Chapter 9 - Deanna
Late October, Montrose
“Run that by me again,” I said, unmuting myself on the conference call.
On my laptop screen, Chauncey looked like he wanted to crawl through the internet and strangle someone. Probably our client.
“Vanessa wants us to scrap the entire campaign,” Chauncey said, his jaw tight. “Three weeks of work. She says the visuals don’t ‘speak to her soul.’”
My stomach lurched, stronger than usual. Lord, these babies weren’t playing. I muted myself quickly and reached for the thermos of ice chips I kept on the table. The cold helped. Sometimes.
Three days ago, I’d stared at an ultrasound screen while Dr. Bedi pointed to two distinct heartbeats, and I still hadn’t told a soul. Not even Tia, who was leaving for Greece in six hours.
I pressed one hand to my stomach, willing it to settle, then adjusted my blazer. I unmuted myself. “Put her on.”
Chauncey’s eyes widened. “You sure? She’s been on a rampage all morning.”
“I’m sure. Conference her in.”
While Chauncey made the connection, I slipped a ginger chew from the tin I now carried everywhere and tucked it against my cheek. The ginger cut through the queasiness.
I glanced around my office. The glass desk held my desktop monitor, pushed to one side since I preferred the laptop for video calls.
The daybed against the far wall had become less decorative and more functional lately for daytime naps.
My mini-fridge hummed quietly in the corner, stocked with sparkling water, ginger ale, and yogurt.
Vanessa’s face appeared on screen, her demeanor already set to confrontational. “Deanna. I was hoping to speak with you directly.”
“I’m here now.” I kept my tone professional despite the way my head was pounding. “Chauncey tells me you have concerns about the campaign direction.”
“Concerns?” Vanessa laughed. “The whole thing is wrong. The color palette, the messaging, and the imagery. None of it captures my brand’s essence.”
Another wave hit, stronger this time. I let her vent for thirty seconds, using the time to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.
“Look, I hear you.” My patience was wearing thin, along with my stomach lining.
“But let’s be clear about something. You approved the creative brief.
You signed off on the mood boards. You gave us three rounds of feedback, which we incorporated.
So either you didn’t know what you wanted then, or you done changed your mind now. Which is it?”
Silence. Chauncey looked as if he were holding his breath.
“I...” Vanessa faltered.
“‘Cause if you’ve changed your vision, that’s fine.
Evolution is part of the process. But we bill for revision rounds beyond the contracted scope, and we’re already at our limit.
” I leaned forward, ignoring the way the movement made my head spin.
“You want a new direction, we can do that. But it’s gon’ cost you, and it’ll push your launch date back six weeks minimum. ”
“How much?” she finally asked.
I named a figure that made Chauncey’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline.
“I’ll have to think about it,” Vanessa said stiffly.
“You do that. Meanwhile, we’ll proceed with the current campaign unless I hear otherwise by end of business tomorrow.”
I ended the call before she could respond and slumped back in my chair.
Chauncey let out a low whistle. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“You’re too smart for that.” I reached for another ice chip. “Now get back to work.”
As his screen minimized, I pulled up the Black Ember Distilling file. The proposal was due in three weeks. I’d been staring at the same brand positioning slide for twenty minutes yesterday before giving up.
I closed the file and let my head drop to the table for a moment. Lord, how was I supposed to handle difficult clients and million-dollar campaigns while my body was busy building two human beings from scratch?
My office door burst open. I didn’t need to look up to know it was Tia.
“Mom! You have to see this.” She rushed to my desk, phone extended. “I found the perfect dress for you.”
I lifted my head and took her phone, grateful for any distraction from Greece and Black Ember and Vanessa and this relentless nausea.
The screen showed a deep emerald silk column dress with a subtle cowl neckline and long sleeves.
Sleek and fitted through the bodice and waist. Exactly the kind of sophisticated, elegant style I loved.
“Tia,” I breathed. “Baby, this is gorgeous.”
“Right?” She perched on the edge of my desk, vibrating with energy. “I know you said you’d handle finding your own dress, but I saw this and immediately thought of you.” She paused. “Mom, you look really tired. Are you getting enough sleep?”
The concern in her voice was so genuine, so much like the little girl who used to bring me tea when I had headaches, that I almost broke right there. “I’m fine, baby. Just busy with work.”
“You sure? You seem... I don’t know. Different lately.” She tilted her head. “Is Dr. Bedi sure you’re not sick? Because you’ve been acting strange ever since that appointment.
“I’m fine. Apparently turning forty-three comes with some hormonal adjustments I wasn’t expecting.”
Tia didn’t look convinced, but after a moment she nodded.
I seized the opening before she could ask another question I couldn’t answer. “Back to the dress.” I looked down at her phone again. “It’s beautiful.”
“The boutique here has it in stock.” Tia swiped to show another angle. “I already called. They can hold it for you if you want to go try it on this week. But you need to order it soon. Custom orders take at least four weeks.”
I stared at the fitted silhouette, imagining my body in December. By then, I’d be eighteen weeks along. I’d need an empire waist and strategic draping. Anything but this sleek, form-fitting design.
“I need to think about it.”
Tia’s face fell. “Think about what? It’s perfect for you.”
“I know, baby. I just need to make sure the timing works.”
“What timing?” Her eyes narrowed. “You order it, they make it, you pick it up. Unless...” She tilted her head. “You already have something else in mind?”
“No. I don’t have anything else.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
My chest tightened. “There’s no problem. I’ll go look at it this week.”
“Promise?” Tia pulled up the boutique’s information. “Because I know you, Mom. You’ll say you’ll go, then work will get crazy, and suddenly it’ll be two weeks before the wedding.”
“I promise I’ll handle it,” I said.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” The way she was looking at me, like she could see straight through to all my secrets, made my throat close up.
“I’m fine. Just work stress.”
“You work too hard.” She came around the desk and kissed my forehead. Her hand lingered on my shoulder, and I wanted to tell her everything. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone, okay? Actually rest. Don’t just say you will and then work through the weekend.”
“I’ll rest,” I lied.
“Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, baby.”
And then she was gone, the door clicking softly behind her, leaving me alone with the image of the perfect dress I couldn’t order and the secret I still hadn’t told.
I stared at my phone. By Christmas Eve, I’d be five months pregnant. There would be no hiding it. Which meant I had to tell Tia before the wedding, and Aris before that.
The thought made my stomach clench again, and this time it definitely wasn’t morning sickness.
The phone buzzed in my hand. Aris’s name flashed across the screen.
My heart stopped. He knew. Somehow he knew about the babies and—
No, he couldn’t. Nobody knew except my doctor and me.
I took a breath and answered. “Hello.”
“Dede.” His voice was warm, relaxed. “I hope I am not interrupting.”
“You’re good.”
“I wanted to discuss the wedding expenses. The financial arrangements, we should settle them, yes?”
Right. The wedding. Not the pregnancy. “I’m paying for half,” I said automatically.
“Dede—”
“I’m not negotiating on this, Aris. It’s my daughter’s wedding, I’ll pay my share.”
“The total cost is approximately six point two million euros.”
I choked on my sparkling water. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Six point two million euros. Roughly Six point three million U.S. dollars.” His tone remained conversational, as if we were discussing the weather. “This amount, you have half of it readily available?”
I sat there, stunned, running the numbers in my head. My agency was successful, but my share would be the equivalent of my company’s value. “That’s... that’s insane for a wedding.”
“It is a last-minute wedding at a castle in Switzerland, Dede. Three hundred guests, all flying from overseas. Private jets, bespoke wedding favors, three days of accommodation for everyone, catering for multiple events. Such celebrations, they cost this much, yes?”
I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to process the magnitude of what he was saying. Even with my success, this was a staggering amount. And now, with twins coming and all the expenses they would bring...
“Jesus Christ.”
“So perhaps we revisit the arrangement, yes? I handle the major expenses and you focus on getting your daughter and her wedding party what they need.”
My pride wanted to argue. My bank account was screaming at me to shut up and take the offer. And somewhere underneath it all, a tiny voice was whispering to tell him about the babies.
“Such as?” I asked carefully.
“Dresses, jewelry, and shoes. The personal touches that matter to her. You have exceptional taste in footwear.”
I narrowed my eyes at my phone, even though he couldn’t see me. “You’re trying to piss me off.”
“I am trying to prevent you from bankrupting yourself when we both want the same thing. A beautiful wedding for our children.”
Damn him for being right. And damn him for making sense when my whole world felt like it was spinning out of control. “Fine.”
“You are certain?”
“I said fine, didn’t I?”
A pause. “Dede, you are well, yes? You sound... tired.”
My throat constricted. Even over the phone, he could read me too well. “I’m fine. Long day.”
“I should let you return to what you were doing,” he said finally.
“Yeah. Thanks for calling.”
After we hung up, I stared at my phone for a long while.