Chapter 23
23
Christa
B runch with Alexandra and Teagan is turning out better than I had expected, though I’m not sure what sort of worst-case scenario I was expecting. I’m so used to looking over my shoulder that I had almost forgotten how to kick back and enjoy a moment of peace.
“We should get some wine,” Alexandra quips as the waiter brings over a large platter for the three of us to share. “I could go for a crisp Chardonnay. It’ll pair well with all this!”
“God, it looks fantastic,” Teagan exclaims.
My mouth is already watering. “I could inhale the entire thing.”
It’s been three days since I started on the prenatal vitamins, and I feel a hell of a lot better. In fact, my appetite has skyrocketed as have my cravings.
“Excuse me,” I tell the waiter. “Could I get some pickles as well? Maybe some gherkins with dill and vinegar.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” the waiter politely replies and walks away.
I gaze around at the sunny terrace. It’s one of the best places to be on a late Sunday morning. It’s not too crowded, it has a great view of the river and the west side of the city beyond, and the food is simply fantastic. But I feel their eyes on me, so I’m compelled to focus on Teagan and Alexandra.
“What?” I ask.
“Dill pickles? Seriously?” Teagan scrunches her nose. “This whole damn plate covers pretty much everything you could want.”
“Except dill pickles,” I quip.
She shakes her head. “You hate dill pickles.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
Alexandra is watching us as if we’re in the final stretch of a tennis match at Wimbledon. “What is going on here?” she says and laughs lightly, then tucks a lock of her black hair behind one ear.
“She hates dill pickles,” Teagan insists, helping herself to a small serving of French toast and waffles.
In the meantime, I’m loading my plate with a heap of everything, already dreaming about the pickles. “I do not hate dill pickles.”
“You used to squirm when I opened a jar from the pantry when we were kids!”
“We were kids,” I say with a shrug and a chuckle.
“No, no, there’s something definitely different here. The smell alone was enough to make you gag, Christa.”
She’s right, and I’m just as confused. But the baby currently developing in my womb has thrown my hormones and my taste buds for a loop, and now I’m craving dill pickles. Unable to further debate Teagan on the matter, I choose to smile and start eating while Alexandra quietly analyzes me.
“So, how was everybody’s week overall?” I ask.
“And what’s up with the herbal tea while we’re at it?” Teagan replies.
“The doctor suggested I stay off the caffeine for a while after that fainting spell.” I hate lying, so I choose the half-truth instead. It makes me feel less guilty.
“I’m going to suggest white wine again,” Alexandra playfully chimes in.
“No alcohol for me, thank you,” I politely reply, purposely avoiding Teagan’s persistent gaze. I can feel her trying to mentally drill into my head and read my mind. The more I evade her, the tougher it becomes to keep my little secret. Finally, I look up and find both of them staring at me. “What?”
Teagan takes a deep breath, subtly narrowing her eyes. “Okay, what is going on with you, Christa?”
Alexandra adds with a patient smile, “Something is different about you since you had the fainting spell.”
“She’s right,” Teagan says. “Come on, Christa. Talk to me.”
“Is everything okay?” Alexandra asks.
I give them both a shrug. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’re eating for three. You’re not having wine with your brunch, which is out of character for a Sunday out with the girls. You’re not drinking coffee either. And you just requested frickin’ dill pickles!” Teagan exclaims.
The waiter returns with the aforementioned pickles, elegantly sliced on a small porcelain plate. “As requested.”
“Thank you so much,” I reply with a smile, then turn my attention to my friends. “I promise, everything is fine. I’m just trying to enjoy a lovely day out with the two of you.”
“Christa, what are you doing?” Teagan asks.
I didn’t even notice until she did. My hands have been moving automatically, transferring a few pickle slices on top of the honey-glazed pancakes. “Oh…”
“I think I know what’s going on here,” Alexandra gasps. “You’re expecting.”
“Holy shit, you’re pregnant,” Teagan mutters, the realization striking her fast. Her brows furrow, and I’m certain she’s wondering which of her brothers is the baby’s father.
I’d hoped I might be able to hold on to this nugget for a little while longer, but my own body has betrayed me, revealing the differences one layer at a time.
“You’re pregnant,” Teagan says it again.
We’ve just fixed our friendship. I can’t lose her by lying, so I nod.
“Congratulations,” Alexandra says, her eyes searching my face. “Who’s the proud father?”
“I’d rather keep that private for now,” I reply.
“Do they know?” Teagan asks. I shake my head. She looks worried. “You should tell them.”
I nod slowly again. “I will. I just need to wrap my head around it first, Tee. I just found out the other day. It’s still new to me.”
“Whoever the lucky man is, Teagan is right. You need to tell him. He needs to do right by you and the baby,” Alexandra says, calling the waiter back over.
Teagan leans forward, taking advantage of Alexandra’s brief conversation with the waiter as she picks out a wine from the list. “Christa, I’ll keep my mouth shut. But you have to tell them,” she whispers. “If they find out you’re hiding anything else, it’s over. They draw firm lines in the sand, even with the people they love.”
“I have every intention of telling them,” I reply, wondering if I really believe my own words. Not that long ago, I was contemplating the prospect of keeping everything to myself, but my better nature keeps bypassing every instinct I have to deceive those closest to me. “With everything that’s been going on, I’m just not sure it’s the right time.”
“There’s never a right time for something like this.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know, babe. But you’re not alone. You have them. And you have me, too. And Tony. My hubby may be new to the family, but he will absolutely be there for you if you need him.”
I could cry. I’m touched by her kindness and devotion, knowing that if our places were switched, I’d do the same for her.
“All I ever wanted was to make sure my past doesn’t come back to hurt you,” I tell my best friend. “It’s why I’ve gotten so used to keeping my mouth shut about everything.”
“Well, that ends now,” she says. “You can’t protect everybody, and you can’t save everybody, especially if you’re unprotected yourself.”
“Alright. I’ve got a lovely Italian Chardonnay coming,” Alexandra jumps back into the conversation. “Teagan, I asked for two glasses. You’re having some, right?”
“Most definitely,” Teagan replies with a cool grin.
I’m blushing as I go back to scarfing down everything on my brunch plate, pickle-topped pancakes included, while the girls talk about the Hawthorne family history and Alexandra’s green energy initiative. Yet every other bite or so, I see Teagan making a face as I add more pickles to my pancakes.
“You absolute weirdo,” she mumbles.
I laugh. “I love you, too.”
A few hours later, Alexandra and I walk out of the restaurant and head down the street. Teagan is already on her way back home to spend the rest of her day with Tony, while Alexandra convinced me that it’s warm and sunny enough for us to enjoy a brisk walk along the riverside.
“My car is just a couple of blocks down from here,” she says, hands in her jacket pockets. “I’d be more than happy to drop you off at your place.”
“That would be nice; thank you. The service guys told me my car will be ready on Monday.”
“Oh, they’re fast.”
I nod once, watching a string of ducks waddle across the riverside pavement and jump into the water, one plump bottom at a time. But my thoughts are still darting every which way as I give Alexandra a pleading look. “Please, keep this whole pregnancy thing between us.”
“Hey, I promised,” she replies. “Have I breached your confidence thus far?”
“No. You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just terrified of people finding out before I even know how I’m going to handle everything.”
Alexandra seems to understand. “It can be challenging and scary, especially for a new mother.”
“I didn’t pay attention to what my body was telling me,” I add with a heavy sigh. “I was convinced it was just poor stress management or something along those lines.”
“It happens more often than you think,” Alexandra replies.
“Seriously, it wasn’t until I learned about it that I realized how long it had been since my last period. I should’ve paid more attention.”
“I’m sorry. Are you actually beating yourself up over this?”
“I think I do it more often than I should.”
“Well, you should stop.”
We pause at the foot of the Steel Bridge, the east side of the city rising behind us with its steel and glass giants and weekend-only farmers’ markets, street fairs, and food carts. The city buzzes at every hour to one song or another—whether it’s a workday or just a lazy Sunday. I love this place so much.
“Christa, seriously. I understand. You are clearly a fierce perfectionist. You obviously make a habit of holding yourself to nearly impossible standards,” Alexandra says.
I glance back, noticing other people walking toward us. A couple here and there. Mothers with their children. Friends laughing and enjoying the sun. And three men in black jackets watching us intently as they sit on one of the benches overlooking the water.
As soon as I spot them, and even though they’re talking to one another—smiling, seemingly engaged in their banter, I can’t help but wonder and worry.
“Christa?” Alexandra asks.
“I’m sorry. Got carried away by my own thoughts for a hot second. What were you saying?”
“Just that you should cut yourself some slack,” she says.
With full stomachs, we resume our slow walk, basking in the gentle sun.
“I’m trying,” I tell her. “I really am. But you’re right. I’m a hard-core perfectionist. It’s why I am so good at my job, why I deliver excellent results.”
“You’re still human, though. And a mother-to-be now. The last thing you need is more unnecessary pressure and guilt.” She smiles at me. “It takes two to make a baby, Christa. Maybe you weren’t paying attention to that detail, but neither was he. It’s why I agree with Teagan that you should definitely tell the baby daddy he’s going to be a baby daddy.”
Yes, but which one of them is the baby daddy ?
“Christa, you’re drifting off again,” Alexandra laughs.
“Sorry, my brain is just not working right.”
“Your brain is now working for two. It’s perfectly normal. Hey, I know a swanky little terrace not far from here. How about a minty lemonade? You know, since you can’t have wine.”
I give her a soft smile and glance over my shoulder. The three men I saw earlier are walking behind us. They’re keeping their distance, still chatting and laughing, but one of them looks at me, and I recognize a spark in his eyes—of recognition, of intention.
It unsettles me so quickly that my fight-or-flight instinct is immediately tripped off.
“Do you mind if we go somewhere else?” I ask Alexandra, walking faster.
She keeps up, heels clicking across the pavement while I thank the stars I opted for flats this morning. “Sure. Do you know a good place for nonalcoholic drinks?”
“I know a few,” I say and lead the way up a flight of stone steps.
We’re back on the main boulevard that runs parallel to the river. About half a block ahead, there’s a park with a plethora of lush greenery and old marble water fountains. I have a mind to go through there, if push comes to shove.
“Are you in a rush?” Alexandra asks.
“My bladder is about to explode,” I reply.
They’re still behind us, and they’re picking up speed. They’re trying not to arouse my suspicions, but it’s too late. I know I’m their target. I know it deep in my bones. The blood rushes up to my head as I start thinking of a way out that keeps Alexandra away from any collateral harm.
The last thing I need is to drag her into my messy past.
“Christa, what’s wrong?” she asks and follows my gaze. “Are they following us?”
“You picked up on that?” I croak.
“I’m not blind. As a woman, I kind of have to keep an eye out for these things. Who are those guys?”
“I don’t know.”
But I do. I just don’t want to alarm Alexandra any more than she already is.
“They’re quite persistent,” she mutters as we cross the street and they follow.
We turn one corner, then another and look back again.
“Maybe we lost them,” I whisper. We pass by a fashion boutique when Alexandra gasps.
“No, they’re coming.”
“Shit.”
My hands shake as I reach into my purse for the phone. I need to call the Hawthornes. I promised I would the minute I catch wind of something wicked coming my way.
“What are you doing?” she asks as we walk even faster.
Alexandra is not comfortable walking at this speed wearing those high heels. Tough luck, though, because I need to get us the hell out of here and fast.
“Calling someone to come pick us up. We need to find a crowded spot or somewhere with a lot of people so they can’t do anything.”
“What would they do?”
“You just said that as a woman you have to be careful,” I shoot back with mild irritation. “What do you think three strangers who are currently following us would want to do to us?”
Alexandra scoffs, then grabs me by the wrist and yanks me off the sidewalk altogether. We practically stumble through the front door of an Irish pub where the game is on, the TV is loud, and the drunken patrons are even louder.
“Leave it to the day drinkers to camouflage us,” she says.
“Where are we going?” I ask her.
“We’re going somewhere safe for you to call that someone to come pick us up,” she bluntly replies. “I can’t take us back to my car because they might tail us there, too. So, we have to lose them first. Come on.”
I’m stunned by her courage and audacity as she drags us across the pub and through the service corridor. We go straight into the kitchen, baffling the cooks and the waiters along the way.
“Hey, you can’t be here!” one of them says.
Alexandra can’t be bothered, though. I look behind us, and I can’t see the three guys anymore, but I doubt we’re out of the woods yet.
“Keep moving,” Alexandra says, completely ignoring the staff. “Don’t look back.”
“Alexandra, this is crazy.”
“Don’t hesitate,” she insists.
Oddly enough, her active approach adds a kick to my heels, too. I find myself practically gliding through the kitchen with her by my side as we slip through the back door and stumble into a narrow, damp side alley.
From here, I follow her lead. We make it to the end and turn left into a crowded marketplace.
“Oh, wow,” I whisper, realizing this is the perfect place to lose our pursuers.
The smell of freshly caught fish and baked goods fills my nostrils. My heart beats faster while I try to register everything unraveling around us. Merchants and visitors pack the marketplace. The loud music overwhelms my senses as does the occasional shouting of prices and discounts. Alexandra stays focused, her hand gripping mine as she takes me in a zigzagging pattern between the stalls.
Finally, we reach another high street, farther away from where we last saw those men, and we disappear inside a coffee shop. She stops by the counter to order us a couple of hot teas, nodding at me.
“Now would be a good time to call for help,” she says. “We can wait for them here.”
Instinctively and without even thinking twice about it, I immediately call Nathan and ask him to come pick us up.
“Do you know who they were?” Alexandra asks me again, her green eyes searching my face.
I shake my head, noticing the tremors in my limbs fading. The adrenaline must be wearing off.
“No.”
Well, I might have a clue, but she doesn’t need to know about that.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything. You were so quick to respond, to do the right thing.”
Alexandra offers a shrug. “I have a great sense of self-preservation. Not to mention, you’ve got a baby to protect.”
My hand instinctively cradles my still-flat belly. She’s right. I have a baby to protect, and I will do everything in my power to do just that.