by ML Nystrom
“Those aren’t mine…, they’re… um… they’re Jake’s, and he’s just hiding them from Mattie.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.”
“MOM!”
I laughed out loud. I couldn’t help it. This family was the best thing to ever happen to me. They meant the world. “I love you, Abby-pie. Don’t ever change.”
I turned to Bevvie and tossed the second wrapper into the trash. “I’ll text Owen tonight and ask if he’ll go with me this weekend. You’re right. I’ll probably need the backup.”
This would be more than hanging with the family at a festival or sitting with the kids. This would be a date with Owen MacAteer. I liked the idea. I liked it a lot.
“Miss Miser? A word, if you please.”
Ugh, nothing like seeing your boss, all stern and serious, standing in your doorway. Beverly took her cue from the foreboding face of Mr. Bradshaw the troll. “I’ll talk to you later. Let’s go home, Abby-pie.”
“Mom, I said not to call me that anymore. I’m Starglow now.”
I nearly burst into laughter as Bevvie muttered, “Trolls and spacey teenagers, God help me,” as she passed me on her way out. If it wasn’t for the frowning hound dog face of my principal, I think I would have enjoyed the moment more.
“Yes, Mr. Bradshaw, what can I do for you?”
“I received some very disturbing news this morning.”
The budget for the math team has been cut. The school bus routes have been changed. The grocery store ran out of bran cereal. Different scenarios crowded my mind.
“I received your request for parental leave for next semester.”
The back of my head buzzed. I could already tell where this conversation would go. Nonetheless, I played it off. “Is that all? Gosh, Mr. Bradshaw, I thought something terrible had happened, like the school board decided to bring back blackboards and chalk to replace our whiteboards and markers.”
My sarcasm sank like a boat anchor. “Miss Miser, am I to think you’re pregnant?”
I gave him my brightest smile while gritting my teeth. “Why yes, Mr. Bradshaw, I am. I am pregnant, and my baby is due in late December or early January. Thank you for asking.”
He shuffled a bit. “You’re an unwed woman.”
OMG, open a dictionary and find some new terms, preferably in this century. “Yes, I’m aware.”
“This is highly inappropriate, Miss Miser.”
I kept the fake smile on my face but began to bristle. “According to the state policies, any parent or guardian is allowed up to twelve weeks of leave for parental bonding without danger of losing his or her job. That same policy says I only need to give you forty-eight hours of written notice before taking that type of leave. I’ve given you an entire semester to get a long-term sub for my classes. I’m not sure what you find so disturbing about it.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not married.”
Moron! “We’ve already established that, sir, and there’s nothing in this policy about being married or unmarried.” I supposed being deliberately obtuse didn’t help my situation, but truthfully, I got a kick out of needling the old bastard. “What exactly is the problem?”
“I don’t think the parents will be very happy to have you teaching the girls in your classroom.”
More like he will not be happy to have me teaching the girls in my classroom. Old goat!
I crossed my arms over my chest and stood up straight, towering over the man, and prepared for battle. “Three years ago, the chemistry teacher, Dillon Rathbone, got caught boinking a student in the lab after school. You let him stay in his classroom until the board hearing for permanent dismissal. That same year, Randy Barnett, a history teacher, had three, three DUI arrests, including one during a school trip he chaperoned and drove the bus. He’s still working here and still keeps a bottle of vodka locked in his file cabinet. The rumor of Coach Blake Perdue giving steroids to his football players made the rounds last year, but no charges were ever filed. To this day, he’s still in question, however when pressed, you defend him and puff up with pride at the team’s winning record.”
The man started melting into a puddle of weak goo. “Um… do you have a point, Miss Miser?”
“My point, Mr. Bradshaw, is you’re a chauvinist. Yes, I’m a single pregnant woman. This does not affect the safety of my students nor the integrity of my classroom. I’m not going to parade around the school with a scarlet letter printed on my chest, especially when so many of my male colleagues have been granted pardons by you personally. I’ve given you a more than generous amount of time to find a long-term sub capable of teaching my classes. Anything else is nun-ya.”
His face turned red, and he sputtered. “I don’t understand.”
“Nun-ya business.”
I have to give him credit for trying. He pushed his horn rims up and mustered the stern look back on his face. “Miss Miser, this is not the same thing as having a bottle of bourbon locked up in a file cabinet.”
“Vodka.”
“No, it’s bourbon. I... uh....”
Jackpot! His face drained of color when he realized what he’d just confessed. “I’m... uh... that is… well… um… good day to you, Miss Miser.”
After he slunk off with his tail between his legs, I had to sit down, as my knees jellified and wouldn’t hold me up any longer. He was right. Some people existed who would look down on me in judgement. My mother and brother had already declared me to be an embarrassment. My father didn’t have enough regard for me to be on his radar. A hiccup caught me by surprise. Fuck, don’t cry, Mel. Not here. Not worth it.
The clock read four thirty before I left my classroom and walked to my car. I sat at the steering wheel and stared into nothing for several minutes, then my stomach shifted.
Not nausea. Not sickness. Just a little twist. I held my breath. It happened again, but this time it felt like a little poke. My baby moved around inside me, and I pictured him or her rolling over. I had a sonogram scheduled for Monday morning, since schools were closed, and Beverly had volunteered to go with me. I covered the spot with my hand and received another light kick.
“I don’t give a shit what other people think. They can say or do whatever they want. It’s you and me, kid, and we’re gonna rule the world.” I wiped my eyes. “By the way, if you hear mommy say shit or fuck or damn, that doesn’t mean you get to say it. Rules and all.”
I pulled out my phone and scrolled to Owen’s number.
Me: Hey, what are you doing tomorrow afternoon?
The dots waved up and down for a moment.
Owen: No real plans. Probably work in the woodshop with Connor or laundry.
Me: Wanna come with me to a party?
Owen: Not much of a party guy. Where is it?
Me: My parents’ annual Labor Day bash.
Owen: I thought you were on the outs with them.
Me: It’s complicated. Yes, I’m on the outs but if I don’t go, I’ll never hear the end of it. Only an hour or two, and there’s usually a pretty nice buffet spread. We can make an appearance and leave. You’d be doing me a huge favor.
The dots danced and stopped several times before I got a response.
Owen: What do I have to wear?
I sighed in relief. A weight came off my shoulders. I knew Owen wouldn’t let me down.
Me: Casual business if you can. Khakis and a polo shirt is fine if you have it. If not, whatever you have that’s clean.
Owen: I have some clothes that will work. Time?
Me: Around one-ish will work.
Owen: I’ll drive my truck if you don’t mind. Your car is nice but too small for me.
Me: Deal. Pick me up at twelve thirty?
Owen: Yes.
Me: It’s a date. BTW, I just felt the baby move.
The dots stopped moving. Uh-oh. TMI? Should I have not used the word date?
They jumped a few times.
Owen: Happy for you,
Melanie.
I couldn’t help the grin that burst out of me.
Me: Thanks! ;-)
I closed the app and buckled my seat belt. Junior flipped again. “Yeah, I’m hungry too, kumquat. What do you say you and me go get a chicken gyro from Nick’s Grill and binge on Netflix tonight? I’ll tell Bevvie about the troll on Monday. Good plan?”
My kid wiggled in affirmation. “Okay, biscuit. Okay.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sticky-hot humidity layered on top of me as I opened the door of the black hulk that was Owen’s heavy work truck. He came around the side and offered me a hand. I accepted as the ground looked like it was far away from my perch in the oversized vehicle. Cars were lined up at the portico, waiting for the valet parking attendants to find space for everyone. Owen had found a spot close to the driveway exit instead of waiting in the line. That way we didn’t have to wait for someone to bring us the vehicle when we wanted to leave. The grass would be flat there for a day or two, but the rest of the lawn would also have some damage from all the guests my family invited for their annual Labor Day gala.
Why the fuck did I come here today?
Because if I didn’t make an appearance, my mother would drop into a hysterical fit and guilt trip me for life. My father would sniff his disapproval and tell me in his own way how disappointed he was in me. Magnus didn’t count. I already knew he would prefer I go far, far away and never return. As much as we hated each other, it amazed me that we shared a blood tie.
I smoothed the blue and white floral maxi dress over my ripening body. At five months, I was starting to show a little, and the loose-fitting dress hid my slightly rounded stomach. Did I look pregnant? Maybe a little, but there was enough material swinging around my body that it was hard to tell. No doubt the gossip was making the rounds, but I didn’t need to add any fuel to the fire. Let them keep guessing.
Owen folded my hand into his as we approached the house. The strains of a string quartet wafted past my ears, and the smell of smoky barbecue mixed with lilac floated in the air. Strange combination, but I was noticing more and more strange combinations these days. It seemed all my senses had become super acute. Food tasted richer, colors were intensified, and odors had strengthened. Touch was also affected, in that I was more aware than ever of the man standing next to me. Despite the heat of the day, his presence burned.
He turned to me with those incredible green eyes of his. “Okay?”
I was sure most of his talking today would be in one- and two-word sentences and mostly to me. No big secret that social settings weren’t his favorite way of spending an afternoon. I couldn’t really blame him either, as the one we faced today, I thought of more as a gauntlet than a party. I fake smiled at him. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s get this shit show over with.”
I could tell he wasn’t fooled by my false bravado, but he kept moving.
The back of the house held a few hundred people or so. Some were friends, but the majority were work acquaintances of either my father or Magnus. It was limited space, so the privilege of being one of the select few to attend was a big deal. I’d questioned for years why they didn’t hold this party of theirs at the country club. More of their people could come with less mess and disturbance to the house. I had the feeling it was more to do with showing off the family wealth than spending time with friends and colleagues.
Wait staff hired for the day wandered around carrying trays of miniscule hors d’oeuvres. Pregnancy was hard work, and my appetite had increased significantly. These tiny bites of nothing wouldn’t cut it for long. Owen picked up a star-shaped cucumber slice topped with a dot of cream cheese and a tiny roll of smoked salmon. He eyed it for a moment before he popped it into his mouth and crunched down with a frown. The waiter scurried away before he could pick up another one.
“Fake food,” he commented.
I had to agree. “It’s a fake day, O-man. Let’s get through it, then make like birds and get the flock out.”
Piper Long, one of my mother’s cronies and the biggest gossip at the country club, approached me. “Melanie, darling. How are you?” She air-kissed both of my cheeks and gave Owen a dismissive glance before looking down at my hidden middle. “You’re looking just lovely these days.”
Bitch. I know what you’re looking for. “I’m well, Piper, I hope you are. This is Owen MacAteer.”
She twisted the ruby drop pendant hanging from her surgically tightened neck. “My, he’s certainly a big one!”
Jeez, why does she always have to titter like that when she talks? Oh my God, did she just crotch shoot him?
Yup, she did. Her eyes darted again to Owen’s lower half. WTF?
I thought Owen looked good on a daily basis—even more so that time I saw him shirtless at the hotel—but today, he was exceptional in tan pants that hugged his tight ass and a pale green polo shirt that fit tight across his broad shoulders. The logo of his family company was stitched on the breast rather than a fashion one. Irish Pub Builders sat on top of a small shamrock. His hair had been freshly buzzed and his short beard trimmed neatly. He looked hot, or should I say hawt? Piper thought the same, judging by the hungry, speculative expression on her face. Owen shifted toward me and seemed uncomfortable under the older woman’s scrutiny. Time to shut this shit down.
“Yes, he is a big one, Piper.” I turned and fitted myself to Owen’s side. His arm came up and automatically wrapped around my waist, drawing me closer. I almost tittered myself at the thought he was using me as protection from the geriatric cougar. My hand came up to rest against his hard chest, and a nipple tightened under my palm.
I didn’t know why I did it. Maybe because Piper was watching. Maybe because I spotted Peter on the other side of the pool with Prudence Mayfield. Maybe because Magnus stood next to them, and the trio’s attention was squarely on us. Maybe I just wanted to. I put two fingers to Owen’s jaw and directed his mouth to mine. The kiss was a light one, closed mouth and entirely casual. I wasn’t expecting the spark that jumped between us. His body jerked as it hit him too.
Piper waved to a group of her cronies and made some lame excuse to move off and go talk to them. I nodded and smiled at her, but my focus was completely on the man standing beside me. Every movement he made landed in my gut. His palm dropped from my waist and brushed lightly over my ass as he reached to clasp my hand firmly in his. He stuck his other hand in his pocket and simply waited for me to decide what to do next.
“I guess I need to make sure my parents see me so I won’t get the third degree next week. We don’t have to stay long. Just enough to keep them satisfied and off my back. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
“Always.”
A thrill zinged through me at his simple one-word answer. A wealth of meaning sat behind that word. Bevvie was right. I’d never find another man to have my back like a MacAteer man. Like Owen MacAteer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Piper point at me and Owen and then circle a finger around her stomach. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what her gesture meant. The other ladies reacted with looks of indignant shock or disapproving frowns. One woman pressed her fingers against her mouth as if stifling a laugh. My hand crept up to cover my lower stomach. Fuck you, bitch! Say all you want about me, but say anything about my kid and it’s on.
Owen squeezed my hand. He’d seen the old biddies as well and didn’t like it.
I spotted my father and mother standing together in front of the fountain, greeting their guests. Magnus had left his spot near the pool and lurked somewhere in the crowd. I hoped to avoid running into him. That would make the day a bit more bearable.
Owen plucked another cucumber star from a passing tray as we walked over to my parents. I guessed it would take three or four of those trays to fill him up. Maybe more. My mother had dressed up to the nines today in a dusky pink floral dress that came to just above her knees. One shoulder was covered and the other bare. I wasn’t sure it was a good look for her, as it showed the thi
n and wrinkled skin across her collarbone. It was designer and cost at least four figures, which made it okay. My father wore a suit and tie. How the hell could he stand that in this heat? In his hand sat a crystal tumbler of amber liquid and ice cubes. No doubt it was his favorite bourbon.
“Melanie, darling, how good of you to come.” Deloris’s sugar-sweet southern came through gritted teeth. I could hear the underlying message, don’t embarrass me, in her words. I leaned over as she air-kissed me on either cheek. My height was always an issue for her, and her eyes darted to the kitten-heeled sandals I wore. Nine West instead of Jimmy Choos, but I doubted she could tell the difference. “My, what a handsome fellow you have here.”
“Mom, this is Owen MacAteer. Owen, this is Deloris Miser, my mother.”
He stuck out a hand, and Deloris looked at it in fright before gingerly taking it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. MacAteer.”
Martin kept silent as his attention wandered through the crowd, it being beneath him to acknowledge my presence. Nope, not dealing with this shit!
“Daddy, this is Owen MacAteer. Owen, this is my daddy, Dr. Martin Miser.”
I watched him cringe when I called him “daddy.” He never liked it when I was a child and liked it even less now. Owen repeated the handshake extension.
“What line of work are you in?” No greeting, no reciprocal hand. He didn’t even bother looking Owen in the eye. Just a cold question, and he couldn’t care less about the answer.
“Construction. Own a company.”
Deloris oh my-ed and how nice-ed while Martin grunted, sipped at his drink, and pointedly turned his head away. Fuck me sideways. Seriously, why did I come here today? My mother insisted on this, but it was obvious my father wanted nothing to do with me. Nothing new there. An awkward silence settled between us, and I froze. What did I do about my father’s rudeness and my mother’s nervousness? Nothing. Nada. Anyone else, I wouldn’t have hesitated to tell them off or walk away. With my parents, I’d never been able to stand up to them. An icy sick feeling crept up the back of my throat, and I flashed both hot and cold over my body. My breath shortened, and my heart raced. In my world, I had control of myself and my life. In this house, I was nothing. Less than nothing and would always remain in that position.
