Chapter 39
39
ROWENA
Twenty-three weeks pregnant
The next morning, as Adrian and I walk through the revolving glass doors of America’s top toy manufacturer, I’m struck by the grandeur of the lobby. Soaring ceilings, gleaming marble floors, modern art installations—it’s like stepping into the pages of Architectural Digest . The contrast to the humble start-up digs of MC Toys couldn’t be starker.
“Ms. Taylor, Mr. West, welcome.” A tall man in an impeccable navy suit strides toward us, hand outstretched. “Franklin Davis, VP of Acquisitions.”
I shake his hand, trying to project confidence despite feeling out of my element. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Davis.”
No sooner have I let go than another hand is thrust into my face. “Rowena, Adrian, Vanessa Carlton, Director of Marketing.” The redhead’s grip is firm, her smile polished to a high shine. Three more suits descend on us in quick succession, a whirlwind of introductions and handshakes.
My head spins as I attempt to commit names and titles to memory. This is the major leagues, no doubt about it. I peek at Adrian, but he looks at ease, flashing his megawatt grin as he makes small talk. Of course—he’s in his element.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the conference room,” Franklin says. “The rest of the team is eager to meet you both.”
There’s more of them?
As we fall into step behind him, I tug at my plain blouse, wishing I’d opted for something more befitting a corporate takeover. Adrian leans in close, his breath tickling my ear. “Relax, Sunshine. You’ve got this.”
I shoot him a grateful smile, drawing strength from his nearness. In fact, despite the formal and somewhat intimidating environment, I can’t stop smiling. Last night, we made love. It was intimate and passionate and real. And he said he wants this, me, us. My mind is split in half, part having a celebration party, singing and dancing, and the other, trying to concentrate on the presentation I have to make.
We’re ushered into a spacious conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a stunning view of the city with the ocean in the distance. The space is furnished with a long, gleaming table and ergonomic chairs that look like they belong in a museum of modern art rather than an office.
Before we even begin, an executive slides a stack of papers across the table. “Standard non-disclosure agreements,” he says briskly. “We’ll need you both to sign before proceeding.”
My nerves spike at the formality of it all, but Adrian remains unruffled. He flashes me a reassuring smile as he reaches for a pen. “No problem at all.”
I catch his eye and he gives me an encouraging nod, his quiet confidence steadying my fluttering nerves. We sign the documents, and I busy myself setting up my presentation.
As I connect my laptop to the projector, I rehearse the pitch in my head one last time, even if I’ve run through it a dozen times. But the stakes feel monumentally higher now with a room full of poised executives waiting expectantly. Having Adrian next to me, grounds me. I absorb his calm and let it flow through me as I launch into my spiel.
“As you can see”—I point to the interface on the screen—“our console offers a fully immersive experience that seamlessly blends the tactile nature of traditional toys with the interactivity of modern gaming.”
I outline the innovative features, my voice growing stronger with each passing minute. The executives lean forward, their expressions morphing from polite interest to genuine intrigue as I demonstrate how the console fills a unique niche in the toy market.
Adrian chimes in occasionally, answering financial inquiries. And it’s a wrap.
To my relief, the presentation goes off without a hitch. The executives nod along, jotting down notes and peppering me with insightful questions that I’m able to answer with confidence.
Until an older gentleman in a pinstripe suit speaks. “Ms. Taylor, this is all very impressive. However, would relocating to California and staying on as a co-developer be an issue for you?”
I blink, momentarily thrown by the question. “I’m sorry, move? I wasn’t aware that would be a requirement.”
The executive smiles thinly. “If we’re going to bring this to market, we’ll need you to oversee the research and development here at our facilities. With toys like these, constantly coming up with newer, improved versions of the console is a must.”
I smile tensely. “Isn’t smart working a thing now? ”
His lips thin. “We prefer our innovators in one place. It fosters creativity.”
My mind reels at the thought of uprooting my life, of leaving behind everything and everyone I know. I glance at Adrian, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression is inscrutable. Would he want me to go? Would this be the perfect excuse for a clean break once the marriage charade has run its course? Is our marriage still fake? How could it be after what he said last night?
An apprehensive sounding, “I… err,” slips out of my mouth before Adrian smoothly interjects, “That’s something we’d be open to considering,” he says calmly, “but perhaps it’s a discussion better suited for a later time, once we’ve ironed out the details of the potential partnership.”
A beat of silence precedes murmurs of assent from around the table. I exhale shakily, feeling like I’ve just dodged a bullet I didn’t even know was coming.
We conclude the meeting with a round of handshakes and promises to be in touch soon. I’m collecting the presentation material, when Adrian pulls me into a quick, covert embrace. “You were amazing,” he whispers fiercely. “I’m so proud of you.”
I press my face into his chest, allowing myself a moment to just breathe him in, to revel in the warmth of his arms around me. But even as I savor his praise, my pasted-on smile fades.
A tiny seed of doubt has been planted now, the tiniest fracture in the fantasy I’ve been spinning since last night. And I wonder if I’m still deluding myself.
Those same thoughts churn in my mind as we make our way through the bustling airport terminal, my hand clasped tightly in Adrian’s. I try to focus on the warmth of his touch, the comforting solidity of his body beside me, but my brain won’t cooperate.
We settle into our seats on the plane, and as the engines rev to life, my doubts only seem to grow louder. I stare out the window, watching the tarmac rush by in a blur, and suddenly it hits me—I have no idea what Adrian wants.
Sure, he said his vows were real and that he’s all in. But for how long? Does “all in” mean forever? That he sees a future with me? Or am I just a fun diversion, a temporary escape from the stress of his high-powered career?
And then there’s the matter of California. The prospect of moving is daunting. But what scares me even more is the possibility that Adrian might want me to go. He said we only needed to stay married six months, and the countdown has started. Does he still plan to end everything in March?
I sneak a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s typing away on his laptop, brow furrowed in concentration.
I blink back the sudden sting of tears. I want to believe in us, in this crazy, wonderful, unexpected thing we’ve found together. But I’m terrified. Of getting my heart broken. Of being left behind.
As the plane lifts off, soaring up into the endless blue sky, I can’t shake the feeling that everything is about to change. And I’m not sure I’m ready for it.
As if sensing my eyes on him, Adrian pulls his gaze from the screen and looks at me. My face must give some of my inner turmoil away because his hand covers mine, stable and reassuring, just as the plane veers in a U-turn.
“Hey, what’s on your mind?” His voice is soft, concerned. I wonder if I should tell him, when he adds, “If you’re worried about the pitch, you nailed it.” He flashes me a proud smile.
I nod, but the knot in my stomach doesn’t ease. It’s not the presentation that bothers me. It’s us. Our future. The uncertainty of it all.
But I know Adrian. His brilliant mind is always fixated on work first. On closing the next deal, tackling the next challenge, climbing one more rung up the corporate ladder. It’s how he’s wired, and he’s never tried to hide that from me. I’ve insisted it doesn’t bother me. And really, it doesn’t… except in vulnerable moments like this, when I desperately crave the reassurance that I’m just as important to him as his career. That we’re on the same page about our future.
I wish I had the boldness to give voice to my doubts and needs instead of having fears and uncertainties tangling my tongue. But as the plane stabilizes, I simply stare out the window at the quilt of fields and towns below, wondering where Adrian and I will be a year from now. Or five. Or ten. Wondering if happily ever after is in the cards for us.
I keep these qualms to myself as I always do, and give Adrian’s hand a reassuring squeeze. One corner of his mouth ticks up. For now, I suppose that small sign of affection will have to be enough.