Heaven in Hedonism (The Sinful Series Book 3) (16 page)

Stiffening, I pushed off his chest. “I’m not having an abortion,” I spat. “And fuck you for even suggesting it.” My arms were crossed protectively over my body. The ball was in his court.

He pointed at me like he was going to say something, then thinking better of it, he shook his head, turned on his heels and walked away. For the first time since our conversation began, I looked around, worrying over who might have seen. As usual, we seemed to be the only ones left in the building. I felt lost, completely bereft. Why was I still here? I didn’t want to be here, hadn’t for a while. It was time to go.

Walking back into the office, I headed straight for my desk. Looking it over, I realized I didn’t really have anything here that I couldn’t live without. Still, it was the principle of it. How would he know I was gone if I didn’t take my things and leave? I grabbed the only framed picture I had on my desk, the one of me and Sin with our old VW bus from when we first started this adventure, and stuffed it in my voluminous purse. Then I grabbed my pens. They were all imprinted with places we had visited. My eyes scanned the contents of the drawer, the caddy on the top corner, even my blotter. Nothing else mattered. Finally, I realized I didn’t want anything else. Lifting the wastebasket that was under my desk, I swept the only items from the top of my desk that would fit into it. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out my badge and laid it on the center of the blotter. This was the closure part I should have loved. Only there was none because I still secretly hoped that if I killed enough time, Mac would stroll through those doors and haul me into his arms, never let me go. The longer I waited, the less likely that ending seemed. It had been a really long time since I had experienced this kind of hurt. My entire adult life had been designed to avoid it.

For ten years, everything had been neat and easy. Then I had to go and change things. Really, I should be gearing up for my biggest move of all, but I had never done that without Sin. It was her big move that brought us here. It was her great love that would keep her here. I was on my own—with a baby on the way.

Throwing my shoulders back, I walked from the office and out of the building. There was no turning back now, even if I changed my mind. Without my badge, there was no way for me to get back in. Mac had suggested an abortion. Without a change of heart, there was no way for him to get back in either.

It had been an exhausting day with the realtor, or this baby was a little life-sucking vampire, stealing all my energy. Actually, such an analogy was probably much closer to the truth. On the way in from the parking lot I had stopped by the mailbox. I rarely received anything important, so instead of being a daily event, it had become more of a weekly occurrence. As was often the case, I set the armload of envelopes on the counter while I went and grabbed a drink. It was hot outside and though I did a lousy job of taking care of myself as I should, I was determined it never be said that I couldn’t take care of the little one growing inside me. Then, when I couldn’t stop yawning, I figured it might be time for a nap, so I curled up in my lounge chair by the window and promptly fell asleep.

There was no telling how long I might have slept, had I not been interrupted by a series of missed phone calls that I ignored and the incessant chime of my text messages. In my mind, I imagined it might be Sin calling to check on me or make suggestions for my living situation. Then the ringing just became too much, and I gave up and opened my eyes to check my cell. It showed seven missed phone calls and so far three text messages from Mac. Sighing, I decided to open them. We hadn’t spoken for days, not since I quit. Maybe he was just upset over my abrupt departure. Maybe he had just finally noticed. Or maybe, least likely of all, he was filled with regret and wanted us back. My suspicions were confirmed the moment I saw the string of messages.

Mac: What in the bloody hell?

Mac: Jolie, don’t fecking ignore me!

Mac: You may not want to talk to your former boss, but how do you feel about talking to your husband?

With a sigh, I finally responded. His third text was too much of an enigma for me to resist.

Jolie: I don’t have a husband. Napping. Leave me alone.

Ah, but apparently that wasn’t enough for him. He had to call now since he knew I was awake. Sighing, I realized I never should have responded. When would I ever learn? I let the phone ring several times before I broke down and accepted the call.

“What?” I asked without even attempting to hide the frustration in my voice.

“You come off as all standoffish, but you are the worst one yet!” he shouted.

Sitting up abruptly, I said in my most menacing voice, “Do not raise your voice to me. What is your fucking problem? I quit. We’re not together. There’s no reason for you to be bothering me anymore. Got it?”

There were several loud angry sighs before he spoke again. “Of course, darling,” he began evenly, “just as soon as the divorce is final.”

“Yeah, well good luck with that. I always knew you would make some woman absolutely miserable one day. I just don’t know why you’re bothering me about it. Have a nice life.” As soon as those words were spoken, I ended the call. There really was nothing left for us to say to one another and I didn’t want to be getting upset in my delicate condition. Thinking about my baby put a smile on my face. Suddenly, I was delicate.

My phone rang again. It was Mac.

“What the fuck, dude?” Hopefully that would wake him up.

He sounded like an angry bull through the phone. “Apparently we are having some sort of breakdown in communication.”

“Well, it coincided with the breakdown in your attitude. We speak the same language, so we can rule out language barrier. I don’t know what your problem is, but you seriously need to leave me alone. I don’t care about your personal life. And I definitely don’t care about you.” I winced some as those final words were spoken. Sadly, I did care about him. No matter how hard I worked to forget him, I would have a permanent reminder of him soon enough. Though I hadn’t thought this pregnancy through, I didn’t regret it.

“I’m trying to be calm, but it’s incredibly difficult since in addition to stealing my sperm you have now stolen my
bachelorhood
.”

Leaning over in my chair, I could feel my stomach positively rolling. Stress was not helping me. “Listen,” I said quietly, willing the room to stop spinning. “I was wrong to use you for a baby. I get that. But I had nothing to do with your bachelorhood.”

“So, you didn’t get a nice manila envelope from Jamaica today?” he questioned carefully.

Grumbling, I stood, immediately grabbing onto the back of the chair. “I don’t know. Gimme a minute. I’ll check.” Slowly and carefully, I made my way to the counter where I had left the pile of mail. There was an envelope much like he described at the bottom of the pile. Pulling it out, I checked for the postmark and return address. It was from Jamaica all right. While I started to open it, there was knock on my door.

“Just a sec. Someone’s at my door,” I told him.

Chuckling some and sounding much calmer, he said, “Jolie, it’s me.”

“Oh, it’s unlocked,” I mumbled as I worked to open the piece of mail. “Come in.”

“Why would you leave your door unlocked? Do you have any sense at all, woman?” he demanded, sounding frustrated. A second later, he strode through the door. Though moments before he had been upset, aggravated, he was now every bit the picture of a calm, cool, and collected business man in his polo shirt and Dockers. Our eyes connected and in an instant I was brought back to those long hours of tantric lovemaking in our room. My heart pounded in my chest. I could feel the heat rising in my face. Turning my attention back to the document I was pulling from the now open envelope along with a photograph. I recognized it as having been taken after we signed the document from the tantric graduation ceremony. My brow furrowed. This didn’t make sense.

By now, Mac was right beside me. I struggled to keep him from knowing the impact his presence had on me. It was even more of a struggle to figure out what the hell I was looking at.

Turning my attention to the document, I soon discovered it was both ornate and official looking, complete with a gold seal. The writing across the top declared it was a Marriage Certificate. Both of our names were on it. Studying it for a moment, I realized we had signed it. I recognized the signature. What I didn’t understand was how it happened.

Mac was at my elbow, staring at it with me. Looking up at him, I managed to say, “What?” Then my vision went black and I lost my balance. Gravity tugged at me and I willingly gave in.

Strong arms caught me. The last thing I heard was his British accent saying, “I’ve got you.”

Only I didn’t want him to get me. I didn’t want to be his, not now, not after those angry words we spoke at the office. “Wanker,” I muttered. Then it was too much work to do anything but let the darkness in.

*  *  *

When I opened my eyes, I was lying in the lounge chair and he was standing over me talking on the phone. “She’s pregnant,” he said agitatedly. “This can’t be normal. Can you send an ambulance please?”

“I’m awake,” I grumbled. “No ambulance.”

“She says she doesn’t want one.” Mac listened for a moment. “Can I just take her to her doctor?” Looking at me, he warned, “It’s too late, the EMS will be here soon.”

“This is San Francisco. Soon is a long time from now. Cancel it,” I said as I struggled to sit up. “We have bigger worries than why I passed out.”

He looked at the ceiling. “Like what? What’s a bigger worry than this?” He was pacing agitatedly.

“Well, how the hell we ended up married, for starters.” I watched him for a reaction.

“Good point,” he said and gave me a thumbs-up. “Okay, we’re taking her to the doctor. Please cancel the ambulance. By the time they arrive, we’ll be gone. Thank you.” Then he hung up. “Call your doctor,” he ordered.

“Pass me my phone,” I grumbled while pointing to the counter.

“Fine.” His words were crisp. We weren’t out of the woods yet. He was still plenty pissed.

“What’s your problem?” I asked, staring at him.

“You’re pregnant, we’re married, and you think I’m a wanker.” He was quiet a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, I think that about sums it up.”

“Get over it,” I mumbled. “My body, my rules, and I’ll gladly divorce you. The last thing I want is to be married to someone who is in love with someone else. Now stop acting like a wanker and I won’t call you one. Problems solved.”

“In love with someone else?” Mac questioned.

I was shaking slightly. Suddenly I had no choice but to admit something I had kept secret for weeks. “You know how I walked into the room to pee after the ceremony. I heard you on the phone. I tried to play it off, but I heard you say ‘I love you’.” The words cut my heart like a knife.

“You have no idea what you heard,” he argued.

“I know you weren’t saying those words to me!” I snapped.

“I’ll explain all of that later. Should I assume you decided against—” he began.

Glaring at him, I warned, “Say it and I’ll pop you right in the mouth. I never decided against it because it was never on the table, you fecking twat.”

“Since when did you start implementing British swearing?” he asked, seeming slightly perturbed.

“Well, I started researching it on the flight home the first time you told me we were having a breakdown in communication. I wanted to make sure when I was mad at you, you knew it.” I shrugged at my explanation.

Before he could say anything else, I focused my attention on the cell and hit the button to dial the doctor’s office. It was still early afternoon, plenty of time to get in if she felt it was necessary. I didn’t want him to listen in on the conversation, so I walked into the bedroom while I spoke to her nurse, but not before I looked at him very pointedly when I shut the door.

When I returned a good five minutes later, he seemed hurt. “Why do you shut me out?”

“You keep bringing up abortion. Any other stupid questions?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Well, what did the doctor say?” he asked, a worried look on his face.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s none of your concern.” I glared at him.

“None of my concern? Had I not been here, you would have hit the floor!”

“Before you called, I was asleep. It probably wouldn’t have happened at all!” I growled.

Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his curls. “Bloody hell, woman. What do you want from me?”

Taking three steps closer, I waited until I was directly in front of him before speaking. “Not a damn thing.” Then I walked away. “I already told you that,” I griped. “I made that clear days ago.”

“Can we just talk?” he asked.

Shaking my head, I said quietly, “Not now. I’m tired. We can talk tomorrow. I’m going to bed. Be sure to let yourself out.” Walking into the bedroom, I closed the door partway and climbed into bed. Though I was troubled by the unexpected marriage, I was more troubled by passing out. The nurse suggested that I rest more, eat more, drink more fluids. I was to watch for unexpected bleeding. At only six weeks, there was not a lot they could do. My first appointment wasn’t even until next week. Closing my eyes, it was time to rest. I gave in without a fight, quickly drifting off to sleep.

It wasn’t much of a rest. Once again, Mac interrupted. When I opened my eyes, the back of his hand was on my forehead. As I studied him, I realized his brow was furrowed in worry. Then, I was gripped by pain, the terrible breathtaking kind. A moan escaped my lips.

“And this is why I woke you,” he said seriously, the concern evident. “Do you think you can walk? If not, we’ll be going by ambulance after all.” He offered me an arm to sit up.

The room was spinning like before. The only difference as far as I could tell was that the pain was so much worse. Still, I put on my tough face. It was the only face I knew. “I can walk,” I assured him.

“Listen, hot shot, you haven’t even made it out of bed yet. Let’s not go overestimating your abilities,” he chided me.

Taking a deep breath, I swung my feet over the side of the bed and gradually stood. Fully erect hurt too much, but slightly hunched over was tolerable. “Let’s go,” I said evenly, trying desperately to hide my pain.

Sighing, he wrapped an arm around my waist. “You don’t always have to be so tough, you know. Let your husband help shoulder the burdens in life.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, frowning.

“Practicing. Husbands get all kinds of perks that baby daddies don’t. I’m not leaving you.” His grip on my side tightened. “Where’s your purse?”

“Counter.” It had only taken a couple of steps and I was now sharing one-word responses. This sucked.

We grabbed for my purse on the way out the door. He helped me to his car, which was parked next to my truck. “Cute,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, they do look pretty good together.” He opened the passenger door and helped tuck me. A second later he was helping me hook the seatbelt.

“Didn’t have to,” I managed.

“Of course I did,” he said jovially. “It gave me an excuse to do this.” Mac leaned in and kissed me on the lips. It was like Valium and hope and the promise of a brighter future all wrapped into one.

Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the pain. This was going to be a long ride. As soon as he was seated in the driver’s side, he reached over to hold my hand. “You hate me.” I reminded him.