Chapter 3
three
ELAINA
The contract sits on my kitchen table like a bomb that could explode at any moment.
I’ve been circling it since I finished in the café an hour ago, picking it up and putting it down again, squinting at the tiny text through my clearly inadequate +1.25 reading glasses until my eyes burn and my head aches. Between the small font and my stubbornly uncooperative eyeballs, I can only make out about every third word, but the words are doozies.
Custody. Visitation. Compensation. Non-disclosure.
And, of course, “Termination,” which feels ominous as hell in any context, but especially in a contract about making a baby with a man who treats emotions like an allergen he’s thankful to be immune to.
“He’s probably a sociopath,” I tell Captain Crunchypants as he army-crawls across my worn floorboards, in hot pursuit of his catnip ball. “Like, for real. What does it say about me that I’m dying to get naked with a sociopath?”
My ancient gray tabby pauses his hunting to shoot me a look that says, “The heart wants what it wants, pumpkin. But so does the pussy, and sociopaths are sexy as hell.”
I nod. “They really are. It’s the charisma, I think.”
“And the confidence. Love a confident man.” The Captain pounces on his catnip ball, holding it trapped between his paws as he rolls over on his back. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Hunter again, either, baby girl. That man has amazing hands. The way he stroked my fur…”
I sigh. “Yeah. He’s really good at the stroking part.”
“So good,” the Captain agrees with a horny sigh, like the aging queen he is. They say there’s no scientific proof that cats can be gay, but the Captain never met another male cat he wouldn’t try to mount, even after he was “fixed.” It was part of the reason I finally broke down and adopted him myself, removing him from the general adoptable cat population below in the café. He’s a menace to his fellow Toms, but a sweet, snuggly precious head with people.
It’s a good reminder that cats—and people—can be more than one thing and are often very different, depending on who they’re with.
Hunter might not be a sociopath with everyone, just with women he’s fucking.
And ones he wants to impregnate and abandon.
“But it isn’t abandonment when you know it’s going to happen in advance,” I argue. “It’s just leaving. Right?”
I glance the Captain’s way, but he’s too busy purring and rubbing his face all over his kitty cannabis ball.
That’s it. I need counsel from someone who isn’t high and has experience being human.
I grab my cell and pull up Grace’s number, hoping she won’t be busy at this time on a Sunday evening. She runs a café, too, up in Quebec City, but she also goes out at night and does fun things. It’s one of the benefits of living in a city instead of the smallest, quietest town on the eastern seaboard.
Thankfully, my only “out of town” friend answers on the second ring.
“Elaina, my love, so good to see your name on my screen,” Grace answers, her faint French-Canadian accent making me smile.
I loved the time I spent studying pastry-making in Quebec City two years ago so much, but I could never live there. Maine is already cold enough for me, thank you, and French is the hardest language. I studied my butt off for months before I left for the course and still struggled to understand most of our teacher’s instructions. Without Grace’s kind offer to translate, I would have been completely lost, and my puff pastries would never have poofed.
“Good to hear your voice,” I say. “Might you have ten or fifteen minutes to circle a problem with me? I’m struggling with a big decision and could really use an objective point of view.”
“Of course,” she says. “I’m free for two hours before I’m due to meet Jerry at the restaurant for dinner.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. “Dinner at eight p.m.? Won’t you be starving by then? I’m meeting friends for dinner at seven and that already feels thirty minutes too late.”
She laughs. “You’re so American. Eight o’clock is the perfect time for dinner, especially in the summer. Who wants to eat their best meal of the day when it’s still light out? Food, and wine, taste better after dark.”
“You could have a point there. Though I prefer to do other things after dark,” I sigh as I transition, “speaking of ‘other things,’ do you remember that guy I told you about last fall? The one who rocked my world for three days straight before disappearing without so much as a ‘thanks for the orgasms’?”
“The private equity jerk?” She snorts. “Yeah, I remember. I could have told you he would. Private equity men are the worst, even here. And we have regulations to prevent them from being as ruthless as they are in the States.”
“Yeah, well, allegedly he’s a fairly ethical businessman—according to my friend’s fiancée, anyway—he’s just a dick when it comes to romantic relationships. I ran into him on the beach after Sydney’s wedding reception last night, and he didn’t even try to apologize for the vanishing act. He acted like I was the crazy one.”
Grace makes a disgusted sound. “Did you tell him to go fuck himself?”
“I did, actually.” I grin, remembering the stunned expression on Hunter’s face fondly. “But then he told me that he’d come back to Maine specifically to see me…and to make me an offer he hoped I couldn’t refuse.”
She hums beneath her breath. “Color me intrigued.”
I lay it all out for her—the dying mother, the fake engagement, the baby, the contract, the money, the apartment in New York, the agreement to add an addendum to keep my café running until we know everything is going to work out as planned.
With each detail, Grace’s silence grows heavier until I can’t help begging, “Say something? Please? Tell me I’m not crazy for actually considering this.”
“Crazy? Friend, this is so crazy I need a word that means more than just normal crazy, but I can’t think of one.” Her voice crackles with disbelief. “Elaina, that is wild! And strange and… I can’t believe he thinks his mother would want him to have a child that way and never see the poor thing again. He’s deluded.”
“I had a similar response last night,” I admit, tugging at my ear as I sag onto my chaise lounge. “But he said his mom would never have to know that our relationship was fake, and that she really wants to know her family line isn’t going to die with Hunter before she passes. Apparently, all her other relatives are already dead because of some horrible, toxic place they lived when she was young. None of her sisters were even able to have children because of it, so Hunter really is the last chance for a future Mendelssohn.”
She makes a doubtful sound that’s very French. “Okay, I see. But still…it’s strange. And it doesn’t sit well for me.”
“I know, me neither.” I flop back against the cushions, the springs creaking in protest. The chaise, like most of my furniture, came from a yard sale, and is more shabby than chic. It doesn’t bother me, but looking around my apartment earlier, all I could think was how much more I’d be able to give a child if I took Hunter up on his offer. “But I’m still considering it. I’m dying to have a baby, and there’s no one around here with long-term potential. Or short-term potential, for that matter. I haven’t been on a date in months. There’s such a shortage of decent prospects that I just…gave up.”
“Giving up isn’t good,” she says. “You’re so beautiful and fun and talented, Elaina. I told you, you should move to Quebec! You can work for me to earn your visa, and I’ll find you a fabulous boyfriend in no time.”
“Thank you, but I can’t,” I say, though I’m touched by the offer. “I couldn’t handle the cold, and my life is here. And with Hunter financing the move to New York, I’ll get to be closer to my friends, something I could never afford to do without help. And, once he’s out of the picture, the dating pool will be much larger in a big city.”
She makes a more intrigued sound this time. “That’s true. And New York has so many fantastic things to see and do. Even if you didn’t find someone to share your life with, you would never be bored. And being closer to friends is so important. I know you’ve been lonely since your girls moved away and your mama passed.”
“I have,” I say, watching Captain Crunchypants make his way to the chaise, his back end swaying like a drunk sailor’s. “There’s just not much for me here anymore.” I reach down to scratch his head. “Except the cats and the business, and I can take Hunter up on his offer without risking those things. I mean, maybe I’m missing something, but as far as I can figure, I don’t have much to lose. And there’s so much to gain.”
“Unless you fall in love with him,” she warns.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not going got fall in love with him.”
“Said the girl who was so mad at this guy, she couldn’t stop grouching about him for weeks,” Grace reminds me, proving she’s the no-bullshit friend I need right now. “You were really mad. Which means you really liked him. At least a little bit.”
I groan as I flop back against the cushions again. “No, I didn’t like him. I was just…annoyed. And the sex was good. It’s hard to have good sex taken away with no warning. A girl wants a last hurrah, you know?”
“Well, you’d certainly get a good amount of ‘hurrah’ if you two are trying to get pregnant,” she says dryly. “I mean…if you’re sure you’re not going to develop a soft spot for this guy, and the contract is ironclad, maybe it’s only a partially crazy decision? What does your gut tell you?”
“That’s the problem.” I stand again, resuming my pacing. “My gut is confused. On one hand, Hunter is exactly the kind of arrogant, emotionally unavailable, smugly annoying jerk I should run screaming from. He’s controlling and bossy and clearly has more baggage than a major airport, even if he thinks he’s got his shit all sorted out.”
“But?” she prompts after a moment.
“But…” I pause by the window, glancing down at the street where my girls will be appearing in about an hour with their other halves. We’re all hitting the lobster boil at the community center tonight, treating the New York boys to a classic small-town Maine tradition.
Another night of pretending not to mind being the third wheel…
“But he’s not cruel,” I continue. “Or even mean, really. He’s just blunt and prefers to cut the bullshit and get to the point. Which I honestly kind of like. He says what he means, even if he knows you’re not going to like it, and there’s something refreshing about that. I have no doubt that I could trust him to honor the contract and treat me fairly, which is more than you can say about a lot of men.”
“Well, yes, I guess…” Grace’s voice softens. “But I hate to think of you compromising or giving up on your dreams, love. If you want a big, beautiful romance and a real family, then that’s what you deserve.”
“Thanks,” I say, secretly thinking about how often people get things they don’t deserve.
Like cancer and inoperable tumors.
I’ve been through enough by now to know that life isn’t close to fair and dreams don’t always come true, no matter how deserving you are.
Though occasionally Fate will step in and make a wish a reality, just in a way you didn’t originally expect…
“But I think this could be big and beautiful, too,” I say. “I’ll get to be a mother now , instead of waiting and hoping to find a partner who wants kids before my eggs dry up. And I’ll get to be closer to the people I love most, who always make me feel loved and cared for. It might not be a family in the way I once imagined it, but it’s real. And with a little help from our friends, I think me and the baby could build an amazing life for ourselves in the city. She’d be able to go to the best schools, do any extracurricular activity she can imagine, be surrounded by culture, and just have so many more opportunities than I had growing up in rural Maine.”
“You’re already thinking of a little girl,” Grace says, her voice warmer. “Oh, my friend, I think it’s too late. I think you’re already a little pregnant.”
“I think I am, too,” I say, wincing. “Is that awful?”
“No, it’s not awful,” she says. “And you’re right about being closer to your friends. They’ll be there for you no matter?—”
Her words are drowned out by a firm knock at the door.
The back door, the one that leads to a small deck and the rickety stairs Hunter used to slip away after our three days of hedonistic bliss…
“Hold that thought, someone’s at the back door no one uses,” I tell Grace, my pulse picking up.
Is it him? Has Hunter come to plead his case again, despite assuring me that he wanted to give me time to think?
I confess I wouldn’t hate that, especially if he’s here to remind me how much fun we’d have baby-making…
“Oh?” Grace makes a worried noise. “Well, be careful. We had a killer on the loose for a while who would sneak into homes through a back door while people were away. Then, he would lay in wait and murder them when they went to bed.”
“No one murders people in Sea Breeze,” I say, but her words convince me to grab the baseball bat I keep by my shoe pile—just in case.
It was a gift from Mom after I moved into this apartment alone at just eighteen years old, determined to be an entrepreneur like her. Sea Breeze is safe, she always said, but that doesn’t mean a woman shouldn’t be prepared.
“Our biggest crime wave involved a group of kids who kept nailing eggplants to the wooden pirate’s crotch outside the seafood buffet,” I continue, making my way toward the door.
Grace giggles. “Funny. But still, be careful. I’ll stay on the phone until I know you’re safe.”
“Thanks.” I peek through the peephole, nearly dropping my phone as I identify my unexpected visitor. “What the heck?” I mutter.
“What? What is it?” Grace asks. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I murmur, still stumped as to what on earth my eye doctor is doing on my back stoop. “It’s Dr. Childers, my optometrist.”
“What? They make house calls there?”
“No, never. Not that I know of, anyway,” I say, peeking through the peephole again. “And especially not on Sundays. But she does have a bag with her and…” I trail off as my brain connects the dots. “Oh my God, Hunter must have sent her.”
“What? Why would you think that?”
“I told him last night that I hadn’t had an eye exam in years,” I murmur. “He must have decided to…fix that.”
“Oh, wow,” Grace says, sounding as fluttery as I feel. “How romantic. Bossy, but romantic.”
“No, it’s not, he probably just wants to make sure I don’t fall down a flight of stairs or something before I can have his baby,” I hiss, before calling in a louder voice as the doctor knocks again, “Just a second Dr. Childers, be right there.” To Grace, I whisper, “Have to go. Text you later.”
“All right, but yes, text me! I have to know what you decide,” Grace says. “And I’m here to talk anytime, love. Just pick up the phone.”
I thank her before ending the call and opening the door, revealing the petite, middle-aged woman I haven’t seen in her office for quite some time. But Dr. Childers comes in for scones almost every Friday, making it slightly less strange that she’s appeared on my back stoop. “Hey, doc. How’s it going?”
“Hey, Elaina,” she says, her cheeks a little flushed. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I was told you’d be home and available for an exam.” She lifts her bag. “I just started offering in-home visits for my elderly patients who can’t get into the office as easily as they used to, so it seemed like kismet when your friend called this morning.”
“He’s not my friend, doc,” I say, not wanting to bullshit anyone I don’t absolutely have to bullshit.
She arches a wry brow. “I didn’t think he was, dear, but he’s clearly smitten. You don’t want to know how much he paid me to make a house call on a Sunday evening. And he said he’d pay whether you agreed to the exam or not, so…” She shrugs. “If this isn’t a good time, feel free to send me away, but I would love to get a look at those eyes. I know you’re young and healthy, but you’re past due for an exam. Might as well take advantage of the nice, bossy man’s generosity.”
“Sure. Come on in,” I open the door, stepping back to let her in. “He is bossy, and I’m not sure how nice he really is, but you’re right. No sense in looking a gift horse in the mouth, and I was having trouble reading today, even with my cheaters.”
“Then, I’m glad I’m here,” Dr. Childers says, bending to pet Captain Crunchypants as he ambles over to welcome our guest.
“What a handsome fellow,” she coos. “I’ve been thinking of adopting a cat lately. Things are too quiet around my house since my youngest went to college.”
“Oh woman, don’t say that,” I tease as we move toward my large table by the back windows, where she can set up her things. “You know I have an embarrassment of adoptable cat riches downstairs. Just say the word and we can put an official meeting on the books.”
“I may do that,” she says, grinning. “Once I convince my husband that cats are way more fun than the parrot he wants to buy.”
“A parrot?” I wrinkle my nose. “Why on earth would he want a parrot? You can’t cuddle a parrot, they don’t purr, and they’ll never learn to tidy up their own poo.”
“Right?” she agrees. “That’s what I’ve been saying for months.”
We continue to discuss all the ways cats are superior to all other pets as she conducts her examination, assuring me my eyes are fine, but that I definitely need a new prescription.
After she writes that out for me, she reaches into her bag and pulls out several pairs of frames. “There are great places to get affordable glasses online these days if you’re on a budget down the line. But in the meantime, Mr. Mendelssohn asked me to set you up with two pairs. He thought you might like something vintage-inspired, but I brought other choices, too. He’s already paid, so you just need to let me know which frames you’d like, and we can have those ready for you in the office by Tuesday morning.”
I bite my lip, torn between being touched that Hunter knew exactly what kind of frames I would like and creeped out by his bossiness.
I don’t need some dude coming in and trying to take charge of my body.
Oh yeah? You sure about that? You were scandalously overdue for an eye exam…
I was, but that was my choice .
I like having choices and the final say when it comes to the healthcare I do—or don’t —decide to access.
I won’t be able to do that if I sign that contract. Hunter will have full access to my records and an equal voice in all medical decisions made during my pregnancy until after the baby is born. That’s one of his stipulations. He wants to know exactly what’s going on with his baby mama from conception through delivery…
Can I handle that? A bossy near-stranger looking over my shoulder into the most intimate parts of my life? And what if he wants to be in the room when I give birth, staring between my legs while the head starts to crown?
Maybe my opinion on that will change, but right now it sounds like the most mortifying thing ever.
“The cat-eye frames would suit you,” Dr. Childers suggests, pulling me from my thoughts as she holds up a pair of frames in tortoiseshell. “Very classic.”
I slide them on and glance in the mirror she holds up. The woman staring back at me looks sophisticated. Poised. Like someone who might actually have her life figured out.
Like someone who might be able to handle Hunter Mendelssohn and anything he decides to throw her way…
“Perfect,” Dr. Childers declares. “Should I mark these down as your first selection?”
I nod. “Yes, please. And I don’t need to try any others. I can’t imagine frames I’d like better than these.”
“Brilliant. Then we can do one in tortoiseshell and one in black?” Once I agree, she adds, “Sounds good. We’ll give you a call if they’re ready for pick-up before Tuesday. In the meantime, have a good night, and don’t take any guff from this man. Just because he treated you to an eye exam doesn’t mean you owe him anything. Not even the time of day, if you don’t feel like giving it. I know you have a good head on your shoulders, but I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t pass along that piece of mama bear advice before I headed home.”
Nodding in acknowledgement of her wisdom, I walk her to the door, “I knew you were a girl’s girl, doc. And don’t worry, I plan on taking zero shit from this man.”
She laughs. “Hear, hear!”
I lean against the doorframe, calling as she starts down the stairs. “Get home safe, and call me when you’re ready to meet the adoptable fur babies. I have some really sweet older cats right now and three kittens just about ready to be weaned.”
“Will do!” She lifts a hand in farewell, and I shut the door, feeling much better than I did before her visit.
She’s right. I do have a good head on my shoulders, and I’ve proven I can accomplish great things even with nothing but a high school diploma and a knack for baking.
I might be able to pull this crazy thing off and emerge happier than ever on the other side.
“What do you think, Captain?” I ask.
Captain Crunchypants flops onto my socked foot and starts purring. I scratch behind his ears as I muse, “I mean, we’ve done crazier things. Right?”
The Captain just purrs louder and drools on my leg, too high from his catnip ball to offer counsel.
This is a decision I’ll have to make alone, but that doesn’t feel as scary as it did even an hour ago.
And once I give that contract a thorough read through, I can?—
“Shit,” I curse, wishing I’d asked Dr. Childers if she had any higher-powered readers for sale in her black bag.
I make a mental note to grab new glasses at the pharmacy to tide me over until my prescription is ready and head to my open hanging racks to find something to wear to dinner, excited about the night to come in a way I wasn’t before. After all, I may only be a third wheel for a little longer. If all goes according to plan, I’ll soon have a little family of my own, and a precious new baby to love…
The thought is enough to put a spring in my step as I breeze into the bathroom to get ready for a night out in our sleepy little town.