Chapter One
“You’re pregnant!” The doctor announced.
Suddenly all grand plans for the future was like gritty wood shavings in her throat. Carla Hornsby swore she was actually choking on it. She couldn’t breathe even if her mouth was wide open. The dream of a neat office surrounded by glass pane windows with her name on the door was fading fast. It was like those sci-fi movies where everything turned into molecules, everything dissolving completely into the unknown.
Nothing registered, not even the face of the doctor who delivered the news. She had probably witnessed this scenario a hundred times in the past.
“This wasn’t planned then?” The question came from a wind tunnel.
“It was only that one time…only for one night!” Carla gasped.
“Well those little suckers don’t really care. You should have been on the pill if you were planning to have sex.”
Carla caught the censure in her voice. The name plate pinned on the left side of her breast pocket revealed the name Janelle Beasley, MD. The woman sighed probably remembering who she was.
“Miss Hornsby, my guess is you’re approximately three weeks pregnant. I’ll know more after the blood tests come back. What you thought was indigestion was a little person growing inside you,” she paused allowing the news to sink in and then continued, “I don’t know what you plan to do about that life growing inside your belly, but if you are not ready to have a baby, we can discuss other options open to you. Please put on your clothes and come to my office.”
Carla rose from the examination table. She was surprised her body still functioned as it was supposed to because she felt like Atlas carrying the sky on her shoulder as atonement for her sin.
“Oh god, no! I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
The excuse sounded lame. An accusing voice whispered at the back of her mind that pregnancy was always possible. Jesus! She was a grown-ass woman. Didn’t she see it coming? True, she’s been single for months and didn’t see the need to take the pill. But sex was the last thing on her mind when she thought of Falcon Manchester.
Really?The accusing voice mocked. Carla rolled her eyes. The shock was wearing off and despair was setting in. Despair turned into desperation. She needed to put the blame on someone else.
“This is all Lindsay’s fault,” she muttered.
Lindsay Davenport. Her friend. A product of the best finishing school in Lausanne Switzerland, a school for those born in to money, where they were taught social graces like extending a pinkie when sipping their tea, before being introduced to society. Lindsay Davenport who could speak three languages and was one of the highest paid models in the world. Names like Tom Ford, Donatella Versace, and Giorgio Armani could be found in her phone contacts.
Lindsay was stunning with the kind of chameleon beauty that was perfect for the runway plus the kind of perky breasts that made couture dresses flow naturally down the slender frame.
She was Falcon Manchester’s girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, to be fair. But in Lindsay’s world the next bigger catch was always in the horizon. She went through her relationships like a box tissue and a runny nose. When she announced she broke up with Falcon, Carla was not really surprised. It was more Lindsay’s request that threw her off.
“Keep an eye on him for me. Tell me if he starts seeing someone else. You know…keep me on the loop.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Carla retorted, shocked.
Please, Carla. I’m not sure if Hans and I will work out. I just need to keep my options open.”
“You’re such a gold digger,” Carla countered hotly.
Lindsay managed to look embarrassed, then pouted as she studied her perfect manicure. “I know. But Hans is a duke. I could be a duchess someday if things work out. But incase things don’t, I can always go back to Falcon.”
Carla was shocked at the callousness. Lindsay said it like it was the most rational thing in the world. What girl didn’t aspire to be married to royalty and still want a fallback? Logical, right? But to keep Falcon in her radar would be spying on him for Lindsay’s sake.
“But why me?” Carla asked.
“Because you’re friends. You get along fine. He thinks you’re a sweet girl. And you’re my friend too.”
Carla didn’t need Einstein’s IQ to understand. Lindsay meant Falcon would never be attracted to someone like her. It hurt. But it was the truth. Carla always felt like a shade of nothing, a shadow, around her best friend. Lindsay often said she wanted more of Carla’s burnished copper hair and golden-brown eyes. Of course, Carla never believed that. She was aware that her 5’4” frame with breasts that were full and narrowed down to a size 26 waistline was mediocre compared to the Lindsay Davenports of this world.
“So, what are your plans for now?” Carla asked.
“I’m leaving for Monaco tonight with Hans.”
“I guess you should start packing then,” Carla replied with sarcasm.
Lindsay sighed and reached out to her. “I’m 28 years old,” she said softly. “I only have a few more years before I am considered too old for the runway. Modeling is a cruel job. You’re only as good as your looks. Falcon is a great guy and we’ve had fun together. And I still want that. But the way I see it, I’ll grab at every opportunity I can so that I don’t grow old miserable and poor. You can understand that, can’t you?”
