Chapter 22 Beatrice
BEATRICE
What’s that saying, the truth is meant to set you free? Well, I call bullshit. Since the moment I opened that email, and then not long after Everett’s message, everything has gotten worse.
I don’t feel free; I feel trapped.
It’s been two days and I’m walking around with a heavy heart and knots in my stomach.
He may have said sorry, but that’s been it.
Okay, I didn’t reply either. But should I?
I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just…I’m trying to keep my head above water and survive.
I’m not sure what I was hoping for, really. I knew it was unlikely that Everett would learn the truth and turn up here with a giant stuffed toy for our unborn child, pull me into his arms and promise me that everything will be alright. I don’t even want that…do I?
I just…I want the truth for my child. I want their father to have a choice, I want …
Sleep. I want to sleep.
I’m so fucking tired. Every movement is hard work. My muscles are weak, and holding a conversation with clients is excruciating. I just want to go home and curl up in bed—only I don’t, because my new apartment is the last place I want to be.
Tears burn my eyes as I tidy up after my last client of the day. Things haven’t always been easy for me. I’m sure many would take one look at my name and make all the wrong assumptions that I’ve lived this luxurious, glamorous life. But it’s all a smoke show.
This salon, even when I was on the verge of losing it, has made me the happiest I’ve ever been.
With everything cleaned up, I drop back into the seat and lift my feet from the floor. My soles pound in time with my heartbeat.
I glance over at the foot spa longingly. But as nice as it might feel, I don’t have the energy to set it all up.
With a sigh, I pull my cell from my pocket. I respond to a couple of emails and react to the memes that Sienna and the girls have put in our group chat throughout the afternoon.
There isn’t anything from Everett, not that I really expect there to be.
I didn’t reply to his apology message, and he hasn’t reached out since.
Maybe I should have. After all, I was the one who forced all this on him.
I could have just continued with this pregnancy alone.
It’s stupid and naive of me, but I want him to make an effort.
I want him to show me that he wants to be a part of this.
It’s an unrealistic, idealistic expectation, and I hate that I’m holding out even a shred of hope that he might surprise me.
I’m about to haul myself from the seat so that I can finish up and head home when the door opens, and Sienna pops her head around.
“Hey, you’ve got a visitor,” she says, her eyes narrowing when they land on my face. “Are you okay?”
I dread to think what she can see. I did the best I could with makeup this morning to hide the dark shadows that circle my eyes and to brighten my complexion with some highlighter and blusher, but I’ve no doubt that it’s long faded now.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, but it comes with a wince as I put my weight back on my feet.
“Oh, yeah, you really look it.”
“I think I need to invest in some sexy orthopedic shoes or something. Hey,” I complain when Sienna snorts a laugh. “It’s not funny. I thought pregnancy was meant to make you glow.”
“You look radiant,” she announces.
“Don’t lie to me,” I mutter.
“It’s early days. I think it gets worse before it gets better.”
“Okay, go back to lying to me.”
Sienna chuckles as I shuffle toward her and then follow her down to the reception desk.
I don’t put any thought into who is here; my only concern is how quickly I can get rid of them so I can go and curl up in a ball.
Everyone else has already left for the night, so there are no distractions as I round the corner. Not that I think he’d be possible to miss if there were people in here.
Everett Donnelly is an enigma even in the most crowded of rooms.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt the second my eyes connect with his.
His chin drops in shock a beat before his eyes do the same thing, taking in the length of me.
I’m wearing my black salon-branded tunic and leggings. It’s a million miles from what the women he usually spends time with wear, but he doesn’t comment as he traces the lines of my body back up to my face.
Popping a hand on my hip, I raise a brow. “Finished?”
Sienna sniggers as she tidies up the desk. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says quickly before disappearing out the back.
Everett stands awkwardly before me, his lips pressed into a thin line and his hands behind his back.
“This place is cute,” he finally says when the silence extends a little too long.
“Uh…yeah.” Usually, I’d happily take the praise.
I’ve designed this place from the ground up, and I’m beyond proud of what I’ve achieved, but for some reason, I don’t want Everett knowing everything about me yet.
I need to know I can trust him before I let him into my life further than he already is.
“Did you want something?” I ask when he continues to look around.
I’m not sure if he’s really interested, or if he just doesn’t want to focus on me.
“I…uh…” He rubs the back of his neck as he stumbles. “Would you…uh…do you need dinner?”
One side of my mouth twitches up with a smile.
Is he…he is nervous?
“I was planning on eating dinner tonight, yes,” I confirm. “Haven’t quite decided what to have yet, though.”
“Yeah, me too.” I frown, wondering if he heard something different from what I just said.
“We don’t sell dinner. And if you were looking for a mani-pedi, we’re actually closed.”
His brow deepens before he lifts his hands between us. My eyes drop to his fingernails. Yeah, they could definitely do with some TLC.
“I’m not here for that. Can I…can I take you for dinner?” Behind us, there’s a suspicious bang followed by a “fuck,” letting me know that Sienna hasn’t gone far.
“You want to take me for dinner?” I echo.
“Uh…yeah. If you’re up for it.”
“And if I’m not?” I ask, unable to stop baiting him.
“I…um…I don’t really know,” he says honestly. “I just thought it might be a good idea to get to know each other.”
“Is that right?”
Everett shifts a little on his feet, and it’s all I can do not to grin at him. I wonder if he’s ever been nervous in front of a woman before. Something tells me that if he has, it hasn’t been for quite a few years.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts.
“I know, you said so in your message. Although I’m not sure what exactly you’re sorry for. Getting me pregnant? Calling me a liar? Being a jerk at the hospital?”
He scrubs his jaw. “All of the above, and probably a few others you’ve forgotten about.”
“Wonderful. Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve had a really long day. I just want to go home and put my feet up.”
“We can order in,” he suggests.
The thought of him setting foot inside my new building, let alone my tiny apartment, sends a shot of fear through me. He can’t see that.
“No,” I say in a rush.
“O-okay. I thought…I thought you wanted me to be a part of this,” he says, gesturing toward my stomach.
“Yeah, I do. I just—” My words are swallowed as a sob erupts.
It surprises me as much as it does him, but despite not wanting to cry in front of this man, my body, or more so my emotions, are a law unto themselves right now.
“I’m sorry,” I force through my sobs. “Hormones.”
I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say that I’ve never seen a man more terrified in my entire life. If I weren’t such a mess, I’d laugh.
Hesitantly, he reaches out and pats my upper arm.
The fact he has a little sister flickers through my mind, along with the fact he’s got a willing bunny waiting for him in every state. Surely, he’s better at dealing with women than this.
Thankfully, my amusement quickly overrides my emotional outburst.
“I do want to do this together,” I confirm. “I guess I just assumed you weren’t interested with that apology. A bad apology at that.”
“I’m sorry. I really don’t know how to handle…” If he says me, I’m going to knee him in the balls. “This situation.”
“And you think I do? Contrary to popular belief,” I say, narrowing my eyes so he knows I’m talking about him, “I didn’t actually plan for this. I didn’t have any plans to grow a human anytime soon. My life is already busy enough as it is, I have plans and dreams and…this wasn’t it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop fucking apologizing,” I almost shout.
“It doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t erase your shitty behavior or the fact that you’ve got some magical freaking super sperm who escaped the condom and put two fingers up at my birth control.
” I groan when all he does is smirk. “It’s nothing to be proud of,” I cry.
His smirk only grows.
“Ugh, you’re a nightmare.”
“Get used to it. I’m not going anywhere.”
Internally, I do a little happy dance. But I refuse to let him see, so I keep my expression neutral.
“So, what did you have in mind for dinner?” I ask, conceding. I’m starving, and if he’s willing to pay, who am I to argue?
“I’ll eat anything. Your choice.”
I consider my options for a few moments.
“Mexican.”
“Mexican it is. Any preference for a restaurant?”
“Nope. Payer’s choice.”
His chin drops, but he doesn’t comment.
“I just need to grab my things,” I say, taking a step back, but for some reason unable to rip my eyes from him.
“I’m not going to run away,” he states when I hesitate to disappear around the corner.
“Can you blame me? It’s not like you have a reputation for hanging around.”
“Been doing some research, sweetheart?”
The second that nickname rolls off his tongue, my breath catches, and I’m taken straight back to that night.
“I’m growing your child. I have every right to know.”
“I’m not arguing. But you’ll only get to know the worst version of me online.”
“Then I guess you’d better try to show me the better version,” I say before finally disappearing around the corner. I only make it two steps before I swear I hear a muffled “fuck.”
The second I step into our small staff room, Sienna is on me.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Everett Donnelly is here.”
“Calm down, Si,” I mutter as I walk toward my abandoned purse.
“What? No, I will not calm down. He’s here for you.”
Throwing my purse over my shoulder, I spin to face her.
“Please don’t get too excited. The only thing this man has ever committed to is a piece of rubber. Sure, he might be buying me dinner tonight—”
“Well played, by the way,” she interrupts, making me roll my eyes.
“He might forget we exist tomorrow.”
“That’s not possible, Bea. He’s going to fall in love with you.”
“How much bleach did Lessy use today? It’s gone to your head. Everett Donnelly is not going to fall in love with me. This isn’t a cheesy rom-com or a sappy fiction story, it’s—”
“A spicy fiction book, based on the tales of your first night.”
“Nothing is going to happen here. He’s…” I wave my hand toward the door. “And I’m…” I point to myself. “We’re not—”
“You’re perfect.”
“Whatever little image you’ve painted in your head, you need to forget it. He’s the father of my baby; that’s it.”
Sienna smirks at me. “Okay.”
“Ugh,” I groan before marching away.
“Enjoy your date,” she calls.
“It’s not a date,” I yell back, and I regret it the second I walk out into the salon, because Everett takes one look at me and bellows, “It’s a date,” back to my best friend, who squeals in delight.