Chapter Twenty
Marcel
“Nothing at the moment has to change,” I tell her, though everything has changed.
She doesn’t say anything, still in shock I believe.
The snow pelts the windshield like a thousand white needles, each one biting.
I don’t know why I’m fixated on them, but I can’t tear my eyes away.
The driver must sense the tension between Juliet and me and frankly I don’t care.
The wipers thud, fwaap, fwaap, carrying a thick layer of snow from the center of the windshield to the side where it builds up and slides off in a slow, rhythmic beat.
It’s too loud and too percussive as it punctuates the silence between us.
Juliet stares out her window, her breath fogging the glass, her knuckles pale where she grips her coat closed around herself.
She hasn’t looked at me once since we left the mansion. And I, God help me, I don’t know what to say. I can feel the panic rolling off her in waves. A raw, quiet terror gnaws at my chest.
“I’m sorry,” Juliet suddenly says as tears stream down her face again.
I take her hand, it’s all I can do. “It takes two,” is all I can muster.
“I’m going to be fine. We’re going to be fine. I promise we’ll stay away.” Her words cut sharper than the storm outside.
“You don’t—” I start but I’m not sure how to finish.
“We don’t have to make any decisions right now,” is what I tell her, because I simply can’t think of anything else to say.
A thousand options flash through my mind: set up a trust fund, hire a nanny, cover every expense so she can finish school.
I could solve the logistics with a single phone call.
But none of that feels like enough. Or maybe it’s too much?
“I won’t ... I’m not asking you to have an abortion.” My voice is nearly an inaudible whisper. She doesn’t say anything. “I respect whatever decision you make. It’s your body, Juliet.”
God help me, I want to say “I’ll be there for you,” but the truth lodges like a stone in my throat. I would ruin them. I’d be a shit father.
“You’re better off without me,” I mutter, more to myself than to her.
“What?” She looks at me like I’m an alien from Mars.
“You. The baby.” I swallow hard. “If I’m in you life, I’ll just ... I’ll destroy you both. That’s what I do. That’s who I am. The Grinch, right?”
Her head whips toward me then, her eyes wide and shining. “Is that why you don’t want this? You don’t think you’re good enough to be a dad?”
“I’m not good for you, Juliet and I’ll be worse for the baby.” I can’t imagine what Juliet would do if she really saw how horrible I am.
“You don’t know that. And you’ve been great for me. You’ve taught me how to live. I mean I’ve been pinching pennies and choosing the right path, the solid option, and you’re bat shit crazy,” she says and I have to laugh.
“I am not the crazy one,” I tease, because laughter feels better. “I have one word to prove that ... vegan. Perhaps you can call the baby Grinch Lactose Intolerant.” I sneer.
“Maybe I’ll call it Grinch Delta VIP Lounge.” We both laugh because we are ridiculous.
“Regardless of what you call Baby Grinch, I’ll make sure you have everything you need.” I know it's garish, but I want Juliet to understand I’m not going to leave her and my child wanting.
Her voice is softer and sadder. “I don’t need your money, Marcel. Like I said, just have your lawyer draft something and I’ll sign it.” The tears are about to fall again.
I glance at her and I can’t let this happen, she’s been crying all morning.
“Come here.” I bring her into me. “Maybe we’ll just go to Vegas and have a cheesy wedding.
” In a way it would be nice to just throw caution to the wind and marry a woman I think is charming and lovely and now pregnant with my child.
I could take a shot that Happily Ever After exists.
“I wouldn’t be the first pregnant bride in Vegas.” Sadly this only makes her cry more.
“There has to be some kind of statistic on that,” I say as I bring her in closer and kiss her head.
“I’m not going to make you do this alone.
I may have been a womanizing asshole, that might even be my default personality, but I can do better.
Gran is going to take out a hit on me I just know it.
I should let my lawyer know I leave everything to you.
” I laugh because Gran might just be the deciding factor in all of this.
“Oh God, I have to tell Gran.” She knocks her head against my chest.
“I think right now we just need to get you home. I’ll have some prenatal vitamins sent to you at Gran’s and we’ll see a doctor together. My friend Beckett is a fantastic doctor. We can fly back to New York next weekend, or I’ll have him recommend someone to us.”
God, what was I saying?
Well, the fact that I’m saying it at all, is the biggest surprise.
“I’m sure Gran knows someone,” Juliet says with her face muffled against my jacket.
“I’m sure she does, I’ll have to compare notes.” And that’s when I realize I’m in this. I am in.
She gives a short, disbelieving laugh, almost delirious. “You’re brave if you’re willing to face Gran. You don’t have to.” Uh, mon dieu there she goes again. “I can do this alone.”
I take her hand and bring it to my lips and kiss her. “I know. But you don’t have to. And that is why we are going to do this together. Regardless of what happens, I’m going to be a part of this.” My chest tightens so painfully I can barely breathe, but I’m committing.
Juliet naps and is quiet on the plane ride back to Rhode Island.
We arrive at the airport and I think of how we parted ways at an airport the first time when I thought I’d never see her again.
Now she’s going to be in my life forever.
I'm not as upset about that as I should be.
Actually there's a kind of warm comfort knowing that Juliet and I will be in each other's lives for better or for worse.
A tiny being just barely formed has bonded us.
I can't wax romantic about it, really. It was the least romantic way to make a baby, but it doesn't matter because that's what we've done.
I have a driver take us to Gran's apartment and I help Juliet carry her things in.
Gran greets us at the door with a scrutinizing look. “Well she’s all in one piece. That’s a good start,” she says with an accusatory eye.
The warm homey smell of Gran’s apartment makes me want to stay and sleep in Juliet’s cramped bed again.
Juliet gives her a smile. “We had fun, Gran. He took me to see Central Park to meet his friends. The window displays at Bergdorf Goodman were beautiful, and so was Rockefeller Center.” She yawns and her body droops.
“My, you kept her busy,” Gran says and I sense some innuendo in it. “I’ve got a pot roast on if you’re hungry and a Beyond roast for you, sweetie.” Gran offers a meal and a vegan version and again, I feel the love.
Juliet looks like she might fall over, so I accept, because ... well, I don’t know why. Perhaps I want to be a part of this family.
I help Juliet upstairs as Gran finishes dinner and assist in dressing her in cozy attire: a big floppy sweatshirt and equally floppy sweat pants, not even a matching set, and I love her more.
“I’m so tired,” she tells me in a whisper.
“You just have to muscle through dinner and I’ll put you to bed,” I say as I brush her hair with a hairbrush on the night stand.
“You don’t have to do this,” she tells me, perhaps feeling a little uncomfortable with all of my attention.
“I think I’m in a little bit of shock,” I confess. “I’ll probably be an asshole on Monday, so you better get all you can out of me now.”
She laughs, and I love that she’s still laughing, despite everything.
“Is there any chance it was wrong?” she asks, dressed and ready to face Gran downstairs.
“The digital ones are pretty accurate. We can take another test but, Juliet, you’re pregnant. You know and I do. No test in the world is going to tell you otherwise.”
She looks about to cry again.
“Don’t,” I stop her. “I’m not leaving you alone. Okay? I’m not.”
Gran’s dining room glows warm and golden, the storm-scrubbed world outside the windows fading to indigo. Juliet and her grandmother chatter easily, the kind of familiar back-and-forth I’ve never had with anyone.
Gran lifts her wine glass, cheeks pink from a few glasses, laughter, and a warm kitchen. “The silent disco was a smash, Marcel. You should’ve grabbed some earphones, we were doing the Twist.” Gran is definitely getting a little tipsy; that lady loves to live.
“Next time I’ll put on headphones and Twist with you, I promise.” I say, falling right into the old lady’s trap.
“Well, you can’t, ‘cause some money mugger is going to tear down the Community Center.” She glares at me and well, I deserve it.
“Ah, you got me.”
Juliet laughs sweetly. “You never had a chance,” she says, looking pale and fatigued.
I remind myself to order her vitamins and make an appointment with the doctor as soon as possible.
“I’m going to hire you to negotiate my contracts, Gran, I tell ya. You’re as hard assed as they come.” I raise my glass to her.
She puffs up, proud. “Damn straight I am.”
Juliet’s eyes sparkle from across the table and, for a dangerous heartbeat, I forget everything, the investors, the plans, and the thousand calculations crowding my mind.
Gran sets another helping of roast on my plate. “And how was New York, really? Cold, crowded, soggy?”
Juliet tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Busy. Beautiful. The carriage ride was magical. We should go together. I have a little saved up. You deserve a vacation.”
“Well, we are busy ‘til New Year’s. Maybe next year, sweetie.”
Next year, when they are schlepping around a newborn.
Wow a wave of nausea hits me. I almost blurt it out right then and there. ‘You should go on vacation this year, Juliet’s pregnant and we don’t know what we’re doing. Besides, I’m shutting everything down and killing the community.’
Suddenly the room is too hot, the smiles too big. I’m suffocating and Juliet notices.
“Hey.” She touches my hand. “Thank you for staying for dinner, but I know you have calls to return and all of Whoville to steal Christmas from and so few days to do it. Maybe you should call your driver.” Her voice is soft and tight, like she’s holding back tears.
‘She’s pregnant,’ I want to say to Gran. ‘We don’t know what we’re doing. Help.’ The words hover on my tongue, heavy and desperate but I stop myself. Not yet. I need a doctor to confirm. I need to talk to my lawyer. I need ... something solid before I shatter destroy their little world.
Gran hums as she picks up our plates.
“No, let me,” I take the dishes from her. “You cooked, I’ll wash up.” Granted I haven’t touched a dirty dish since college, but I get the general jist of it after I scrub meat juice off of China with tiny Christmas trees bordering the edge.
It isn’t expensive dinnerware, but it’s special, especially to them. While it’s only the two of them, they are eating on Christmas China, making magic together. I shake my head, swallowing down the lump in my throat. This will be my baby’s family.
“So rich billionaires do dishes?” Gran playfully scrutinizes. “Bet you’ll leave all kinds of crap on my Christmas dishes and I’ll have to rewash them.” Feisty as ever.
“I’ll be sure to submit them for inspection before I leave.”
Juliet stands besides me, smiling though she looks unsteady on her feet. “I’ll dry,” she says. Juliet grabs a dishtowel and I snatch it from her.
“Go hang out with Gran, I got this.” I can’t have Juliet passing out or hurting herself in her condition.
After dinner, Gran insists on preparing leftovers for me.
I laugh but I’m actually excited to eat them since all I have at the corporate suites is take-out and restaurants.
It will be nice to have a home cooked meal to heat up.
Juliet and her Gran have a little talk, but I can tell by their facial expressions that Juliet doesn’t mention the baby.
I feel a tense kind of stress that I rarely experience. It’s much worse than not knowing if I can land a deal; this is gut wrenching.
As soon as I’m done with the dishes, I figure its time for me to head out.
“It’s been a lovely evening, Gran, but I should get back to my hotel. I do have work to do,” I confess as I dry my hands on the towel and feel a pang of regret leaving them.
“Going home to load your sleigh?” Gran asks.
“According to the book Juliet read me at the library, I’m meant to be making a Santa outfit first."
I bundle up and step outside. The sky is clear now, the air crisp and sharp.
Juliet walks me out to the car dressed in too little. Her teeth chatter and I press down the urge to give her my coat.
“Well. I guess this is goodbye—for now. I mean, I’ll see you Monday.” She bites her lip and I know it’s to stop herself from saying more. The way her voice breaks on the last word almost undoes me. I draw her in, holding her tight, memorizing the shape of her against my body.
“I hate leaving you,” I whisper before I can stop myself. “Nothing has been decided.”
She tilts her face up, her eyes glistening. “Okay.” I know she doesn’t believe me.
I press a kiss to her cheek and step back before I change my mind entirely. “I’ll call you.”
She nods, blinking fast, and turns toward the warm light of her grandmother’s door. I watch until she disappears into her cozy, warm, loving life. As I slide into the limo, the ache in my chest blooms. For the first time in years, the road ahead feels lonelier than I can bear.