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“Awesome. I need to get back, but since you bought lunch, why don’t I get dessert? My credit cards want to be sluts, too.”
“Did you have something specific in mind?” I ask, standing because she does.
She grabs her purse and slides the thin chain over her shoulder. “Wanna stop at Billy’s and get a slice of carrot cake to take home?”
“Oh my God, yes.”
She grins and loops her arm through mine. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty Eight
Hallie
I’m in much better spirits after my day out in the world.
I had to leave Hollis hanging to walk to the bakery with Charity because I knew if she saw I had a limo with me, she would definitely have questions, and she wouldn’t let me change the subject until I answered them.
After lunch and dessert with Charity, I swung by Nordstrom with my new credit card to see if they had the shoes Calvin bought me in any other color. They’re beautiful and also super comfortable, so I’d have no problem owning more than one pair. Fortunately, they did. I was able to get a creamy nude pair, and a pair the same shade as Calvin’s mahogany desk.
Oddly, I only really bought the second pair because they reminded me of Calvin. I’m not sure I even have anything in colors that will match them. I suppose I could accessorize a white summer dress with a belt in that shade if I can find one.
I pictured Calvin telling me how I can wear them in Italy, and a smile tugged at my lips.
Until I decided to brave the baby section.
Fear and anxiety replaced those light, amused feelings.
I gazed at booties, touched tiny little sleeves and poofy little skirts. I went through the baby gear and snapped a picture of a baby carrier I liked before I realized the absurdity of shopping for a car seat when I wasn’t even convincedhavingthe baby was a good idea.
Calvin and I haven’t discussed any other options. In a normal situation with a man I had a normal relationship with, I would never even briefly consider any other option, but this… this is no normal situation, and I’m truly afraid of the power a baby will give Calvin over me.
I know without asking, though, Calvin doesn’t consider there being more than one choice in all this. I’m pregnant, so we’ll have a baby. He doesn’t have to think about all the possible consequences of that decision because he has all the power, he decides how everything will go.
Sure, I could cost him some money, but he doesn’t seem to care about that. I assume it’s because he has enough—or continues to make enough—that he knows he can’t spend enough to run out, but I can’t conceptualize that being anyone’s reality.
I wonder if he knows there’s a lot more to babies than financing them, though. He did say he was an only child. Does he have friends with children at least? I’m not sure. I realize I don’t really know anything about his friends, other than the fact that some of them are obviously really dangerous.
How do you meet people like that?
Then again, I met him because of a chance encounter at a Christmas party.
I guess people meet all sorts of ways.
Before I left the store, I bought a super soft baby blanket I just loved. It was white with dusty pink giraffe spots and pink satin trim around the edges. I realized almost immediately that buying it would only encourage Calvin, and I didn’t want him to come home and see it, so I asked Hollis to swing by my apartment before he took me home so I could stash it there.
“Not a word about this, you hear?” I asked as I climbed back in the limo.
He didn’t confirm or deny whether he would keep my secret, but I took it on faith that he would keep his mouth shut—at least, unless Calvin somehow explicitly asked about it, but that seems entirely unlikely.
Chef Ryan shows up before Calvin to start dinner. I ask if he needs help with anything even though I know he doesn’t. Then I decide to make the most of my “phone time” before Calvin gets home and takes it away again.
I start off with distractions— emails that aren’t crucial, logging into my mobile app game for a bit. But now that I’m back at Calvin’s after buying that baby blanket, my mind seeks out darker places.
He’s normally on the couch beside me when I have my phone. I have a little privacy, but not enough.
Today he isn’t here, and I have a lot weighing on my mind, so I take a darker path down memory lane—a foot path obscured by forest that I would ordinarily pick up the pace near so I could escape without it touching me.
There’s a question in my mind that I don’t want to ask. I don’t really want the answer. Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn’t be interested in it. Some crimes are too heinous, and the people who commit them don’t deserve redemption or second chances. My opinion on the matter is set, and I have no interest in reevaluating.
