2 Unhitched (27 page)

“This is for you.” Before lowering myself to the comfy floral couch, I hand her the box containing my black dress. As usual, it’s disastrously gift-wrapped.

Winnie unwraps it and gasps.

My lips curl into a smile. “It’s yours, and besides it doesn’t fit me anymore.”

Winnie gives me a warm hug. “Oh, Jane. Thank you. I’m going to wear it to the gala.” She holds up the dress against her. “What are you wearing?”

“I’m not going.” I spit out the words, blinking back tears.

Winnie’s eyes flare. “You have to. Everyone in the kingdom is expecting to see you there.”

“I can’t.” Tears spill into my tea. “I know that you and John made things work, but that’s not what’s in my stars. I’m positive Gallant’s going to announce that he’s leaving me for Aurora.”

Silence. For the first time, Winnie doesn’t challenge me. Maybe like me, she’s figured out our friendship is worth too much. Or she finally believes me. She hugs her arms around me, but her warmth cannot melt the chill coursing through my body.

A sharp pain zaps abdomen, and I wince.

“Jane, what’s the matter?” asks Winnie, wide-eyed with worry.

The pain strikes again, and I wince even louder. I grab Winnie’s hand and squeeze it.

And then, I just breakdown. Unabashedly, uncontrollably breakdown. Tears storm down my face. My sobbing is so loud that Winnie runs to close the double doors leading the garden so that the children won’t hear me and grow frightened.

Returning to the couch, Winnie clasps my hands in hers and looks at me intensely. “Jane, you must tell me what’s going on. No man is worth this many tears.”

Again, the awful pain strikes and goes away as quickly as it came. And then, the words shoot out.

“Winnie, I’m pregnant!”

Winnie ponders the news, the look on her face unreadable. I continue to bawl. Finally, her lips part.

“That changes everything.” Her tone is no-nonsense and straightforward. She dabs my tears with a lace-trimmed napkin. I take it from her and blow my nose.

“What do you mean?” I blubber.

“Jane, you’re going to go to the gala, and you’re going to tell Gallant about the baby,” she says with authority. “And then you’re going to fight for your man.” She pauses and looks straight at me. “The man you love.”

She’s right. Just like Shrink. Even though My Prince’s heart has strayed, I’ve never stopped loving him.
Never
. Another round of tears makes its way down my cheeks.

“It’s too late,” I bawl. “Gallant’s made is mind up.”

Winnie places her hands firmly on my shoulder and looks hard into my eyes. “It’s never too late. You’re a fighter, Jane. You fought for Gallant once, and now you’re just going to have to fight for him again.”

In my volatile state, the prospect of battling Aurora makes my stomach heave. “But what if, I don’t win and Gallant chooses her over me?”

“Jane, there are
no
what-ifs.” Her eyes burn into mine. “You and Gallant are meant to be.”

For once, Winnie’s meant-to be attitude resonates with me. I want to believe it. I do!

“It’s as simple as this. Aurora is moving in on the father of your child. The man you love. And
you
have to stop her.”

Without warning, the baby kicks up a storm. And poison apples dance in my head. “Yes, I’m going to do it for you, kid,” I say to myself, smiling.

“Do you want to feel the baby?” I ask Winnie, gently placing her hand on my swollen belly.

Winnie flashes a cheek-to-cheek smile. “That’s a fighter in there for sure. How many weeks pregnant are you?”

“You mean, months. Eight.”

A little jolt of surprise is followed by a big hug. “Shame on me. I didn’t even congratulate you. You’re going to be an incredible mother; in fact, you already are.”

“Thanks, Winnie,” I say humbly. That’s a real compliment, coming from her. The best mother I know.

She loops an arm in mine, and we stroll outdoors through the French doors to check on the children.

They are playing a game of tag around the wishing well in the middle of Winnie’s garden. Even Secret is part of the antics, chasing after chubby Curly. Barks mix with giggles. A chorus of pure happiness. The charming scene freezes in my mind like one of those beautiful illustrations you’d find in a children’s book. The beginnings of a nursery rhyme fall into place.

Four children ran around a wishing well

Chasing each other ’til one fell.

“Make a wish…

‘Hi, Mommy!” yells a sprinting Calla, putting an end to my mental ramblings.

“Guess what Calla wished for?” shouts out Hansel, about to tag her.

Please… not another frog prince.

“Don’t tell!” screams Calla, but it’s too late.

“A new brother or sister!”

Winnie and I exchange a knowing glance.

I so want to tell Calla about the baby, but instead stop her in her tracks to kiss her good-bye. I remind her to be mindful and polite. And to take good care of Secret. And Lady Jane.

Now, it’s time to get ready for a showdown.

Chapter 20

L
IFE CAN OFTEN BOIL DOWN to a simple series of equations. Looking Good = Self-Confidence. Self-Confidence = Winner. Winner = Prize.

As my coach pulls out of Winnie’s cottage, a thought crosses my mind. If I’m going to win Gallant back, I’ll need to look good at the gala. Damn good! I order the driver to take me to The Trove. I’ll go to the Enchanted Spa for a sauna and massage, but, on second thought, those treatments may be harmful to the baby. Also, lying face down on my big belly for an hour is not going to be easy. If fact, it’s probably impossible.

I know. I’ll take Gothel up on her offer to do my hair. Aurora has fabulous hair. Mine will be more fabulous. I smile wickedly. All is fair in love and war.

My Fair Hair is packed with gossiping princesses getting their hair done for the gala. I ask the receptionist, a cheery hair fairy I’ve never seen before, for Gothel. My eyes search the salon; I don’t see her.

“You must be Jane,” she says in a high-pitched pixie voice.

I nod, not sure how she knows my name.

“Gothel’s working from home today. She wants you to meet her there.”

The hairy fairy’s wings hum as she hands me a parchment scroll. I unroll it. It’s a map.

“Gothel told me to tell you that her house is on the right at the end of Forest Lawn Drive. You can’t miss it.”

The hair fairy was right. It’s hard to miss Gothel’s house. After traveling miles along a winding path through a lush forest, my coach comes to a dead end—and the first and only residence on the road. A soaring stone tower. I bet this is where she kept Rapunzel.

The tower is surrounded by hundreds of rose bushes. I meander through the prickly bushes to the front door. Except there is no front door. I should have known that. My eyes look up. There’s just one small round widow near the top of the tower. I scream out Gothel’s name at the top of my lungs. It works. She pops her head out the window.

“Hold on,” she shouts down to me. She disappears, and then two tower-length golden braids slowly lower to the ground. Gothel reappears at the window. “Grab onto them and enjoy the ride.”

Is she kidding? Reluctantly, I grab a braid in each hand and find myself being hoisted up to the top of the tower. My heart pounds. I keep eyes my focused ahead of me.
Hold on tight and
don’t
look down
. The baby flutter kicks me; at least, one of us is having fun.

When I reach my destination, I sigh with relief. What was probably a five-minute ride felt like eternity. Gothel helps me through the window. With my big belly, let’s put it this way: it’s not my most graceful entrance.

“Glad you could make it. Let’s get to work,” she says, coiling the braids around a giant spool that’s bolted to the floor.

I straighten myself up and take in my surroundings. My eyes grow wide. Gothel’s home is no beauty parlor. It’s a three-story-high arsenal filled with every weapon imaginable. Swords, spears, knives, and daggers of all different lengths and widths. Shiny shields of all sizes and shapes, some with dents and scratches. Plus armor and leather trappings. Suddenly, I’m nervous. Very nervous. Perhaps, she’s lured me here to kill me. It’s a set up to make sure I’m out of Hook’s life once and for all. My eyes dart from corner to corner and then back to the window. Holy crap! There’s no way out! Unless I jump!

“Relax, babe,” says Rapunzel. “This is my dragonslayer studio.”

I don’t relax. My eyes roam anxiously around the vast interior. In addition to all the scary dragon slaying paraphernalia, there are diagrams of different types of dragons scattered on the walls. One of them, black and bigger than the others, looks especially fierce and menacing with its outstretched wings and razor-sharp fangs. Against the far wall, there’s a shelf filled with books like
Dragon Slaying for Dummies
and
What to Expect When You’re Expecting a Dragon
. And cattycornered on an another is a case full of first aid supplies—bandages, ointments, and adhesives.

“Have you ever gotten hurt?” I ask her nervously.

My eyes widen as Gothel yanks down her skintight leather britches, revealing her taut, muscular butt. My jaw drops in shock. Covering most of her of left buttock cheek is a hideous, asymmetric red scar. The expression on her face grows fierce, her violet eyes narrowing into blades.

“A souvenir from that bitch she-dragon Malevolence. She seared my ass.”

The mention of her name sends a chill down my spine. No matter what I do, everything leads back to Aurora.

Gothel inches up her tight leather pants. “One day I’m going to burn
her
sorry ass and finish her!” She reaches for a shiny sword and then charges toward the illustration of the black dragon. With an explosive grunt, she slashes the beast. The hair on the back of my neck bristles. This is one scary chick.

“Is this where you kept Rapunzel?” I ask, eager to change the subject. What a terrifying place to keep a child, I think to myself.

“No, she had her own room.”

I look around. There is no other room. Or any doors leading to one.

“I gave her dragon slaying lessons here,” says Gothel, brandishing the sword. God, I wish she’d put it down.

Gothel explains that she wanted Rapunzel to be able to defend herself in the world in case she ever escaped. She was a great student, having likely inherited her father’s dragon slaying talent.

“Ready?”
Ready for what?
Without warning, Gothel lunges at me with the sword. With a gasp, I jump back and stumble to the stone floor. Madame Dragonslayer looms over me, pointing the sword at my heart. Her full lips curl into snarl, and her purple eyes grow fierce.

“I’m sick and tired of pathetic princesses waiting for some handsome prince to show up and rescue them,” she growls.

She lowers the tip of the sword closer to me. I’m an inch away from death! My heart thuds in my ear. I was right. She did lure me here to kill me. Fear mingles with despair. If I die, will my baby die too?