“You are,” she smiles, leaning forward to press her hand to my belly that hasn’t even started showing yet. Though there is a small, russet potato sized bump that is clearly not fat under there. It’s wild. “And you’re going to be a good mother, Amanda.”
“Even though his father isn’t speaking to me?” I ask shakily.
Her eyes dart up to mine. “He?”
“I don’t know. I just…have a feeling.”
She smiles again. “See? Mother’s intuition. And as far as his daddy goes, he’ll come around. You two were never casual or pre-arranged or anything of the sort.”
I sniff and wipe my nose with the hanky before picking up another scone. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I knew from the start that you had feelings for him. And then when I saw y’all together, even though his family’s noses were pointed far too north for my taste, I could tell he held a candle for you. And I think he still does. He just needs to get his bearings about it, that’s all. Even the manliest of men’s knees buckle at the idea of a baby. But he’ll warm up to it.”
“How are you so certain about everything?” I ask.
Iris sits back and ponders it, her eyes in the distance and a content look on her never worried face. “Because that’s just usually how things work out. For decent people anyways. Life is hard, it throws punches. But good people who press forward and stand up for themselves and work hard and love harder…things work out for them. Maybe not in the way they thought it would. But even so. And if I had to guess, your life is still headed in a good direction, Amanda. I can feel it.”
I don’t feel it.
Even with her sitting across from me, her care package between us, I am having a very hard time feeling it. But I listen to her words because I need them to be true. I need more than anything for this to work out and for me– for us– to be okay. That and Iris has a way of always being right.
Monday rolls around and I know I have to head back into work. Callum and I still haven’t spoken. He’s stopped blowing up my phone and I’ve stopped checking for texts. I know that walking into work with the chance of bumping into each other after what I now refer to as “The eternal silence” is going to be way more awkward, but I’ve decided to take my chances.
I make my way past the front desk, offering cordial smiles where earned as I head down the hall to the glass elevator. I look around but only as much as I need to, looking out for–well…him. It’s not that I am avoiding Callum. But I am also making no point to run into him either. Not until I have conjured up a script of what I want to say. Or how I feel.
Luckily I am able to duck into the recording room slash my office without seeing any of the suit and ties. I take a deep breath and shrug out of my bag and my guitar. Then I set down myiced coffee, my water bottle that looks more like a jug (who knew pregnancy would make a person so THIRSTY?) and pull the sheet music I have been working on up on my tablet. As much as things have been hard and I’ve been dreading walking back in the building again, it feels good to be back here. In this room.
I sit cross legged on the floor in my boots and tights and black skirt and band shirt, all things that make me look very alternative compared to the women who date men who work here. Things that I once hid from everyone I knew. Things that are me. And I pull my guitar from its case, hook it up and start strumming. God. Even THAT feels good.
I play the song I have been working on once, twice through before making a couple changes and smiling because despite the chaos, I am close to being where I need to be with it. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door.
Dread fills my chest and flushes into my stomach and everywhere else. I suppose I knew the conversation was coming, though I’ve been prolonging it. I still don’t know what I am going to say. What he’s going to say. And whether or not he can make up for what he’s already said.
“Hello,” the voice that comes through the door is similar but not his. Which can only mean one thing.
“Avery,” I stand up unable to identify whether I am relieved or confused or disappointed or a mixture of all of it. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a man pay a visit to the recording booth of his own family businesses?" Avery walks in, hands in his pockets, lanky chest puffed out, reptilian smile on his lips.
He may be Callum’s twin, but he is a far cry from his brother in every sense of the word.
“I suppose so,” I nod, brushing my hair from my face. For a moment, he looks around, eyeing each corner of the room aswell as my set up. He takes his time though I know full well he has no actual interest in any of it.
“How do you like working here? Is it everything you hoped and dreamed? Everything you…calculated?”
With that, I square my shoulders and hold my ground. I don’t care if he is a Hardin. Right now, that name is nothing but a pain in my ass. An allusion. A paycheck.
“With no disrespect, Avery. What do you want?”
Avery’s smirk ticks up a notch and he waits a lazy moment before dragging his attention over to me. “I guess I just want to know if any of it was true?”
“If any of what is true?” I ask. “The media? I hate to admit it, but they’re pretty spot on. I met him in Vegas. We got married. And we fucked around. I found out he was my boss, and he told me…” I wait, questioning whether or not it’s wise to go on. Then, I decide I don’t care. “He told me it was in my best interest, in both our best interests to stay married. I could keep the job I always dreamed of and…so could he.”
Avery nods once and very slowly, his smirk still stapled to his face.
“I see. And the baby?”
“Is his. If you’re questioning that.”
