Chapter Nineteen #2
“Because…” He stops, and his jaw clenches. “Because this wasn’t about you using a syringe to fertilize yourself,” he says eventually. “This was personal. We had sex. And we made a mistake. I… made a mistake.”
“Stop saying this baby is a mistake.” A tear leaks out of one eye and spills down my cheek, and I dash it away.
If he notices, he doesn’t comment. He continues as if I haven’t spoken. “I’ll do the right thing.”
“Yes, because that’s what Caesar Ashford always does, isn’t it?” My voice is mocking. “What are you saying, Caesar? You want to marry me, make an honest woman of me?”
I’m disgusted at myself, because a tiny, tiny part of me wants him to say yes. But he doesn’t reply, and the last composed part of me crumples.
I walk up to him and look up into his eyes. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth,” I say bitterly. “Now get out.”
He hesitates. Afraid he’s going to say something else cruel, I turn away and stuff the photo back into my purse. “Get out,” I repeat, “before I call security.”
His footsteps sound on the carpet, and then the door opens, hitting the wall with a bang. I jump and turn, but he’s gone, striding off down the corridor.
I follow him out of the door, but turn right, ignoring the people who are gathered, waiting to see what’s going on. I walk past them all into the bathroom, go into a stall, and sink down onto the toilet.
Then I cover my face with my hands and dissolve into deep sobs that wrack my whole body.
Everything I’ve been feeling since I met him at the ball comes out then in one big deluge of emotion.
Sadness, hurt, anger, frustration, and fear, all mixed together in one big, knotted mass.
It pours from me in my tears, soaking the tissue I cover my face with, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
At one point, I hear the main door open, but I’m too far gone, and I can’t stop. Footsteps come up to the door, and then Brielle says softly, “Maddie, babe, open the door.”
I sob into the tissue.
“Maddie, come on, sweetie. Open the door.”
I reach out and unlock it. She pushes it open and comes into the cubicle, then drops to her knees in front of me. “Oh…” She looks at my face. Pulling me into her arms, she says, “Come here.”
I sob into her shoulder until there are no more tears left inside me. Only when the tears have slowed does she release me and look at me.
“Here.” She rips some more toilet paper from the roll and starts wiping my face, presumably cleaning up my smudged makeup.
I sag, exhausted, and let her, too overwrought to do anything else.
She looks into my eyes a couple of times, but doesn’t stop until she’s satisfied. “Blow your nose,” she says, giving me another few squares of tissue. When I’m done, she pulls me to my feet, flushes all the tissue away, and says, “Come on.”
I follow her out and glance in the mirror. My face and eyes are red. I’ve clearly been crying. “I can’t go out there.”
“Bullshit. It’s nobody else’s business. Come back into the meeting room and I’ll make you a cuppa.”
She takes my hand and leads me out. I keep my gaze fixed on the floor and follow her, ignoring the whispers and glances from everyone as I pass. She takes me into the meeting room and closes the door, leads me to a chair, then goes over to the table and makes me a cup of fruit tea.
“I wondered why you weren’t drinking alcohol,” she says as she brings it to me.
I take the mug from her and dunk the bag dully in the mug.
I haven’t yet had a chance to talk to her about yesterday’s announcement.
After I walked out of the office, I went home again and refused to answer my phone.
She knows me well enough to understand I needed some time alone and didn’t bother me.
Now, though, she’s obviously concerned. She pulls out a chair and sits next to me. “What’s going on?” she asks gently. “With Caesar, I mean?”
I sip the tea, which burns my lip, and try not to cry again. Part of me wonders whether I should keep the truth to myself, but suddenly I realize how tired I am of lies. “He’s the father.”
Her expression would have made me laugh if I wasn’t so upset. “What. The. Fuck?” She stares at me. “I thought you said you were ten weeks.”
“I am.”
“So what… how…”
“It didn’t happen at Blackridge, Bree. It happened the night of the ball.”
Her white eyebrows, already close to being invisible, nearly disappear beneath her fringe. “You slept with him?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“You want me to draw a diagram?”
“I meant… where?”
“We went up to the penthouse apartment.”
She starts laughing, then presses her fingers to her lips as I glare at her. “Sorry, it’s not funny.” Her eyes gleam, though.
My lips slowly curve up. “It is a bit funny.”
“You dark horse.” She lowers her hand. “Wow. I would never have expected you’d do anything like that.”
“That’s sort of why it happened. The quiet little mouse rebelled.”
Her smile fades as she obviously recalls saying those words. “I am so, so sorry.”
I sigh. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
She watches me sip my tea. “Did he know? Or did you tell him today?”
“Someone blabbed. I guess he was angry at finding out third hand. He assumed it was Peter’s.”
“Are you sure it’s not?”
“Yes.” I don’t elaborate.
“But he wasn’t happy about it? The pregnancy, I mean.”
“No,” I say sadly. “He thinks Gramps engineered it all to soften him into agreeing to the partnership.”
“Well, yeah. He did.”
I blink and stare at her. “What?”
“Of course that’s why he sent you,” she says softly.
“He obviously picked up at the board meeting that there was something between the two of you. Our grandfather is a very smart man, and he knows how to use people to get what he wants.” It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak about him that way, and it shocks me.
“You must have known,” she says, puzzled. “You knew what he was like.”
“I knew he used people. I just didn’t realize it included his own family.” Jesus, Caesar was right. No wonder he thought it was all orchestrated—because it was. That wasn’t him being cynical. It was me being na?ve. I feel so incredibly foolish and hurt.
“So… what are you going to do about it?” Brielle asks.
My eyebrows rise. “What do you mean? What can I do?”
She tips her head to the side. “You’re acting as if you’re powerless, but you’re not.
You keep acting as if you have no choices, Maddie, but every time you avoid a decision, you still make one.
I say this only because I love you, but you need to stop being so passive.
You chose not to tell Caesar you knew who he was at the ball.
You chose not to tell him you were pregnant.
You chose silence because you were afraid.
Now you have to choose what kind of life you want.
For example, are you going to keep the baby?
Because you don’t have to. Fuck everyone else.
It’s your body. Your decision. If you want to… you know… I’ll come with you.”
I rest my hand on my stomach. “No. I’m going to keep it.”
She frowns. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why? Mistakes happen, and it’s always the women who have to suffer.”
“It was an accident,” I say fiercely, “but it wasn’t a mistake.”
She looks into my eyes. Then she murmurs, “Okay.”
I look down, imagining my body swelling as the baby grows. “He said he wants to be involved with the baby.”
“Oh?”
“But not with me.”
She tips her head from side to side. “Give him time, and maybe he’ll come around.”
“I don’t think so,” I say sadly. “He thinks sleeping with me was a mistake. He assumes I tried to trap him, and I think he hates me a little for it.”
“Men don’t storm into office buildings and make scenes because they don’t care,” she says.
My mouth opens, but no words come out.
“He’s hurt,” she says softly. “He feels manipulated, and understandably so. If he didn’t love you, this would all be much simpler.”
“What? He doesn’t love me.”
“If you say so.” But her expression tells me she thinks I’m wrong.
Is it true? Caesar and I hardly know each other. Love’s something that grows over time.
But even as I think it, it dawns on me. I’m in love with him. I have no doubt about that at all. I fell for him at the ball, maybe even before we slept together.
Is it possible he’s in love with me, too? If he is, it completely reframes his actions.
“He thought you were pregnant with another man’s baby,” Brielle says. “No wonder he tore through the office like a tornado. You belong to him, in his eyes.”
I think of his words, almost straight after I confirmed I was pregnant. He didn’t call me names or tell me I was despicable for lying. He said, “I could have hurt you.”
Ohhh shit. I’ve been a complete and utter idiot. Again.