“It’s… I’m not upset.” I mumbled the response, not sure what to even say at that point. I’d come over thinking she was ill and been blindsided by an announcement that likely spelled the end of our relationship and my good reputation. Charles would never let me live this down, and Ivy—fuck. I didn’t even want Ivy to find out about this. I’d have to move to a deserted island just to get away from her lectures and the humiliating banter that would happen at my expense over lunch every day in the office.
“You look upset,” Kat repeated, squeezing my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m very emotional right now and I think it’s just the hormones. I feel so ill. I just wanted comfort. I didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t expecting to have a baby at this stage of my life.”
I blinked, staring blankly at her. I felt like my thoughts were going a million miles an hour in a room that was in slow motion. Trying to focus on her face, I opened my mouth to speak but closed it without saying a word. What could I say? If I reacted the way I had after our jaunt to the farmer’s market, it would be the end of us. She’d never forgive me. But if my churning gut was right, it was over anyway.
But I loved her.
A lot.
“Kat, I have to get to work now, okay?” I pulled my hand away, bending robotically to kiss her forehead. “I’ll call you later.”
“On a Sunday? Work?”
“Big client.” I heard my cold, empty tone as it came out of my mouth, but I couldn’t warm it up even if I tried. I hadn’t even reacted yet. I didn’t tell her what I thought or felt because I didn’t know what to think or feel. Was I supposed to celebrate becoming a father? This was the lowest of the low. At least none of the other women who wanted to use me for my money had stooped to this level.
Jillian’s words that day at my house left a scathing shadow over me. “All I am saying is this man must be loaded.” I stood, picking up my jacket as I headed for the door. I didn’t even turn around to look at Katherine as she said goodbye. When I shut the door behind me, I heard crying again. Her sobs louder than ever, only this time I was not going back to comfort her.
Autopilot took over, leading me to my car, then to the office, then to my desk. I sunk behind my computer and buried my face in my hands, elbows propped on the hard wood in front of me. How could this be happening? How had I been so stupid. Even that day at golf, when I’d decided that even if Katherine was using me for my money, I loved her enough to stay with her through it all—no matter the pain, I hadn’t realized how much it would hurt.
It was a tough lot in life to never have anyone you truly connected with enough to trust them with your heart. I thought that person was Katherine. No—I knew it was. So why wasn’t I thrilled about being a father? I wanted children. It was the primary reason things between Jillian and me would have never worked out. She loathed them.
I was willing to bet she never even wanted Katherine; that had just been her means to hook Katherine’s father into a marriage he never wanted. So, Katherine, daughter of the most conniving, manipulative woman in history, had brought the boat full circle.
I smashed my fists onto my desk and shouted. I loved that woman so much, but everything was in the air right now. How could I condone this? But how could I not? If she was being honest and she was carrying my child, I wanted that more than anything in the world. I just didn’t know if I could get over what I was feeling in this moment.
18
KAT
Throwing up was the worst part of being pregnant, and it seemed no matter what I ate, it came right back up with vengeance. My stomach hated me. My sinuses hated my stomach. And all I wanted was to be held. Not only was I constantly nauseous, but I was also entirely too emotional. When I ran out of peppermints—they helped calm my stomach—I cried like a 7-year-old girl whose friend stole her Barbie.
“I know you don’t like it, but I swear if you just drink this tea, you will feel so much better.” Bethany thrust the cup of tea in my face for the third time. The stench of chamomile and cinnamon made my stomach roil and I covered my face with the back of my hand, turning away from her.
“Please, get that out of here. The smell is going to make me vomit again.” I shook my head and pulled the front of my hoodie up so the neckline covered my face past the nose. My stomach had never reacted to scents in such a strong or negative way before. I prayed to God I wasn’t one of those women who had morning sickness her entire pregnancy.
Bethany scowled and rose, carrying the cup out of the living room into the kitchen. I heard the sink run, and the dishwasher open and shut, and then she appeared in front of me with a glass of water. She had to be tired of dealing with my emotions and crying, but I was so grateful she was here.
She had been gracious enough to bring me more peppermints when I ran out. They’d been my only relief from the throws of morning sickness. And Taylor was giddy with the prospect of replacing me in the symphony for the week, our show in London earning an encore presentation for the royal family. I had missed out, but I was in no shape to travel. I’d have filled 50 airsick bags on just the outbound leg of the journey.
“God, I don’t ever want to be pregnant. Just watching you suffer is enough. If this is what producing another human does to your body, count me out.” Beth plopped on the couch, throwing her feet onto the coffee table and pointing the remote at the TV. The channels scrolled by, sappy love stories, some reality TV show, and a news broadcast. I had no interest.
“I wasn’t planning this to happen, but you know, I think I want to be a mom. At least one person in the whole world will love me.” My heart was broken. Victor had managed to text me good morning twice but had not answered or responded to any of my calls. For almost a week we’d barely spoken outside of the text messages. Giving him space to deal with his thoughts and feelings was difficult when I felt like trash.
My phone lit up and started to vibrate. It danced around the coffee table, spinning until the picture turned round and I could see my mother’s face as caller ID. My heart stopped. With the emotions of pregnancy acting like a thick fog in Spring, I did not have the mental capacity to deal with her lectures. I bit my lip and looked at Beth, who glanced at the phone and blanched.
Her pasty complexion drew my ire. “What did you do?” Panic started to settle in as she was slow to answer.
“I swear I didn’t tell her about the baby.” She held her hands up in defense. “She was at the shop when I was buying the peppermints and crackers. She asked how I was and got a bit nosy. I told her I had to leave, that you were waiting on me for the crackers. Of course, she confronted me. You’re supposed to be in London. I told her you were so sick you couldn’t go.”
“And now she’s calling me!” I watched the phone dance until it started ringing, and for a moment I thought I would get out of talking to her, but the phone started ringing again. “Dammit, Beth.” I scowled at her, took a deep breath, and answered the phone. “Hey, Mom.”
“Katherine, are you okay? I ran into your friend Bethy at the store. She said you stayed home. You should be in London.”
I knew that tone. It was not a tone that said, “I’m worried about you; how can I help?” I didn’t think my mom even knew how to use compassion at all. Her tone was nosy, interested more in the juicy gossip of what could have made me so sick I had to give up my career.
“I’m fine, Mom. Beth bought me some crackers to settle my stomach. Just a bug or something.” Eventually she’d learn I was lying to her, but I’d cross that bridge when we came to it. “And she doesn’t go by Bethy anymore. We are not kids.”
“Yes, dear. Well, I just wondered how you were doing. We haven’t spoken in a few weeks and well I worry about you.” The condescending remark chased away any self-pity I had reserved due to my morning sickness. Anger flooded in and took over.