Текст книги "About that Night"

Автор книги: Beth Andrews

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER SEVEN

I T DIDN’T HAVE to be this way.

C.J. paced the length of his apartment, Ivy’s words replaying in his head.

He felt caged in, like a wild animal recently caught, forced to hide his instincts to keep control. Usually keeping control was easy for him. Emotions were messy and had never helped anyone make a good decision. No, problems needed to be solved by using one’s head, by using logic and reason and looking at all the angles, by seeing the pros and cons of each decision.

Following your heart only led to suffering. Not that he’d followed his heart that night with Ivy, he thought with a sneer. That had all been his groin telling him what to do. He could admit that his arrogance hadn’t helped, either. He’d had the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen come to him, flirt with him, and he’d given in to his baser needs.

It wouldn’t happen again.

The edginess fled as he realized that he could handle this. He handled everything. His blood chilled and he was cool. Calm. Collected. Getting upset wouldn’t solve anything, wouldn’t get to the truth, and that was what he needed right now. The truth.

A knock sounded on his door and though he knew it wasn’t Ivy, his heart sped up anyway, almost as if he was looking forward to seeing her again, as if he wanted to see her again.

He yanked the door open. “Took you long enough,” he growled.

His brother Oakes raised his eyebrows. “I hadn’t realized I was being timed.” He came in, looking like the attorney he was, in a dark suit, his brown hair rumpled. “I left a very promising date to come over here because you said it was an emergency.” He helped himself to a beer from the fridge and sat on the couch. “Well? What’s up?”

C.J.’s mouth tightened. He didn’t know how to go about this. He’d called Oakes as soon as Ivy had left. Demanding his brother drop whatever he was doing and telling him to come over here was one thing, but actually letting him know what was going on? That seemed extreme.

At least it wasn’t Kane, who’d never let him hear the end of it.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?” Oakes asked. “Want me to read your mind?”

C.J. sighed. Damn it, he’d have to tell him. Would have to admit what an idiot he’d been. “I need your help.”

Oakes froze in the act of lifting his beer to his mouth. Slowly lowered the bottle. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” C.J. could have sworn his brother was enjoying this somehow.

“Yeah, I did, but I’d love to hear it again.” Oakes grinned and stood. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that you needed help before. Or that you were wrong, but that’s a miracle for another day.” He took out his phone and snapped a picture.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Just wanted a memento of this momentous occasion,” Oakes said in his cheerful way. “Maybe you could repeat yourself? That way I can have a video of it to share?”

C.J.’s response to that was short and to the point.

Oakes put his phone back in his pocket. “I love my phone but not that much. And I don’t think I have that app, but I’ll look into it for those long, lonely winter nights. Now,” he continued. “What do you need help with?”

“I need you to find out information about someone.”

“I’m not a private detective,” Oakes reminded him. “Those years in law school and all that. I can give you a name—”

“You can find out just about anything you want about someone,” C.J. said, knowing Oakes could get information about people for his clients and the cases he worked on.

“So can you. All you have to do is place a few calls and—”

“I don’t want anyone to know about this.”

“New business venture?” his brother asked.

“No, it’s...personal.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t do personal.”

C.J. bristled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Oakes lifted a shoulder, not the least put out by C.J.’s tone or hostile glare. “You haven’t dated since Dad got sick, and you focus on work. Everything all right?”

He wished he’d focused on work that night with Ivy. Leave it to Oakes, the best of them all, to worry about C.J.’s well-being. “I’m fine I just...”

Screwed up. Big-time.

Shit.

He sat on the edge of the chair, clasped his hands between his knees. “I met someone.”

“You want me to run a background check on the woman you’re dating? That seems a bit cold and paranoid. Even for you.”

“We’re not dating. We...spent the night together. The night of Kane’s engagement party.”

“Not that I don’t love being privy to the more personal aspects of your life,” Oakes said, “but I’m having a hard time following you. You slept with a woman in Shady Grove and...oh.” His eyes widened and he chuckled. “Oh, I get it.”

C.J. doubted that. “Got what?”

“She dumped you, but you’re hooked, and now you want to convince her to give you another chance.” He made a motion of a fishhook in his cheek. “Never thought I’d see it.”

“That’s not what happened.” He wasn’t hooked. But she had left him. He wouldn’t forget that. Twice she’d walked out on him. That was unacceptable. “We hadn’t spoken since that night, but she came here today.”

“She came to Houston?” Realization dawned and Oakes shook his head. “No.”

C.J. pressed his lips together. Nodded shortly. “She says she’s pregnant.”

Oakes went into lawyer mode, standing and pacing, and C.J. could almost see his brother’s agile mind working. “Any chance it’s true?”

“No.”

Oakes turned, gave C.J. a look he’d never seen from his younger brother before. “No? No chance at all? So you didn’t have sex with her?”

And this wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. He hadn’t participated in locker-room talk, bragging about his exploits and conquests, since he was thirteen and had gotten to first base with a girl two years older who’d wanted him to take her to some country-club dance and buy her jewelry.

He’d found out later that she’d only liked him for his looks and for his father’s money.

“We had sex,” C.J. admitted through clenched teeth. “But we used protection.”

“Nothing but abstinence is one hundred percent,” Oakes said, as if convincing a jury of C.J.’s guilt. Repeating Ivy’s words. “You say you used protection. Was she on birth control, as well?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

Oakes gave him a look that was filled with disbelief and disappointment. “Just a suggestion, but if you’re going to have one-night stands, you might want to make sure you’re both protected from something like this.”

C.J. felt like a big enough idiot already. He didn’t need to hear it from his little brother. “Are you going to check into her or not?”

He didn’t want to go to a stranger to handle this, but he would if he needed to.

“What do you want to know about her?” Oakes asked.

“Everything. Where she works. Where she lives. Who her friends are. Her history. Past lovers and relationships. Education. Family.”

“Guess you didn’t get around to discussing any of that, huh?” Oakes asked.

“Spare me the lecture. I’ve got enough on my mind.”

“What are you going to do about the baby?”

“I’m not sure the baby is mine. This could be some scheme to give her kid the Bartasavich last name and to get enough money to set herself up for life.”

But his instincts told him it wasn’t.

Oakes made a note. “I know a guy—”

“You—”

“No,” Oakes said. “I told you. I don’t do background checks, but I know a guy who does and who is very thorough. He’s discreet, too, so don’t worry about that. He can be completely trusted.”

“I don’t know,” C.J. said. This was personal, and he didn’t want his personal business spread around.

“Trust me,” Oakes said. “He’s the best.”

C.J. nodded. He did trust Oakes. “How long will it take?”

“Depends on how much you can give him to start with.”

“Not much,” he hated admitting. “Her name is Ivy Rutherford and she lives in Shady Grove. She grew up there,” he added, remembering her saying that she’d lived in the small town her entire life. “She works at the hotel where the engagement party was held.”

Oakes wrote that down. “Luckily, Shady Grove is small enough she should be easy enough to track down. Assuming, of course, that she’s still living there.”

C.J. had a feeling she was, that when she left Houston, she’d go back to that tiny town where his brother had decided to spend the rest of his life. “The security department here might have video surveillance of her coming and leaving the building if you need a picture to help identify her.”

“That should be enough for him to get a good start. I’d say he’ll have what you need within a week.”

Clint nodded. “Good.” That would give him enough time to tie up loose ends at the office.

Then he was tracking Ivy down.

* * *

FUNNY HOW DOING the right thing often came back to bite a person in the ass.

Lesson learned, Ivy thought late the next morning as she scraped her hair back, wrapped an elastic band around it. She’d be sure to avoid doing that again for the rest of her life.

She grabbed flour, sugar, baking powder and baking soda from the pantry at Bradford House and carried them into the kitchen. She never should have gone to Houston. Never should have told Clinton she was pregnant. Giving into her attraction to him that night had been reckless. Seeking him out to tell him she was carrying his child? That was just stupid.

Topping off her reckless, stupid behavior by throwing up in his extremely clean bathroom, well, that could only be described as humiliating. The one saving grace was that the woman who’d shown up while Ivy had been kneeling on that cold tile floor—her stomach empty, her eyes watering—hadn’t realized Ivy was even there.

She supposed she should be thankful for small favors, but she just didn’t have it in her at the moment.

How could she have been so foolish? Worse, why had Clinton’s crappy attitude bothered her so much? She didn’t need his approval. Certainly didn’t care what he thought about her.

She scooped flour into a measuring cup, leveled off the excess. It bothered her, she realized. She’d wanted him to show that softer side she’d seen when he’d been with his family at King’s Crossing. The humor and charm that was so attractive. That had made him seem approachable.

She’d wanted... God...she’d wanted him to show her just a bit of kindness.

Pathetic. Anyone who spends their lives relying on the kindness of others is looking to get kicked in the teeth. Again and again and again. She was smarter than that. She didn’t need kindness. Couldn’t count on it.

She counted on herself. Period.

She didn’t need Clinton Bartasavich Jr. in her life and neither did her child. They’d be just fine on their own.

“I didn’t think you were coming in today.”

Ivy glanced over her shoulder as Fay, her boss at the bed-and-breakfast, walked in from the dining room. “I changed my mind.”

There had been no reason to stick around Houston as she’d originally planned. So she’d canceled her hotel room and booked an earlier flight, getting into Pittsburgh at 3:00 a.m. That she still had to pay for the hotel room and had incurred over one hundred dollars in airline fees sucked. No doubt about it. Doing the right thing cost a person. In more ways than one.

But in the end, every penny had been worth it.

After her encounter with Clinton, she’d just wanted to come home. Had wanted to curl up in her bed, pull the sheet over her head and pretend the past...oh...four months had never happened.

That had worked for about two hours, after which she’d kicked off the covers and spent a good portion of her morning pacing her cramped apartment, cursing out her cat—who insisted on winding his way between her legs with every step—and muttering to herself about what an idiot she’d been to actually think any good could come of her trip to Texas.

So she’d showered, forced down a few bites of dry toast and decided keeping busy was the way to go. A way to keep her mind from replaying the things Clinton had said to her. How he’d treated her.

A way to stop from thinking about that check, now hidden in a sandwich bag in the back of her freezer.

Fay crossed to the sink to fill a cheery red teapot. “How was your day off?”

Ivy pressed her lips together until they went numb. “Fine,” she managed, dumping the flour into a large bowl.

She kept her gaze averted as Fay set the pot on the stove and lit a fire under it. Didn’t want to take a chance on her boss seeing the truth in her eyes. Fay wasn’t much for prodding, but she would worry if she thought something was wrong. If she thought someone was upset, she’d question—gently and with great trepidation—what had happened. Wonder what she could do to help. She was one of those fragile souls with an incessant need to please others, to make sure everyone around her was happy.

When what she needed to worry about was fixing her own life.

Talk about a mess. It almost made Ivy’s situation seem like no big deal. Yes, being a divorcee with two kids and a history of depression—a history that included a suicide attempt a few years ago—sure put Ivy’s own problems into perspective.

“You really didn’t have to come in,” Fay said, nibbling on her pinkie nail. “Gracie came in early and helped out with breakfast service.”

“It’s no big deal. My plans fell through.” She’d thought it would take at least a few hours, if not an entire evening, for her and Clinton to discuss what they were going to do about her pregnancy. “And I wanted to get some prep work done for tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

Ivy tossed aside the measuring cup, and it slid several inches across the Italian marble. “I said it’s no big deal.”

But her waspish tone made it sound like it was a big deal. Damn.

“It’s just...you look tired,” Fay blurted.

Ivy glared so hard, the other woman took a step back. “Why do people say that? Why don’t they just say, you look like hell? It’d be honest.”

“You could never look bad.” Fay’s quick assurance did little to make Ivy feel any better. She really was tired. And cranky with it.

She sighed. She’d have to try to steal a few hours of sleep before her shift at King’s Crossing tonight.

And she needed to tell both her bosses that she was pregnant. At least she had a few days before she worked again at the River View, a restaurant across town where she often picked up a handful of shifts a week. She wasn’t looking forward to letting Mr. and Mrs. Mongillo, the owners, know she was having a baby.

It wasn’t as if she could keep it a secret much longer. And why should she? She wasn’t ashamed of her condition or that she’d spent the night with a man she’d found attractive and interesting.

She just didn’t want anyone to judge her. No, that wasn’t true. She didn’t care what people thought.

But maybe a small part worried about losing Fay’s good opinion of her. They weren’t ready for matching BFF bracelets and sleepovers, but they got along well enough. Having another woman to talk to, to gossip with and laugh with was...nice. Weird, but nice.

Too often, other women viewed her as competition. The enemy, always ready to steal their boyfriends or husbands.

Fay, who should have viewed her only as an employee, often treated her more as a friend. Ivy didn’t want to lose that.

She would, of course. No relationship lasted forever. She just hoped this fledgling one with Fay made it a few more months.

“I have to tell you something,” she said, knowing she couldn’t put this off forever.

Fay just waited. See? No prodding. No pushing. She simply stood by and let things happen.

Ivy preferred to make things happen.

“Look, what I’m about to say... I just want you to know this doesn’t change anything. I’ll still come in to work every day. It’s not going to get in the way of my doing my job here.”

A job she’d desperately needed before to help pay off the loan she’d taken out for her mother’s funeral. To help pad the nest egg she was trying to build to pay for culinary school. A job that was of the utmost importance now that she’d soon have a baby to take care of.

Fay, sweeter than any woman should be, took hold of Ivy’s hands. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

Ivy nodded. Tugged free to wipe her palms down the sides of her dress. “I—”

“We’re back,” Gracie said as she walked into the kitchen, Fay’s son Mitchell on her hip. “Camden’s mom said she’ll drop off Elijah before five...” Gracie frowned. Glanced between Fay and Ivy. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Ivy muttered. She hadn’t considered telling Gracie. What if the teenager thought having unprotected sex was a good thing? She already looked up to Ivy. What if she thought getting pregnant was a great idea? That she should try it, too?

Ugh. She wasn’t even a mother yet, and already she had a supersize case of guilt.

“Actually,” Fay said, “something very important is going on. I believe Ivy was just about to tell me she’s pregnant.”

Ivy’s jaw dropped. She shut it with a snap. “What?”

“It’s about time,” Gracie said, setting Mitchell in a chair at the long farmhouse table and handing him a coloring book and box of crayons. “I mean, it’s not as if you can wear loose dresses and tops forever and not expect people to notice.”

Ivy shook her head, then looked at Fay. “You knew?”

Fay looked embarrassed. Or guilty. “I suspected. You had a few bouts of morning sickness, especially whenever you cooked meat. That, plus the way you’ve been dressing...”

She trailed off as if there was nothing more to say, which, Ivy supposed, there wasn’t.

“So, you suspected I was pregnant and instead of asking me, you told Gracie?” And if these two knew, did that mean others did, as well?

Of course it did. This was Shady Grove. News spread. Fast.

“Please give me some credit,” Gracie said, sitting down next to Mitchell. He automatically climbed onto her lap. “Molly has been pregnant five times in the past nine years. I know the signs.”

“Are you all right?” Fay asked. “No problems with the baby?”

“I’m fine. The baby is fine. I went to the doctor last week.”

“Then why didn’t you tell us?” Fay wanted to know.

Ivy sighed. “I’m not in a relationship or anything. What happened between me and Clin...between me and the baby’s father was a onetime thing. I didn’t want you to think I was...”

“Easy?” Gracie asked, coloring a picture of a cartoon duck.

Ivy narrowed her eyes at the girl. “Yes. Thank you so much.”

Gracie shrugged. “It’s no big deal. A woman’s sex life is her own business. Plus, the reason our foremothers had the whole sexual revolution was so we could make our own choices. And that includes who we sleep with.”

The kid sure did have a way with words.

“I hope you know I would never think anything like that about you,” Fay said, earnest and horrified. As if having a bad thought about someone was akin to kicking kittens and pinching puppies. “I don’t like to judge people. No one knows what someone else is going through, so it’s better to just accept them. Be there for them when they need you.”

Shame filled Ivy. Hadn’t she worried that Fay would look down on her? And hadn’t she thought Fay was somehow weak because she was sweet natured and giving?

Ever since Fay’s husband had left her a few years back, ever since Fay had ended up in the hospital after taking a bottle of sleeping pills, people had judged her. She was healthy now. At least physically.

Ivy wasn’t sure she’d ever be stronger.

Still, how difficult it must be, knowing that people were saying awful things about you. Fay must have heard the ugly rumors. Must realize that some people were still talking about her.

“Gracie and I both care about you,” Fay continued, able to open up and express her feelings without a qualm. A trait Ivy considered dangerous. If people knew what you thought, how you felt, they could use it against you. “We’re here for you and will help in any way we can. I hope you know that.”

Ivy did know that. But knowing it and trusting it were two different things.

“I’m available to babysit,” Gracie said. “Nights and weekends. You just let me know.”

Ivy’s eyes stung. Tears. God. She blamed her whacked-out hormones. She never cried. Not when the girls in high school had called her ugly names. Not when some boy had used her. Not when she’d let some boy use her. Not when her mother had blamed her for the way her life had turned out, had wished she’d never been born. But now, two people were being nice to her and she was all weepy. It was pathetic.

She sniffed. Cleared her throat. “Thanks. Both of you. I’m just... God. I’m scared,” she admitted. “I don’t know what to do or what to expect.”

“Bigger boobs,” Gracie said, ticking items off on her fingers, “swollen ankles, hemorrhoids, mood swings, stretch marks and possibly an episiotomy if something tears while you deliver.”

Ivy stared at Fay, horrified. “Please tell me she’s exaggerating.”

Fay looked at her with sympathy. “I wish I could. But trust me. It’s all worth it in the end. And not every woman has to deal with all of those things or even any of them. But I don’t think that’s what you meant.”

“It wasn’t, but now those are all I can think about.”

“Try to forget all of that,” Fay said. “They’re not important. The only important question is—are you happy about this baby?”

Ivy shut her eyes. “I wasn’t,” she admitted, not feeling guilty about it. She didn’t blame or resent the baby. And really, she couldn’t be expected to be held accountable for her feelings. “But I wasn’t unhappy, either. At first I was just...shocked.”

“And now?” Fay asked quietly.

Ivy looked at her, wondering if she’d misjudged this quiet, fragile woman. Maybe she was stronger than anyone realized. She glanced at Gracie, the girl who was almost like a little sister to her, and at Mitchell, so adorable and easygoing with his angelic grin and sweet disposition. She thought about the life inside her. Thought about how she’d be responsible for that life, caring for it, loving it always, and it didn’t seem like a burden.

It seemed like an honor.

She was going to have a baby. She was going to be a mother, something she’d always wanted but had feared would never happen—that no one would ever believe she was capable of that kind of love. Though it was earlier than she’d planned, though it was with a man she didn’t know, it had happened and she was going to embrace this pregnancy and this child.

“Now,” she told Fay, smiling at the thought of having a child to love, having her own family, “I want this baby.”

It wouldn’t be easy. Despite working two—and at times, three—jobs, she barely made ends meet. She knew nothing about babies, nothing about being a mother, but she could learn. She glanced at Fay, then at Gracie.

Maybe she wasn’t as alone as she thought.