Chapter 40 Beatrice
BEATRICE
The door to the treatment room cracks open, and Sienna’s head pokes inside.
“Hey, you okay?” she asks, despite the fact that she can clearly see I’m not. Concern pulls at her brow.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing myself to stand from the bed. Honestly, all I want to do is curl up on top of it, fall asleep, and hope the constant nausea fades.
“If you need to go home, we can—”
“No,” I bark. “I don’t want to go home. I want to be here; I just want to feel like me.”
Sympathy flickers through her eyes. “You will, Bea.”
Her positive words aren’t all that reassuring. While I might lose the nausea at some point—here’s hoping—the other side effects that come with growing a human don’t sound all that fun either. And then there’s the birth itself.
Yeah, I’m trying not to think about that right now.
“Your next client is here,” Sienna says, unable to come up with anything that might help.
I nod as I finish cleaning up in here.
“She’s filling out the disclaimer now, so you’ll be good to go.”
“Thanks, Si. I owe you.”
“Never. I’m popping to the store; do you need anything?”
A heavy sigh passes my lips. I need a lot of things right now. But I’m not sure any of them can be purchased from a store.
One face flickers through my mind, and my hand curls into a fist at my side.
I haven’t seen him since our date, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little anxious.
I regretted those words about asking me to marry him the second they fell from my lips.
He’s still in contact, still checking in at least once a day, and sending more food that I can consume, but I can’t help feeling like I scared him off.
The sensible side of me keeps assuring me that he’s just busy. But while all these pregnancy hormones are running rampant through my body, I struggle to focus on the sensible and tend to dive headfirst into the emotional side, which is currently telling me that Everett is no longer interested.
It should be a relief. It’s what I wanted: him to be available for our child. I never wanted him to have any interest in me…right?
He told me explicitly that night—not that he needed to— that he doesn’t do relationships.
Hell, he doesn’t even do more than one night.
I knew what I was getting into. And yet…
all these weeks down the line, discussions about fake dating and me blurting out that I just need a ring and my head is all over the place.
“N-no, I’m fine, thank you,” I finally force out while Sienna gets a front-row seat to me spiraling.
She gives me a sad smile before disappearing from the room. I know she’s allowing me to have a moment to pull myself back together before my next client. But…I’m not sure I really want to be alone.
I force myself to stop and take a couple of deep breaths before focusing on what I need to be doing right now, and then walking out of the treatment room with my head held high.
If I scared Everett off with my requirements over this arrangement, then clearly, he isn’t man enough for the job.
“Good afternoon,” I say as I approach my client.
My brows pinch as I study her. She looks familiar, but being completely useless with faces, I have no idea where from.
She smiles up at me, but there’s some hesitancy in it.
“Thank you,” I say when she hands me the iPad Sienna left her with to fill out her information and sign the disclaimer.
I quickly scan through her medical section before abandoning the tablet on the reception desk and leading her through to the nail bar and selecting my favorite station right at the back.
“Please, come and take a seat.” She does, and a few seconds later, I get started removing her current gel polish.
The usual questions roll off my tongue. I’ve been working with clients for so long now, I do it without thinking.
The client tells me about her recent vacation, and I soak it all up, trying to put myself on a beach with the sun beating down on my skin.
It’s hard to remember the last time I experienced that.
Since starting this place, vacations have mostly gone out the window for me.
I tell myself that it’ll all be worth it in years to come; when I have a whole host of salons that are working for me, I can have all the vacations I’d like.
“This place is really cute,” my client tells me when her vacation tales come to an end. “You’re the owner, right?”
My brows pinch. “Uh, yeah. Thank you, I’m really proud of the place.”
“You should be. I can’t believe I haven’t found you sooner. Didn’t think I was going to manage to snag an appointment—you’re fully booked.”
“Business is doing really great right now,” I say, pride surging through me for everything I’ve achieved here and the obstacles I’ve overcome recently.
“So, what color are we going for?” I ask, glancing at the chart beside us that she’s been studying for the last ten minutes.
“That one,” she says, pointing at a green that reminds me of someone’s hockey jersey.
“Of course,” I say, pushing to my tender feet so I can grab the bottle. “It’ll look fantastic with your tan.”
“I think my fiancé will appreciate it,” she mutters behind me.
Hearing that she’s engaged isn’t a surprise; the size of the sparkling diamond on her ring finger very much gives it away.
“Have you set a date yet?” I ask absently, as I retake my seat.
“We have. First weekend in September.” I nod along as she gives me a few more details before turning the conversation on me. “What about you? Anyone special in your life?”
My stomach knots.
“Umm…it’s complicated.”
“Ah, I see,” she laughs.
I’m usually pretty good at keeping my personal life locked down, but this time, I get the sudden urge to spill everything.
I don’t. None of my clients, even some of my long-standing ones, need to hear the disaster that my life is right now.
The conversation continues to flow, but I don’t miss the way she keeps trying to deflect my questions and turn them on me.
My unease begins to grow, and that previous feeling that I should recognize the woman sitting before me only gets stronger.
“Before you put the top coat on, could you add a little something for me?” she asks when I reach for the final bottle.
“Yes, of course. What would you like?” I ask, expecting her to ask for a flower or something.
But when her request rolls off her tongue, everything comes crashing down around me, and realization hits a second before the embarrassment does.
“Please could you add a little white number seven on my ring finger?”
“A…a number seven?” I ask, my voice rough.
Our eyes connect across the table, my blue to her golden ones. The longer I stare, the more I see it. Everett’s are darker, but the similarities are right there and have been this whole time.
“Shit,” I hiss, dropping my gaze to the table as tears burn the backs of my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Parker whispers, reaching across the table and placing her hand on top of mine. “I just needed to…”
I look up, silently begging for her to finish that sentence.
She deflates, sinking back into the chair.
“I needed to make sure he was right and that you’re not a bunny.”
Irritation shoots through me, but it doesn’t last very long. I understand.
“I promise you, Parker. I am not a bunny. I didn’t—” A hiccup erupts as I lose the battle against my raging emotions and my tears spill free. “I didn’t plan for any of this.”
“Oh shit,” she mutters before pushing her chair out as if she’s going to comfort me.
“No, don’t do that, your nails aren’t finished,” I all but yell.
She hesitates but sits back down.
I grab the bottle of white, praying my hands stop trembling so I can give her a decent number seven.
“You’re right, your fiancé will appreciate this,” I laugh as I reach for my brush.
She lets me work in silence, giving me a moment to process. And when I finally look up again, she’s studying me.
“I can see why he was so enamored with you,” she confesses quietly.
“Because I turned him down,” I quip.
Her smile grows, and it helps to lessen some of my anxiety.
“Well, yeah. That’ll do it. Men like Rett don’t like to be told no.”
“If only I’d stood my ground.” Literally.
“Don’t feel bad. They’re really convincing. How do you think I ended up with this?” she says, waving her ring at me.
“At least you took your time to figure it out.”
“Ah, so you have done some research,” she teases.
“Of course, I’m just really bad with faces.”
“I thought you’d recognize me straight away.”
“I should have.”
“Yeah, considering I’m going to be your sister-in-law.”
I practically choke on my own saliva. “I’m sorry, what?”
Parker laughs as if this is nothing but exciting. “He’s never taken anyone on a date before, Bea. Never.”
“But…that…it wasn’t a…”
“That’s not what he said.”
“It’s fake,” I mutter.
She frowns. “What’s fake?”
“The date. Everett and me—”
“The baby?” Parker asks, her gaze dropping to my stomach even though it’s hidden behind the table.
“Oh no, that is very real.”
“But…I don’t understand.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Yes, you absolutely should have. What’s going on here, Bea?”
I sigh and place my brush down so I can focus on her.
“Hailee thinks we should start fake dating to help turn Everett’s reputation around and to stop him from getting traded again,” I say in a rush.
“B-but…” I wait for what’s to follow, but no words come.
“I haven’t agreed to anything. I just…shit.
” I close my eyes for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts.
“I didn’t ask for any of this. This place is my life.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and I was content with focusing on it for the foreseeable future.
I didn’t want a man, a relationship— hell, I certainly didn’t have plans to have a baby anytime soon.
And yet, here I am.” My tears come faster.
“We did everything right. He…he wore a condom. I was on the pill. It never should have happened.”
“Or maybe it should,” she reasons.
“Excuse me?” I blink, confused.
“I can’t speak for you, but despite everything, I can’t help but wonder if you, both of you, are exactly what Rett needs.”
My mouth opens and closes, but no words come.
“I’ve always worried about him. His temper, his reluctance to let anyone in.
I was so relieved when his trade here was announced.
He was spiraling in Seattle, and I hated being so far away from him.
But now he’s here, I’m not sure I could bear losing him again, being forced to watch him fall apart from afar.
“Hailee is right. If he doesn’t sort himself out, he will be traded again. The Vipers need him focused on his job, not constantly in the media for everything but his dedication to the sport.
“This…this could be exactly what he needs to turn everything around.”