Chapter Ten
“Well,” Bailey said after a moment. “At least it’s not a dead body.”
“I kind of wish it was.” Tears dripped down Chloe’s cheeks, slow and soft. “At least that would be simple.”
“Are you sure?” Gwen asked quietly.
“I took three different tests. Two lines, a plus sign, and Pregnant.”
Bailey blew out a breath. “Yeah, that’s pretty sure. Do you know how far along you are?”
“I think about six weeks?” Chloe bit her lip. “I don’t really have periods anymore, because of the pill, but I think about that.”
“Then you some have time to figure out what you want to do,” Bailey soothed. “And once you decide—”
“I know what I want to do,” Chloe replied.
Bailey nodded. “Okay.”
“I’m getting an abortion,” Chloe said firmly. “My career—my jewelry is selling well, but Lou just started putting it in her stores, and she wants more, and—”
Bailey gave Chloe’s hand a bolstering squeeze. “You don’t have to justify it to us, sweetie.”
Chloe took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to tell Jesse and Knox.”
“You don’t technically have to tell them,” Bailey began.
“That’s a shitty move,” Gwen muttered.
Bailey shot her a quelling look. “It’s her body, and her choice.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Gwen argued, her brown eyes firing behind her glasses. “I just said it’s shitty not to tell them.”
“Of course, it’s shitty,” Bailey flared back. “That doesn’t mean it’s not the right choice.”
“I’m going to tell them,” Chloe said firmly. “We talked about the what ifs when we quit using condoms, and we all agreed it would be the best thing. But…”
“That was theory,” Bailey said quietly. “And this is reality.”
Chloe’s eyes filled again. “Yeah.”
“Have you guys talked about kids?” Gwen asked.
Chloe sniffed the tears back. “Sure, in a ‘maybe someday’ way. But God, we haven’t even been together a full year. And there’s so much stuff to work out before we add kids to the mix.”
“I can imagine,” Bailey murmured.
Knox and Jesse had been together—and married—for years when Chloe had met them, and what was supposed to be a threesome-fling had turned into love.
Bailey knew the decision to enter into a polyamorous relationship had been carefully considered, by all three parties.
They were making it work, because they loved each other and wanted to be together, but throwing a baby in the mix would add a layer of complication.
“What do you need from us?” Bailey asked.
Chloe’s fingers tightened on hers in mute gratitude. “Nothing, really. I just needed to tell someone. And build up the courage, I guess, to tell the guys.”
“Do you want us to be with you when you do?” Gwen asked.
For a moment relief shone on Chloe’s face, then she shook her head. “No, I have to do it by myself. But maybe you guys could be on standby, just in case…”
Just in case it goes to shit, Bailey thought, and nodded. “You got it.”
“Thanks.” Taking a deep breath, Chloe rose. “I’m going to go splash some water on my face.”
Bailey let go of her hand. “I’m going to order some food.”
“Nothing too heavy.” One hand pressed to her stomach, Chloe grimaced. “Just in case it comes back up again.”
“Wonton soup?”
“Perfect,” Chloe sighed.
“I’m on it,” Bailey assured her. “Why don’t you take a nice long shower, and it’ll be here when you get out.”
“I think I will. Thanks.”
“No problem,” Bailey said, and waited until she could hear the water running behind the closed bathroom door before she turned to Gwen. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Gwen said and lifted her coffee to her lips. “Where are you ordering from?”
Bailey just looked at her, waiting, and Gwen lowered the cup with a sigh. “Fuck. Did Chloe notice?”
“I don’t think so.” Bailey watched Gwen sag with relief. “What’s going on, Gwennie? You change your mind on this issue since it came up last?”
“What? No.” Gwen shook her head. “No, I absolutely believe in the right of choice. That’s not it.”
“Then?”
“I don’t know.” Gwen looked down, her mouth pursed in thought. “It just hit me weird, I guess.”
“Do you want to go?” Bailey asked quietly. “I can tell Chloe you had to go back to work.”
“No, I— Shit, work.” Gwen dug her phone out of the pocket of her slacks. “I left Jamie in charge.”
“What’d you tell the aunts?” Bailey asked. Chloe’s aunts, Mo and Carrie, owned The Wild Orchid, and if Gwen had told them she was sick or in trouble—
“They’re both off tonight,” Gwen told her, looking at her phone screen. “They had tickets to see Taylor Swift in Chicago.”
Bailley blinked. “Mo and Carrie are Swifties?”
“Strangely, yes.” Gwen looked up. “No frantic texts, but I should go down and check.”
“It’s fine,” Bailey began.
“I’m coming back, Bails.” Gwen stood and tucked the phone back in her pocket. “I can put the weirdness away.”
“If you need to talk about it…”
Gratitude flickered over Gwen’s face. “I know. Thanks.”
“Okay,” Bailey said, and left it at that. “What do you want to eat?”
“The usual, but get extra potstickers. You guys always eat them all.” Gwen started to pass, then paused. “Was it hard?”
Bailey didn’t have to ask what she was talking about, and looked her calmly in the eye when she answered. “No, it wasn’t.”
Gwen nodded. “I’m going to check in downstairs. Buzz me when the food gets here.”
“Will do,” Bailey said, and watched her go.
Then she took out her phone and ordered extra potstickers.
* * * *
It was after midnight when she let herself back in the house.
It was cooler than it had been, and the air was stirring.
For a wild, hopeful moment she thought the AC had kicked back on, then noticed the fan in the corner, quietly humming as it oscillated back and forth over the mattress that sat in the center of the room.
The couch had been moved back against the wall to make room, and the pillows she’d left upstairs had been placed at one end. Her duvet lay folded neatly at the other end, and the top sheet was turned down, like they did in fancy hotels. The only thing missing was a little mint on the pillow.
She locked the door, dropped her purse next to the makeshift bed, and forced herself to walk on to the stairs when all she wanted to do was fall face first into a pillow and not move until morning.
God, she was tired. She felt almost bruised by the onslaught of emotions she’d had to delicately navigate.
Chloe’s fear and despair, combined with whatever Gwen was feeling.
She’d hidden it well, but as they’d talked out a plan for Chloe over Chinese food—the necessary discussion with Jesse and Knox, the logistics of scheduling and then obtaining the abortion—Gwen’s confusion and distress had been clear to Bailey, and had added to the emotional weight she carried.
She glanced at Nash’s bedroom door as she passed, then stuttered to a halt. It was ajar, the light off. From where she stood she could just see the foot of the bed, the shadow of his feet, and had taken two steps forward, one hand lifted to push the door open, before she stopped herself.
She wanted almost desperately to see him, needed almost fiercely to touch him. To wrap her arms around him and let go of the tension and worry and stress of the last few hours, of the next few days. To just let his strong arms take the weight of it all so she could breathe again.
It would be so easy, she thought, her hand on the door.
One little push. He’d wake, say her name in his sleepy, husky voice, and turn on the light.
He wouldn’t have to ask if something was wrong—he’d see it on her face—and the comfort she sought, he would give.
Freely and without expectation, he’d hold her and soothe her, lifting the weight she carried without question.
And that’s why she couldn’t take it.
She dropped her hand, her fingertips brushing down the smooth wood of the door, then turned away. Her footfalls were heavy on the stairs as she climbed them to change for bed. She brushed her teeth like a robot, washed her face and took the contacts out of her gritty eyes on autopilot.
By the time she made it back downstairs, fatigue was dragging at her. She pulled her phone out of her purse to turn off her alarm—tomorrow was her day off—and noted the battery was in the red zone. Which meant she’d have to go back upstairs for her charger.
She started to turn, to drag herself back up the stairs, then she stopped.
There, on the end table where the single light he’d left on for her cast its welcoming glow, was the wireless charging pad that lived on her bedroom nightstand.
He’d brought it down, she realized, along with the pillows and the duvet and the sheet, and the simple thoughtfulness of the gesture had her eyes going blurry with tears.
She blinked through them to set the phone on the charger, then fumbled with clumsy fingers to turn off the light.
In the dark, she fell into bed, and into sleep.
* * * *
She woke the next morning with the sun in her face, the scent of coffee in her nose, and an urgent need for the bathroom.
Shoving the sheet aside—at some point in the night she’d actually gotten chilly—she crawled off the mattress and pushed to her feet. Still mostly asleep, she stumbled down the hall to the bathroom and pushed open the door just as Nash whipped back the shower curtain.
“Shit!” She slammed her eyes shut and backed up so fast she bumped into the door frame, then the door, then finally the wall across from the bathroom. “Shit! Ow!”
“You okay?” Nash asked, clearly amused.
“No, I hit my funny bone.” Rubbing at the stinging, tingling pain, she kept her eyes firmly shut. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were in the shower.”
“You would have, if you’d knocked.”
“I was still half asleep,” she protested.
“Okay. Why are your eyes closed?”
“Because you’re naked.” Gloriously, beautifully naked.
There was a rustle, then the sound of the medicine cabinet opening and closing. “What, you’re shy now?”
She was starting to get annoyed. “Are you being an ass on purpose, or does it just come naturally?”