12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Shira
It took another day to convince Bea I could be on my own. As much as I loved her company, she had a business to run, and I didn’t need to be babysat from sunup to sundown. The medicine was helping with my nausea, but if I was honest, the reduction in my stress levels from no longer bearing the burden of keeping my late husband’s company afloat had made the biggest impact. I could finally take a breath without worrying about what I should have been doing, who I should have been talking to, or what literal or figurative fire I should have been putting out.
With my newfound freedom, I’d spent two days in loungewear, snuggling Mary until she got tired of me, and catching up on TV I hadn’t been able to pay attention to with all the moving parts going on in my life.
A strong sense of peacefulness had been uncovered when the rug was ripped out from under me, and I was taking my time to bask in it. I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn't felt like a guillotine was hanging over me, waiting for the rope to snap. Maybe in my early days with Frank, when he’d been well…but I’d been too wrapped in the grief of losing my mother to really notice.
Mary trotted over, a stuffed mouse clutched in her teeth, and dropped it in front of me. Her green eyes flicked from me to the mouse, making certain I saw what she’d brought me.
“Look at that mouse,” I cooed. “It never stood a chance in the face of my big, brave warrior princess, Mary.”
“ Rrrroowwww .” She pounced on the stuffed mouse, batting it between her little paws, both delicate and fierce, as she attempted to eviscerate it.
“Is this what you do all day when I’m gone, darling? Kill your toys?” I’d often returned from the office to Mary presenting me with a pile of her toys. Now, I understood she’d been showing off her hunting skills. “You’re the best girl, Mary. I’m going to take some lessons from you on how to be tough. You do it with style.”
She nosed the fully dead stuffed mouse toward me, sat on her fluffy bottom, and waited for praise. “Rrreoww.”
I rubbed her head and back while her tail swished. “Good girl, Mary. You really killed that mouse dead. I don’t think any other cat has ever killed a mouse so thoroughly.”
Raising her paw, she placed it on my wrist and tilted her head. “Rrreooowwww.” She butted her head into my palm one more time, then trotted away, probably off to find a spot of sun to nap in after all that hunting.
Alone in my barren living room, I took in the depressingly stark walls and state of my furnishings. The house had been Frank’s before I moved in with him. He’d bought it after his divorce from his first wife, and Francesca had already been away at college by then. Why he’d decided he needed five thousand square feet all on his own was beyond me. I was drowning in this empty space.
I’d been thinking about moving for a while but hadn’t been able to bring myself to add one more thing to my plate. Now that my plate had been scraped clean…
I cupped my belly. “No time like the present, is there, Beanie?”
It just so happened Bea had mentioned the house next to hers was for sale. This morning, I’d looked at the listing pictures with her and had fallen hard. I just needed to summon the energy to see it in person and put this place on the market.
Maybe I’d start on that…after a little nap.
Two things woke me at once: Mary nuzzling my face and my doorbell ringing insistently.
“If that’s Bea not using her key, I’m going to be grumpy,” I mumbled, moving Mary off me so I could get up.
But it wasn’t Bea standing on my porch. Not Bea at all.
I opened my door to Roman holding a big box with several bags scattered around his feet. All it took was one look at him for me to remember I was only wearing a camisole and cashmere lounge pants that had a habit of hanging low on my hips.
My body was fine. Even good by some standards—breasts too big for my small frame, narrow waist, round hips and butt. The thing was, I was incurably allergic to attention—especially of the male variety. Roman had seen everything once, but that was when he’d been Wim and I’d been Goldie. Now that we were us, the last thing I wanted to be was exposed in front of him, but here I was.
Maybe he’d leave quickly.
“Hi.”
“You have a cat,” he stated.
“I do.” Frowning, I glanced at the box. “Why do you have a robot litter box?”
“The last thirty-six hours, I’ve done nothing but read about pregnancy.” That was…unexpected. I would have even thought it was nice had he not sounded so angry. At least he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to my nipples poking through the thin fabric of my cami.
“Okay…” I whispered, unsure where this was going.
“Do you know what I discovered, Shira? Pregnant women aren’t allowed to clean litter boxes. Have you been cleaning Mary’s?”
Blood rushed to my cheeks. “Bea helped when she was here, but Mary’s my responsibility, and I used gloves—”
“That means yes.” He moved me aside—gently—and put the box down in my foyer. Then he went back to the porch for the bags and carried them into my living room. “I figured that would be your answer, so I bought this automatic litter cleaner. I’ve never owned a cat, but the man at the store said this one is the top of the line. When it needs to be manually emptied, I’ll do that, but the robot will clean it on a daily basis.”
“You’ll do that?” I echoed.
He looked at me directly, not quite angry anymore, but stern for sure. “You’re not to have anything to do with the litter. This is about keeping the baby safe, and that concerns me too. You don’t want our baby to be exposed to something that could be harmful, do you?”
My heart leaped into my throat, and my eyes burned. I’d only come around to accepting I was having a baby. I’d yet to fully digest Roman was the father. If Wim had been some random man with no connection to me, it would have been a thousand times easier, but that wasn’t the case. I was having a baby with a man who thought very little of me, who’d damaged me without provocation and had decided who I was based on others’ opinions and not my actions. Now, he was standing in front of me, accusing me of being careless with our baby’s health. It was the cherry on top of the sundae. Of course he would think that.
I paused, thinking it through. Had I been careless? God, maybe I had.
I blinked at him, my nose twitching, the burn in my eyes overpowering. “I don’t want that. Thank you for looking out for Beanie.”
I was an expert at locking down my emotions, but my little passenger must’ve held the skeleton key. Suddenly, my floodgates were wide open. A torrent of tears and a raspy sob broke free. I covered my face with my hands, but not fast enough to hide what was happening from Roman.
“ Shit ,” he bit out. Then he was there, taking me in his arms, gathering me against him. My head only came to the center of his chest, but it was a pretty fine place to be. Broad and warm, his heart beat rapidly beneath my cheek as he palmed the back of my head, holding me there. “I’m sorry for coming in so hot, Shira. I panicked when I read about toxoplasmosis this afternoon. Who the hell would have thought that was a thing?”
“Okay,” I whispered.
His other hand rested on the middle of my back, his fingers spread wide. One reached the top of my camisole, gently stroking the bare spine between my shoulder blades. It was too intimate but familiar. Those huge hands had once been all over me.
“No, it’s not okay. You don’t need me storming in here, making you cry. We have to figure out a way to coparent this…Beanie.”
Another sob broke loose. That was my nickname. I’d only started to say it out loud today. But my hormone-addled emotions liked hearing him say it, sharing that with him. How screwed up was that?
“You don’t have to hug me,” I said, though I wasn’t trying to move away from him.
“I know, but I made you cry. The least I can do is comfort you.”
That was what it took to finally snap me out of it. I slipped out of his embrace as memories of sitting on the bathroom floor after overhearing the things he said about me to Francesa came flooding in. He’d made me cry then too, and he certainly hadn’t comforted me. Maybe it wasn’t his fault he’d formed such a negative opinion of me, but that didn’t mean how he had treated me was okay. I’d watched my mother make excuses for a man who hurt her until she couldn’t do it any longer. I knew better than to follow that path.
“Thanks.” I wiped my tears with the back of my hand then wrapped my arms around myself. “I’m fine now. Don’t worry about me.”
A deep crevice formed between his brows as he frowned down at me. He seemed like he wanted to fight me on that but clamped his jaw tight and shook his head instead.
“All right. Show me where Mary’s litter box is and I’ll set this thing up.”
I led him to the utility room, pointing out the box and supplies on a shelf above it. He got to work on putting the massive robot machine together while I stood in the doorway, becoming increasingly doubtful this was a good idea. Mary was sweet, but she could be contrary. Like any girlie girl, she liked things just so.
“I’m not sure Mary will like this,” I stated softly.
Roman looked up from where he was crouched by the giant cat bathroom. “What’s not to like? The guy said this one has the best reviews. I looked, and it has the most features out of all the other brands. You can’t find anything nicer.”
“Mary’s a simple girl,” I said. “But she can be snobby about certain things. I tried to replace her old bed with an ultra-soft, luxurious one, and she clawed out all the stuffing.”
He scratched his head. “Is that normal?”
I shrugged. “It’s Mary. She’s very sweet, but she has a temper.”
“Is she going to be okay around the baby? If she’s violent, I can’t have her—”
“Don’t you dare.” My hand shot up between us, bringing him to a halt. “Mary is nonnegotiable. She may tear apart beds she doesn’t like, but she would never, ever hurt a fly, much less a baby.”
For once, I made direct eye contact. My cat was that important. If this man thought he was going to come in and throw his substantial weight around, he had something to learn. I’d ship him off to Siberia before I got rid of Mary.
Something in Roman’s stance shifted. He exhaled as his brown eyes searched me, from my eyes down to my chest, which I felt flush from my indignation. He was giving me attention I didn’t want or like because I’d reacted to him. My skin prickled with awareness and unease. I didn’t think Roman would hurt me physically, but I certainly didn’t trust him. He’d taught me not to.
“Okay, Shira. I hear you. Mary stays.” He spoke to me carefully, like I was an injured animal. For my part, I wasn’t doing anything to alleviate that treatment. I backed out of the utility room, keeping a wary eye on him.
“You don’t have any say in that,” I managed to push out once I had some distance from him.
His eyelids lowered, and he exhaled. “I know that.”
“Good.” Swiveling, I returned to the living room. It may have been barren, but at least it was a wide-open space where I could be far away from Roman and his judgment.
Roman followed me after a moment, staying several feet away as he gazed at the blank walls. His brow pinched and mouth puckered like he’d tasted something bitter, then he smoothed his expression and turned to me.
“Like I said, I’ve never had a cat and don’t know how they work. If you trust Mary, I believe you.” He blew out a heavy breath and shoved his fingers through his hair. “The last couple days have been a lot, and I’ve done nothing but ingest information about pregnancy. I think I’m overloaded now…and quite possibly freaking out.”
I couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling out. “I can’t imagine anything freaks you out.”
The corner of his mouth hitched. “Some things do. You’re right, though. It takes a lot to rile me.” He nodded toward me—toward my belly, to be precise. “This did it. Something huge is happening, and it’s completely out of my control. I’m not used to letting go of the reins, but I have to. It’s…more difficult than I expected.”
I nodded. “That’s understandable.”
And it was. I didn’t know Roman well, but his reputation preceded him. He’d grown up with a well-known family name behind him. Wealth had given him an innate power and the ability to control his world in many ways. For the next six months, his child would be living in my body, and he had to trust the woman he’d hated and mistreated to take care of his baby. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t trust him. Then again, he’d given me reason not to.
He glanced at the door then back to me. “I think I’ve done enough damage for the day. Do you need anything before I go? I can have groceries delivered or dinner…”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Eating is still hit or miss, but Bea made me soup that Beanie seems to love, so I’m sticking with that for now.” Remembering something, I raised a finger. “Before I forget…”
I grabbed the packet of papers my ob-gyn had sent to me and handed them to him. “These are instructions for the paternity test. You go to this lab—”
“Paternity test?” Roman echoed.
“Yes. It’s a simple blood draw. You can go—”
“You want me to take a paternity test?”
Frowning in confusion, I answered, “Yes…don’t you?”
“Is there a question of paternity?” he pressed, his rough tone shooting alarm up my spine.
“No. Not for me. But I assumed you’d want to be sure. You know, since we barely know each other, and…well—” I cut myself off, biting down on my lip.
“Well, what?” he gruffed. “Just say it, Shira.”
I peeked at him from beneath my lashes then looked away. It seemed he wasn’t leaving until I replied, and since I really did want him to go, I acquiesced.
“Considering your low opinion of me, I didn’t think you’d take my word that this is your baby.”
Roman’s exhale was harsh and sharp as the papers crinkled in his hand. “I earned that.” He lowered his hand, clutching the papers at his side. “I was there. I saw the broken condom. I know the baby’s mine. We’ll do the test to make things official, but I don’t doubt you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he echoed. “Text or call if you need anything at all. Big or small, whatever it is, I’ll make sure you have it.”
It was nice he believed me, but it would take a lot more than lovely words for me to trust Roman Wells. I guessed it was good we had six months before we had to coparent. By then, hopefully he’d figure out I wasn’t the conniving gold digger he’d made me out to be, and I would be able to be in the same room as him without flinching.