With those words, I’m back to being her boss. Disconnecting the call, I turn to tell Georgie I’m heading out, but she’s asleep.
Instead of canceling with Zelda, I scramble to find my boots, billfold, and keys. Before I leave, I go to my office and dig out a fake beard that attaches pretty easily with the glue I have nearby. Whenever I’m home, I like to walk amongst the people without detection. I’m always amazed at the treatment I get based on how I look. Strange, but I haven’t once thought to do this stupid shit while Georgie’s been here.
By the time I grab a baseball cap, stick it on my head, and jog to my garage via a door from my office, it’s close to 4AM. Once I find a store, I scoop up what Zelda told me and add my own purchase—a pregnancy test for Georgie.
This early morning demand may only be a fluke. I’ll take a wait and see attitude. Therefore, I lock the test away in my office when I make it back home two hours later, then rush to the bedroom.
Georgie is awake again and in tears. When I serve the food to her and her tears stop, she offers me a sweet kiss of thanks, then curls against me and falls asleep.
I finally know the meaning of being on top of the world.
Georgie
Four weeks. An entire glorious month. Just me and Sloane, lost in each other and the world we’ve created. Horseback rides and spins in his sports cars. Even though the weather is cooling, we venture into the pool, skinny dipping at midnight several times.
He does lock himself in his office a couple of hours a day. Every other day, I sit and listen to him singing and playing various guitars in the soundproof music room. I always promise to behave, but fail most of the time. I sucked his dick while he played his acoustic guitar and serenaded me.
Twice, we square off at tennis, but he wins all the time.
As best I can, I keep his bedroom clean, changing the sheets once a week. A very different event from having my sheets changed every day at home. Even when we were in hotels, room service switched our sheets. I clean the bathroom, dust, and vacuum, and I find the domesticity comforting.
He treats me as if I’m the lady of the house. Me? I finally feel loved and wanted. The days seemed to have flown by. Before I know it, we have ten days left until he heads to Europe.
Since he mentioned parting ways with me when he first told me he’d bring me to Denver, the subject’s never come up again. I should keep my mouth shut, but I decide to ask him directly when I go downstairs for breakfast.
Two days ago, I demanded Sloane find potatoes and gravy for me with a pork chop. He looked appalled, but I was close to hysterical, so somehow he got it for me. Early this morning, I woke up ravenous to have him inside of me. Once we finished, I had to have pancakes.
A smile breaks out on my face, because I smell them before I reach the breakfast room. I almost skip the rest of the way. Sloane’s sitting in his seat with his head in his hands, his car keys are on the table next to him, as is a grocery store bag. I go to the sideboard where he always sits everything whenever it’s delivered, on the days we don’t feel like cooking. After last night, I understand why he ordered out.
Wanting to cheer him up, I prepare two plates, although I’m kind of stingy with the pancakes. I dig in, but soon notice he doesn’t touch his food or look at me.
“Sloane?” I ask tentatively.
He slides the bag to me.
Offering his lowered head an uncertain smile, I open the bag and gasp. He’s bought me a pregnancy test. I’m suddenly nauseated and dizzy and scared. The feelings are figments of my imagination. Other than craving crap I never have before, I’ve been fine.
I swallow and open my mouth to speak.
“Go and take it.”
“Okay,” I say quietly. There’s nothing I’d like more than to have Sloane’s baby, but not now. A few months down the road? Yes. If I’m pregnant now…
After I pee on the stick, endless minutes pass while I wait. Slowly, I see a pink line and the faint outline of a second pink line, until it darkens, too.
“Fuck!” Sloane snarls from behind me. I didn’t hear him walk into the bathroom, but he notices my shaking hands. His blue gaze narrows on the results. He pounds the wall, punctuating each punch with a, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The way he glares at me, I think he blames me, so I say, “I’m sorry.”
I want him to hold me and tell me everything will be fine. I’m scared. For him. For me. For us. And I’m most certainly afraid for my baby.
My baby. I’m going to be a mom. I try to wrap my head around the news, but it’s difficult to comprehend. I touch my belly. It wasn’t so long ago that I marveled that I could take a man into me. Now, I have another human growing inside of me.
“What are you going to do?”
His voice is toneless.
“Keep it.” I know that’s what he’s asking.
Closing his eyes, he tips his head towards the ceiling and breathes in heavily. “Fine.”