4. Lauren
4
Lauren
Tension rolls through my body in waves as I pull out of the reserved parking spot at Cain Industries. The ache in my lower abdomen is getting worse since it started a week ago. At first, I thought it was a side effect of that god-awful test, but now, I’m wondering if it’s more than that. Could it be a foreshadowing of the results I’ve been anxiously waiting for?
If it is, I’ll find out by this afternoon.
To shift my thoughts from the depressing, looming appointment, I skim through my music folder until I find my alternative rock playlist. With it on full blast, I press the gas as the security barrier lifts, and I sail out of the underground garage. Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling up to the brownstone my parents leased as a gift when I graduated Yale with honors three years ago. By the time I turn the key in my front door, the pain has dulled a little. I keep my fingers crossed that it will keep fading.
I spend the next two hours going through my usual Saturday morning routine, which includes a long shower, breakfast, and catching up with friends from college. This week, however, includes another item on my to-do list .
Zyon, my brother’s fiancée, answers on the first ring, her cheerful greeting clashing with the toddler crying in the background. “Please tell me you’re calling with an offer to rescue me.”
“Sorry. As much as I enjoy hanging with Liam, no can do. I’ve got that appointment in the afternoon, remember?”
Zyon sighs, a bit of the cheerfulness gone from her voice as she replies. “Damn. I forgot. How are you feeling. Nervous?”
“Nah. The tests were simple. The results should be just the same.”
There’s a short pause, then Zyon says, “It’s okay to feel nervous. Or scared. Those tests were no joke.”
“I know, but I don’t want to feel scared. I want to keep a positive mindset. Things are going to be okay,” I reply, still trying to sound upbeat and positive.
It’s what I’ve been telling myself for the last six months when my period got irregular, when it came with cramps that made me want to curl into myself, when I had to take days off from work because I was too sick to leave the house. Whatever’s happening to my body is only temporary, and I won’t consider otherwise.
No, I don’t want to feel scared. I certainly don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me. I definitely don’t want my family fawning over me, treating me like a delicate flower. I’m tougher than they think, if only they’d allow me to handle things on my own.
“You haven’t said anything to Gabriel, have you?” I ask Zyon cautiously, regretting that moment of weakness when I asked for her company at the doctor’s. If I had known what Dr. Lewis suspected, I would’ve gone all by myself.
“I swore I wouldn’t. You have my word, honey,” Zyon replies. “Just to be clear, you plan on telling them, right? I’d hate if Gabriel finds out I knew. ”
“Yes, I’m going to tell them.” Hopefully, it’s nothing serious to make my mini army smother me. I love them to bits, but sometimes, they’re just too much.
“Good. Now, since you weren’t calling to offer up your babysitting services, what’s the scoop?”
“There’s no scoop, other than the bachelorette party plans you insist on knowing about. I’m still mad at you for not wanting us to host it in Vegas.”
“That city has too many terrible memories for me, Lauren,” she says seriously.
Oh yeah. Like the time she got drunk in a club and gave some stranger a lap dance. Luckily for her, my brother showed up just in time. She was this close to being taken advantage of. Now, those memories would be terrible.
“You could always use these new memories to cancel them,” I suggest.
“I swear to God, Rosh said the very same thing.”
I’m not surprised, considering her best friend Roshell and I are actually in cahoots. We have a fabulous surprise for her party. There’s a hotel in Vegas that would be perfect to execute our plans. If she’s adamant on saying no, we’ll be forced to change everything.
After spending the next few minutes trying to convince Zyon to change her mind—and failing miserably—I bid her goodbye then put an X beside that line item on my to-do list. Operation: get Zyon to Vegas is a no-go.
Only an hour left before my appointment, and although I’m trying to keep a positive front, the nerves are gradually rising. There’s no escaping it, so I focus on getting ready in a flowy green dress in case I need to strip down and a pair of strappy sandals. I put my dark hair in a simple ponytail while taking in my reflection in the wall mirror. The quintessential girl next door, pure and innocent, that’s what my circle thinks of me. It’s a reputation I didn’t mind throughout college because I was so focused on making it to the top of my class, but now, I don’t want to be that innocent girl anymore. I don’t want to be soft, delicate Lauren, who can’t even sneeze without my family crowding me. More than anything, I want to stand on my own, make my own decisions, be my own woman. My own boss. I want to take my father’s company to even higher heights.
If only he would take me seriously.
My cell phone shrills as I throw my cross-body bag over my shoulder. Speak of the devil . With a sigh, I swipe the screen. “Hey, Daddy.”
“Rosy Cheeks.” He’s been using that affectionate term for as long as I can remember. It was cute when I was ten years old, but now it only makes me realize that, in his eyes, I’ll always be daddy’s girl, not the powerful CEO I want to be.
“Lauren, Daddy,” I correct. “Or sweetheart. I’ll take that.”
He blows a breath. “Fine. How are you, sweetheart?”
He’ll go back to saying ‘rosy cheeks’ by tomorrow. This is not our first time having this discussion. “I’m fine.”
“I heard about what happened in the lobby this morning,” he goes on.
The concern in his voice makes me perk up. Did the security guard tell him about me being in pain?
“About the attempted break-in?” I edge.
“Yes. Oliver told me you didn’t take it well that security called him instead of you—”
“We are not going to talk about that dick. Not on my day off,” I snap, scuttling down the stairs. That egotistical jackass—
“Rosy Cheeks…”
Yep, I gave him too much credit. To hell with him waiting until tomorrow.
“…I meant, sweetheart. If I were you, I’d work on getting along with Oliver. You need him more than he needs you. ”
“Oh, he never lets me forget that, believe me,” I reply dryly. “Oliver and I will never get along, not when he’s still bitter about me taking what he thinks is rightfully his.”
“Well, I did appoint him as interim CEO before you expressed interest in the job. One can understand why he might be bitter,” Dad replies. “So long as he’s not disrespecting you.”
Telling my Dad about his protégé’s bullying ways won’t help my ‘let me grow up’ campaign. The last thing I’d want is to come off as the weak, spoiled girl they all think I am. If I want them to take me seriously, I’ll have to bear this burden on my own, which means figuring out how to tame that pitbull. A difficult feat, but one I’ll overcome.
I hope.
Glancing at the time and realizing I don’t have much wiggle room left, I tell Daddy I’ll consider warming up to Oliver then hastily end the call. I set the alarm and step into the warm outdoors. It has been cold and raining for a week now, so I’d like to think the sunshine is a good omen. If it’s not, well…
For now, like everything else, I’ll tuck those thoughts to the back of my head. My only focus is on that chalk-white doctor’s office in Lower Manhattan and the fate that rests inside. As I grip the steering wheel with quivering hands, I whisper a prayer.
Dear God, I just want to live.