The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (87 page)

No one. Both.

If Tessa didn’t risk it, her heart might remain intact but it’ll really be the only the thing she’ll be holding dear.

Because Jake took so many risks, he’ll have fun memories of his heydays but they’ll be the only thing keeping him company in the lonely years to come. 

Everyone who’d watched a movie or read a book at some point in their existence knew that love was complicated. 

We want so much that very thing we’re afraid of.

I didn’t say anything after that. I’d told Tessa and Jake more than I really should’ve said to them about this. At the end of the day, no matter how much I wanted to see two people I cared about find happiness with each other, I wasn’t going to box them into a corner and force the issue. While that worked for Martin when he put me and Brandon together, that might have been a sheer streak of luck. Besides, I wanted people to be able to make their own choices without the fear of disappointing others. There was already enough of that kind of pressure in our world.

Ten minutes later, the two ladies from the same event-planning team that magically whipped up mine and Brandon’s wedding, arrived with loads of final decisions to be made and we got down to work.

We were doing a dry run in the large room that was going to serve as the central party location in the mansion when the butler, Norman, approached me discreetly to say that Bessy came in looking for Anna and was waiting for her.

My nose scrunched up at that.

While Bessy had always been a close friend of Anna’s, the two hadn’t really been spending a lot of time together lately. 

I excused myself from the group, leaving Tessa and Mattie with the rest of the event-planners to go and see our new arrival.

“Bessy?” I asked, frowning when I came into the sitting room and found not the girl I was expecting.

She was Bessy, alright, but gone was her cool, confident, and often catty exterior. She was wearing a hole in the carpet with her nervous pacing. She had no make-up on and instead of one of her usual sultry outfits, she was in jeans, a loose hoodie and ballet flats. Her hair was wrapped in a messy bun on the top of her head, starkly highlighting her pale complexion and the dark half-moons under her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept or eaten since I last saw her.

She came to an abrupt stop when she saw me. “I was looking for Anna.”

I was even more confused by her mellow attitude. “I know. She went out with a friend.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll wait for her,” Bessy insisted with a firm shake of her head, resuming her pacing. “She won’t be long, right? I tried her apartment and her cell but she’s not picking up. I kinda figured she was either out or over here.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, still studying Bessy and trying to figure out why seeing her the way she was right now threw me for a loop.

Something’s wrong. 

“She may not be back for a while,” I told her calmly. I usually only got very mouthy with her when she was provoking me but there was none of that today. Bessy’s claws were fully sheathed and she had the fragility of a frightened or injured predator. 

She paused and looked at me again, her blue eyes anxious and flickering with something deeper, sharper. “She’s with Jason, isn’t she? Damn. Okay. Well, I’ll come back then. Or I’ll call her.”

She grabbed her purse from the seat and slung it over her shoulder. She paused again and glanced at me, swallowing slowly. “Could you, uh, tell her to call me? Or answer my messages? She’s been kind of avoiding me and I really need to talk to her.”

I had a pretty strong suspicion that I was partly a reason why Anna had been blowing off Bessy. She knew the two of us didn’t get along. For some reason, Anna seemed to have taken my side, despite her long-standing history with the other girl. I knew we were technically ‘family’ now but I would’ve never asked it of her.

And now I feel terribly guilty because Bessy looks like she could use a friend. Imagine that. Me, feeling guilty about Bessy, and Bessy looking like she could use a good, crying shoulder, even if it’s mine.

“You can wait for her if you’d like,” I said gently, trying to get used to the fact that we weren’t having our usual conversation full of lively insults. “She said she was coming right back. Come on, I’ll walk you to the sun room. It’s much nicer there. I’ll have the housekeeper bring you something to nibble on while you wait.”

She hesitated. “I don’t really want to impose. Norman told me you’re in the middle of planning Martin’s party.”

“Well, the event planners are planning it,” I said, smiling a little. “We’re just nodding along, really.”

She fidgeted with the strap of her bag, her eyes huge on her gaunt face as she studied me. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me, you know?” she said quietly.

My brows shot up in surprise. “I would’ve been nice to you if you’d been nice to me all this time. If you’re not coming at me with claws, I won’t either.”

“So even if you get a chance to say ‘I told you so’, you won’t take it?” she scoffed bitterly. “Because I’m sure you’d love to gloat.”

I grimaced slightly. “I’d take if it I actually cared to gloat. The thing is, I don’t.”

Bessy’s expression remained suspicious. 

“But now that you’ve mentioned it, tell me,” I hastened to add before she bolted out of there. She was jumpy and she was going to scamper out the door if I gave her more time to hesitate. “What was I right about this time?”

“As if you’ve ever been right before,” she grumbled, dropping her bag back to the seat.

I smiled and sat down on an armchair next to her. “I have been but let’s not split hairs. What was I right about, Bess?”

She averted her gaze for a moment, her teeth worrying her lower lip. 

“A couple days ago, I told Don that I...” her voice trailed off and for a second I thought she wasn’t going to make another sound.

She mutely stared into space as if somehow the rest of the words she was still yet to say were floating in the cosmos. 

“Bess?” I prompted softly.

She blinked and drew her attention back to me, her eyes clearing as if she finally remembered I was there with her.

“I told Don that we were going to have a baby,” she blurted out. 

“You’re what?” My voice had come out squeaky and my question was a little less delicate than it should’ve been considering Bessy’s demeanor but I couldn’t help it.

“I’m almost three months pregnant,” Bessy continued, her voice flat. “My doctor confirmed it over a week ago. Don and I are going to have a baby.”

I was almost afraid to ask. 

Blissfully eager mothers-to-be didn’t look as ashen and defeated as Bessy did right now.

“And how did Don receive that news?”

“I had every expectation that he’d be thrilled,” Bessy answered, her chin trembling just a little. “He’s been forever complaining about Layla and the fact that they still don’t have children. I thought he’d be excited about being a father. And that maybe... maybe he’ll marry me. We could actually be a family, especially since he’d told me that Layla had left.”

I slowly rubbed my temple with shaky fingers, knowing the answer before Bessy could even vocalize it.

“What happened, Bess?”

“He called me a stupid, careless idiot and told me to arrange for an abortion as soon as possible.”

I fought the impulse to let out a string of nasty names I wanted to call Don. 

Sure, I was appalled by Don’s cruel edict but I wasn’t the knocked-up girl being forced to get rid of her baby. This wasn’t about my outrage. This was about Bessy and her unborn child and the corner she’d been backed into.

“He doesn’t want to give Layla more leverage when she files for divorce,” Bessy rattled off. “He doesn’t want to give her lawyers any more advantage when they try to cut him out of this marriage without most of their money. If they can prove her allegations of infidelity and abuse, they can make his life hell, especially if her father gets involved. Layla brought most of the money into their marriage, her father entrusting her company shares to Don to look after. Even without a prenup, he stands to lose a lot if Layla takes this to the courts.”

“And your baby is going to make things more difficult for him,” I ground out. “So he wants you to dispose of it before it becomes an inconvenience and a liability.”

Bessy’s eyes watered for the first time in all the years we’d known each other. “I’m not sure I can give it up, Char. Whether he’s happy about it or not, this is a child we’re talking about here.”

“Then keep it,” I told her. “It’s your baby, regardless of the sperm donor.”

“But Don will kill me if I don’t do as he says,” she sobbed out, finally breaking down. “I’ll lose him and... I just c-can’t... I... I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

Her face was drenched with tears and even though I wanted to somehow smack her in the head for even contemplating losing Don when he was so unworthy of her, I couldn’t. 

“I couldn’t tell anybody,” she choked out, burying her face in her hands. “My parents are going to toss me out when they find out I got knocked up by Layla’s husband. And sure, I can ask Layla for advice except that I don’t I even know where the hell she is and even if I did, she’s married to the man I’m having an affair with! Because I’m such a fucking mess and I couldn’t stay away... And I’m j-just so... Oh, God.”

I let her sob for a while, reaching out to gently place a hand on her arm so she at least knew, through the fog of her tears and guilt and despair, that someone was there with her. It was a small thing but I knew the difference it made.

It seemed like an eternity passed before Bessy’s sobs slowed. 

Her face was wet and sticky when she lifted it to look at me, her eyes swollen and red from the force of her tears. “Maybe I deserve this. I did a lot of terrible things, after all.”

“And do you think getting rid of your baby is going to justify any of those terrible things you’ve done by counting it as your punishment to suffer?” I asked bluntly. “We all make mistakes, Bess, but we don’t have to keep going just because we’re already on a roll.”

I refrained from pointing out that whatever punishment we may deserve, we should make no child pay for it. 

You can’t escape the descent to hell by merely pushing someone else in front of you first. There’s always someone behind you who’ll do the same exact thing. Still down you go, baby.

“If I do keep the baby, how am I supposed to care for it?” she asked woefully. “How do I explain it to my family?”

“You explain it with the truth and hope that they can forgive you,” I answered. “Whether they stick with you or not, Bess, you’re going to have to learn to care for someone else other than yourself. It’ll be daunting and difficult but then you’ve always been tough. This time, be tough for your child.”

After a long stretch of silence, Bessy nodded and straightened, her shoulders squaring with some resolve. “You’re right. To hell with Don. I don’t need him for this.”

I could tell that while she’d said the words out loud, there was still some uncertainty flickering in her eyes as she got up to her feet, grabbing her bag. 

“I have to go,” she said abruptly, her backbone ringing clear in her voice once again. “I have something I need to do.”

I smiled and rose from the chair. “Alright. Go. I’ll tell Anna you stopped by.”

Bessy stiffened and sent me a pleading look. “Please don’t tell her. She doesn’t know about Don. I’m not even sure why I came to see her. There was just nobody I could talk to.”

“You can tell her when you’re ready,” I assured her. “If there’s anyone who might actually understand your situation completely, it might be her. But you’ll need to tell your parents. And you need to tell Layla. She deserves to know the truth.”

Her shame was visible as she cast her eyes down and nodded slowly. “We’re all cheated of something we deserve, in ways both good and bad.”

I reached out and touched her arm in reminder. “If you need anything in the meantime, you can talk to me too.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

We stood there for a moment, both probably still coping with the reality that the world had somehow flipped and we were on the same side for the first time in our lives.

Later that night, as I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom brushing my hair down as I usually did before bed, I kept thinking about Bessy’s situation.

No kid deserved a father like Don LeClaire but that was no reason he didn’t deserve a chance at life either.

Setting the brush down on the counter, I found my hands moving to my stomach, settling over the small place where one day, my own child would grow. 

I slowly moved my hands over the flat planes, imagining what it would be like, to have my belly swell and grow with child—one that might have Brandon’s dark hair and my blue-green eyes, or my dark blonde hair and his hazel eyes.

He would be a very lucky child, having a father who was strong, kind and loving, whose hands would pick him up when he stumbles down and patch up his knees when he scrapes them.  

“Is everything alright?”

I started at Brandon’s voice and I found him staring at me through the mirror from the doorway behind me where he stood.