Brat (15 page)

“Blob is not an accident!” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low so Chase wouldn’t hear. Based on the cheers and jeers coming from the living room, he and Shannon were in another world.

Laura frowned. “Blob?”

“It’s what we’re calling the baby until we know the sex and the adoptive parents pick a name. And he’s not an accident.”

“But he wasn’t planned, either,” Laura pointed out. “Listen, Chloe, I don’t want to be the bad guy here. You seem like a perfectly lovely young woman. You’re beautiful, and from Chase tells me, you’re very ambitious and driven, and even though we’re from different worlds, I’m a feminist at heart so I can admire that. At the end of the day, it just seems that you and Chase’s lives are going on separate paths. It just seems like one, or both of you, will be hurt in the end.”

Clutching my belly, I stood slowly. “That might be true,” I admitted. “Trust me, I told Chase the same thing, but you know your son better than I do … he’s a stubborn bastard and he just wouldn’t let up.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of Laura’s mouth as she stood as well. “He gets that form his father. Once he latches on to something, you can forget about convincing him to let it go.”

“You won’t convince me either,” I insisted, “because I love him!”

“You
what
?”

My heart jumped into my throat when I realized we were no longer alone. Drawn to the kitchen by the commotion, Chase was standing just a foot away from me. His jaw had dropped and his eyes were fixed on me in confusion and something else I couldn’t name … maybe hope?

I swallowed noisily and lowered my eyes to the kitchen table. “Not exactly how I wanted to tell you,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, well, my mom has a way of pulling things out of people,” he said drily, shooting his mother a glare.

“It’s not her fault,” I said. “Don’t blame her. Our conversation got a little heated, but she was just being honest and she made some good points. Now, I have some to make.”

I crossed the kitchen to Chase’s side, placing an arm around his waist and facing Laura.

“We may not have anything in common, and maybe this relationship is a mistake waiting to happen. You might be right about that. But your son is the bravest, kindest, most caring person I know. If things were different, I know he would make the most amazing father on the planet. He has taught me so much about myself and what I’m capable of. My parents disowned me because I chose not to have an abortion. I don’t have a job, and in a few weeks I’m going to be flat broke. I don’t know anything about pregnancy or babies, and I’m terrified. Having Chase with me from day one has been the best thing that could have ever happened to me. So, I’m sorry if you have a problem with us being together, because there’s nothing you can do to convince me that I’m not standing right where I belong right now. I love your son.”

My arm tightened possessively around Chase’s middle as I realized that it was the first time I’d even admitted it to myself. It was so liberating to just come out and say it. There was nothing else to be afraid of anymore. If I could tell Chase I loved him, then I could get through everything else that would follow.

Chase returned my squeeze, his arm tight around my shoulders. “And Chloe is the most honest, headstrong, determined girl I’ve ever met. I’ve watched her face the worst possible situation with more class and grace than should be expected of anyone her age. Even as afraid as she is, she hasn’t backed down from the challenges life has thrown at her the last couple of months. I love her, too.”

Laura’s grin was wide as she nodded slowly. “Well, all right then,” she said. “Oh look at that, the Cowboys just scored. I’ll go keep your seat on the couch warm, Chase.” With that, she disappeared completely, leaving us alone in the kitchen.

I turned toward Chase, raising my gaze to his nervously. He grinned down at me and pulled me close, my belly brushing up against his washboard abs.

“That was amazing, what you just did,” he murmured. “I had no idea.”

“That would be my fault,” I admitted. “I’ve known for a while now, but I was afraid. You already know the reasons, so we won’t rehash that now. After all that’s happened, though, I know that I couldn’t have made it this far if it weren’t for you. So many things are still uncertain, but I know I can get through them if I have you.”

“You’re damn right you will,” he growled, leaning down to kiss me. His mouth was possessive on mine, staking a claim and reminding me of just how fully and completely I belonged to him. “If I have to kick your ass every step of the way, you are going to make it through this.”

I clung to him, reveling in the moment and wishing for it to last as long as possible. I never wanted to forget this, because I knew the times to come weren’t going to be easy. I still didn’t have a job, Blob didn’t have adoptive parents picked out yet, and I was freaked out by the idea of giving birth … but just then none of that mattered. Just then, everything was beautiful.

Chapter 10

“Your portfolio is impressive for an undergrad, Miss Sanders. The sample stories you provided from your high school and college papers are well-written.”

I looked my interviewer, Mr. Dawson Graves, in the eye, and tried not to dwell on the hideous horn-rimmed glasses he was wearing. The Austin-American Statesman was my last hope for a job before I was forced to turn to waiting tables—not an ideal situation for someone who was gaining weight by the week and would soon be sporting swollen ankles.

“Thank you,” I answered with a polite smile. “It would be a great opportunity to intern for the Statesman. It’s just the sort of experience I need for my resume.”

Mr. Dawson nodded, his unruly, frizzy hair framing his gaunt face. His tie was askew, and his jacket was wrinkled. His fingers were ink-stained and twitchy, almost as if he couldn’t force them to be still. He looked like he was a bit jacked up on caffeine as well.

“Well, you’re definitely one of the best applicants. However, we only take on so many interns, and with you being in the family way and all …” He trailed off, staring pointedly at my rapidly growing belly.

Straightening my shoulders, I leaned toward him and the desk separating us. “My condition is irrelevant,” I said matter-of-factly. According to the Pregnancy Discrimination Act, no employer has a right to discriminate against a pregnant woman in the process of hiring, firing, job assignments, promotions, layoffs, training, or benefits such as leave or insurance.”

Mr. Graves cleared his throat noisily. “Miss Sanders—”

“Furthermore,” I added, standing to my feet, “due to the Family and Medical  Leave Act of 1993, a new parent may be eligible to up to twelve weeks of leave following the birth of the child.”

“Miss Sanders,” he repeated, fussing with his crooked tie, “we would never look to discriminate against anyone for any reason.”

I nodded. “Good. Not that it’s any of your business, but I plan to give this child up for adoption, so I won’t be needing the entire twelve weeks. Two or three will do, thank you.”

Mr. Graves stood, his smile a mile wide. “Oh yes, Miss Sanders, I believe you will fit in nicely here.”

I blinked at him, stunned by his easygoing reaction to my outburst. I was more than certain that I’d missed out on several jobs because of my pregnancy and I was tired of taking people’s shit. I needed this job, badly. “I will?”

He nodded and extended his hand to me. “Part of an intern’s job is fact checking and research. I can see you have exactly what we need—a go-getter’s personality, a no-nonsense demeanor, and you did your research on legal hiring practices. You came to this interview well-prepared. Welcome to the Statesman, Chloe.”

It didn’t really register until I got home. Somehow, I managed to shake Mr. Graves’ hand, thank him, leave his office, schedule my orientation with his secretary, and make it to my car without embarrassing myself. By the time I found myself standing in the kitchen, with everyone gathered around and staring expectantly, I’d finally snapped out of it.

“Well?” Chase prodded, when I just stood there, staring back at them. “How did it go?”

I couldn’t hold back my grin. The words came out on a laugh as I jumped up and down in my black Manolo Blahnik pumps. “I got the job!”

Christian whooped and fist-pumped. Chase crushed me against him from one side and Jenn hugged me from the other. Kinsley squealed and jumped, and Luke smiled and clapped.

“That’s my girl!” Chase said, giving me a loud kiss on the cheek. “I
knew
this one would go well, I knew it!”

“They’d be stupid not to hire you,” Jenn added. “You’re an amazing writer and you’ll go from intern to reporter in no time!”

“It’s not a very high paying job, but it’s something,” I replied with a shrug.

“It’s your first job, you should be proud,” Christian said. “We sure are.”

“We have to do something to celebrate,” Luke declared. “Taco Tuesday?”

Just thinking about tacos made my stomach growl noisily. “Less talking, more taco-ing,” I demanded. “Make it snappy.”

Jenn laughed. “Okay, give us about half an hour. We have all the stuff to make them at our place. Chase, I even got some soy meat for you.”

“Nice,” Chase said. “Thanks, Jenn.”

“Well, that’s it,” Christian confirmed. “When Jenn starts buying things just for you, you’re officially one of us.”

“Hey, he’s one of us because I say so,” I corrected him. “Now someone make me a virgin margarita. Mama deserves one after that!”

We spent the rest of the night in Luke and Jenn’s kitchen, stuffing taco shells, drinking margaritas, and reading over the list of prospective parents for Blob. By the end of the night, we had it narrowed down to four families, each of which Chase and I would interview before choosing someone.

Exhausted, but still on a high from the afternoon’s events, I climbed the stairs to my room with a spring in my step. Chase, Luke, and Christian were finishing up one last game of darts next door, and I planned to shower and wait for Chase in bed. I’d discreetly asked Kinsley to give us the room tonight so we could be alone, and she’d happily offered to take Jenn’s old room for the night—the twin bed was still in there, since she and Luke were now sharing a bigger one at their place.

Humming absently, I collected my pajamas and wandered toward the bathroom. I didn’t even hear the sound of the faucet running until I’d already opened the door. Kinsley was bent over the sink, rinsing her mouth out. Her eyes were red and watery, and the entire bathroom reeked of vomit.

“Are you okay?” I asked, dropping my stuff onto the counter and rushing to her side. “Are you sick? I told Luke he used too much damn hot salsa on those tacos!”

Kinsley shook her head and backed away. “No, I’m fine. The tacos were a little spicy, but I’m okay now.”

Frowning, I studied Kinsley more closely than I had in weeks. Her cheekbones and jaw were becoming more prominent, and not in an attractive way. She’d gone past a flattering amount of weight loss, into something downright dangerous. Her eyes were wide as she stared back at me, and she was getting jittery. I frowned, glancing around the bathroom for signs that what I suspected could be true. Spotting the little white bottle on the floor, I swiftly crouched and grabbed it. Reading the label, I gasped and stared up at Kinsley from where I knelt on the floor.

“Kinsley, you’re taking diet pills?”

She snatched the bottle from me and hid it behind her back as if I hadn’t just seen it. “It’s nothing,” she said, refusing to meet my gaze. “I just needed to lose twenty pounds for cheerleading.”

Gripping the countertop, I pulled myself up to my feet, struggling to maintain my balance. Being pregnant was making me as ungainly and clumsy as Jenn. “I think you’ve lost more than enough. Look, I know competitive cheerleading in Texas is tough, and your new coach is a real bitch, but you need to be healthy about this. You’ve lost more than enough weight, Kinsley.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to take care of my body!” she railed, her eyes wide and wild as if she were searching for an escape route. The only way out of the bathroom was through me and Blob.

“I know that,” I said gently, as if trying to pacify a rabid bull. This was a side of Kinsley I didn’t know how to handle. “It’s just that we’re worried about you. Your moods are all over the place, you’re losing weight like crazy, and now I catch you in here with diet pills. On top of that, I’m pretty sure you were just puking, which means you are either having a bad reaction to those diet pills or you’re purging. Which is it, Kinsley?”

“What it is, is none of your business, Chloe!” she snapped, pushing past me and leaving the bathroom.

I leaned back against the door and held my hands over my middle to protect my belly, brow wrinkled as I watched her leave, her dark hair a glossy curtain swishing behind her as she descended the stairs. Rubbing absently, I listened as the front door slammed and the sound of a car starting echoed from outside.

Closing my eyes, I leaned against the door and tried to think of a solution to this problem. I don’t deal well with other people’s difficulties, especially when I have my own crap to worry about. Still, Kinsley was one of my best friends and I was now terrified to my core for her. I had two choices: tell someone what I’d seen and risk losing her as a friend forever, or keep it to myself and eventually lose that friend anyway. I knew what the right thing to do was, but that didn’t make it any easier to decide to do it.

“We really believe in a nurturing environment. Children are naturally curious and we believe they can learn so much while roaming and playing, feeling free to express themselves in an atmosphere that encourages their natural precociousness.”

I stared blankly at the smiling couple sitting across from me and Chase, wondering what planet they’d just arrived from. Liz and Robert Smith were the fifth couple we’d interviewed, and probably the most annoying. They never stopped smiling or nodding their heads … they were like some kind of weird, Cheshire cat bobble heads. Creepy much?

Chase cleared his throat. “So, how do you feel about discipline?”

Liz’s mouth fell open in a round ‘o’ of surprise, as if she couldn’t believe Chase would suggest something as barbaric as discipline for a child. Robert patted her hand reassuringly.

“We do not believe in discipline in any form,” he said with a straight face. “Discipline restricts freedom of expression. Children should be free to make their own decisions and learn from them. We encourage freedom, not restriction.”

“Right,” Chase responded slowly, with a smile that I knew was forced; it had none of the charm I’d come to expect from one of his smiles. It was definitely all for show. “Well, I think that’s all the questions we had for now. Can you think of anything else, Chloe?”

“God, no,” I said. “I think we’ve heard enough.”

Angela, our caseworker, stood and gave the Smiths a warm smile. “Thank you so much for coming in today. We will be in touch.”

“No we won’t,” I muttered as the Smiths left, smiling and bobbing their heads all the way. “What a couple of freaks!”

Chase shook his head. “No discipline? I have no desire to give my kid to people who are going to turn her into Suzy Sociopath.”

Angela, a petite woman with cocoa skin and the coolest afro I’ve ever seen, took both our hands and gave them a little squeeze. “You guys will find the right family, don’t worry. We still have plenty to get through.”

I gave Angela a genuine smile and squeezed her hand back. She’d been amazing to us from the beginning and I could tell she really cared about helping us find the right parents for Blob. “Thank you, I know we will.”

So far, though, we hadn’t met a single family we liked. They all looked good on paper, but in person they’d fallen flat. So far we’d met the free love Smiths, the too-rigid James’, the self-righteously religious Jacksons, the workaholic Goldmans, and the Jones’—Cindy was nice, but her husband, Greg, kept staring at my cleavage.

With a sigh, I fell back onto the loveseat in the meeting room just off Angela’s office. “Is it over now? I have class in two hours.”

Angela glanced down at the stack of files on the coffee table and lifted the one on top. “We have one more couple scheduled for today—Julie and Matthew Hammond. She’s a Kindergarten teacher, and he’s a paramedic. They don’t have any children and they’ve been trying to adopt for the past two years.”

“How much longer before they arrive?” Chase asked, one hand working at his tense neck muscles.

Angela studied her watch. “Any minute now, actually. They’re scheduled for three o’clock and it’s two-fifty now.”

“Great. Watch, they’ll turn out to be a couple of freaks who are into S&M and swinging on the side.”

“Let’s give them a chance,” Chase said wearily. “We might actually like this couple.”

“Well, I don’t think I could hate anyone more than that sleazy Greg guy, so … bring it on, I guess.”

Just then, the bell jingled in the front room, letting us know that someone had arrived.

“That must be them,” Angela said, bustling toward the door. “Last one guys, we can do this.”

“Hopefully without succumbing to the urge to bash my head against a brick wall,” I murmured, taking a sip from the bottle of water resting near my feet.

“We have five more months to figure this out,” Chase said, giving my thigh an affectionate squeeze. “Angela’s right, the perfect family is out there somewhere.”

Angela re-entered the room with a young couple on her heels. They couldn’t have been any older than thirty and were both fairly attractive. The husband was average height with an athletic build and a military-style crew cut. He had sharp blue eyes and a smattering of freckles across his nose. His wife was an adorable little pixie of a woman, with a willowy figure, and a sweet face framed by a short, blonde bob. Her wide, green eyes were the saddest I’d ever seen, but there was also a twinkle of hope there as she came into the room, eyeing Chase and me as if we were her last hope of having a child.

“Chloe, Chase, meet Julie and Matthew Hammond.”

“Hi,” Julie said in a soft voice. I stuck out my hand for a shake, but she bypassed it, crushing me in a hug that was surprisingly tight for such a tiny person. “I’m sorry,” she said with a laugh, “but I’m a Southern girl, and I don’t shake hands, I hug.”