“That’s what I need, a baby trying to eat plants. Thanks.”
“Are you going to stay in London?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. It’s a good job, but I can’t risk word getting back to Brent that I’m pregnant. Timing-wise, he’d know it was his baby. I’ve spent most of the day looking for jobs close to home. I saved most of my relocation bonus, so that will help with moving back, I guess.”
“Why don’t you want him to know?” Sarah Jo asked.
“Because. He’s a coward who would rather banish me to the other side of the damn Atlantic than admit he has feelings for me. Not to mention, he never asked for this.”
“Um, excuse me,” she said. “But you didn’t get knocked up on your own. He was in the room, and I doubt you put drugs in his drink to have your way with him. So this is his responsibility. Why should you change your life and give up your job just to protect him from being upset? He sounds like a complete jackass and way too delicate.”
“That’s sweet of you to be protective, but he isn’t like that at all. He’s concerned with his reputation and this company he’s built. It would make him look bad if I was known to be pregnant with his child.”
“Then he SHOULD look bad, sweetheart. If it bothers him for people to know he slept with you, had feelings for you, broke your heart, and shipped you overseas for his convenience, may he shouldn’t be such a douchebag if he is so protective of his good name!” Sarah Jo sounded ready to annihilate him.
“I love you, too, but he’s the man I love, flaws and all, and I know it was a mistake for him to send me here, but it was a mistake for me to agree to it as well. I have a baby to think of and can’t waste energy on being mad at him.”
“Fine. I have plenty of energy. I’m going to get on Wikipedia and find out how to make a voodoo doll. Do you happen to have any of his hair or nail clippings?”
“Ew! No!” I laughed, “I’m gonna go look for a job. I miss you.”
“Miss you, too. I can’t wait to feed you chicken and dumplings and make that baby all chubby.”
“I think I’ll have to wait a few months before food sounds good again. Please don’t mention meat or…anything,” I said. “Bye.”
“One more thing, sweetie. I don’t think you have to leave the company. He’s too busy being a billionaire to monitor your insurance claims. He’s not going to check up on you. He doesn’t sound like the kind to be concerned. You could probably try transferring back to the home office and get away with it. Say you’re homesick, or you just broke up with your British lover and want to go home.”
“I’ve been here for two weeks.”
“But it would kill two birds with one stone. You fell in love at first sight, spent all your time with him, he got you pregnant. You fled home heartbroken.”
“I got pregnant and found out within fourteen days?”
“You really know your body. You had a sixth sense.”
“Pregnancy is not like that unless nausea is my new superpower.”
“Puker Girl? It’s like Super Girl but with bodily fluids.”
I laughed, “You. Are the worst. Bye.”
Still, there was no way I could stay with Astley. He’d find out and either be embarrassed and blame me or try to take my child. Because on paper, here was a childless fortysomething billionaire who might like an heir. My baby was not being raised by a nanny and sent to boarding school at age four. Hell no. If that meant doing this alone, then I was determined to make that work. I would make this okay. I was intelligent and strong, and I could be a single mother with a career. Plenty of women did it.
32
Brent
Kim hadn’t heard from Cat. Neither had anyone else in HR. So I demanded that Kim give me her updated contact information. I had already tried her old number, but it was disconnected.
I was at Club Nine Three with Drew and Tom when I got the message from HR that she had only updated her address. There was no new phone on file. She was unreachable, possibly ill, and alone in London. And it was my fault.
Drew was telling a story about the bracelet he was bidding on that once belonged to Princess Margaret when I held up my hand to interrupt.
“Sorry,” I said, “I have to go.”
“Is everything okay?” Tom said.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. As I walked out, I called to have my plane readied and file a flight plan.
I had considered calling her family, her emergency contact back in her small town, but I didn’t want to alarm them. And I didn’t want to explain why the CEO at her former office needed so desperately to contact her. I think she needs me was too complicated an answer to unpack with strangers. But I felt it down in my veins. That my woman needed me. That Cat was, for better or possibly worse, my woman. And if she needed me, there was only one place I wanted to be. By her side. In her arms. In her bed.
If she needed to swear at me and throw things and make me swear on a Bible I’d never push her away again, I’d do it. I deserved far worse. The only thing I couldn’t tolerate was if she didn’t want me back. I wouldn’t allow myself to imagine defeat. Think only of victory—that had been the maxim that served me throughout my career, and it couldn’t fail me now. I would picture myself kissing her, holding her, making everything okay again. A walk through the rain-slick streets of London at dusk, with Cat under my arm. That was the prize I was fighting for.
Fourteen hours later, tired and anxious, I arrived in London and got a taxi to her road. All along the street in shop windows I saw flowers. I saw placards with advertisements for Valentine’s Day deals. Looking at my phone I realized that it was tomorrow—Valentine’s Day was fast approaching. I bought every rose I could find, from street vendors and a chemist’s shop that was open early. I couldn’t stand being apart from her. I was worried for her well-being, but more than that, I had wanted only an excuse to cross an ocean and find her.
With an armful of roses in different colors, I reached her address. It was a nice building, and I likely disturbed a great many people with my ill-bred pounding on her door.
33
Cat
Half awake and disheveled, I went to my door to see who was pounding on it. I picked up my can of pepper spray in case it was someone hostile and not just a neighbor. Opening the door, I stared in disbelief.
Brent Waltham with a day’s growth of beard and an armful of red and pink flowers stood at my door. Gaping, I stepped back to admit him. He dropped all of the tissue paper wrapped flowers on my table and advanced on me.
“What are you doing here?” I said, pushing my tangled hair back from my face.
Brent took my face in his hands and kissed me. Pouring all the emotion I’d thought he wasn’t capable of into a single kiss, the tip of his tongue tracing my lips until I opened them and took his tongue in my mouth like the last breath of air I’d ever have. A sob escaped me. I gripped his wrists, never wanting him to let go or stop kissing me. Then he crushed me in his arms and kissed my hair.