Cake (28 page)

“Kylie,” he says, lifting his beautiful, strong brown hand, to touch me.

Shifting away, I answer, “I know.” I need to get away before the dam breaks and a flood of tears storms over my face. I’m so weepy, in an unnatural way for me. “I completely agree. Trent’s right. I’ll call you when I know something.” Turning, I walk away, leaving him standing there. I don’t hear his deep voice calling to stop me, and it both helps and hurts my heart.

Finding my mom, I excuse myself and start walking to my car. Once I’m away from people, I let the tears go one last time. For real. When I reach my car, Madison is leaning against the door and opens her arms when I get close. I fall into them.

“I watched you talking to them. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Aunt Leigh spoke to them both, smoothing things over. They both have decided not to let this interfere with their relationship, which I agree with.”

“And?

“And evidently, Trent has warned Dray from me and vice-versa, to keep the peace between them.”

“It’s the best for now. Don’t you agree?”

With a bitter laugh, I reply, “Yeah, my head agrees. It’s just my heart that’s being the little bitch.”

“C’mon. Let’s go get us something entirely fattening to eat and a pregnancy test.”

Nodding my head, I agree and hug her once more. Remembering my conversation with a certain heart-throb from yesterday, I look at her and raise my eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nick Andrews?”

“No way, girlfriend. I like this Kylie that stays out of my business. Okay? I like her. Let’s keep her,” she says walking to the passenger side and getting in.

A new me? Yeah, let’s do keep her. Maybe she’ll have a whole unbroken heart that I can borrow.

The top of my bathroom counter is lined with tiny white sticks. Twenty-one of them to be exact. Some have smiling faces, plus-signs, double lines, or plainly say, “Pregnant.” Well, except for one, it reads negative, and that would be Madison’s. It was just for shits and giggles. Ha, ha… real funny.

We both sit on the edge of my bathtub, staring at the display in front of us.

“What are the motherfuckin’ chances?” Madison lets out on a sigh.

“I need to go by a lottery ticket. I either have a great chance at winning or getting struck by lightning. The odds are obviously in my favor.”

“I need to get drunk.”

“I’m the pregnant one! Why do you need to get drunk?” I ask her.

“Sympathy pains.”

“Okay, first things first…”

“Yeah, you need to call the guys. OHMYGODI’MGOINGTOTHROWUP!” Mads yells before running into the bathroom and gagging.

“What are you doing?” I yell at her.

“I told you… sympathy pains.”

She comes out, wiping her mouth and looking a little green. Maybe she is sick.

“First thing I’m going to do is make an appointment with my gynecologist. I’ve read that so many things can happen in the first trimester, so no use of saying anything until after then. Agreed?”

“You’re the one with a thing inside of you.”

“Madison!” I slap her arm.

“It just reminds me of the consequences of sex. It’s like Russian-roulette. I’m too young to die.”

“My God, Mads. I’m not going to die.”

“Same difference, sister. You’re going to have a watermelon come out of your flap-jack, and that shit will never be the same. Never.”

“What happened to all the support?”

“Reality!” She stands, shouting at me. Pacing for a second, she finally stops and looks at me. “I’m good. Sorry, I just had a passing moment of insanity. Speaking of, you’re handling this better than me.”

“I think, deep down, I already knew the answer, and I’m scared, but strangely happy.”

“That’s the most crack-head thing you’ve said yet. Make an appointment with a psychiatrist, too,” she says, walking out of the bathroom.

Staring at all the tests, my first thought is to call Dray. Pushing that thought away, I have to try to keep this to me for now. Everything in me screams that this is Dray’s baby. Really, what are the chances of it being Trent’s? I actually googled getting pregnant with pre-cum, and it’s possible, but is it probable? Even if it’s Dray’s, they have that agreement about neither of them seeing me. My heart squeezes painfully at the thought of not talking to Trent about his dreams and achievements. Dray…the thought of not hearing his big laugh and not being able to be near him induces this crushing feeling to my chest. They have both been such big pieces of my life. What do I do without them?

“Kylie, get your pregnant ass in here.”

Taking a deep breath, I let all of it go. I can’t save myself for either of them anymore. It’s not just me. I have to keep reminding myself of that or I might go crazy, for real.

“Hey, Leo. How was your Thanksgiving?” I ask as he comes into my office the following week.

“I spent it with my mom this year. How about...,” he starts to ask and stops.

“It’s okay. Actually, my parents and I had a quiet dinner, and it was perfect. We knew, for so long, that Aunt Leigh’s death was coming. I think that, sometimes, it makes it easier, and I appreciate you bringing Jonsie back before leaving.”

“I’m just glad that you are taking this well. I’ve been so worried.”

“Thanks, Leo. That means so much. Have a seat. I wanted to tell you that I am so impressed with how well everything is running. Your buying trip was crazy successful, and I see you’ve scored four more that should be huge for Decadent Darling.”

“Thanks. I have to say that I’ve been worried about not accomplishing some of the administrative issues. Sorry about the stack of mail I didn’t get to.” He nods to the large stack of unopened envelopes on my desk.

“That’s on me, Leo. No problem. Why I called you in here was to talk to you about your future at Decadent Darling. I am going to need to step away for a little while. Be more in the background, if you will. I wanted to see if you were interested in becoming a full-partner with me. I know how much you love the shop, and it will be hard to run it with everything I have going on.”

“Are you serious?” he asks smiling.

“Yes, it would actually be a great relief for me to know that you’re here. If you can, and are willing, start interviewing for a new sales associate to train to take your place.”

Laughing, he comes around my desk to hug me. “You won’t regret this.”

“I know I won’t. Now, go share the good news.”

I smile as I watch him leave. Looking at the personal stack of unopened mail, I groan as I grab a large manila envelope to open. It is addressed to me, it doesn’t have a return address. Weird. I cut the top open and empty it to find a photo of me and Nick. The words “whore” and “bitch” are scribbled across, the same as my car that is now repainted and sitting in my parking space. Well, I guess that answers why I’m getting them. It is probably one of Nick’s psycho fans. Great! Actually, I know I should be concerned, and I am, but it’s also a relief to know it’s linked to Nick instead of some psychotic gangster rapper who’s after me.

Reaching into my purse, I retrieve Officer Chandler’s number and call to report this. He actually says he is in the vicinity and offers to swing by to pick it up. After he arrives and I give another statement, he cautions me again about personal safety. I have another idea though. After he leaves, I grab my phone and call Madison.

“I’m actually working, so only have a minute,” her voice clips.

I explain everything that has happened. “Is there any way you can call Nick and see if he can release anything that says we are not together? Whoever it is should leave me alone if they know that Nick is not even on my radar or I on his. Even better, if he can get photographed with someone else, I’m sure the magazines would be all over it.”

“Damn, Kylie. Drama much? Yeah, let me see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” I say before she hangs up on me.

I take my calendar out and look at the dates. I called to make an appointment with the obstetrician, but they didn’t want to make my first appointment until I am eight weeks. So, from the time of my last period, my appointment is mid-December. I decide not to call the guys until after the appointment. Seems like the best for everyone.

Looking at my calendar, I realize that, next year, I will have a baby. My God, a living breathing creature will be dependent on me. I can’t live above the shop anymore. I’ll see if Leo is interested in the apartment. My aunt left me her house, but I decided to sell it. There’s just too many memories there, not to mention those of her dying. I’ll find a little home in the suburbs. Damn, next thing I know I’ll be buying a minivan. Tapping my desk, I smile to myself. Definitely not the end of the world.

“I am not wearing this god-awful gown, and I would like to see your knocked-up-baby-daddy-guessing ass try to make me.”

“Madison!” My jaw falls open, and I stand with my arms-crossed, staring at her. I’m shocked at what just rolled off her lips. Sometimes her mouth runs a little too much.

“Well, it the motherfuckin’ truth. Get over it and find me something else to where or I’m going naked up in this bitch.”

Madison is having a fit because she hates the dress I’ve picked out for a Christmas benefit we are attending. Actually, we are both being auctioned off. It’s the annual bachelor and bachelorette auction that benefits a local shelter. Mads and I signed up last year and had such a great experience that we did so again this year. It felt unfair of me to back out, even with my circumstances, because most of the bidders are only doing it for the donation and never hold you to the date.

I spoke with the organizer, a friend of mine and someone I knew I could trust. She actually agreed that it would be beneficial for the shelter if I didn’t drop-out, so it is settled. Dressing myself in a Courreges little black dress is easy, but Mads, not so much.

“No, fucking lace, ruffles, or ribbons. I told you, Ky.”

“It’s Chanel, Madison.”

“I don’t care. No. Hell no! Plus, Lil Rip is going to be bidding, and he only likes lace, ruffles, and ribbons in the bedroom. So unless you want it ripped to shreds when we get home, I suggest you change it.”

Jeez, I can’t keep up with her. She, still, will not to speak to me about her love life. From what I’ve heard from other avenues though, she is still dating Lil Rip. No one knows a thing about Nick Andrews. Not your concern, Kylie. I tell myself. I smile thinking what my aunt would have said, that is the nosey Southern woman in me. Going to my closet, I pull out a Ralph Rucci gown, and she looks it over.