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I should be proud of my performance. I frightened him into staying away. It’s what I wanted, right? Then why the hell do I miss him so much? Why can’t I stop thinking about him and remembering how his fingers felt on my skin?
I need to get out of my own head. I glance at the progress or rather non-progress I’ve made on my novel and feel the now-familiar panicky feeling rise up my throat. A walk will put me in a better state of mind to write.
I push my chair back and slip on a bra and some decent jogging pants. Working from home means that I now have the luxury of taking off my bra, especially now that my nipples are so sensitive and easily aroused. A brush of material is enough to make my pussy contract with need. I’ve never been so obsessed with sex as I am now. I wake up multiple times a night with a deep ache between my legs. I’ve tried masturbating, and while it satisfies the ache, it’s a temporary measure, and it soon comes back.
Ready, I grab my house keys and head out. I’ve no particular destination in mind, but my feet and brain work in conjunction and take me to the park. Sadness fills me at the sight of families hanging out together. A mother, father, and child.
I’ll never have that, and my baby will never have his father in his life. I stop and watch a father secure his toddler son on a swing and then gently push him back and forth. I can easily imagine Alec in that role, but thanks to my lack of self-control, he probably never wants to see me again. Chasing him from my house was not the problem. Having sex with him was. I should have picked any other man to have sex with apart from Alec. Like Peter. Which reminds me that Peter is due back tomorrow morning. It’ll be nice to have someone to cook for and have a conversation with.
I walk around the park for half an hour and then head back home. I see a posh Mercedes parked in front when I’m still a long distance from my house, and I quicken my step. On getting closer, I see that the car is unfamiliar, and the occupants are still inside. I falter in my step, wondering whether to talk to them or go straight into my house. I opt for the latter. Maybe their destination is not my place. As I go up the porch steps, the car door opens.
I look back just as an older gentleman is helping a woman, probably his wife, get out of the car. Standing to one side is a man who is obviously the driver. I keep my eye on them as I rummage in my pocket for my house keys.
“Hello, are you by any chance Miss Ivy Martin?” the older gentleman says.
They are a dignified-looking couple, and they look so familiar, yet I know we’ve never met. They are the type of people I would never forget if we had met before. They reek of wealth and class.
“That’s me,” I tell them with a friendly smile.
As they walk from the car to the porch, the woman glances from side to side as if she’s afraid of catching something. That wipes the smile from my face.
The gentleman meets my gaze, and that’s when I realize who they remind me of. Alec. These must be his parents, but what are they doing at my house?
They step up to the porch, and the gentleman takes the lead and introduces himself and his wife. They are indeed Alec’s parents.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask as I open the front door.
I wish I’d worn nicer jogging pants and a T-shirt. I feel self-conscious especially compared to how well-dressed they are.
“Yes, that would be nice,” the woman says, speaking in clipped tones as if I’ve upset her.
I swallow hard, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. I don’t want anything from them; why should I care about the sort of impression I’m making? Sure, I’m carrying their grandchild, but that was not my choice or fault. The fuck up was their own clinic.
I hold the door open as they enter. Thankfully, the living room is neat with Peter away. He’s the one who causes a mess as he likes vegging out in front of the TV when he’s not working.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask when they are seated.
Alec’s mom sits at the very edge of the seat as if she’s bracing herself to have to run out at any moment. As she eyes my house, she has the same look Alec had when he first came. Barely concealed disdain.
“No, thank you,” his father says in a voice that’s neither friendly nor unfriendly.
Alec told me that both his parents were doctors too. His father probably used the same tone when delivering bad news to a patient.
“We know you are carrying our grandchild, and we are here to see what we can do for you,” his father continues.
Something sticks in my throat at the warm words, especially as they are not delivered warmly. “That’s nice of you to offer,” I say, smiling at them both.
They do not return my smile.
“We are aware of your need for …” Mrs. Anderson pauses to glance around my living room, “money, and we are willing to help you with that.”
I’m confused. “I don’t understand. Why would you give me money?”
They glance at each other before Mrs. Anderson plows on, “We know about the arrangement you had entered into with the Clarks, and we’d like to enter into a similar arrangement with you. Of course, our deal will be much sweeter.” She smiles then.
A cold block of ice forms around my heart. Whatever these two are here for, it’s not filled with good wishes. The mention of the Clarks puzzles me. That was not in the file, and the only person who could have told them was Alec. Hurt feelings course through me.
When I do not respond, Mrs. Anderson continues speaking in a louder, more confident voice, “We’re willing to offer you a million dollars, and in return, you’re going to sign away all the rights of that baby. You’ll walk away and never come back. With Alec’s help, my husband and I will raise the child as an Anderson.”
