Chapter Seventeen #2
But the other side of the scale is just as stacked with reasons not to keep it.
Personally, I think children do better with a mother and a father.
That’s not to say I believe single mums or dads or same-sex couples can’t bring up children.
I’m talking about myself. I think a baby would benefit from having a father around.
Added to this is the fact that I’m only twenty-six.
It’s not super young, when girls all over the world have had babies in their teens all the way through history.
But I’m only just getting going in my career.
Plenty of mums work. But I can’t mathematically devote a hundred percent of my energy to both my career and a child.
At best, it’ll be fifty-fifty, and both of them deserve more.
It’s not a baby yet, I remind myself for the umpteenth time, just a collection of cells.
But that’s not true, is it? I’m ten weeks pregnant now. Its heart is beating. It has tiny tooth buds forming in its gums. It can bend its elbows. It’s now a fetus, not an embryo, the size of a strawberry, even though I’ll always think of it as Little Raspberry.
Little Raspberry in its yellow onesie with a duck on the front.
“Are you feeling okay?” Caesar’s deep voice tugs me out of my musings, and I turn and look at him. He’s so handsome. His eyes are concerned. But the deep, raw heat that engulfed us both has gone.
“I’m fine,” I say, even though I’m a little queasy.
“Time to go back to reality,” he says, lips twisting. “It’s going to be an interesting week.”
I guess he’s thinking about his board meeting, and the pressure Gramps has put on him to make a decision.
I swallow hard. “Yep. Back to the real world. Can I ask what the plan is?” I know Gramps is going to want a debrief, and I’d like to at least be able to say whether Caesar is open to the partnership, or if what’s happened has set him completely against it.
He studies me for a moment, his expression inscrutable. I hold his gaze, though, refusing to look away. Before Blackridge, I felt like a young girl who was dating her favorite movie star, but we’re equals now. I’m not going to let him make me feel as if I’m his inferior.
In the end, it’s he who looks back at his coffee cup. “I need time to think,” he says.
“I understand.” I hesitate. “I just hope that you won’t let what happened between us influence your decision.”
He gives me a puzzled, amused look. “I thought that was the whole point of taking me to Blackridge.”
It crushes me that he still thinks I’ve purposely tried to influence him. Not for the first time, I feel a swell of irritation at my grandfather for using me like that. If he’d left Caesar to me, I could have… what? Softened him up more?
It comes as a shock to realize I’m guilty of doing exactly what Caesar is accusing me of. Or at least, I can easily see how it could be perceived that way.
“It wasn’t a conscious act,” I insist. “I didn’t go to Blackridge planning to sleep with you and make you like me so you’d agree to Gramps’s offer.
I went to try to sell Brielle’s AI optimization model.
I didn’t even plan to tell you about the soil restoration program, and I had no idea you’d be so excited about it.
What happened between us was…” I try to think of the word.
“A mistake?” He supplies it for me. His tone is flat, but it’s a question, not a statement.
“Not for me,” I say softly. “I don’t regret it. But I will if it ruins our chances of working together. We had a lot of fun, but it was me who said what happens in the South Island stays in the South Island, right? The business has to come first.”
He doesn’t say anything. His gaze remains impenetrable.
“Do you regret it?” My voice is barely audible above the noise of the engines.
He picks at the lid of his cup and still doesn’t answer.
My heart slowly sinks. He’ll never believe I didn’t try to seduce him. And that’s why I can never tell him about the baby.
“Well,” I say, settling back in my seat, “we’ll be landing soon.
I hope we can stay professional about it and make this work, that’s all.
I’d hate to think the time we spent together ruined the chance of a partnership, because I really think we’d be great together.
” He looks at me, and I add hastily, “professionally, I mean.”
“Right.” He finishes off his coffee, then pushes his cup away, and he doesn’t speak again.
Not long after, we land at Auckland, say goodbye to Joe, and exit the plane. We cross the tarmac together, and it’s only when we’ve got our luggage and head out into the dazzling sunlight that we stop and face each other.
“Well, bye,” I say, seeing James in the Mercedes, waiting for me.
Caesar hesitates, and we study each other for a long time. There’s a slight frown on his brow. He doesn’t speak, though.
“Jesus,” I blurt eventually, “just say goodbye if you can’t think of anything else.”
His lips curve up. “There’s too much to say,” he tells me softly. “That’s all.”
“Oh.”
He moves toward me until he’s just a few inches away, cups my face, and looks down into my eyes. “Thank you,” he says, injecting as much sincerity as he can. “For a great weekend.”
Emotion rushes through me, but I hold it in.
“I’ll be in touch,” he says. “’Bye.” He looks at my mouth as if he’s thinking about kissing me, but he doesn’t. He lowers his hand. He means he’ll be in touch about the business, not in a personal sense.
He walks away from me then, in every way, physically, mentally, and emotionally, leaving me standing there, ten weeks pregnant, and completely alone.
*
I take Monday off sick.
I feel okay, physically; for once my nausea isn’t too bad. But I need what my mother calls a duvet day.
Gramps messages me to say he hopes I’m okay and requests my presence at a meeting on Tuesday. I reply with a sinking heart to say I’ll be there. I know he’s going to want feedback on Caesar’s state of mind, but the truth is that I don’t know what Mr. Mysterious is thinking.
Brielle messages me to check on me, and I reply and say I’m fine and I’ll see her tomorrow, and then I turn my phone to silent and leave it in my purse in the kitchen.
I live in an apartment in the center of the city, with a nice view across the central Auckland Domain. I’m not short of money, as I came into a generous inheritance when I turned twenty-one, and I earn a good wage in my job, so I’m comfortable and happy living here.
But is it a place I’d want to bring up a baby?
I spend the day trying not to think about it, but of course I end up thinking about nothing else.
By the time I go to bed, I’m exhausted, and still none the wiser. All I do know is that it’s very nearly time for me to make a decision. I can feel it coming out of the mists. I just can’t see its form yet.
*
On Tuesday, I rise, shower, and dress in my favorite lavender-colored business suit and a soft white blouse.
I stand in front of the mirror and look at my reflection.
Yesterday, I dyed my hair. I didn’t do it as a disguise—I think that’s obvious, because I dyed it galaxy colors: blue, purple, and green.
But I couldn’t stop thinking of Caesar asking me not to dye my hair while he washed it in the shower.
It hurt every time I remembered. It felt like one way to claw back some control over my own life again.
At the same time, dyeing it galaxy colors felt like a way to honor our time together and put it to rest. I’ll always remember lying in bed with him, looking up at the lights from the projector lamp, and feeling his chest pressed against my back and his arms around me. That’s going to stay with me forever.
But it’s done. It’s over. And now I need to move on.
I drive myself to the office, feeling strangely lightheaded. When I arrive, I make myself a cup of fruit tea and then make my way to the boardroom, ready for the nine a.m. meeting.
As I approach, I’m surprised to find more people there than I expected.
Gramps sits at the head of the table as usual.
It’s not a full board presence, nor the whole family council, but my father’s here, as well as several of my aunts and uncles who are hands-on with the business.
Brielle’s here, too. Clearly, they want to discuss Ashford AgriTech.
“Come in, Maddie,” Gramps says. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m good, thank you.” I sit next to Brielle. Several of them were talking and getting themselves coffee, but now they sit with their drinks, and everyone looks at me expectantly.
“So,” Gramps says, “we were hoping you’d be able to give us a rundown of your time at Blackridge with Caesar Ashford. How did it go? And what was the outcome?”
I’ve prepared for this and manage to waffle on for a while about how impressed Caesar was with the improvement in yield at the Station.
I see no point in lying, so I tell them that the AI optimization failed to convince him, but I think he could be persuaded if it was used alongside my soil restoration model.
Brielle’s not precious about her work and is happy to support the idea, and everyone else is suddenly interested in my system if it means getting a foot in the door with Ashfords.
I’ve brought a copy of the results sheet that Caesar liked for everyone, and I get a lot of startled glances as they finally comprehend the system’s potential.
“Why didn’t you tell us about this before?” Dad says, looking baffled.
I stifle a sigh, because I know there’s no point in saying I’ve tried many times to convince them my work is valid and worth pursuing.
Eventually, Gramps leans forward on the table, hands linked. “And Caesar was excited about this system?”
I nod. “But he’s very anxious about letting us get a foothold in his company.
I tried to get him to think about the bigger picture and concentrate on what this could mean for the farming industry.
But he’s cynical and wary.” I hesitate. I would normally never criticize my grandfather, because I respect him and his business sense.
But he needs to know why Caesar might not play ball.
“His brother told him you’d brought the date forward,” I say.
“And he put two and two together and made the connection that I’d spoken to you.
It didn’t endear me in his eyes, I have to say.
” I try not to think about the fact that we had sex afterward.
“We needed to put pressure on them,” Gramps states. “Ultimately, the decision is the board’s, not his alone.”
The talk goes on for a while, and I zone out. My gaze drifts to the window as I wonder what Caesar’s thinking about. Has he made any decision about the business? Did I manage to convince him?
Has he thought about me at all?
“Maddie?”
My head snaps around as Gramps says my name. “Sorry.”
“I was just asking whether you could produce an initial report regarding the possible integration of the soil restoration system, the AI optimization model, and Ashford’s pasture management system. I’d like to send it to Edward on Thursday, before the Friday deadline. Could you do that?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Great,” Gramps says. “You did a fantastic job bringing Caesar as close to the table as you did.” He glances around the table, amused. “Maybe we should send you to every negotiation.”
Everyone chuckles, and one of my aunts says, “Men like Caesar always think with their dicks.” It’s a crude, unfair description of him, and the laughter that erupts stings.
But even though Caesar suspected it was a setup, he still slept with me. There was something between us. And because of that, like the sun coming out, my mind is made up.
“That’s incredibly inappropriate,” I snap, getting to my feet.
They all look surprised—I never speak my mind like that at meetings. “Steady on,” Dad says. “It was just a joke, love.”
“It was inappropriate because I’m pregnant.”
Everyone’s jaw drops.
“What?” Brielle asks, shocked I haven’t told her.
“Who’s the father?” Gramps asks.
I can see the gleam of excitement in his eyes. He wants it to be Caesar’s because he thinks then he can use the baby as leverage.
But Brielle, bless her, asks, “How many weeks are you?” which allows me to say, “Ten,” and his excitement dies down. Clearly, conception couldn’t have happened over the weekend.
“It’s Peter’s?” Brielle asks.
I look down, close my laptop, and pick it up. “It’s mine,” I say firmly. And with that, I turn and walk from the room.