The Billionaire's Bauble (22 page)
“Mom, he proposed,” Sloane began and was instantly interrupted by her mother screaming into the phone.
“I knew it. I knew it. Oh, Sloane, when, where? Will you be coming home for the wedding? Bill!” she yelled, and Sloane pulled the phone from her ear to save her eardrum.
“Mom, wait, please. I didn’t say yes.”
Sloane’s mom was too busy telling Bill about their daughter’s impending nuptials to hear Sloane’s confession.
“Oh, honey. David is perfect for you. You’ve always been so bossy and stubborn, like your father, I might add, and I worried you might cut off your nose to spite your face. David is amazing, isn’t he? Handsome, virile, wealthy, totally in love with you. And now a baby? You’re as lucky as me, darling. Bill, get me my teacup, honey.”
“Mom...” Sloane tried to interrupt.
“I knew he’d do the right thing, and I know you’ll be so happy. I think he can handle you, and by that, I mean, I think he respects you, your independence, your intellect. He’s smart, real smart, and you can’t argue that. He’s as smart as your father. We could all see it. We knew he was going to propose immediately. I can’t wait for the wedding. Have you picked a date?”
Sloane drew a ragged breath. “I said no.”
“No matter. There’s plenty of time to pick a date. I do think you should do it soon before you start to show too much. Pregnant brides are beautiful, though, and God knows they make dresses for just your situation. Oh, Sloane, we could always resurrect my old dress from the mothballs. A little adjusting, a few alterations here and there, and it would fit you like a dream. Of course, it’s up to you. You are coming to get married here, though, aren’t you? Oh, please say yes. I’ve always dreamed of your wedding, out by the pond. If we do it soon, the coneflowers and daisies will be in full bloom.” Sloane’s mom gushed, and Sloane held the phone away from her ear again, trying to collect the will to repeat the words she needed to say.
“Sloane?” her mother asked. “Sloane, are you there?”
“Mom, I did something really stupid.”
Sloane was beginning to realize that she might have wrecked what could have been the best day of her life. She rubbed her belly and felt an uncomfortable twinge.
“What, honey? What’s wrong?” Sloane’s mother waited while Sloane massaged her belly worriedly.
“Mom, he asked me after I told him about the baby, so I said no.”
“You what?” her mother’s voice bit into Sloane’s ear.
“He had a ring and everything. He was going to propose anyway, but I told him right away and he … He asked me then, and I … I said no.”
Sloane was about to cry.
“No? Why? What did you expect him to do? What did you want him to do? I’m confused, sweetheart. I figured you’d want to get married to the father of your child. You do love him, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I love him. I said no because he
expected
me to say yes. He expected me to settle.”
Sloane heard how lame her excuses sounded. She clenched her teeth.
“Settle? For the man of your dreams? For a billionaire who is crazy for you and would do anything in the world to please you? Settle?”
Her mother’s voice was getting higher and higher as she spoke. Sloane felt like crawling under a rock.
“I am sooooo dumb, Mom.” Sloane admitted. “I asked him if I was his soul mate, and he said he wouldn’t say those words until we were married. He is quite stubborn, Mom, not the easy going guy you imagine. Really!”
Sloane’s mother laughed, and Sloane felt another twinge.
“Well, Sloane if you want a fairy tale, you have to work at it. Do you think your father came to me perfect? I had to help him along. Get used to the idea that you won’t always get your way exactly as you want it. You’re going to have to concede now and again that men aren’t perfect. But some are close. I think David is pretty close to perfect, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess . . .” Sloane capitulated, gnawing at her finger nails.
“Stop chewing your nails and listen to me,” her mother, the psychic, said.
“Go to him, Sloane. Tell him you made a mistake. You need to grab up your happiness and hold it tightly. If you need a poet, go back to school and find one. Just know, he won’t be David, and he probably won’t be rich. Actions are worth a thousand words. At least in my book.”
“You’re right, Mom. Thanks. Thanks for listening. Thanks for the advice. I think I’ll take a little nap and then see how I feel. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Sloane clicked off her phone and got to her feet slowly. When she bent back down to get her tea cup, she saw spots of blood where she’d been sitting.
David circled Fairbanks several times, driving past Sloane’s apartment complex as many times as he could without being accused of stalking. He wanted to call her, to see her, to tell her he loved her and couldn’t live without her, but he knew she’d just get mad and tell him he was pushing too hard, too fast. The woman was a control freak, no doubt about it, but maybe he needed to exercise some self-control, too.
David knew he could have said yes to the soul mate question, but he’d been angry and hurt. He didn’t want to lay his heart bare again and have her pulverize it. Sloane was a tricky animal, and he wished he could tame her, just a little. He remembered how her eyes had gone all velvet soft when he made love to her, how she could be as sweet as a lap cat. Too bad she was half tiger most of the time. He chuckled aloud at the thought.
Truth was, he admired her fire, loved her spirit, adored the way she made him work so hard to be her man. She deserved every bit of what she demanded. He simply needed to follow her lead. Of course, he couldn’t, and that was the fun of it all. Married life with Sloane would be a roller coaster of excitement, and he would enjoy every breathtaking moment.
On his fourth time past the complex, he saw her emerge through the door of her apartment. He pulled over to the side of the road and watched her walk to her car and get in. He knew he shouldn’t follow her, but something about her quickened gait made the hairs on his body rise. He had similar premonitions before she fell from the ATV back in New York. David’s heartbeat doubled and his palms became clammy. Stop it, he told himself. He was getting all worked up over nothing. Maybe she was going to find him. Maybe she was going to Forster or Grant.
Sloane exited the apartment’s parking lot and turned in the opposite direction of his house, of Forster, and of Grant. He followed ten or twelve car lengths behind her, hoping she wouldn’t notice his conspicuous car. Where was she going? And why was she driving so fast? Sloane was a careful driver, and she seemed to be maneuvering her sedan as if she were driving his Maserati. He sped to keep up with her as she drove toward the outskirts of Fairbanks.
When she made a quick left into the county hospital’s driveway, he passed the turn and struck his fist against the steering wheel in agitation.
He wheeled his car around in an illegal U-turn and sped back toward the hospital. He saw red lights flashing in his rear view mirror and cursed as a siren blared. He pulled over, and a police car stopped behind him.
Sloane rushed into the emergency room entrance and almost ran into a man being pushed out in a wheelchair. “I’m so sorry,” she said as she spirited past him to the receptionist’s desk.
“What’s the problem?” the nurse asked, eyeing Sloane with an evaluative once over.
“I am pregnant and bleeding,” Sloane said, trying not to let terror overcome her.
The woman looked at Sloane’s belly and said, “Are you sure you’re pregnant and not menstruating?”
“I had a pregnancy test several days ago—at a hospital, and it was positive.”
“How far along are you?” the nurse asked, typing into a computer as she spoke.
“Seven, eight weeks. I had some cramps, and then I saw some blood.”
“Please calm down,” the nurse said, and Sloane exhaled, trying to ease her fear.
“I will need to see your insurance card.”
Sloane reached into her purse and searched for the card Forster had assigned her. She couldn’t locate it in the vastness of her Vuitton tote. She pulled out the card David gave her the day they met at Grant, the one with Tony’s name and number on it.
“I work for Forster. I have my boss’s card, but I can’t find my insurance card.”
Sloane was very close to tears, and she could hear her voice shaking.
The nurse said, “Since you’re so frazzled, I will call the number and get the insurance information from him.”
Sloane smiled in relief, and as she handed the card to the woman, for the first time she read the words David had scribbled on the back:
Could this be destiny?
“Officer, please. My fiancé has gone to the hospital. I need to get to her. Can you let me go, give me a ticket in the mail—maybe give a nincompoop like me a break?” David pleaded.
The officer said, “Wait right here while I run your license and registration.”
David rubbed his palms together, trying to calm his rising anger. He wanted to rush across the road and go into the hospital. He was 100 yards from Sloane’s car, but she was nowhere in sight. What had happened to send her to the hospital?
David felt like punching a hole through the windshield, but he remembered how Sloane did yoga-breathing to calm herself, so he tried to breathe in through his nose and exhale through his mouth as she had done. If he got crazy now, he’d go to jail. Then he’d be unable to get to Sloane at all. Damned authority figures. They always picked the worst times to assert themselves.
The officer came back to the car and said, “Your record is clean. I’ll let you go this time, but you better head straight into that hospital, or I will pull you over again, and I won’t be as nice.”
David took back the proffered materials and set them on the passenger seat. He thanked the police officer and started his car. Within moments he had parked in the crowded lot and was running into the emergency room entrance, hoping against hope Sloane wasn’t inside. Maybe she was visiting someone.
He saw her in the registration room and bolted toward her. Was she crying? He was on his knees at her side before she even saw him.
Throwing her arms around his neck she sobbed, “I’m bleeding, David.”
“Where? I don’t see any blood. What happened?”
He scanned her quickly, then held her close and smoothed her long hair over her back.
“I got up from the couch and there was blood on it. I think it’s the baby.”
The nurse said, “Bleeding is not uncommon in early pregnancy. Could be anything. We’re going to get you into a room, and the doctor will take a look. Do you have an OBGYN?”
“No,” they spoke at once, and that made Sloane laugh a little so that snot bubbled from her nose. David wiped it with his sleeve as the nurse handed him a tissue.
“That’s better,” she said. “I’m glad Daddy is here. He’s good for your spirits. Come on now, and follow me, Sloane. You too, Dad.”
David helped Sloane up and looked at the chair expecting to see blood. There wasn’t any, though he could see the back of her dress had some dried red spots. David prayed their baby would be fine, that Sloane would be even better. He held Sloane’s arm as they walked behind the registration nurse.
Sloane was asked to remove her panties and put a gown on over her dress. Tenderly, David helped her accomplish those tasks, and then he sat beside her, holding her hand. He kissed her knuckles and said, “It’ll be fine, sweetheart. No matter what, we’ll be fine. I promise.”
Sloane closed her eyes and exhaled a gust of air. “I’m scared,” she admitted.
“Me, too,” he said.
A moment later a doctor came in and said, “Hello, I am Dr. Paul Vincent. I read the intake and am here to check you out. I see you’re in the first trimester, and you experienced some bleeding. Can you tell me what precipitated the incident and how much you bled?”
Sloane explained that she’d been talking to her mom on the phone, and she’d had some cramps. When she stood up, she saw blood and came straight to the hospital. David listened intently and squeezed her hand. He looked at the doctor’s kind face and registered no concern there. Good sign, he thought.
