"It's less about that and more about the fact that I want to be a mother. And we're not talking about my marriage."
Stifling a scathing comment she would not appreciate, he continued to stare at her.
"What?"
"Your husband is a colossal idiot."
She inclined her head with a smile. "He just might be, but he's mine, and I love him. You can relate."
Blair sighed and released her hand so he could reach for his glass. "I can indeed," he agreed. "But it does not stop me from wanting to beat some sense into him. I might too if he wasn't bigger and richer and certainly more powerful. Not to mention the fact that he's capable of destroying my career."
"He has agreed to go to the clinic with me."
Blair sent her a speculative look. "And?"
"He hasn't agreed, but he will." She smiled as the waiter came back with their orders.
"Then this certainly calls for a celebration." He told the waiter to bring the bottle of champagne.
"Isn't it too early?" Eliza protested.
"Darling, it's never too early for Dom." He dug into his salad and launched into a funny story about his meeting with a fan. Eliza found herself relaxing and laughing at his funny anecdote. Blair had the ability to make her forget her troubles.
In the past, whenever he realized that she was distressed, he would coax it out of her and insist on cheering her up. He was witty and kind and hid all of it beneath a suave and utterly adorable demeanor. People liked him because he was genuine. He was also a sucker for a sob story. Something she had been unable to cure him of. He was her one devoted friend in the industry aside from Sally, and she appreciated the fact that if she wanted to be silent, he respected her wish.
She could tell him anything without worrying that it would be blabbed to everyone and printed in the tabloids. He was loyal and faithful and a devoted friend.
"Now, tell me again how certain you are about this monumental decision. IVF can be tricky."
"A hundred and ten percent." She dug into her lobster and marveled that it had become commonplace for her to order the best meal. There had been times in her past when having ramen was considered a luxury. "I have to do this." Putting her utensils down, she propped her elbows on the table and cupped her chin, her eyes entreating.
"I want to be a mom, Blair. When I was on the streets, my greatest wish was to be someone, to achieve something. And I put everything into that desire. I focused on the idea and let it germinate. I thought of nothing else but getting out of the situation I was in.
"I thought about it day and night until it became a fixture inside my mind. That's how I went from being homeless to this where I am now. And it's nothing compared to the way I feel about becoming a mom. I will make it happen."
"Your husband…"
"Will just have to get on board." Moving her hands, she reached for her glass and took a delicate sip. "His parents hate me."
His mouth tightened. "Their own damn loss. They should be proud to have you in their exalted family." He frowned at her. "I hope that's not the real reason you're thinking of doing this."
"Absolutely not," she denied firmly and with enough conviction to have him convinced. "I'm doing this for me, for me and Samuel. I know our marriage is rocky, and I know we've drifted apart, but I'm hoping…"
Reaching across the table, he squeezed her hand. "No need to say more, darling. I understand completely and will be in your corner. Ah, the champagne!"
Chapter 3
The townhouse was as much hers as his. Even before they were married, she had made changes. She recalled his rough comment about not changing it so much that it was unrecognizable. "And no damn fuchsia," he had growled.
"Which is a fancy way of saying pink and I'm not that girl," she had responded sweetly. So, she had stuck with earth colors, soothing orange, faded greens, soft shades of red and a touch of brown for the earth. His style had been aesthetic. Samuel had given the decorator carte blanche and the team had decided that being a man, tan and gold were the two appropriate colors.
So, she decided that an input was in order. It was a lovely old place that had been in the Copeland family for over a century. From the first time she had caught sight of it, she had fallen in love with the old lines and the strong architectural columns. It had five suites in total and a downstairs room and bathroom for a live-in housekeeper, which had never been used. She and Samuel had decided that they did not want a stranger living with them.
They had a housekeeper, a gentle and loyal woman from the Philippines. She had been vetted carefully and made to sign an NDA. Lyka-Mae was a middle-aged woman with a charming accent and one who would cut out her tongue before she revealed her employers' business.
There were security cameras all around the perimeter and a sophisticated system with sensor lights at strategic places. It was also a very secluded location and fairly isolated. There was a pool built into the rocks that had been designed by a celebrity landscaper. Samuel had wanted it to appear as if it had been part of the landscape and it fit in perfectly.
During the summer, especially when she was home from shooting an episode or when a season was finished, she spent her time in the gardens. The paparazzi had captured her kneeling in the dirt, tending to her flowers. It relaxed her and gave her time to unwind.
