“But Ducky—”
“Aaand secondly, I don’t want another dress. Please? I’m not really into the whole fashion thing, and it makes me feel like an imposter when I wear something I can’t even pronounce the name of.”
And I don’t want Victor Von Doom having anything else to say about me, I add silently.
“Oh alright. So let’s talk about this event, and then you should retire early. You’re looking pale to me.”
Twenty minutes later I’m showered, dressed in a long silk nightgown and in bed. Sleepless. With a huff, I reach over and flick on the light to get at the phone next to the bed, my hands shaking as I lift the handset from the cradle and punch in the numbers I’ve been avoiding for months.
“Hello?”
The voice is achingly familiar and sleep roughened, and it makes me long so much my eyes water and I have to stifle a hiccup of a sob.
“Alec?”
“Shawsie? Is that you, honey?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” I whisper, smiling when I hear a rustle and a feminine groan that tells me my brother is not the angel I keep telling myself he is. “You busy? I can call you back.”
“Naw, just a one and done babe, and she’s out like a light after I finished her off.”
“Gross Al, just gross,” I mutter with a smile that he hears and makes him chuckle softly.
“Talk to me, babe. I haven’t heard from you in three months and that tomb we gestated in together is worse than useless when it comes to answering her phone.”
I crack up at the usual reference to Gloria’s womb and spend a minute collecting myself before taking a deep breath and plunging ahead.
“I got into some trouble, Al. I lost the internship and my apartment and I had to move in with the zombie eater.”
There’s more rustling on the other end, and then I hear a door close and what sounds like the refrigerator opening and closing before he answers.
“Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”
And this is why I’ve let myself be humbled. This is why I’d elected to move an ocean away. My brother is one mean-assed football playing law graduate, and he also happens to be my fiercest protector.
He’d drop his whole life on a dime if I needed him.
“Ah no. That would be a negative, Captain Kirk. I’m in England with my baby daddy’s family, and they’re taking good care of me.”
“You’re pregnant!”
Oh Lord.
“Yes,” I say in a croaking voice, squeezing my eyes shut, as he takes a long drawn out breath that lets me know what he’s thinking.
“Shaw.”
“I know, Al. I know, okay. I messed up and lost everything I’ve been working for. Mom already gave me the lecture about being young and dumb. I get it.”
“Why didn’t you call me, and why did you leave mom’s place?”
Oh, trust him to focus on that. Have I mentioned how much Alec despises our old uterus? Well, he does. A lot. Could have something to do with her never taking care of us, or the fact that he worked since the age of fourteen when she stopped feeding us regularly.
“Well, I didn’t so much leave as she kicked me out,” I mutter, picking at the bedspread and leaning back when I hear him grunt.
This is going to be a long conversation so I may as well get comfortable.
“She tossed you out? In your condition? That fucking—”
“Don’t worry about it, Al. Earl gave me a few dollars, and I went to Sister Fran. I’m good.”
I don’t tell him that I’d been sick or living at the shelter and subsisting on one meal a day, if I could keep it down, for a full month.
Sister Fran is great, but she’s just one person, and she has more charges to look after than just her favorite sometimes-believer.
“You find that son-of-a-bitch who knocked you up?”
“Yes. And no.” I sigh, biting my lip when he stays silent, waiting for me to continue. “He died. That’s why I couldn’t reach him.”
Nope. He’d avoided my calls those first months and then died, but I can’t tell Al that or the man will go nuts and be on the first plane out of the U.S.
“Shaw.”
“I’m fine, Al. I got in contact with his brother, and he came to get me. I’m doing better. The doctors are taking care of me and really, I love his family. They’re so kind, nothing like Gloria.”
I hear another snort, and this time he lets out a small laugh.
“Yeah, I can just imagine her face when she found out. That woman acts like babies are the plague or something.”
“Yup. So how are things? You still doing good?”
“Better than. I got a spot at one of the top firms, and I got to take the bar since I finished early. Just waiting on the results and then I should be golden.”
“Oh Al, I’m so happy for you,” I whisper.
“Thanks, babe. You sure you’re good? No one’s treating you bad or nothing?”
Oh, ever the protector.
“I’m perfect. Promise. Now go back to bed. I’ll call you in a few days and then I want a full report on the life of my amazing lawyer brother.”
Chapter Seven
Cam
As the line goes dead, I replace the phone and lean back with a vile curse that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I’m not in the habit of listening to others’ phone conversations, but the minute I’d seen Shaw’s extension light blinking on the phone, I’d been helpless to stop myself.
Expecting her to call whatever loser boyfriend she has back at home, maybe to report about her progress and laugh about my family’s gullibility.
I am floored by the fact that she’s talking to her brother, a twin I’d known about but never paid much attention to since he’s away at school and seems to be keeping his head down and in his books.
The thing that’s throwing me is that she could have told her brother everything about my treatment of her, and he would have been over here and to the rescue like a shot.
Instead, she’s sugar coating everything to make it sound as if she’s having a great time, something I know to be untrue since I watch her more often than not and see that dull look in her eyes that tells me she’s not entirely happy.
Of course, she could just be plastering over the cracks with Alec so that she can stay here in the lap of luxury instead of going back to live in near poverty.
Maybe I’m being unfair and attaching another’s sin to her, but I can never forget the treachery that women are capable of, and no matter how much I want to forget it and allow myself to have a shot at Shaw and her magnificent, lust inducing body, I can’t allow myself to get soft.
If I do, I could be right back where I was three years ago, and that is not an option for me. I’d barely survived that experience; I won’t open myself up to more heartbreak.
“You realize you’re being a right wanker.”
I look up from my desk to see Dad lounging in the doorway, his hair disheveled—as always—from hours spent pouring over his books and catalogues.
Dad is a classic case of the lord of the manner. The oddly eccentric gent who cares more about his leisure pursuits than business or money. To be fair, we have so much of the stuff that I could sell the company and still leave my great-grandchildren a tidy sum, so the fact that he’d told me to take the helm or let him sell ten years ago isn’t a black spot against him.