“Well, that’s what love does to a person. And I could never live with myself if any harm came to you, which could have been avoided.” I hear the minor strain in his voice as though reaching for something.
“I love you, too, hon.”
One of the leather couches crack under pressure as Hayden leans over and flicks the light switch. And I am temporarily blinded by the sudden intrusion of the brightness as it pierces through the blackness.
“Congratulations,” an array of voices calls out.
I’m fixated to the spot, completely stunned. I glance over at Hayden who is stalking towards me bearing a proud grin of satisfaction.
My jaw hits the hardwood flooring, my heart rate has sky rocketed.
Hayden stands in front of me. “I told you, I wanted to celebrate properly. What better way than this?” he waves his hand in the direction behind him.
A banner, ‘Congratulations Hayden and Samantha, on your engagement’, hangs overhead of the large reception desk. Gold and silver balloons affix from the ceiling, with matching gold and silver streamers. I peruse the left-side of the room. A buffet is set along the back wall where the photographs of the Hayden, Victor and Alexander hang proudly. I smile as I remember studying the photograph of Hayden on my very first day.
Everyone is gathered at the end of the reception desk. There’s Chloe with, I’m guessing, her partner; a man who is about the same height as the bubbly blond, with inky black hair, clean shaven and medium build. Both Victor and Alexander stand with arms encircling their wives. And I spot Jessie and Matt. I point my index finger, purse my lips, and tighten my eyes in feign vexation. She smacks her lips together and smiles happily at me. It’s an intimate gathering, and for that I am grateful, I wouldn’t do so well in a crowded room, having no clue as to who half of the people would be.
“You are full of surprises this evening, Mr. Wentworth,” I tease.
“It’s intimate, I know, I hope you don’t mind.” He glances back at the guests as they mingle between themselves, and then back at me.
“I prefer it like this. I’d feel intimidated if there were more.”
I’m filled with love and appreciation for this man, an appreciation that spans to everyone in this room. They all helped to bring this together. A caterer could have been hired and a decorator, party planner, whatever you want to call them, but the people closest to me has taken their time and organised this between themselves, and kept it from me. It means so much more.
Grinning contentedly, I quickly wrinkle the bridge of my nose in the way Hayden loves.
Like a striking snake, he hooks his arm around my waist, his warm, tender touch upon the bare flesh of my back, and wrenches my body against his. I shriek at the suddenness of his movement. He holds my chin steadily between thumb and index finger as if he was caressing a strawberry, and he tips my head back so I meet his dark, luscious gaze. I sink into his embrace like melting chocolate, watching as the space between our mouths begin to close, until they are subsequently working against each other, flesh on flesh. Loving, devoted, and wanting.
“Hey there, lovebirds,” a familiar voice sounds from behind Hayden’s back. Setting me back onto my feet, Hayden makes sure I am stable, and gestures to the other attendees at the desk. I nod my head, and focus my attention on the brunet donning a satin, emerald knee-length dress with matching heeled pumps, that takes Hayden’s place.
“I think you may be a little lost, Jessica Bolton. The store was south of our apartment the last time I checked,” I snarl with blatant humor at my roommate.
“Did you really not suspect anything?” She sounds ecstatic that she has managed to surprise me. Jessie knows I hate surprises, and go all FBI if I know there’s one bobbing along the horizon.
I shake my head. “Nope. You had me completely fooled.”
A Cheshire cat smile steals its way as she bounces up and down in elation and claps her hands.
Chloe makes her way towards Jessie and I as we stand by the leather couch...the leather couch Hayden and I first indulged in one another––the couch which brought forth the sated pleasure which we craved and could no longer resist. That should have been the end of my fixation…yet it was the beginning of a powerful, fanatic love.
“Congratulations, Sam.” She offers a crystal flute full of pink champagne. I accept but remember not to consume its contents.
“Thank you, Chloe. And thank you both, for all of this,”––I raise my hand and gesture around the room.
“That’s the engagement party down…” Jess swings her arm over my shoulders.
Chloe raises her glass and cocks her head, “Now for the wedding.”
After what seems like an hour of mingling, I start recognizing that hunger feeling in my stomach.
Wow…I’m actually hungry
.
I wander to the buffet along the back wall. There’s the usual buffet style spread: a mixture of sandwiches, pigs in blankets, potato chips, salad, mini pretzels. I giggle inwardly.
Oh, Hayden.
Peeking up at his photograph that adorns the wall, I lose myself in his stare, contemplating on how far we have come in the last few months.
“How are you feeling?” Familiar, muscular arms encircle my waist from behind. His stubble grazes my flesh as he rests his chin on my naked shoulder.
“Thankful, overwhelmed, shocked––”
“Shocked?”
I sigh in recognition and crane my head to meet the side of his face. “Do you realize that we are standing in the exact same spot where we first met? And now, here we are, engaged…”
and pregnant
.
“That was another reason I wanted to do this here. I thought it would be fitting. This room holds many memories, some good and some bad. But most importantly, it brought me to you, Samantha. I will never forget that day for as long as I breathe.” He kisses below my ear, and whispers decadently, “You are my Queen; I worshipped at your feet the moment you stepped through my door and into my life. I will continue to worship you until my body takes its final breath.”
I am left bereft when he pulls away. The cool air collides with my flesh, ridding me of the warmth of Hayden’s body as he opens the space between us.
“I thought a buffet would be appropriate, considering the doctor told you to eat little and often.”
“Mr. Wentworth, always so considerate,” I mutter playfully.
“Eat,” he orders.
Seizing a disposable plate, I scan the assortment in front of me. “Oh, I intend to,” I giggle.
Three tiny, triangle-cut sandwiches, two pigs in blankets and a potato chip––it seemed like a fantastic idea at the time. But now it has set the churning mechanism in my gut into gear with a vengeance.
How am I supposed to eat if I keep feeling like this? There’s no point in eating at all if it is going to be expelled within twenty minutes.
The nausea is overpowering, my mouth starts to water. I can’t fight what my body is demanding. No matter how hard I try, I can’t contain the substance in my stomach. With my hand over my mouth, and my purse in my other hand, I race to the restroom.
“Samantha?” I hear Hayden call, concern cemented in his voice as I pass him, but I daren’t stop moving. “Excuse me,” I faintly hear him apologize as I burst into the restroom.
I lock myself into one of the stalls.
“Samantha?”
My stomach lurches. “Don’t come in,” I yell between heaves and expulsion.
“I’ll get a glass of water, okay. I’ll be right back, hold on, baby.” I hear the door close as he leaves.
Feeling instantly exhausted, I rest my head on my forearm for a few moments. How am I supposed to keep doing this? I reach for some tissue and dry my mouth, smearing any remnants of my lipstick in the process. I drop the paper into the toilet and push myself up from my squatted position, then flush. Dreading coming into contact with my reflection, I cautiously and hesitantly unbolt the stall lock and stride toward the washbasin.
I groan when my eyes fall upon my reflection, my hair tousled and black, vein-like streaks from my mascara runs down my pale cheeks. I think death would actually run in the opposite direction if it tried to claim me looking like this.
Endeavoring to salvage what is left of my makeup, I clean myself up. I prop my hands on each side of the counter, vainly striving to support my weakened body.
The well-lit room plunges into darkness as I shut my eyes. Drawing in a purifying breath while hanging my head in concentration, I focus intently on the small whistling sounds from my nostril as I breathe in and out.
Hayden enters the room, and hands me an ice cold, glass of water. “Here, drink this, beautiful.”
With shaky hands, I accept with gratitude. I take a warranted sip before lowering it onto the white and silver unit between the basins.
He steps behind me, his stubbly chin chafing the delicateness of my shoulder once more. Our eyes meet in the mirror.
“This bug is getting the best of you yet, Miss Kennedy.” He enfolds me in his arms, his fingers locked together and resting on my stomach. I cover his hands with my right, and gradually lower his position so they are locked on my lower abdomen.
In our reflection, I watch his regard waver from my eyes down to the position of his hands. When his dark stare locks with mine again, they’re wide, grave, filled with alarm and inconceivable thoughts.
It’s then I know that he understands my unspoken declaration.
His mouth falls open as he gapes at me incredulous. “You’re…”
I attempt to gauge his emotions, is he shocked and happy, or shocked and furious? I press my lips into a firm line, gazing at him impassively under the scrutiny of our reflections. I exhale slowly.
“And then there were three.”
HAYDEN
I watch our reflections as I unlock my hands from her lower abdomen, causing Samantha’s hand to fall away. Wide-eyed and shocked, I slip out of the embrace and take a cautious step backwards.
“You’re pregnant?” I hum deeply. Thick, stifling coats of distrust prompts my voice to break.
She turns deliberately to face me, her eyes full of apologetic assertions. Her tongue brushes against the seam of her lower lip then bows her head, generating an uninterrupted focus on her shoes. She looks contrite as she shakily nods her reply.
Drawing in a swift breath, it takes two consecutive harsh swallows to rid myself of the growing mass in my throat. Five words and a gesture have completely drained my body of any motivation that flowed through it. I’ve sprinted up a thousand steps and I’m now faced with the ledge of the precipice, watching as loose fragments of rock slowly break away, crumbling and dropping to their fate.
Pregnant?
No, she can’t be pregnant. It’s impossible. She has the implant. That’s the most effective of all contraceptives. Isn’t it?
She cannot possibly be pregnant. It takes a man to get a woman pregnant. She is playing you, boy––lying to you––just like Addison did. Either that or…
“Hayden, please say something.” Her words cut through the unwelcomed, intrusive voice of my insubordinate contemplations like a knife through warmed butter. My body is vibrating with the erratic pounding of my pulse, my palms sweaty. I have enough adrenaline surging around my body to withstand five rounds with Mike Tyson.
Pregnant?
Carving deep furrows into my brow, I clutch at the countertop that holds the washbasins with my right hand. What do I say? My mouth is suddenly dry.
“But you…you got the…” I point at her left arm, unable to complete my sentence.
“I was a little late in having it changed. I think it was about early October when I had it renewed. I was supposed to either abstain from sexual intercourse or use additional contraceptives for three weeks––”
I attempt to follow exactly what it is she’s explaining to me. I hear her speak but her words are a dense haze in my much befuddled mind.
“And you didn’t think of tel––”
“Hayden, I was so consumed with needing and wanting you at any given chance or however possible, that when I actually had you…” she shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. Her eyes hooded with embarrassment, I think. “…I forgot all about it. I was thinking purely in the moment, and the consequences of my actions in regard to possible pregnancy liquefied and swirled down the heedless drain.” Her voice is husky, broken, and punctured with desperation.
She takes a step towards me, her arm outreaching to stroke my face. I counter her advances and take a step back. My reaction immediately causes her face to tighten with an illustration of genuine wounded emotion, but I cannot and will not permit her to have that hold over me…
Samantha and Addison…they are two sides of the same coin,
my paranoia sneers with his upper lip curling in wry amusement at the expense of my censure.
“No, this can’t…who’s is it?”
“What?” she grimaces, “Hayden, you are the only person I have been with since the night you took me on that couch where people are currently sitting, celebrating our engagement,” she rustles, her voice betraying her wounded irritation as she points at the doorway. Her eyes shimmer under the bright white halogens.
“How do I even know that I’m––”
“How dare you. How can you say that to me? You know me, Hayden. Deep down, do you really think that I would be capable of being so devious?”
“Hey, it’s a well-known fact, women sometimes fabricate these things––they have done for years. They get the guy right where they want them, and
bang
”––I click my fingers––“they use it to trap you,” I protest under my breath.
Samantha shakes her head obviously riled by my demeanor. The strained wrinkles greatly mar her brow. “Hayden, you asked me to marry you. I said yes. Why on God’s green earth would I fabricate such a thing? Trap you? How can I trap you if I accepted your proposal?”
With my head hanging, I force my eyes upward to meet her scrutiny. I roll my tongue over my lower lip, and then sink my teeth into the flesh, sinking deep and hard until finally I become conscious of the metallic taste of blood on my tongue.
“Addison did it to you…didn’t she?”
I inhale liberally through my nose.