All's Fair in Lust & War (11 page)

He turned to Mark.

“One fifty-thousand-dollar check for you,” he said, and, to Becky, “One fifty-thousand-dollar check for you.”

Stunned, Mark looked down at the check in his hand. This was really happening. The check was his. The job was his. And, he thought, looking at Becky’s laughing countenance as she accepted congratulations from her friends, at least for now the girl was his.

He was surprised to discover that it was that last ingredient that made him the happiest.

Maybe it was time to rethink the no-relationship clause.

* * *

By the time Becky managed to break free from her excited colleagues and escape to their office, darkness was falling over the city.

She closed the door and leaned against it, reveling in the blessed quiet.

She jumped when Mark’s voice rang out in the darkness.

“Congratulations, creative codirector,” he said. “You did good today.”

“Mark? Where are you?”

“Just admiring the view,” he said, clicking on a lamp by the windows. “And enjoying the fact that I’ll get to look at it every day from now on.”

Becky crossed over to where he was standing. Time to reintroduce reality.

“What if I want this office?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Now that we’re both creative directors, or at least codirectors, David will probably give us each our own office. What if I decide I want to keep this one?”

“I guess I assumed we’d continue to share,” Mark said. “Since we’re heading up the same account and all.”

“I doubt it,” she said. In fact she hoped not. It would be almost impossible to keep her distance from him— something she knew she had to start doing—if they were in each other’s physical space all day.

“Do you want your own office?” Mark asked, a dark look on his face.

She sighed. “Yes and no. Mark, these last few weeks have been fun, but we’ve known from the beginning that this couldn’t last. Remember what you said?”

“I said that we could both go our own ways after this thing between us had run its course.”

“Right,” she said. “No harm, no foul.”

“But, Becky,” he said, looking deep into her eyes, “I don’t think it
has
run its course. I’m having a lot of fun with you—even when our clothes are on. Let’s not give up yet.”

Uh-oh. Unless she was very mistaken, he was talking about more than the occasional sexual romp.

“That was never the deal, Mark. You don’t do relationships, remember?”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “No, Becky, I don’t. Or at least I never have. But this... It’s different somehow.”

She knew exactly what he was talking about. Somewhere along the way they had crossed the line from being sex buddies to...something more. Something that scared her even to think about.

“I know,” she said. “But we can’t keep going on as we are—hooking up in the office on the sly and slipping out of the building when no one’s looking. We’re in charge now. Role models. We’re going to have to try to act like we realize that.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Well, what if we try something different? Something normal and grown-up-ish. Like, you know, going out on actual dates. And spending the night together whenever we want, rather than heading home after a hookup. That could be fun.”

“Mark...” she whispered. “What you’re talking about sounds an awful lot like a relationship.”

“I know,” he said. “But I bet we can make it work.”

“You and your bets,” she said, smiling. “Nothing is worth doing unless you can bet on it.”

He grinned and lowered his lips to hers.

“So what do you think?” he said. “Are you in?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

Then he claimed her with his mouth and she stopped thinking at all.

The next thing she knew someone was knocking. She jumped backward—but not before the door opened, admitting David.

His eyes darted back and forth between her and Mark, taking in their slightly disheveled clothing and flushed faces.

“David,” she said. “We were just, uh, I mean, we were—”

“We were just cementing the official end of our feud slash competitive relationship with a hug,” Mark broke in.

“Oh. I see,” David said, twitching his tie. “Well, that makes sense. Especially since you’re going to be working together every day. It’s important to present a united front.”

“Exactly,” Becky said, glancing at Mark.

“Well, I was just coming in to congratulate you one more time,” David replied. “Make sure you get some rest this weekend. We’re going to hit it hard on Monday. Becky, you’ll be moving into the office next door to this one—Fred Sutherland’s old digs.”

She nodded, relieved that he seemed to be buying their story.

“Sounds good,” she said.

“See you Monday,” Mark chimed in.

“Right you are,” David said, giving them one last suspicious glance. “Have a good one.”

When the door was once again closed Becky whirled on Mark. “That,” she hissed, “is why an ‘us’ is not a good idea. I just got promoted. I don’t want to get fired.”

“I don’t remember signing anything that said we couldn’t date coworkers.”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure David wouldn’t approve of the two of us getting together. And you know how tough it is for him to treat me like a creative professional. He’d find a way to use our relationship as a way to discredit me.”

“I think you’re being a little tough on the guy. All he cares about is the bottom line. And you just tripled his income. I don’t think he’s going to give you a hard time about anything.”

Becky shook her head. It was no use. Mark would never understand how tough this business was for women. Or how biased David was against female employees.

“Well, whatever. Only time will tell,” she said. “But I just don’t think he could handle the thought of us as both a couple and a working team.”

If she was being honest, she wasn’t sure if she could, either.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it,” Mark said.

She sighed and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye. What she wouldn’t give to be able to throw caution to the winds and just say yes. But she had to start focusing on her career again.

“I will,” she agreed. “But don’t expect me to change my mind.”

NINE

Becky was just
sitting down with a steaming pot pie and a glass of her favorite Pinot Grigio when her cell phone began to whistle cheerfully.

It was her mother.

Becky stared at the screen. Should she answer it? Probably. If she didn’t, she’d just keep calling back.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Well, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if you were lying dead in an alley somewhere.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Mom. It hasn’t been that long since we talked.”

“I haven’t heard from you since you called to tell me you got home safely from the conference! That was almost a month ago.”

Surely it hadn’t been that long? But, now that she thought about it, maybe it had. She had considered picking up the phone on countless occasions, but when she’d thought about everything that was going on, and how impossible it would be to explain to her mom, she never had.

“I’m sorry, Mom. Things have been really busy at work.”

“Work, work, work. That’s all you ever talk about. When are you going to give me something to brag about to the ladies in my book club?”

“Well, actually, something pretty huge happened today,” Becky said, suddenly eager to tell her mom. “I got promoted. To creative director.”

There was a brief silence.

“That’s nice, dear. Does that mean you’ll be able to afford to come home more often?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t discussed salary yet. But I did get a really big bonus.”

“Maybe you should use it to buy a place in a better neighborhood. I worry about you, you know. It doesn’t seem safe, especially with those tattooed hippies wandering around at all hours of the day and night.”

“Mom. I live in Greenwich Village, not Hell’s Kitchen. This is a great neighborhood.”

“I’m sure it is, but I’d feel much better if you didn’t live right in the city like that. There’s so much crime.”

Becky smacked her forehead with her palm.

“We’ve been over this a hundred times. I moved to New York because I wanted to live in the city. Not in some cookie-cutter house in the suburbs.”

Now it was her mother’s turn to sigh. “I know, dear. I know. I just wish you’d move past this wild phase of yours and settle down with someone nice.”

Becky snorted. Wild phase, indeed. “I’m only twenty-nine. There’s no rush.”

“That’s what you think, dear. But once you hit thirty, your best baby-making years are behind you. I don’t want you to end up in some infertility clinic, trying to get your tired eggs to work.”

“I know. I’ve read every article you’ve ever emailed me on the subject.”

Her mother continued as if she hadn’t heard.

“You know, your cousin is pregnant again.”

“Which one?”

“Tiffany. This will be her third.”

“Well, tell her I said congratulations.”

“You could come for the baby shower and tell her yourself.”

“I’d rather stick needles in my eye,” she muttered.

“I heard that,” her mother said, sighing loudly. “Well, I’ll let you go. I’m sure you have far better things to do than talk to your mother on a Friday night.”

If only,
Becky thought. Out loud, she said, “All right. Well, I’ll talk to you soon, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Remember to take the pepper spray I bought you if you go out.”

“I will.”

“And never leave your drink unattended.”

“Okay.”

“And...”

At long last her mother hung up. Becky flung herself backward on the chaise. Any other parent would be thrilled to hear their child had just gotten promoted. But not her mom. The only promotion she wanted to hear about was one that involved putting a “Mrs.” in front of her name. Or the title “Mother of” after it.

Infertility clinic, my foot,
she thought, taking a giant swig of wine. She already knew her ovaries worked. The proof was in the box under her bed.

Speaking of ovaries...shouldn’t she be getting her period about now? Becky reached for her phone and fired up her period-tracking app. Yep. Her last one had been the week before AdWorld. That meant Aunt Flow should show up...

Damn
. It should have come a week and a half ago.

Becky’s mind froze.

There were all kinds of reasons why she could be late. She’d been under a huge amount of stress. Not sleeping well. Eating too much fast food and drinking too much wine.

But being stressed out was a way of life for her. And she didn’t eat all that well on even the best of days.

And she had been having lots of sex. But they’d been safe about it, right? She thought hard, trying to remember all the moments they’d stopped to put a condom on. Yep. They had. Every single time. Except...

The afternoon of the sword fight.

Neither of them had even thought about a condom. She hadn’t even realized they’d forgotten until she’d seen the undeniable evidence in her underwear while getting into her pajamas that evening.

She raced to the bathroom and tore off her shirt and bra. If she wasn’t mistaken her boobs did look bigger than usual. She squeezed one, just to see.

“Ow!”

Yep. They were tender.

Time to call in the troops.

She pulled out her phone and texted Jessie.

We have a 911 situation over here.

Seconds later, the phone rang.

“Becky, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Is someone dead?” Jessie asked, sounding breathless and shaken.

“No. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Then what was the 911 about?”

“I think I might be pregnant,” she said quietly.

“What? How? I mean I know how, but...”

“I’ll explain later. Could you come over, please?” Becky asked, hating the tremor in her voice.

Jessie sighed. “I’m kind of on a date.”

“Oh. Okay. Never mind. I’ll just run out and get a test.”

“Keep me posted, okay?”

“I will,” she whispered, and hung up.

Knowing she should head right to the drugstore, she instead found herself on her knees in front of her bed, gazing at the old sonogram picture.

How many times had she sworn she’d never put herself in this position again? That she’d protect herself at all costs?

Too many to count.

The first time had been in Pence’s office, right after she’d told him she was quitting.

“What do you mean, you quit?” he’d said. “You can’t quit.”

“Yes, I can. I am. And I’m using my vacation time as my notice. I’ve got two weeks coming to me,” she’d said, hoping beyond hope he couldn’t see her knees trembling.

“What will you do?” he’d asked, his voice suddenly cold. “You know as well as I do that I’m the only reason you’ve made it as far as you have.”

“That’s not true,” she’d said quietly.

“Sure it is. I could’ve gotten rid of you after your internship was over. But I kept you around. Made sure you got put on the best assignments,” he’d said, walking over to his awards shelf. “The only reason you got your award was because I convinced the client to go with your idea.”

“They would have chosen it even if you hadn’t pushed it,” she’d said, anger sparking in her veins. “But you had to feel like you were in control of every part of my life. You never let me do things on my own!”

“That’s because you would have failed,” he’d said, stalking silently across the plush green carpet toward her. “You screw everything up. Heck, you can’t even manage to take your birth control pills the right way.”

She’d gasped, his barbed comment tearing open the thin scab on her heart. “Oh, my God, you’re unbelievable.”

He’d smiled coldly as he came to stand in front of her. “I deserved that, so I won’t hold it against you.” Then, taking a deep breath, he’d said, “Let’s start over. Becky, please don’t leave. We’ve got a good thing going here. Stick with me and you’ll be a star.”

“I already am a star, Pence. And I don’t need you to continue being one.”

“No one will hire you,” he’d said softly.

“I already have a job,” she’d said defiantly.

“Where? Ads R Us?”

“At an agency with more awards than you can count. In a place where they’ve never heard of you.”

“You’ll fail,” he’d said, turning his back on her.

“No. I won’t. I’ll knock their socks off,” she’d said with more confidence than she’d felt. “But I do have you to thank for one thing.”

“What?” he’d said over his shoulder.

“Now I know better than to let some egotistical man get in my head. Or my bed. No one will ever be able to mess up my life the way you have, Pence.”

He’d snorted.

“You’ll be knocked up and out of the game before the year is up.”

“I doubt it. But you’ll definitely still be a bitter asshole stuck in a loveless marriage. If she doesn’t wise up and leave you.”

His answer had been a wordless roar. One she still occasionally heard in her dreams.

Her reverie was broken by a loud buzzing sound. Someone was at the front door.

She got up and shuffled to the intercom. “Hello?”

“Let me in, girl. It’s cold out here,” Jessie’s voice called.

‘What happened to your date?”

“You’re more important. Now, hit the dang buzzer!”

Becky did, and went to hold the door open for her friend.

Jessie bounded up the stairs, plastic bag in hand.

“I come bearing gifts,” she said. “Five flavors of pee sticks and two flavors of ice cream.”

“I told you I was going to take care of it,” Becky protested.

“And did you?”

Becky shook her head.

“Right, then. Pick your poison. Pink, purple, blue, red or generic?” Jessie said, holding the bag out in front of her.

Becky closed her eyes and reached inside.

“Looks like we’re going with pink,” she said.

* * *

Becky sat on the closed toilet lid, eyes squeezed tightly shut. In three minutes she’d have her answer.

There was a soft knock and Jessie came in, her sequined skirt sparkling in the harsh fluorescent light.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Well, I won a two-hundred-and-fifty-million-dollar piece of business, told off my ex, got promoted and found out I might be pregnant. All in one day. How could I be anything less than fabulous?” she said.

Jessie squeezed her hand. “It’ll be okay,” she said.

Her phone alarm shrilled loudly. Becky blew out a big breath of air.

“Do you want to look or do you want me to?” Jessie asked.

“I’ll do it,” Becky said.

Reaching out with one shaking hand, she grabbed the pink-capped stick from where it sat on the edge of her ugly green tub and looked down.

“Well?” Jessie asked, her voice shaking.

Mutely, Becky held it out for her to see, stomach roiling.

“Oh, no,” she breathed. “Becky, I’m sorry.”

She was pregnant.

Becky slammed the toilet lid open seconds before her dinner made a reappearance.

“Well,” Jessie said, when the heaving had stopped. “That’s not the reaction you see on TV.”

Becky tried to smile. “Yep, but—as we well know— advertising tells only a selective version of the truth.”

Jessie helped her up. “You took the words right out of my mouth. Now, come on, let’s get you out of here. Nothing good comes of extended visits to the bathroom.”

A short while later Becky was again stretched out on her purple chaise, a bottle of hastily purchased ginger ale fizzing on the table beside her. Jessie was curled up on her only other piece of furniture—a very faded red couch.

Jessie looked at Becky over the rim of her wine glass. “So, I’m assuming this is Mark’s kid, right?”

Becky raised an eyebrow at her. “While I admit my behavior has been a little more reckless than usual, I assure you I haven’t been having sex with random men I meet on the street.”

“No. I know, I didn’t mean... I’m sorry, Becky.”

She waved her comment away. “No worries. I understand.”

“You know, there’s a clinic in my neighborhood. They have a reputation for being very discreet...”

Becky shook her head. “I don’t need a clinic. I’m keeping it.”

Jessie’s jaw dropped.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, you just got the world’s biggest promotion today.”

“Positive. I’ll figure out how to make it work.” She’d made her decision the second she’d seen the plus sign on the pregnancy test. It was the only thing she could do.

Jessie looked unconvinced. “Well, if you change your mind, just let me know. I’d be happy to go with you.”

Suddenly angry, Becky glared at her friend. “How could you say that to me? You know what happened...before. Having that abortion almost destroyed me. Do you want me to have to go through that again?”

Jessie paled. “I’m sorry. I...I wasn’t thinking. I just don’t want you to rush into anything. It’s a big decision.”

Becky immediately regretted her outburst. Her friend had never been anything but supportive. And there was no way she could know how concrete her decision was.

“I’m sorry, Jessie. You didn’t deserve that. But I’m keeping this baby. I couldn’t live with any other choice.”

Jessie nodded. “All right. Well, I’ll support you, then.”

Becky smiled her thanks and the two women sat silently for a while. Becky thanked her lucky stars she’d gotten that bonus check today. She’d be able to buy the baby everything it needed. And, she thought, looking around her shoebox-size apartment, she might even be able to afford a bigger place.

“What are you going to do about Mark?” Jessie asked suddenly.

Her brain stuttered. “Do?”

“Well, you’re going to have to tell him. It’s not like he won’t notice. Besides, he deserves to know.”

Unbelievably, she’d forgotten about that small detail. She’d been thinking about the baby as hers, not theirs.

“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t think he’s going to be very happy though. He’s pretty anti-kids.”

“Well,” Jessie said, “whatever happens, you know I’ll be there for you. I’ll even be your labor coach, if you want.”

Becky laughed. “I’m not quite ready to think about that yet.”

Jessie looked at her watch, then heaved herself off of the couch. “Man, it’s getting late. I better get going so you can get some rest. Are you going to be okay?”