Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 (42 page)

“Seriously?” Charlie asked, leaning in and squinting at the image.

“Yup,” the doctor replied. “See this movement right here?” she asked pointing at the screen to the blob in question. “That’s actually the heart.” She flipped a switch on the monitor, and a rapid whoosh-whoosh sound that matched the movement on the screen filled the space.

“Wow,” Charlie sighed.

I was speechless. A baby. A beating heart, blood pumping and thumping. A lump built up so solidly in my throat that I could barely breathe.
I’d considered ‘getting it taken care of.’
Tears stung my eyes and ran down my face.

“Hey, Sweets, it’s okay. We’ve got this. Don’t cry.”

I hiccuped through the tears and replied, “I can’t believe I thought about…”

Charlie didn’t reply, he only brushed away my tears and kissed my lips.

A buzzing noise came from the machine, and a photo slid out of the front of the box. “Your baby’s first photo,” she said handing me the photo.

“Umm, that’s okay,” I said, declining the paper. “It can go in the file. I’m…I’m not keeping the baby.”

“Oh,” she said. No judgment. Just, ‘oh.’

“I’m giving the baby up for adoption,” I explained, managing a week smile.

Dr. Mora replied with a warm, loving smile, making me feel better instantly. “You’re a very considerate young woman.”

After I was all cleaned up, and returned to the doctor’s office, we thoroughly discussed my cycle, the times I’d been with Dickwad, and using the measurements from the ultrasound, the doctor determined my due date to be December 20th. Great. Merry freakin’ Christmas. Charlie was absolutely amazing. He sat there the whole time, holding my hand, asking the right questions that my overloaded mind couldn’t handle at the moment.

Charlie and I thanked the doctor, especially for meeting us outside of her regular office hours, and headed out. We stopped in a small place that served Mexican food for lunch. After we ordered, Charlie and I just sat there. I mindlessly paged through the packet of information for pre-natal care the doctor had given me.

“Oh shit,” Charlie muttered under his breath.

“What?” I asked, straining to see what he was looking at that was on his phone. He quickly turned the screen off, but not before I saw that he was looking at Twitter.

I pulled out my phone and tapped the Twitter app. Charlie tried to grab the phone from my hands, but I shot him a look, that I hoped conveyed
‘Messing with me wouldn’t be advisable.’
Apparently, I pulled it off, because he dropped his head in his hands, and let me have at it. Now I was wishing there was no such thing as Twitter.

#ChaseSmythe

#Choebe

#BabyDaddy

#Preggers

I opened a Tweet. Then another Tweet. Each Tweet worse than the one before. The first one I read was a TMZ buzz. “#CharlieSmythe’s partying days have caught up with him. Got a girl #pregnant.” Others were hurtful. People saying I trapped him. People saying I was faking. There was a series of photos of Charlie and I entering the doctor’s building, with zoom shots of the plate that said, DR. VANESSA MORA, OB/GYN. There was another set of us leaving. Both times, holding hands. I closed the app and set my phone down with a shaking hand.

Shit!
No. This was a
Fuck!

“How did they find us? We were careful. Where were they hiding? I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined your career. I’m so so—”

“Stop it. Right now. No sorrys. This is nothing. You and I know the truth, and we’re the only people that matter here. I’ve told you, Sweets. I’m here for the long haul. It doesn’t matter what they say. I could have Michael track down that paparazzi and try to get him discredited. Have him pull the pics, unfortunately, it’s already out there.”

My mind went into overdrive, imagining the Tweets yet to come. Suddenly, I panicked.

Double fuck!

“Omigosh, when I put the baby up for adoption, I’m going to get crucified!” Tears streamed down my face. I was shaking and I felt like I was going to throw up. “They’re never going to believe it’s
not
your baby. And…and…” My eyes welled up again.

“Sweets. You’re over reacting. Breathe. Have some water.” He slid the glass to my hand, and I took a sip.

“This is the worst thing ever. My life is over. It’s officially over.” I suddenly had flashback to my first day of my internship. Jade and Emma standing there at the elevator, judging every one from the meeting. They were going to have a field day. And Valerie?

Triple, quadruple, quintuple fuck!

“I’m going to lose my job for sure. I should just quit now. Move back to Napa and—” I was full on sobbing and hiccuping. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and try and stop crying about the public humiliation that I was undergoing. When I had calmed down enough, maybe ten minutes later, I forced myself to hold my head high and return to the table.

When I stepped out of the ladies room, and Charlie stood there, our lunches in a to-go bag.

“I got us a ride. We’ll eat at home,” he said taking me under his arm and kissing the top of my head. I nodded, unable to speak yet. Charlie guided us out of the restaurant where he had the restaurant’s hostess holding a cab for us, which we quickly ducked into. I was hoping and praying that the paparazzi weren’t recording this, too.

As we headed up Lexington, I found my voice. “I’m gonna get fat. I mean fatter,” I said flatly, and still sniffling.

“Impossible. And what are you talking about – er? Your body is perfect. You’re perfect.” Charlie said, taking my hand, and running his thumb over my knuckles.

“Right. Like you don’t wish I was a size zero,” I sulked.

Charlie laughed. “Honey, no guy really thinks those skeletons are sexy. They look fine with clothes on, but those hips hurt!” I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Your body is the bomb. And I’m an expert. So, shut it. I love this body now, and I’m gonna love it more as there is more of you to love.”

“And stretch marks are possible. And I’m going to be moody.” I started to cry again.
Damn hormones.
“I totally understand if you want out. You don’t need this in your—”

Charlie pushed me back into the seat and silenced me with a kiss. A soft, gentle, loving kiss. “Stop it,” he muttered against my lips before pulling back slightly and searching my eyes. His eyes were all honesty, and his words, all southern. “I’m not runnin’. I’m stayin’. We’ll take care of the press. If you want me to make a statement sayin’…
whatever
you want… I’ll say it. The baby is mine… it’s not mine… our plans. Just please…
please…
stop talkin’ about us not being ‘us.’ I’m not goin’ anywhere. I know we’re not married and you don’t wanna for a while, but ‘for better or for worse, ’til death do us part,’ you’ve got me.”

I blinked and looked into his wet eyes. He blinked and sent a pair of his own tears down his face.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered.

“We all deserve someone, Phoebe. And for the record, Sweets, it’s
I
who don’t deserve y
ou.”
I shook my head in protest. “It’s true,” he persisted. “If I weren’t Chase Smythe, we wouldn’t be on the radar, you wouldn’t be splashed on the TwitterSphere… If we weren’t ‘Choebe’ and just Charlie and Phoebe—a guy from Georgia, and a smart, beautiful, wonderful, caring woman from California who met in New York City—your life wouldn’t be so complicated.
I
made it complicated, and for that,
I’m
sorry. But, we’re going to get through this together. I promised you. And I don’t break my promises.”

By now, both of us had tears streaming down our faces. The cab stopped and called back the fare.

“Eleven-fifty, sir.”

Charlie pulled out a twenty, and passed it through the tiny hole. “Keep the change,” he said and we crawled out. Before I realized where we were, Charlie ushered us into the hotel and to the bank of elevators.

“Why the hotel?” I asked.

“Well, I’m out of clothes, and I need something nice to wear tonight” he said. Then he grinned and leaned in, “I’m also out of rubbers.”

Thankfully, it was a nice June afternoon, and the tourists that normally crawled all over the lobby were out shopping and sightseeing, and the elevator bay was nearly vacant.

An elevator dinged its arrival and we stepped in. We were immediately joined by a family with four kids, teen twin girls, a toddler boy, and a baby strapped to the husband’s front. The baby was snoozing and looked so adorable, my heart leapt a little. But just a little. Fear and panic started to wash through me again. I didn’t want a baby. I had dreams. I had a life I wanted to live. The elevator stopped on the 8th floor and they got out, leaving Charlie and me alone.

“Can I have you squeeze the other hand, please?” he asked. I looked down and saw that I was gripping his hand so tightly, that both our hands were white.

“I’m sorr—”

“No more apologies. I get it. Seeing the baby… I get it.” The elevator reached the 37th floor and we got out. Silently we walked to his room. Safely inside, Charlie set up our lunches at the small dining area in his magnificent suite.

Memories flooded into my mind of that first night I was in here. Tearing his clothes off, dropping my own clothes seductively. It was the first time I’d heard his southern drawl. Charlie gripped my chin and kissed my nose. “I know. I’ll never forget that night, either.”

Over lunch, Charlie and I talked about how we were going to handle the press. We decided it would be best to sit and talk with Valerie and Michael with their years of PR experience and figure out the best way to proceed. But I also insisted on not keeping this baby. And Charlie was a hundred percent on board with me.

Just as Charlie was clearing our styrofoam boxes, my phone rang.

The caller ID showed a name I had no interest in seeing. Danny.

When will my torture end??

I quickly hit DECLINE on the screen. I couldn’t deal with him now. I looked at Charlie who was questioning the expression on my face.

“It was Danny.” Charlie looked confused. “The…father.” God it felt horrible to call him that. He wasn’t a father. He was a sperm donor. An unwelcome sperm donor.

“Oh. Dickwad. Gotcha.”

“He called the other day and left a voicemail saying he needed to talk to me. I know I’m a chicken shit for not talking to him.”

“What do you think he wants? Do you think he’s calling because of Twitter?”

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “He did post a couple of pictures from when we were dating. So, he knows about us…”

“You know,” he started, walking up to me and dragging us to the sofa. “You’re going to have to talk to him about the adoption. He’s going to have to sign off on it, and his medical record will be important.”

I felt my eyes sting, yet again, from a new batch of tears that threatened.

“I know,” I sighed.

“Want me to talk to him?” he asked, reaching for my phone.

“I’ll do it. I have to grow up at some point. Just—let me talk to my mom first. Oh God,” I groaned. “That’s tonight.” Charlie pulled my legs over his lap and laid my head on his shoulder.

“We’ve got this, Sweets.”

“Why do you call me that? Sweets? I mean, I like it and all, but…”

“Babe is over used. And you are sweet. Like the candy coating on my Good’n Plentys. And you’re even a little spicy on the inside, like the licorice. But mostly sweet. Besides, Good’n’Plenty is a long nickname.” He tilted my head back and his lips found mine. “Mmmmm,” he moaned. “Definitely sweet.”

I
t was a few minutes before seven and Charlie and I stood on the impressive front stoop of Jack’s mid-town townhouse. The large shiny black door with its polished knocker had an intimidating, yet quaint, appearance. The door opened and there stood my mom. A smile exploded on her face and she hugged me tightly, dragging me into the immense foyer of the home, then delivering a hug, but not as tight, to Charlie.

“Chase, it’s nice to meet you. Come, come,” she urged, taking our hands and leading us into the sumptuously furnished living room. I looked around stunned at the opulence of the room. Rich browns, soft creams, chrome and mirror. An understated elegance with a nod to traditional furnishings.

“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Fairchild. Thank you for having us over for dinner,” Charlie said, his southern drawl that he used when it was the two of us—gone.
Was he nervous?
I mused. He was ‘acting’ to get through tonight.

“Actually, I’m going by Morris these days.” My mother looked at me cautiously.

Morris? As in her maiden name?
It surprised me some, and saddened me a little, but I could understand that when you leave someone, you would want a fresh start.

I looked at her dress, a stylish, coffee-colored maxi dress that was a great compliment to the color of her hair. What really caught my eye was the gorgeous white and chocolate diamond pendant that she wore, and when she turned I marveled at the companion pendant that hung down her back.

Jack came into the living room sporting a simple black apron, over jeans and a cerulean blue t-shirt, and wiping his hands with a towel. Such a stark difference from every other time I’d met the man who had worn a suit, an expensive looking suit, those times. When Mom turned to look at him, I mused at how she was nearly unrecognizable from the mom she’d been in California. It wasn’t just the hair, but her whole demeanor. Her body was more relaxed. She positively glowed. I’d never really noticed, but even her eyes were happy.