18. Eighteen
Five Years Ago
“I’m late,” I say, walking into Paloma’s room of our shared apartment, my hands shaking.
“For what? I didn’t think you had a shoot planned for another few days. Did you book something last minute and not tell me? Do you need me to drive you? LA traffic is bad, so hopefully they’ll be cool waiting,” Paloma says, immediately grabbing her phone and pulling up her GPS app, ready to input an address for directions. Ever the problem solver. Ever my best friend, ready to save my ass without even knowing my latest dilemma. I grab her arm, stopping her from grabbing her purse.
“No. Paloma, I’m late. My period.”
“What do you mean? You’re on the pill, right? Maybe you messed up the timing and it’ll show up later today or something.”
“It’s not a few hours late. I was supposed to start two weeks ago. I’m late late.”
“How…” she asks, guiding me over to her bed and sitting me down. “How are you late?”
I run a hand through my hair, greasy because I haven’t washed it in days from pure apathy. I haven”t felt like doing much of anything but cry and mope since I got home from the Maldives. I haven’t felt much at all, actually. I don’t know if I prefer that to the soul-crushing pain of realizing Zander lied to me and ripped out my heart in the aftermath of his revelation that he could be a completely different person from the man I fell in love with and suddenly want nothing to do with me once my usefulness was expended. A fresh wave of grief and anger rises up in my gut, and I shut my eyes against the tears it brings with it. I have a new problem to deal with, and I don”t think I can handle both at the same time.
“I missed a few pills on my trip, like four or five, total, and I got right back on a new pack when I got home. But, well, there was one time we didn’t use a condom, and I guess one time is all it takes, really, and now I’m late. Oh my God, Paloma, what if I’m—” Paloma puts up a hand and stops me from continuing.
“Ay, Dios. Stop, don”t say it out loud or put anything into the universe you don”t want to be true. It’s fine. Let’s just be calm and do what we have to in order to be sure. I’ll go get you some tests to be completely sure and we’ll figure this out together, okay? It could just be birth control weirdness. Maybe starting a new pack later than you should have threw off your cycle. That kind of thing happens all the time. It could totally be what’s going on right now. It’s going to be fine.”
“Okay, yeah, that could be it,” I agree, grasping at anything that sounds even remotely plausible.
Paloma pulls me into a tight hug before she releases me and smiles in what she must assume is a reassuring manner, though it just looks like she’s planning to commit murder, and the someone most likely to be her victim is named Zander Olsen. I told her everything as soon as I got home. If I was angry about everything, Paloma was furious. She wanted to fly to Atlanta right then, march into the Olympus International Tower, and throw Zander out of the highest window she could find. She’s felt all the emotions right along with me. I know she’s been worried about me as I mope around the apartment, my tan fading, unable to sleep because I got used to being in Zander’s arms, and now I feel too lonely to fall into a sleep deep enough to be restful.
“I’ll go to the store just down the street. It won’t even take ten minutes, and then we can sort this out. I’ll grab mango sorbet while I’m there, and we can laugh and celebrate when we realize it was all a mix-up after. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” She kisses my head and prepares to leave the apartment on her mission. “Maybe shower and wash your hair while I’m gone. You stink.”
“Thanks a lot.” I roll my eyes, but know she’s right. I won’t listen either way.
I’m still grateful for her optimism and level-headedness when I’m so utterly losing my mind right now. Thinking I could be left with one more reminder that Zander wants nothing to do with me would be devastating. I won’t even be able to tell him if I am pregnant. He blocked me on social media, and I’m pretty sure he blocked my number because it doesn’t even ring and goes to voicemail every time I call him, and he hasn’t returned a single text. There’s not a single way I can get a hold of him short of seeing him in person, and I highly doubt that would happen without great pains being taken to arrange it, given how unlikely we are to cross paths. I know Zander orchestrated the few times we did run into each other prior to our trip, so that was purely because he wanted it to happen.
As promised, Paloma returns about ten minutes later, a bag swinging off her arm full of pregnancy tests and a pint of mango sorbet that she chucks in the freezer for later before she grips my arm and steers me into her bathroom.
“I read the directions while I was waiting in line. All you have to do is pee on the stick and wait. The kind I got tells you pregnant or not in the little window, so you don’t have to decipher any codes or lines.”
I open the plastic shopping bag and see she brought home a bunch of tests. I quickly count. “Six tests?”
“I wanted to make sure we had extras in case you wanted to get verification. You don”t have to use all of them, obviously, but you know, just in case.”
My hands shake as I take out one of the tests, open the innocuous box, and pull out the test that doesn”t look like it could ruin my life. I look at Paloma and she nods.
“I’ll wait outside. Let me know when you’re finished peeing and we can wait for the results together.”
She steps out of the bathroom and I’m left alone with the plastic stick that could damn me to hell or tell me I’m being a dumb fucking baby who made a mess of her birth control in addition to falling for an asshole. I pee on the stick and set it on the vanity, resolutely not looking at it as I wash my hands and open the door for Paloma. We sit on the edge of the bathtub, shoulders touching as the silence grows around us.
“I set a timer when I heard the toilet flush,” she tells me, showing me her phone that is counting down the minutes.
“Paloma, what… what if it is,” I begin, but she shakes her head, stopping me. Her silky sable hair tumbles over our touching shoulders, blending with my lank sunkissed brown waves that would have been so pretty after the time I spent in the sun if I washed it. She was right again. I should have showered.
“We’re not putting anything into the universe until we know for sure. No what-ifs. We will speak in absolutes only when we know.” Her timer beeps and we look at each other for a moment before she turns it off.
I stand from the bathtub and take the two steps to the sink where in bold letters the clear window of the plastic test reads PREGNANT. I stumble back and Paloma catches me, seeing the results and shushing the wailing noise I realize is coming from me.
“We can take another, just to be sure. These things can be faulty. That’s why I bought a bunch. Here, sit down.” She directs me back to the edge of the bathtub as hysteria rises in me and I start to shake violently.
“I can’t be pregnant. I can’t! Paloma, I just started booking big jobs. Givenchy made me the face of their perfume. I’ve only shot two campaigns with them. They won’t want a pregnant model. I can’t be on Sports Illustrated pregnant. I was barely fit enough when they asked me to be on the cover this time around. This will ruin my career before it really gets started, and I’m only twenty-four. I’m too young to have a baby.” Tears streak down my cheeks, and I’m back to feeling again, but it’s panic and fear instead of heartbreak and sadness. I sob openly, holding my knees and barely able to breathe.
Paloma is kneeling in front of me, hands on my shoulders, staring into my face. “This isn’t the end of everything, Lolo, even if you are pregnant. We can be certain first, so let’s take more tests.”
So I do, and all six of the tests scream PREGNANT at us, and Paloma can no longer deny the truth. I’m definitely pregnant.
“My career is over,” I moan, face down on my bed, where we’ve moved from the bathroom and the incriminating pregnancy tests screaming my failure to take a little bitty pill properly at me. Paloma lies next to me, rubbing my back. I’m no longer sobbing, but I can”t stop the tears from leaking into the pillows.
“You have choices,” she says, hesitantly. “It’s really early. You could take a pill and erase everything. Zander would be gone from your life and you wouldn’t have to think about that lying asshole ever again. You wouldn’t have to sacrifice your career or give up what you have worked so hard for. You could keep your contracts and continue shooting and traveling and go on as if nothing even happened.”
I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling while the tears slide down into my hair now. The picture she paints is the easy one. It’s the logical one and would give me the most freedom. It provides the most security and allows me to keep my life exactly as it is with everything I have worked to achieve. It’s what I know I should do.
But I would lose something that was made during a tiny moment in time, a blip in the vastness of the universe, where two people let down their walls and fell in love in the middle of the ocean. It would erase the proof that Zander and I had existed in the same space and time and he had given himself to me, and I had let myself belong to him, even if it was fleeting. It would remove the possibility that he had seen the real me and wanted that woman, flaws and all. I would lose the one small thread still connecting me to Zander forever, the only attachment he couldn’t possibly deny.
With that thought, my future solidifies in front of me. I will give up everything to protect the life we created against all odds. I will sacrifice my career, turn my back on what I have worked for, and raise the little piece of him that Zander left with me when he couldn’t be man enough to give me the forever he promised. This will be my forever, and it will be enough. I will be enough.
I turn to look at Paloma, seeing her concern, and feel a tender love and appreciation well up in me. “I’m keeping the baby. Looks like I brought you home a beautiful souvenir after all.”
Three weeks later, I’m in Atlanta doing what I imagined when I wondered how I would even tell Zander if it came down to it. I look up at the sleek metal and glass skyscraper of Olympus International Tower and take a deep breath as I push into the polished lobby.
I tried calling, but the damn receptionists wouldn’t put me through, saying the CEO wouldn’t take calls from anyone who wasn’t on his approved list. That sounded like bullshit, but here I am, feeling desperate and needing to tell Zander that not only did I come home thinking he was a lying asshole, but, oh yeah, surprise, we’re pregnant and I’m having your baby!
I don”t expect anything from him, I just want him to know. It’s the decent thing to do. To give him the choice to be a part of his child’s life or, like with me, forget that it exists entirely. I place a protective hand over my flat belly that won’t show the evidence of this life for a while yet and send up a plea to anything listening that Zander isn”t that cruel, but even I can’t put it past him, now.
I walk up to the impressively large matte black counter in the lobby and smile. I’m in Prada business wear and look like I belong in this building, another role I can pull off expertly, so the receptionist smiles back politely, ready to be of service.
“Hello, Layla,” I say, reading her nametag. “I”m hoping you can help me. I’m an old friend and business associate of Zander Olsen’s in town for the day, but I just got a new phone and no longer have his number to reach his direct line so we can connect. Would you please be a dear and let him know I’m here?” Disarming, slightly embarrassed to be asking for help, bringing her in as the one person who can be the savior. Piece of cake.
Layla’s smile drops and her cheeks grow red. “I’m sorry, I’m only allowed to contact the administrative staff for the C-suite. I can’t just call any of the Olsens outright.”
I wave a hand like it’s nothing, when I want to grab her phone myself and start mashing buttons. “That would be fine. Would you mind reaching out to Zander’s admin? I would love to catch him before he leaves for the day, if possible.”
She nods, seeming relieved by my understanding attitude.
I tamp down my impatience and frustration. I just want to get this over with. I don’t expect Zander to change his mind when he finds out, but, well, he might. I know there is a decent man in there somewhere, no matter what a dick he became when we boarded that jet and returned home.
I look over at the bank of elevators and notice that the people getting on them are using passes to make them rise. Fuck. Even if I managed to get into an elevator, I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without one of those, so I can’t just bluster my way onto one and go to the highest floor. I need a way in, and it’s at Zander’s, or his admin’s, blessing.
Layla sets down her phone and looks over at me with a frown. “I’m sorry, Mr. Olsen–Zander–” she clarifies, since three Olsen brothers run this company, “isn’t expecting any visitors, and is very busy and can’t make any room in his schedule to see an old friend.”
“It really is important that I speak to him, as this is the only day I’m in town. Can you please try again and let his admin know to tell him that it’s Harlowe Sorenson to see him?” I don”t know if that will help or hurt my cause, but it’s all I can try at this point.
“I’ll try,” Layla says, sounding a little annoyed with me now that I’m becoming more insistent and making her attempt the call again. I’m sure the admin she’s speaking to is a real ball-buster, used to talking down to anyone below the top floor of the building, and a lowly receptionist trying to get an unexpected visitor clearance to see the CEO is going to get a brutal dismissal.
I step away from the desk to give the girl a chance to say whatever she needs to as I feign disinterest. When she looks my way again, I smile and make my way toward the desk.
“Any luck?” I ask.
“She said to have a seat and she would see what she could do.”
“Thank you for your help,” I say, feeling trepidation, since it’s not a pass to the top floor or Zander striding down here when he heard my name and taking me in his arms and telling me he was so fucking wrong to push me away. I sit in the lobby and count the minutes as I wait. I watch as employees begin to leave around five, and the building starts to empty out. Layla the receptionist shuts down her desk at five-thirty and I’m still waiting. I grab her arm before she can slink out of the lobby completely.
“Hey, what’s the deal?” I ask, blocking her exit.
“I don’t know, his admin never called back. I’m off the clock now, so it’s not my problem anymore.”
I’m furious as she darts around me and leaves. I turn back to the bank of elevators and march over to them, beginning to push the button and hoping a door will miraculously open and I can get somewhere on one. An elevator door opens then, and a huge man steps out and I take a step back out of habit.
I know at a glance that this has to be one of Zander’s brothers. They have the same dark hair, similar jawlines and builds, though his is definitely the gym-made kind, and his eyes are a piercing dark green. He doesn’t look friendly as he eyes me up and down.
“Are you Harlowe Sorenson?” His voice is a deep baritone that registers as vaguely familiar because it sounds a bit like Zander’s, and there is a pang of longing that hits me from that little bit of home in the tone. I nod in acknowledgment. It’s quickly shut down when he indicates I step into the elevator with him.
“I’m Hayes Olsen. If you would follow me, please.”
Every instinct in me is screaming not to go anywhere with him. He feels like certain death, and I don”t know why. He’s handsome enough, he’s a successful businessman and Zander’s brother, but there is something unsettling about him, like he handles the unsavory aspects of the business, or he’s the one they turn to when they need to get their hands dirty, and he enjoys it a little too much. I swallow as I realize I could be one of those unsavory aspects of business now that I’m on the wrong side of Zander’s one-and-done conquests. I’ve heard from model friends about being thrown out of his penthouse by one of the brothers with an NDA in hand.
Despite every part of me that thinks this could be a bad idea, it could also be my only way to see Zander now. I step into the elevator and Hayes lets the door slide shut. I feel my hands start to shake. He slides a card over a reader and hits a button on the panel, but it’s not one of the top-floor numbers, and I know I won’t be taken to see Zander after all. I deflate a little, but try to change tactics.
“Does Zander always send his brothers to collect his friends when they stop by to see him?” I ask, a friendly note masking the fear I feel. I’m performing any role I can to get through this.
“Zander doesn’t have female friends,” Hayes says without humor as the elevator starts to rise with surprising speed.
I roll my eyes. “No, he has women he fucks and then is done with them,” I murmur.
I can feel Hayes’s head turn to me and I’m sure he’s appraising me. I look over and meet his scary green stare. It’s deep and is, in fact, taking my measure. I will myself to quit being a little bitch and stop shaking. Instead, I grasp the anger of being dismissed, underestimated, and counted out and use it to give me a bit more of a backbone now, when I need it most. I stand up straighter and lift my chin, rising to my full height and more in my four-inch Louboutin heels. I can stare him dead in the eye, though he may have an inch or two on me.
“I was one of those women. I can tell you think I’m a problem, but I don”t intend to be. I just need to talk to Zander. Give me five minutes with him. That’s all I need. Then I’ll sign whatever you want and be out of your hair.” Honest, to the point. I’m a good girl you can trust, is what I’m trying to tell him. Not a problem in the least.
“That’s not how this works. That’s not how Zander works.”
“You don’t understand. This is important. I just need to speak with Zander directly. I tried calling, texting, social media, but everything has been blocked. I tried calling here and got nowhere. This is my only option. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I want nothing to do with him,” I promise, even if there is still a part of me that would like something to do with him, hurt and all.
The elevator stops and the doors open to a floor that appears vacant of employees and leads directly into a conference room that is lit and has a stack of papers on the table. Hayes extends his arm for me to exit the elevator ahead of him.
“Please, I’m begging you. I just need to speak to Zander. Two minutes even. I can be brief. I don”t need much time. I’ll leave as soon as I speak to him.” I’m walking backward, resorting to pleading as I enter the conference room, Hayes following me, his face looking impassive, stoic, unimpressed. He really was a good option to send, as intimidating as he is and as unwilling to be swayed as he seems to be.
“I’m sorry you had to experience the worst of my youngest brother’s qualities, Ms. Sorenson. I really am. I make no excuses for why he is the way he is. Zander is a compulsive womanizer. His actions are deplorable more often than not, and he makes no excuses for his own behavior, reveling in the fact that he only spends one night with a woman before he loses interest in them. I know that can be hard when he sells you a story of how special you are to get you into bed.” He pulls out the chair in front of the stack of papers for me to sit.
“Two. Weeks.” I sit on the edge of the chair and fume that I have to be here at all when I just want to talk to Zander.
“Excuse me?” he says, taking his own seat next to me.
“We were in the Maldives for two weeks. Yes, he said a lot of pretty things and made a lot of promises that now feel like chewing broken glass to think about, but that’s beside the point. I need to speak to him about another matter altogether.”
Hayes shows genuine interest for the first time, his green gaze sharpening and taking my measure again, as if I surprised him. “Well, it seems you’ve already had more time with Zander than he’s allowed with anyone else, so consider yourself lucky. Or unlucky, as it is. I think he’s an insufferable asshole, so I apologize that you had to spend that much time alone with him. I really don”t envy you.”
Despite the situation, I bark out a laugh, and get what I imagine is a rare smile from Hayes, as well. “He admitted to being an entirely different person on the trip, so I think I was shown someone other than who you’re used to,” I admit. “Maybe he treated me better. I guess I’ll never know, now. But I do need to talk to him. I have to tell him something incredibly important. Then I swear I’m done with him for good. You will never see or hear from me again if that’s what he wants.”
He shakes his head almost sadly and lets out a deep breath. “Listen, Ms. Sorenson, you seem smarter than most, so I’m going to level with you and just lay this out. We”re here to have you sign this non-disclosure agreement and come to an understanding where my brother is concerned. He wants nothing to do with you, as hard as that is to hear, and would prefer not to deal with the aftermath of his hookups. He won’t be speaking with you today or at any time in the future. I get the lovely job of explaining that Zander is a complete moron, we can both agree he is an idiot who needs to learn how to treat women, and then I will escort you out once you understand that under no circumstances are you to contact him or come here again.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say, taken aback by his bluntness. “I have to speak with him. It’s imperative,” I insist.
“We are prepared to offer you a million dollars to make it easier to stay away from Zander, as well as Olympus International. Part of the NDA here stipulates the length of time and—”
“I don”t want your fucking money,” I blurt, cutting him off, outraged that he thinks I’m here looking for a handout, like I’m some whore that needs payment for services rendered. “I’m not signing anything. I have no intention of saying anything to anyone. All I came here to do was speak to Zander. I have something incredibly important and time-sensitive I need to tell him. I don”t need money and I’m not looking for him to date me or anything otherwise. You are unbelievable and this is so fucked.”
“You will sign the NDA,” he says, looking bored with my outburst, but his eyes are sharp, cunning, and I know I should be scared. Instead, it pisses me off that he thinks he can order me around.
“No, actually, I won’t. That document would only be legally binding if both parties agreed to sign it retroactively. I do not agree. So you and Zander and your whole family can fuck right off.” I scatter the stack of papers across the table and floor as I stand and stalk out of the conference room. I asked my manager casually about NDAs when I got back from my trip, wondering why Zander hadn’t made me sign one before we left. It was quite illuminating and turned out to be helpful now.
I stab the button for the elevator and hope like hell the car will go down without needing a special pass. I feel, rather than hear, Hayes come up behind me and turn to see him lean on the conference room doorframe, nearly blocking the entire opening with his impressively large frame. He really does have a scary aura, or whatever it is that hangs around him, especially as he turns his cold green eyes on me.
“Ms. Sorenson, I don’t recommend fucking with my family, if that’s your intention in not signing the NDA. If you so much as drag our name or our business into any of your bullshit, you”ll feel the wrath we’re capable of. We don’t tolerate those who wish to make enemies of us, so I don’t advise it for you. It won”t end well.”
I keep my back straight and stare him down right back. I don”t care how big or intimidating he is, I won’t let him threaten me after what Zander did. “I don’t recommend fucking with me, Mr. Olsen. You can tell Zander that yourself. I don”t want anything to do with any of you, or your fucking company, so don”t worry about me or what I’ll be doing. Stay away from me and we won”t have a problem.” The elevator dings and the doors open, providing an escape route away from Zander’s scary-ass big brother.
Thankfully, the doors close and the car descends as it should, and I ride down in a shaky silence, my lip wobbling with the effort it takes to hold on to my fierceness and pride. To keep my facade of warrior strength that I’ll be taking with me against any foe.
I’ll need this strength and power to raise a child on my own, to protect them from the world, and to shield them from men like Zander and a family as powerful as the Olsens. Once I’m out of the building, I let myself fall apart, tears coming in an endless stream that has people on the street looking at me like I’m crazy. I’ll have to do this completely on my own, without Zander so much as knowing that he’ll have a child in this world, raised in the very same city, even.
I will be moving home to live with my mom once my current contracts are complete. I can’t continue modeling after I have this baby, not without a family and help in place in LA, and not when it will put me in the public eye and potentially at risk of Zander and his family learning about his child.
I’m making a choice right this moment to make sure that Zander Olsen never gets wind of this baby, because if what Hayes said was true, they could see this as a retaliatory act on their family. Any mention of Zander being the father of my child could be construed as dragging the Olsen name into my bullshit. They could try to take the baby from me, and then I’ll have absolutely nothing left of my forever with Zander. So I will guard my child from that possibility, and that means pulling away from the life and career I thought I wanted so badly.