Chapter 10
The second trimester began without fanfare.
I wasn’t expecting a “You survived!” banner to unfurl over my bed as confetti rained from the ceiling, but I was still surprised that very little had changed by the thirteenth week of pregnancy.
I still had to take my anti-nausea medicine twice a day. I still slept between ten and fourteen hours. I still had to suck down my water regardless of how I felt.
Each morning, I rolled out of bed and lumbered downstairs to report to the kitchen.
Like the manor’s foyer, the kitchen was decorated like it was the product of a fever dream brought on by expired cough syrup.
The counters were made of white stone sprinkled with small colorful inclusions that might have been sea glass.
Shining magenta glass balls hung from the ceiling.
The cabinets were all painted bubblegum pink.
The glossy floor tiles were the exact color of blue cotton candy.
Though the decor was saccharine enough to give me a cavity, the actual cooking appliances were all business. The range was a cast iron behemoth with eight burners and shining gilded handles. Every pot and pan was made from gleaming copper. The sink was big enough to be a bathtub.
Beau, of course, was also all business.
As soon as I sat at the long kitchen island that looked like a large piece of birthday cake, Beau would wordlessly present me with my yellow cup and a stack of pancakes.
I could no sooner pick up my fork for breakfast before he would mix his protein shake, make an excuse of needing to work, and leave.
The silence made mealtimes awkward, but I had to admit Beau was a good cook.
He could make just about anything from the groceries he had delivered to the house.
Pasta primavera. Filet mignon. Beef Wellington.
I once asked him why he didn’t hire a personal chef if he was so rich and he curtly replied that he didn’t like people being in the house.
He was being so cagey that I stiffened every time he walked into the room. The only time he broke our strange parallel existence was when he gave me food or checked on my water intake—making me feel rather like a toothless lion in a zoo.
Hell, the manor felt like a zoo, or at the very least an odd museum.
I had wandered around the manor for exercise and each room I explored brought more questions than answers.
The formal living room had a bookcase that was really a door into a small bar.
An upstairs half bath was decorated floor-to-ceiling with mirrors and had a clear acrylic toilet.
I ignored the third floor, too afraid of what oddities could exist in the attic.
Attics had become bad luck for me, anyway.
The most puzzling room of all was an unfinished nursery in the family wing.
Squares of cornflower blue and delicate pink paint samples were still taped on the walls.
A teddy bear sat abandoned on the floor.
The cushioned wooden rocking chair appeared to be a family heirloom, but the white crib looked like it was fresh out of those inch-thick luxury furniture catalogues the partners at my old firm would get.
I might have asked Beau if he had been working on a nursery for the twins if he weren’t so icily aloof.
His room, I discovered, was always locked.
The only breaks in my monotonous existence were my doctor’s appointments, now scheduled for every two weeks.
For my most recent appointment, I had struggled to climb into Beau’s truck, we spent an hour and a half wordlessly listening to his podcast as we drove to the city, and I got to see the babies on the ultrasound.
They were moving, but I still couldn’t feel them yet. Apparently, they didn’t want anything to do with me either.
I never realized how much I missed working in the hustle-and-bustle of a law office until the only living beings around either couldn’t or wouldn’t speak to me. Sometimes, I would write in my pregnancy journal as if I were talking to my only friend.
Luckily, Ashley would sometimes resurface from the dust of Miss Kaye’s house renovation and we would go on a date. Two days before Christmas, she let me use her buddy pass at the gym on main street to sweat out our frustrations.
“So, John Whitecloud is doing our electrical, right?” Ashley huffed as she conquered the stair-stepper.
“He said he’d have to rewire the whole house or else we’re risking a fire with all the outlets we want to install.
I wanted to preserve the wallpaper in the foyer at least, but now we’re having to take everything down to the studs! ”
I slowly walked on the treadmill next to her and took a sip from my pink cup—I was behind on my water schedule, but Beau wasn’t around to bully me about it. “The stained glass on the stairs is staying though, right?”
Ashley whipped her head toward me, sweat beading on her temples as her green eyes turned murderous. “If anyone touches that window, I’ll hit them with my car!”
The rectangular stained-glass window at the top of the first landing of the stairs was the crown jewel of Miss Kaye’s house.
The window wouldn’t have turned many heads when it was installed a century ago, but now it was a rare specimen of craftsmanship.
The design was a perfect marriage of the natural, sinuous curves of the Art Nouveau era and the geometric structure of the early Art Deco era.
The glass was a harmonious mixture of marbled greens, golden amber, and a hint of lavender.
It was simple, but I loved it.
“Maybe I can find new wallpaper to complement the window?” I suggested. “I need an activity.”
“Yes!” Ashley cheered. “You’re so good with historical crap and the donors will love it. Tyson posted a how-to video recreating one of the dowels for the front porch railing and preservation enthusiasts ate it up. We’re getting more donations by the day!”
I laughed. “I can always donate more, you know.”
“Babies come first, not us,” Ashley chided. “By the way, I love your new workout set.”
I smiled, feeling confident in my icy lavender maternity leggings and matching longline bra that was nursing compatible. Paired with new walking shoes that cushioned my sore feet, I felt almost human.
Was it a practical, useful purchase? Yes. Was it expensive as all hell? Indeed, but I considered it part of Beau’s reparations for every time I vomited until my body shook.
Since my only job was gestating my twins and processing my ever-changing emotions alone, I started giving into my more destructive urges. I cycled between refusing any of Beau’s help, even food, or burning through my “child support” card out of spite.
I hid my turmoil about using Beau’s money in my pregnancy journal. I had promised myself I would never rely on a man to survive, and yet…
Guilt rained down my back when the packages from my first shopping haul came in, but at least I knew my new credit card was a well I could never see the bottom of.
I might as well have kept some of my promise to fund the Kaye house renovation.
My donation wasn’t hundreds of thousands of dollars like I had originally planned, but Ashley still almost fainted when I transferred her some of that sweet Fontaine money.
“Oh! The kids’ Christmas presents are in the back of the car,” I said. “Remind me to grab them before we leave.”
Ashley groaned. “I wish we weren’t going to my dad’s for Christmas, I hate leaving you in Elren alone. When is Beau coming back?”
I shrugged. “No idea. He just told me he had to travel for work and then he got on his plane—”
“He has a plane?”
“And a helicopter too, apparently.” I took a short sip of my water. “But I don’t know where he’s going or what he’s doing. The man tells me nothing, Ash.”
She pushed a button to slow the stair-stepper as she began her cool down. “I once heard a rumor that his family was part of some weird rich-person sex cult. Maybe he’s on his way to a cult meeting where they drink blood and have masked orgies.”
I started my cool down too, taking the speed of the treadmill from slow to extra slow. “I shower with a mural of a naked woman and spit my toothpaste into a clamshell sink. Anything about the Fontaine family is plausible at this point.”
After our workout, I slipped on my new dove gray sweatshirt that read “Twin Mom,” gave Ashley her stack of Christmas presents and a big hug, and got into the car to drive back to the manor.
The Christmas lights lining main street warmed the twilight sky and guided my way back to Fontaine Manor. Titus was waiting for me in the cold, empty foyer when I returned.
I looked around the foyer and frowned. A house that big without a strand of greenery or a single glimmer of tinsel at Christmas was a crime. I supposed it would have been illogical for Beau to decorate if he was planning to travel, but I was still here!
And I wasn’t alone either. I had the twins…and Titus.
My thirty-minute walk at the gym had energized me instead of exhausting me for once. For the first time since I could remember, I felt a little like my old self again—productive, inspired, and, dare I say it, capable.
I had to take advantage of it.
I smiled and jingled my keys. “Get in the car, boy. We’re going shopping.”
On the morning he left, Beau dropped a set of keys on the kitchen counter and said, “Hope you can drive stick.” As much as I hated to admit it, the blue 1969 Mustang that had once belonged to Beau’s grandfather was a much better ride than my old Jaguar.
I secured Titus in the Mustang’s front seat and dialed the radio to a holiday station so we could take the town in style.