An Illicit Pursuit (19 page)

“I’ll let Miranda know you’re here.” As soon
as she calls Miranda about my visit, Miranda comes out to welcome
me back in her office.

She gestures toward the sofa, and I sit. “I
wasn’t expecting you so early. Have you given it enough thought? Do
you have questions about the contract?”

I clasp my hands in my lap and stare at them.
“I’ve decided to abort... it.”

She sits across me, exhales a long breath,
hums a few times, crosses and uncrosses her legs. “Are you
absolutely sure about it?”

“No, but I’m more sure about aborting it than
keeping it, if that makes any sense.”

“Okay,” she says and leaves the office. I
hear her talking to Reese but can’t make out the words clearly.

In about an hour, I walk into an abortion
clinic, trying my very best to tune out the arguments of the
protestors outside, though without success because they continue
yelling in my head. Reese sits silently beside me, while I fill out
the paper work, then wishes me good luck when the nurse calls out
my name. If I had any luck, I would be with Zach, making plans for
our future together with our baby.

I glance at the other women in the waiting
room; some in tears, some simply tuned out; generally none with a
content expression on their faces. We’re all aware of the wrongness
of our decision, yet here we are, about to terminate a precious
life.

I have to use all my strength to follow the
nurse into the surgery room, because my entire body seems to be
conspiring against my decision. Harder is holding back the tears,
though. I lie silently on the examination table, letting the
technician do the ultrasound, then wait for the doctor to inject
the anesthesia. Unfortunately it only numbs my body, but I
desperately need a drug to numb my soul so I don’t feel the
excruciating guilt of killing my own baby.

I dream of Zach and I running after our baby
in a playground. I wish I could record that dream; I wish I could
live that dream.

Oh, God. Why did you give me such a big test
that you’ll know I’ll fail? Why do you allow me to shed the blood
of my own child?

I can’t even cry after the whole surgery is
done and my baby permanently gone. I sit like a ghost in the car
while Reese drives me back to the Garnetts’. She’s probably aware
of my situation as a guest at their house, that’s why she helps me
come up with a lie as an excuse for my sick look.

“She fell down the stairs and hurt her hips.
It’s nothing serious, though. She just needs to rest it out,” Reese
says with a bright smile when Grace questions why I have to walk
with Reese’s help. Grace slips a hand through my other arm to
facilitate my walk. Although I don’t need that much support, I
don’t discourage her, and we cross the hall slowly and make a turn
for the stairs.

There, at that point, the guilt and sorrow
that have been tearing me down turn into hot flashes of flaming
anger at the sight of the pampered treatment Eleanor gets to enjoy.
Adam places a tray with a bowl of soup and another with salad on
the coffee table in front of her, while she rests in the arms of
her boyfriend, getting a massage on her temples. Her pregnancy
couldn’t have been better than a planned one of a married
couple.

Pangs of jealousy pinch at my heart, tighten
my chest, and suck the air out of my lungs. How unfair everything
is. Eleanor doesn’t need to worry a thing about money, where she’ll
live, or who will take care of the child while she has to wait
tables at a crappy diner. Whereas, everything in my life is so
delicately balanced, as if I’m walking on thin ice, that I didn’t
even have the luxury of keeping my child even as little as nine
months, with a chance of giving him away for adoption.

I may be a coward, a lowly creature to make
this radical decision, but life is an ugly beast that tears down
the little things we, the weaker ones, hang onto.

I manage to rip my eyes away from the
heart-wrenching sight of Eleanor being spoilt rotten and start
climbing the stairs. Although the pain killers must still be highly
active, my belly muscles feel awkwardly loose and I hold on to the
banister to keep from falling.

“Adam,” Grace shouts, and I see from the
corner of my eye Adam sprint across the living room to catch me
before I collapse. He lifts me up, as if I weigh nothing, and
carries me to my room. Reese relays the same lie to him, while he
carefully places me on my bed.

“Do you need anything?” Adam sits at the edge
of the bed, holding my hand, and I turn my head in the opposite
direction to avoid his and others’ gaze on me.

“I just want to rest a little,” I reply.

“Okay.” Adam squeezes my hand and stands up
to leave. Reese wishes me a speedy recovery and follows Grace and
Adam out of the room.

I place my hands on my empty belly. How
frightening everything is. Just half a day ago, I was sexting with
Adam, unaware of the horror I’d go through before sundown. And now
my only prayer is that somehow, someday, the pain and the emptiness
in my soul will subside to a bearable degree. How it will happen is
a mystery, because right now all I can think of is my dead
baby.

I’ll never know its gender or how it would
look. I’ll never be able to count its fingers and toes, sniff its
sweet smell, or kiss its soft skin. I’ll have to live an empty
life, constantly missing it. Everything else I’ve suffered in my
life is nothing compared to the aching in my heart that I feel for
my dead baby.

Not even leaving Zach hurt so much.

The day of the premiere comes with excitement
and hope for new beginnings, though the pain of aborting my baby is
still as fresh as the first day. My mother had to cancel at the
last minute because Mia is sick with a cold. I’m both relieved and
saddened that I won’t have them by my side on a stressful day like
this.

Adriana lends me a strapless, knee-length,
champagne dress, and has a stylist come in to get my hair and
makeup done.

Because of my post-abortion blues, I’d
declined Adam’s invitations to take me out on a date. Nonetheless,
he was so adamant about it all this time, I finally gave in and
agreed to take him to the premiere as my date. I’m still not fully
warmed up to the idea of dating, but I have to move on with my life
and career, otherwise what was the point of losing my child?

While I’ve been spending the last two hours
getting ready, Adam disappears into his room for only twenty
minutes and comes out looking stunning in an elegant black tux,
black shirt, and black tie. His hair is slicked back with gel,
revealing his naturally frowning eyebrows, arresting eyes, strong
jaw, and aristocratic nose. The aura of dangerous and gorgeous
envelops him from head to toe like a second skin. He could easily
be the perfect choice for a sexy hit-man role in a movie.

Yet, his soft and caring personality beneath
that hard shell is what’s really appealing to my broken heart. I
don’t know whether he sensed something had been wrong with me
beyond the fake hip injury, but he hasn’t asked or implied anything
and treated me as wholeheartedly as he’s been taking care of
Eleanor.

Wounded or not, it takes a certain kind of
women to remain blind to this hell of a sexy man who takes the
extra mile to attend the needs of his loved ones, and I clearly
don’t belong to that kind.

He winks at me and leans against the
doorframe of my room, and I notice I’ve been obviously ogling him
and turn my gaze down, feeling hot on my face.

The stylist, a girl in her late twenties with
platinum blond hair and heavy makeup, stops shaping my hair and
says to Adam, “I was hoping I’d get my hands on those lovely curls
of yours.”

I glance at her reflection in the mirror to
see her sizing Adam up and down without any attempt to be
subtle.

“I don’t like having my hair touched by
others except for just one girl,” Adam says, his hot gaze on me.
Does he want me to rumple his hair? Because that’s exactly what my
hands are itching to do.

“Oh.” The stylist gathers my hair on the top
of my head with a swirl and pins the locks into a bun. “You two are
dating?” A hint of disappointment clings to her voice, and I can’t
help but wonder whether she seriously considered doing some weird
things with Adam’s hair and maybe other parts of him, while we’re
both obviously preparing to go out together. And surprisingly, that
acknowledgement infuses a sliver of jealousy mixed with anger into
my heart.

“Yeah, we actually do,” I find myself
replying and notice Adam lifting an eyebrow to my hurried comment.
Adriana comes in, when the stylist is done with my hair and makeup,
kicks Adam out, and helps me get into the dress she lent me. I
watch the stylist follow Adam out, though I should be focusing on
finishing up the last touches and slipping inside the shoes.

“Has she done your hair before?” I ask to
Adriana, suspicious about the stylist’s intentions about Adam,
although I know I shouldn’t be. This’ll be only our second date,
and I have no right to limit who he can flirt with and who he
can’t.

Adriana zips up the dress and adjusts it
around my hips. “She does my hair color. Why? Didn’t you like
her?”

I twirl around, carefully studying myself
through the mirror, and reply, “I think she’s flirting with
Adam.”

“And that bothers you?” She raises her
eyebrow, too, the way Adam did a minute ago, and I marvel at how
much the two look alike.

“A little.” I smile briefly then turn my gaze
away from her. I don’t know what she thinks about Adam and me, but
I can guess she won’t mind me dating her brother. Contrary to
Zach’s family, each member of Adam’s family seems to be waiting for
us to burst whatever news they think we’re hiding from them.

“Then, hurry out before she snaps him
away.”

I load my phone and some cash into the
matching champagne clutch and make my way toward the door. Adam is
waiting for me like a guardian on the other side of the door, but
there’s no sign from the stylist.

“Where’s the stylist?” I ask.

“She’s left.”

“Why? What happened? I haven’t paid her
yet.”

“She asked whether I had time to grab a drink
after the party. I said no, and she just left.”

Oh, that bitch!

“Hey, you’re breathtaking.” Adam’s
appreciating eyes glide on me, lingering around my chest and slowly
but steadily melting the frozen ice in me.

“Will you help me walk in these high heels?”
I lift up my foot to show him the six inches of perfection.

His eyebrows pull together, and he shakes his
head. “Are you sure they’re okay for your hips? Did you get the
clear from your doctor to wear those?”

Oh, the lie about my hip injury. “Yeah, my
hips are fine.”
It’s my heart that’s still injured.

“In that case.” He extends an arm for me to
slide in.

I walk toward him, melting more with each
step, and slip my arm in his. The heat of his body instantly starts
warming mine up as I grab his firm biceps. His aftershave,
different from the usual, is sweet, and enticing, and makes me want
to snuggle up against his chest and fill my lungs with his musky
scent.

He walks slowly beside me, following my
speed, and even slower when we climb down the stairs. Everyone else
is waiting for us downstairs, even Dr. Garnett, Eleanor’s
boyfriend, and Jack.

Their heads turn when Nikki yells my name,
and my heart flutters with excitement. Jack stands and approaches
us as we arrive at the bottom of the stairs. “You lucky bastard.”
He punches Adam in the shoulder, and I giggle.

The twins snap several pictures of us, then
me alone, reminding me of the dozens of pictures Mia took of me and
Zach before the prom.

“You two make an eye-catching couple,” Grace
points out.

A couple? Oh, God. I’m going on a date with
Adam, and very likely it won’t be the last one. Then, we’ll have
sex and start calling each other boyfriend/girlfriend. My knees go
loose, and I hold onto the banister for support. Am I ready to
label another man as my boyfriend?

I remember his text.
Just don’t lead me on
with empty promises.

My heart pounds painfully against my chest.
The last person I want to hurt is Adam, but he’s also the only man
with whom I have a chance to move on with after Zach.

“Because I’ve got an eye-catching girl with
me,” Adam says and places my hand back to its place between his arm
and torso.

“Make sure to get a signed picture of Carmen
Piana for me,” Jack slips his hands in his pockets, leaning in
close to Adam, then lowers his voice. “If you get a chance, ask her
if she’s dating someone.”

Maria Piana is the leading actress of the
movie I acted in. She isn’t just an extremely talented artist, but
an exotic beauty with jet-black hair, blue eyes, and a tall and
slender body.

“Why?” Eleanor yells from behind, Ryan’s arm
around her waist. “It’s not like she’ll give him her phone number
so a stalker can ask her out.”

I turn around to see the glare on Eleanor’s
face and wonder whether my hunch about Jack and her wasn’t entirely
wrong.

Jack’s face grows red, and he drops his eyes
to the floor. I feel sorry for him and angry at Eleanor. She has
everything and still wants more. Poor Jack. If there was really
something between them, he must be hurting a lot, seeing Eleanor
pregnant with another man’s baby.

“Maybe she will, if she sees what a catch the
stalker is,” I say, fishing in the clutch for my camera, and snap a
full-body picture of Jack.

“A catch, me?” Jack sneaks in to take a look
at the picture I took. “I say dump Adam and go to the party with
me, if you think I’m a catch.” He smirks and shoots Adam a smug
look.

Adam comes in between us and grabs my hand,
pulling me across the hall toward the door. “You’ll be anything but
a catch when my fist blows your nose into the back of your
head.”