Chapter 30
DAPHNE
“To new beginnings!”
Hazel and I clink our shot glasses together, but when she knocks hers back in a single gulp, I secretly toss mine into my glass of ice water.
She smacks her lips and adds our empty shots to the growing stack at our table. “Yeah!” She shivers with glee and giggles.
Yeah. I try to fake the enthusiasm over tequila I didn’t drink because hey, we’re here to celebrate. After seeing the immense–and immensely gorgeous–penthouse I am now calling “home,” the stipend burning a hole in my bank account, and a hefty commission on a major art sale that came out of nowhere shortly before closing time…
Well, I’ve got a lot to celebrate.
I wanted to go to a steakhouse and tuck into some filet mignon, but Hazel wanted to ring in the weekend “the proper way.” So I’ve been tossing aside shots of liquor and discreetly ordering virgin versions of the cocktails she picks from the menu. I’m having a great time; it’s just hard to match her energy when I’m not matching her intoxication.
“So, have you told them yet?” Hazel wiggles in her seat in time to the beat of the music, sipping on her Long Island Iced Tea.
“Told who what?”
“The Tweedles. That you’re pregnant.”
I damn near snort my iced tea up my nose. “Sorry, what?”
Hazel rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. You’re not being as subtle as you might think. And I’ve seen you throw back double cheeseburgers without gaining a single pound, so I know that sweet little tummy you’re sporting isn’t a food baby.”
Shit. If she can tell, can anyone else?
“Hey.” She rests her hand on mine, shifting into concern. Which is yet another sign that I wear far too many secrets on my face. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell them. And honestly, I think you’re right for not telling them, too.”
“Really?” I let out a heavy sigh of relief. It does help ease some of the stress to know that Hazel has my
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back. It feels even better to know she agrees with my paranoia when it comes to Keith and Todd. “I’m just… I don’t want to add more kindling to the fire, you know? They’re still pissed about what I did with Conrad’s painting.”
“Which was glorious!” Hazel laughs and mimics the inferno with her fingers. “The look on his face! The look on her face! Gawd! Every time I need a little pick–me–up, I just think of that moment. Perfection.”
“Yeah, well, Brittany’s after my head. She’s called the gallery at least three or four times, demanding I get
fired.”
“After four, what, five months now? You’d think she’d take the hint.” “But this is her we’re talking about.”
“Fair.” Hazel sagely nods and slurps down the last of her cocktail. “Bitch is dumb as shit. And honestly? I’ve never seen the Tweedles display any great intelligence, either. So you should be fine.”
I’m not so sure. I poke at the ice in my glass with the straw. “Yeah, but I’m hitting my fifth month of pregnancy. I’m not showing much now, but give it a few weeks and I’ll balloon up like a whale.”
She stares at me. Silent. For an eternity. Then: “It’s that hot Russian guy, isn’t it? The one who helped you burn the painting?”
I feel my cheeks suddenly heat. Her eyes widen and I know I’m found out. “No. No way!”
“It was a one–time thing.” I protest.
“Um, no. No, it was not.” Hazel signals the bartender for another Long Island and gives me her biggest shit–eating grin. “I mean, I know you had some loaded guy after your panties with all those flowers and smoothies and shit, but damn. He is after you in the best way. Lock that shit down!”
“I hardly know him! We’re just trying to figure this whole thing out. One step at a time.”
“Seems to me he’s figured it out just fine. What’s holding you back?” Again, her eyes widen, but for an entirely different reason. “Oh, shit. What does Conrad think of all this?”
My blood drains from my face. “He knows nothing.”
“He has to know something. He was there that night, too.”
“Even if he does know something, he’s not taking the fucking hint.” And, as if he’s cued up somewhere with headphones honed into our conversation, my phone lights up with Conrad’s name. I point at it. “See? He’s pathetic. I want nothing to do with him and he won’t stop blowing my phone up.”
“Obviously. He wants what he can’t have. And he clearly saw your mega- upgrade.” She waggles her brows and dives into her new drink. “Talk about a dick punch to his ego.”
“Yeah, well, like I said, it was a one–time thing. I wouldn’t count Pasha as an upgrade because we’re not
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actually together.”
“I wouldn’t discount him, either. You and I both know Conrad wouldn’t be showering you with gifts and attention if the roles were reversed. And he actually does know you. So what does that say about this so–called stranger who’s putting in all the effort?”
I really don’t want to think about the answer. Because every time I do, my head starts swimming and my heart starts getting more and more hopeful for a reality that just doesn’t exist.
At least, I don’t think it exists.
I mean… I’ve got a veritable greenhouse of roses in my office.
Ten thousand calories‘ worth of healthy–as–hell smoothies in my system. And that moment we shared at the OB–GYN…
None of which ever happened with Conrad. He always treated me like some obligation. At the time, I was so starved for affection and attention that I savored whatever scraps he threw my way.
I’ve come to realize that I was over Conrad long before I found out he’d been cheating on me. Was I hurt by the betrayal? Of course. But with it came a sense of relief, one that wouldn’t have existed if I’d still been head over heels for him.
Sometimes, it takes a swift kick in the ass to do the right thing. Apparently, I needed to be kicked out of my own home to leave a relationship I should have abandoned ages ago.
And now, I have Pasha. Not like, have have, but he’s… around. He’s treating me with a considerable amount of respect compared to Conrad.
And yeah, he’s kinda hot.
I just can’t count him as a “new guy” when I don’t even know how long his dedication to all this baby stuff will last.
“Just don’t tell Conrad about the baby, okay?”
“Right, because he and I hang out so much,” Haze drawls. “Of course I’m not going to tell him, Daph! I can barely stand breathing the same oxygen as him. But keep in mind, if your parents know…”
Shit. “You don’t think my mother would tell him, do you?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her. But if she thinks it would chase him away, then probably not.”
Hazel has a point. Mother has been so die–hard for this marriage arrangement with Conrad to work out, she’d be shooting herself in the foot if she told him I’m pregnant with another man’s baby.
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“But again,” she continues, “Con and I have a lunch date tomorrow, followed by a hearty round of paintball and then a couple’s massage. There’s no telling what I might say when me and my best pal Conny get to talking.”
Laughing, I chuck my wadded–up straw wrapper at her. Hazel chuckles, lifts her glass to me, and we salute our pact of silence together.
She’s always had my back and it’s a weight off my shoulders to know that she’ll be here, helping me field the drama of Conrad and my family, for the future to come.
Whatever that future may hold.
