by Amy Brent
I felt as though I was on the brink of flying out of control. I wasn’t sure what it would look like when I did, but I knew I would know when it happened. Everyone would. Nate, my mom, my dad – everyone. God, Patricia would find out – I hadn’t told her a whisper of this, of what had happened since I’d run into Nate again at the big launch party, and I knew she would tear me a new one for being naïve enough to believe that a guy like him would ever truly commit to a woman like me.
But I had been so damn sure. That was the hard part – the memory, still rich and forthright in my head, of the look on his face when he had seen me again, of the way he had kissed me outside the party, the way he had pulled me into his arms and reminded me just how much he wanted me. He had told me the truth, for the first time in what felt like so long. He had told me he wanted me, that he had been as lost to thoughts of me as I had been to thoughts of him. Had it not been for my father, for the pregnancy, for all of it, maybe we could have been together. Maybe we could have made it work.
Or maybe I would have whiled away the whole summer dreaming of a man who only wanted me when he couldn’t have me. Maybe that would have been the more likely outcome. I knew men like him, had known them all my life, had seen my friends date them over the years and rolled my eyes every single time. I knew what they were like, what kind of games they played. And Nate, well, Nate seemed like the kind of ass who would only come chasing after me when he thought that I was unavailable to him. That was what the hook-up on the plane had been about – the allure of the what he knew he shouldn’t take. Because it wasn’t about how much he wanted me, or the chemistry we shared, or the budding start of something that I had been sure had been there between us for a moment. No. I hadn’t heard a word from him since I had returned to the city. He didn’t want me.
I finished up my perfunctory job search for the day and switched off the laptop, getting to my feet to make myself a cup of tea – anything to take the edge off and it wasn’t as though I could pick up a glass of wine this early in the morning (or at all, considering the kid I was carrying). I didn’t know how I felt at that moment, but I did know without a doubt that if I wanted to quit my job search now, I could have. I could have called Nate up and demanded a million dollars to keep my mouth shut, asked for all the money in the world to raise his kid and not make it his problem, and I knew he’d give it to me in a second. He was so caught up in the business, in making sure that all of this was okay, that he would throw anything at the problem I represented to keep his indiscretions under wraps. It hurt, more than a little to realize that I counted amongst his indiscretions now – I wasn’t the woman he’d dated, I wasn’t the woman he’d almost fallen for, I was nothing but a problem to be dealt with and kept quiet.
I stood over the kettle as it boiled, and, not for the first time since I’d gotten back, wondered if I could do this by myself. I mean, I knew I could. I could do about anything that I set my mind to, and this was just another example of something that would need a little extra bristle of determination. But without him? Even if he was present, even if he said he wanted to be a part of this child’s life, I knew that I would always be at arm’s length to him, and that hurt. He would always be looking for ways to make it clear that he didn’t want me in that way, that he couldn’t commit to me and the baby the way I wanted him too. And the thought of being stuck with that, of being around him but having to ignore all the insane chemistry between us and pretend that he was little more than a sperm donor for me, already felt nearly impossible.
I finished up making my cup of tea and made my way back through to the living room, sinking down into the couch and letting out a long sigh. I wondered how long it would be before I started to properly show. I could just about get away with it right now, with a big sweater and a heavy shirt on, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could pass myself off under baggy clothes and expect to get away with it. I placed my hand on my stomach, testing to see how much I had swelled, and found a small smile on my face as I traced my fingers over the bump once more. It wasn’t exactly how I’d seen my life going when I had finished up college a few weeks before, but I was actually excited about having this baby. I knew that there was a quick way to cut Nate out of my life for good, to end these problems once and for all that no-one would have blamed me for taking given the circumstances, but I didn’t want to take it. I wanted this baby, had become attached to it as soon as that test had turned positive in my hands, and nothing was going to change that.
I heard footsteps outside the door, and got to my feet, glancing at the clock and noting that it must have been the postman arrive with something for me. Sure enough, when I was halfway across the room to answer him, I heard a knock at the door.
“Coming!” I called. I hated how slowly I was already starting to move because of this thing inside me – how bad would it be when I was six months gone? Would I need to be pushed around the place in a wheelchair? Probably.
I pulled the door open and found the postman standing behind it – well, what I thought was the postman, because his face was obscured by a bunch of flowers so comically enormous I couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of him.
“Nia?” He greeted me, reading the name on the note. I nodded.
“These for me?” I asked, and he handed them over, dumping the heavy bouquet into my hands. Fuck, that was a lot of flowers; I almost dropped them at first, struggling to keep a firm grip on them.
“Thanks,” He panted, trying to catch his breath for a moment. “And if you could just sign here…”
I signed for the flowers, closed the door, and carefully carried them over to the counter in the kitchen to find something to keep them alive in. I couldn’t remember the last time I had received flowers. Matt had never much been one for giving me them, and my family were always more likely to give me something practical as a gift instead of something as extravagant and pointless as a beautiful bunch of flowers like this one. I spotted a small card tucked into the leaves and pulled it out, furrowing my brow as I read the letters carefully inscribed on the thick white paper.
“To the mother of my child,” It read. “My feelings for you run deeper than you know. X”
I knew who it was at once – I mean, who else could it be? But what was he doing sending a giant bunch of flowers to me not long after he’d all but told me that he couldn’t be with me? I shook my head as I tried to cram the giant bunch into a vase that would actually hold them. This didn’t make sense. What was he trying to say with this? What was the kiss about? How did he know to fill the bunch with so many petunias, my favorite? I needed answers, and I knew there was only one man I was doing to get them from. Heading to my room, I went to get changed, glancing at the bunch of flowers every time I walked passed them to strengthen my resolve. I needed to see him face-to-face, where he couldn’t run away and couldn’t try to slither out of what he owed me. Pulling on a jacket, I did my best to remember the way to his apartment, and then hailed a cab in the street to take me straight to his place.
Chapter Sixteen
I stood there, in the lobby of his apartment building, trying to pluck up the courage to storm up to his place and ask what the hell he thought he was playing at sending me a bunch of flowers like that. I was pregnant, for goodness sake, and the last thing I needed was someone trying to slide in and play games with me when I needed my rest and relaxation.
But something in me was keeping me back, keeping me pacing back and forth and trying not to catch the eye of anyone else who came in. The doorman had stepped aside to let me in at once, without a second thought, and I had smiled at him gratefully, happier than he knew that at least someone remembered the frequency with which I used to come around to this place.
I thought back to the flowers that had arrived barely an hour before, and finally found the courage to march up those stairs and confront him. What did they mean? Surely he must have known how far he pushing it, how desperate I was for any hint of romantic entanglement that lay between us still. He co
uldn’t be ignorant to the fact that I wanted him to want me, wanted him to feel the way I did about the two of us. And those flowers – a declaration of his feelings for me on the card – those were a mixed fucking message if I ever saw one.
I hopped in the elevator and headed towards his penthouse, but before I could get there I stepped out and decided to walk instead. I just wanted a hot second to think, to figure out exactly what I wanted to know from him – did I want him to apologize and take it back? Did I want him to throw himself at my face and beg for me to give him another chance? It was so hard to know for sure, so hard, and the thoughts and questions buzzing around my head made me feel as though my brain was going to start leaking out of my ears at any moment from overuse.
I arrived in the corridor that led to his door, took a deep breath, and headed towards it. I was likely only a few feet away from him at that moment, so close that I could almost taste him in the air around me. I paused outside his door, wondering if I should just go and chalk this one up to bad wording on his part, but no. I needed this. I needed to hear it, once and for all, that he didn’t want to be with me in that way. I knocked on the door, mustering up all my courage and screwing it in to the place that it stuck.
But there was no answer. I waited there for a good minute, listening carefully for any signs of life on the inside of that place, but nothing came out of there. Was he away at work? No, it was the weekend, and even he insisted on taking a few days away from the office every week. I looked down at my watch. It was just before lunchtime, so the chances of him being out with a woman were pretty slim, as he usually kept his dating to the evening. Maybe he was at the gym? Should I just hang out around here until he got back or try again later? I wasn’t sure what was less desperate, less creepy. He had CCTV in this corridor, I knew that much, and he would see that I had turned up as soon as he checked it. I guess it would be weirder if he just saw some footage of me lurking around the door and then leaving. I should stick it out.
I knocked again, just in case he’d been in the shower and had somehow missed me, but before I could start the rigmarole all over again I heard the elevator at the end of the corridor ping open. I glanced around, and felt my stomach drop and my heart leap at the same time. There he was. He was glancing over his shoulder, like he was waiting for someone.
“-so that’s how we’re planning to handle the Granstone account,” he went on, and reached into his pocket for his key. And then, at last, he looked up and saw me. And his face went white.
He hurried towards me, and a voice followed him out of the elevator, though it took me a moment to realize who it belonged to.
“I’m glad to see you’ve got plans in place,” The voice remarked. “Shit, sorry, my lace, I’ll just be a minute-”
“Take your time!” Nate called back at once and he unlocked the apartment door, took my arm, and bundled me inside. I frowned at him.
“What are you-”
“Your father is in that elevator,” he muttered furiously, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t given himself away. “And if he sees that you’re here he’s going to have a whole lot of fucking questions, right?”
“My father?” I exclaimed, and he closed the door in my face and leaned up against it; I could hear the weight of him on the creaking wood, and pressed my ear to the door to see how he was going to handle this.
“So, how about that drink, huh?” My father suggested, and there was no doubt now that it was him. I would recognize that voice anywhere. I bit my lip. Talk about bad timing. I hadn’t even known he was in the city – it must have been a last-minute trip, maybe he was planning on catching up with me once he’d done whatever he needed to for the business.
“Actually, I just stuck my head in and they’re cleaning my apartment,” Nate replied smoothly, ever the charmer, never out of control. “How about we take a raincheck on that, right? I’ll owe you one for next time.”
“Cleaning?” My dad asked, sounding confused. “Can’t you just tell them to wait until later?”
“No, they-” Nate scrambled for something to palm him off. “Once they start they don’t like to lose their place, so they just stick with it.”
“That sounds kind of dumb,” Dad muttered.
“Well, it gives me a chance to see you again while you’re in the city,” Nate pointed out, ever the smooth-talking businessman. “I can take you around the offices and you can see what we’re working with here.”
“That sounds good,” Dad agreed, and I heard his feet shuffle like he was getting ready to go. “Keep that bottle of Laphroaig ready for me though. You’ve got me interested to try it now.”
“Will do,” Nate promised, and I could practically hear him silently urging my father to leave already.
“I’ll be in touch soon,” Dad finished up, and finally I heard his footsteps working their way down the corridor, leaving the two of us in peace once more.
“Thank fuck,” Nate muttered outside the door, and waited for a long beat before he pulled it open and slipped inside.
“So I’m the cleaning staff now, huh?” I remarked, cocking my head at him. He didn’t look angry, but there was a flash of annoyance to his eyes that made me bristle. No, I was the one who had come here with a bone to pick, so I had no idea what he was doing coming out swinging at me like he was the one who was owed an explanation.
“What are you doing here?” He demanded, his voice still low, as though my father might somehow hear what he was saying from the lobby.
“I came about those damn flowers,” I defended myself quickly. “What the fuck did you expect me to do?”
“The flowers?” He furrowed his brow, his face searching mine for explanation. My heart dropped. Had he forgotten them already?
“The flowers you sent to my place,” I reminded him. “The ones with that note? Or did you get your damn secretary to pass those along so it looked like you gave a shit?”
“I’m sorry,” he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, like he was trying to drag himself back to reality. “It’s just I’m still kind of stressed from your dad-”
“Yeah, and what’s he doing in town?” I demanded, waving my hand in the direction of the corridor. I was still wrapped in a big jacket, just in case anyone caught a glimpse of my bump and somehow the news got back to somebody I knew. It flapped dramatically as I gestured and somehow the ridiculous drama of that moment made me want to giggle. This was all so much. Maybe I was just delirious from it, had started to take it in as normal even though it was the furthest thing from it.
“He flew in last night to meet with me to go over some of the details of one of the deals that we’re working on together, and to get a better idea of how I run the business day-to-day,” he replied softly, as though trying to calm me down, keep me contained. Well, bad luck, buddy, because I was here on the warpath, a rampage, and I was going to get answers whether he wanted to give them to me or not.
“And does he know that you spend way too much on flowers for the women you get pregnant?” I demanded, cocking my head at him expectantly. He eyed me for a moment, not replying, and then turned to head over to his bar to get himself something to drink. I stood there, watching him, and it flickered through my mind that this was the very first place the two of us had hooked up. That felt so long ago now, when I had managed to convince myself that this wasn’t just okay, it was an actively good idea, and that I should give myself over to this man because it would help me move on with my life. Little did I know.
“No, he doesn’t,” he finally responded, after pouring himself a glass of scotch and taking a long drink of it. I wondered if that was the kind he had promised to share with my father – knowing him, it probably was. I pressed my lips together and watched him, waiting for an explanation, for something about all of this to start to make sense.
“I need you to fucking help me out here, Nate,” I stood there and narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t know what the fuck you want from me and it’s starti
ng to really mess with my head, you get that, right?”
“I know,” He shook his head. “I get it.”
“Then why do you keep doing this?” I asked, and there was a tinge of desperation to my voice that seemed to echo around the room, capturing us, clinging to us. “I don’t understand. You tell me that you have feelings for me but you can’t be with me, and then you send me that beautiful bunch of flowers with that note-”
“So you liked them?” The flicker of a smile passed over his face, a though he was satisfied at what I was admitting. I rolled my eyes.
“Yes, but that isn’t the point,” I reminded him. “The point is that – fuck, Nate, how can you not get this? I can’t keep doing this, this back-and-forth bullshit. I need to know what’s going on between us before I lose my fucking mind.”
Nate made his way over to the couch and sat down, and then waved me over to do the same. His face was set and impassive and I couldn’t help but feel a little twinge of fear as I looked over at him. Maybe I didn’t want to hear this after all. Maybe all I wanted to hear was him telling me that he wanted me back, and I couldn’t handle him cutting me out for good.
