adam was immediately behind me, his arms sliding around me in something of a bear hug, dragging me back away from the car. Then, he turned me around and pulled me against his chest. I fell apart. Sobs ripped from my throat, tears streaming down my face to soak the front of Adam’s always perfectly ironed dress shirt. His hold was tight, at first, but it loosened as I cried. The tension in his body relaxed, too, as his hand began a gentle, soothing rub between my shoulders. I was barely aware of him for a long bit, but as the sobs began to lessen, I was grateful for his presence. If he hadn’t been there, I might have made a pretty impressive fool of myself.

  “We should go,” Adam said after a while.

  I nodded, but I didn’t immediately move. But then I heard voices and the sound of camera shutters going off. There were flashes, and I knew.

  The paparazzi had found us.

  Chapter 20

  “What the fuck were you thinking?”

  There was practically fire coming from Nicolas’ eyes as he confronted Adam. Even though Adam was a good two inches on Nicolas and at least fifty pounds heavier, he looked like a chastised child as Nicolas blew his fury all over him.

  “It was my fault,” I said from my position on the couch.

  Nicolas didn’t even look at me.

  “I asked you to take her to the doctor. I didn’t tell you to stand out in public and make a fucking spectacle of yourselves. Now her face is on every tabloid and gossip website from here to Timbuktu. Do you realize how fucking screwed up that is? How long do you think it’ll take them to figure out who she really is?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the paparazzi was in the area.”

  “You should have known. That’s your fucking job.”

  Nicolas waved Adam from the room and marched to the bar, pouring himself a stiff drink. However, he didn’t lifted it to his mouth. He just stood there and stared at it, like a dying man staring at the mirage that might or might not be his salvation.

  “It’s not his fault. I was upset and he was just trying to help.”

  Nicolas didn’t turn. I started to get up, feeling the need to go to him, to make him understand, but when I went to push myself up, I forgot about the heavy brace on my hand and pain shot up my arm, making me hiss.

  Nicolas turned then and rushed to me, kneeling in front of me as his eyes searched every inch of my being for the cause of my discomfort. I sat back and cradled my injured hand against my chest, tears again slipping from my eyes. I felt like such an idiot.

  “What was going thr
ough your mind, Ana? Why did you break your hand?”

  I shook my head. “I was upset.”

  “About what?”

  I wanted to tell him. I wanted to see him put that greedy nurse in her place. But those dark circles were back under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders told me that this was a man who shouldn’t have to take anymore. I didn’t want to be the cause of any more pain in his life.

  “It’s not Adam’s fault. He was just trying to calm me down.”

  Nicolas ran his hands over my thighs, pushing the material of my dress up until my legs were exposed just above the knee. Then, his hands moved over my belly and one the babies obediently kicked—and that, for some reason, made him stand and walk away.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to cause all of this.”

  “How did it go with the doctor? Are the babies okay?”

  “They did a sonogram. Said everything looks good.”

  “Yeah?” He leaned against the bar and looked at me. “They’re healthy?”

  “As far as they can tell.”

  “And you?” A hint of a smile danced in his eyes as he gestured to my hand. “Besides the three broken bones?”

  “I’m fine. Blood pressure was good. My blood sugars are good. They said everything is progressing just fine.”

  He nodded again, turning back to the drink sitting in the middle of the bar. He wrapped his hands around it and studied it, as though he was having some sort of internal battle with himself. I didn’t understand it, but there was a lot about Nicolas I didn’t understand.

  “They could tell what sex they are. They wrote it down in an envelope in case we wanted to find out together.”

  That got his attention. He came back to the couch and sat beside me, taking my good hand in his. “Did you peek?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to know?”

  “I do. But we never talked about it, so I wasn’t sure you would want me to.”

  “It would make it easier to set up the nursery. I haven’t even gotten started, to be honest. Constance said something about it the other day, but I never answered her.”