Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 (21 page)

After I showered and brushed my teeth, I made my way into the kitchen to make some coffee. I avoided looking at the unopened box of two pregnancy tests in the Duane Reade Pharmacy bag. All night long this box mocked me, the fear of an answer I couldn’t handle kept me snuggled in bed.

Getting dressed, I gave my breasts a quick squeeze. They were tender. This is what usually happened when my period came around, which was irregular at best. That was a good sign, right? I mean, if breasts were for breastfeeding, they couldn’t be too tender, right? I slipped on my favorite jeans—my pair that made me look like a size eight, not a size twelve, and a loose, light pink chiffon top with a black tank underneath. Realizing I’d done the Good & Plenty color scheme again, I tore off that top and opted for a bright yellow shirt that set off my light blue eyes. A light touch of makeup, and a quick messy bun, hating that I was in a bizarre way following Chase’s edict to wear my hair up, not down, in public, and I was on my way.

At nine forty-five, I left the apartment to head to breakfast with my mom, my nerves totally shot. What were we going to talk about? That my mom left my dad? That she was screwing the man that got me the interview for my internship? That I was a Twitter phenom of late, due to actor Chase Smythe? That I’d had a one-night stand with said actor? That I might be pregnant from a Dickwad a few months back?
Nope!
I’m not… I can’t be.

I was so engrossed with my musings about what my mom and I would talk about that I hadn’t noticed Kevin step into the elevator looking impossibly perfect. He was outfitted for a run and suddenly, as much as I really didn’t like running, Kevin’s full routine was far more appealing than what was on my docket for the morning.

“You okay, Boots?” he asked.

I forced a totally fake, a totally Chase, smile. “I’m great. Going to have breakfast with Mom right now.”

He stiffened. Yup…totally caught him off guard with that one. And maybe he read my fake smile.

“She insisted that she be the one to break the news. You understand, right?” he asked as the doors closed and we started to descend.

“I guess,” I shrugged. “Yeah, I do,”

“She didn’t want you pre-occupied with her drama. So when did she tell you? I thought she was going to wait until things were finalized.”

Oh this was rich. Kevin, a non-family member, knew more about her situation than I did. But I guess when you’re asked to babysit like Kevin was apparently charged to do with me by my mom you’re privy to more insider information. “She didn’t actually tell me,” I replied. “I kinda walked in on her and Mr. Ste—er, Jack.”

Kevin looked at me, confused.

“Oh, yeah. They were, lets just say,
intimate
,” I said with air quotes.

Kevin let out a slow whistle. “Ouch. For both you and your mom.”

“That which doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, or so they say,” I sighed, doing my best to blink back the tears that threatened as I felt my whole life fall in on me.

“You’ll be fine. Jack is good for your mother. I’ve seen her with him and they’re very happy together. Jack is a really good man. He treats your mother like a princess.”

I felt like the elevator was getting smaller with each word that Kevin spoke. Fortunately, the tiny prison reached the lobby and the doors opened.

“I’ll see ya, Kevin. Have a good run,” I tossed over my shoulder and got the hell out of there. I practically ran to the street, leaving a stunned Kevin and Dominic in my haste. Even though I needed to turn left to get to Third Avenue and walk down four blocks, I knew that Kevin would be turning left out of the building to go to Central Park for his run. The big baby that I was, I turned right, almost grateful for the extra block of walking that I would need to do. My pants were a bit snug—probably from all the junk food I ate during finals, right? And any extra walking would be good for my waistline.

While I marched down Second Avenue toward Seventy-seventh Street, I tried to come up with the best opening line for my mom and this absolutely fucked up nightmare that I was living.

…So, Jack seems nice…

…How did you and Jack meet?

…How serious are things with Jack?

…
So, will you be keeping Fairchild for a last name? Or will you be changing it to Stevens?

…What was it that attracted you to
Jack
? That he wasn’t Dad?

…How old is
Jack
anyway? Old enough to be your dad?

I was even shocking myself with the bitchiness.
See, bitchy. Spot on sign of PMS. Not pregnant.

I had to go use the ladies room and the restaurant was still a couple of blocks away, so I ducked into a Starbucks. There was a line, and while I waited, I pulled out my phone to check the time and my messages. I had about ten minutes to make it to the restaurant, but forgot all about checking other messages when I saw the badge on the Twitter app indicating an ungodly number of alerts. As much as I knew I shouldn’t, I opened Twitter and I selected a random tweet that happened to read: “Poor @PhoebeFair” with the hashtag #ChaseMovedOnAlready and clicked the link. There were pics of Chase dancing and doing body shots with dozens of girls and other hashtags of #ChaseBackOnTheMarket and #ChaseSmytheIsBackInTheGame. There were pics and Vine videos of him on Jimmy Kimmel. One pic he had his shirt pulled up, revealing his incredible abs and chest to show where he’d gotten hurt on set with the shoot out… right over his heart. I didn’t see a bruise, but if anyone’s heart was hurt it was mine. There was a Vine video where he was saying, “time will tell, easy come easy go, and all those other platitudes.”

What the hell does that mean?
Did he mean that time would tell if we would be a real item? Or that he really had moved on? I felt so cheap and dirty. I blinked to stop the tears, but I was too late. My eyes were already full of tears and the blinking launched them down my cheeks.

The person occupying the bathroom exited and I pushed past her, as the tears continued to rush down my face. Inside, I locked the door and took care of business, sobbing all the while. Why did I care if Chase ‘moved on?’ I had gone into this knowing it would be a one-night stand. I didn’t go in with any illusion that one roll in the hay with Chase would seal my fate as being his girlfriend and we’d live happily ever after riding into the sunset.

I finished my business and washed up, checking my reflection in the mirror. My nose was all red, as were the whites of my eyes from the salty tears, which made the blue of my eyes even brighter. Great. Mom would know I was crying. I opened my purse to dig out my make up bag, and I deflated when I realized it wasn’t in there. Fuck it. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I decided to just deal with it.

I stepped into the restaurant and was greeted by a perky hostess who smiled at me sweetly. “Are you Phoebe?” she asked. I guess my mom was already here and left word with little miss cheerleader.

I nodded, afraid that my tears might spring up again. I was unsuccessful at erasing the comments, hashtags, and images that had been shared on Twitter from my mind. I was pissed at myself for caring. Then there was the smell of fish and what that was doing to my upset stomach. It was not good.

The hostess walked ahead of me, leading me to a table where I saw my mom absorbed in her cell phone. She had this odd smile on her face. It was a smile I’d not seen ‘on’ her before. She was so involved with what she was doing that she didn’t notice us standing at the side of the table. I cleared my throat to get my mom’s attention. She looked up surprised… and I dare say she blushed? She stuffed her phone into her purse and put on a smile.

“Phoebe! I’m so glad you’re here!” She slipped out of her seat and hugged me tight. Her familiar collections of scents was soothing and I felt myself relax, even if just a bit.

“Hey!” she said, still holding me tight, her voice heavy with concern. “It’s okay.”
How does she do that?!
“We have all day, BeeBee.”

“Mom,” I groaned. “Do you have to call me that? You know I hate it.”

“Yeah, but I can also tell you need a Mama.” She let go and let me sit, and she took her own seat.

I avoided looking at her, instead buried my face in the menu. “What’s good here?”

“Actually, I’ve never been here before. Jack recommended it,” she said quite candidly.

I took a slow deep breath and let it out.
What were the lines I’d come up with on my way here?
This was a perfect opportunity to bring one up. …
Do you always have a late morning fuck with
Jack
on his desk in his office?
No, that wasn’t one of them. I chanced a glance at her, and lost any fight. She looked so… so….
happy.
All of the years I’ve known her, she’d looked strong. She’d looked confident. She’d looked in control and put together. I’d seen her happy, like on Mother’s day mornings when Brad, Carter and I would bring her breakfast in bed…. the four of us cuddled in bed giggling and talking, especially when we got older. It was a relaxed happy. It wasn’t forced. Right now, having just talked about
Jack,
she looked… happy. Ridiculously happy. Shouldn’t she look concerned talking about the other man?

“Go ahead. Ask. Get it out…”

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Know what I’m thinking and feeling.”

“I’ve known you since before you were born. Of the three of you, you were always the easiest to read.”

“So, what am I thinking?”

She looked at me for a few moments. “You’re wondering if I’m happy.” My eyes bugged. She laughed. “And yes, honey,” she said, reaching across the table and taking my hand. “I’m very happy. Jack…he just
gets
me. He lets me shine, he gives me reasons to smile.”

“Do you just not love Dad anymore?”

“I love him, but I’m not in love with him. At least not in the way to stay married.”

“But Dad loves you,” I whispered.

“I think he loved the idea of me, but also, not
in love with
me. We were just a world apart with what we needed and wanted. Does that make sense?”

“Maybe one day it will. It’s a lot to process…I mean, the way I learned about all of this…”

At least she had the decency to look embarrassed. It was at this point that the waitress showed up, took our drink orders and shared the brunch specials. As she left, I picked up the menu again and looked over the choices, the specials not sounding so special. In fact, several of the choices even on the menu made my tummy turn. I settled on the Cinnamon Raisin French Toast, and set my menu aside.

“So, how’s the internship. Tell me everything! Is it as exciting as it sounds?”

I fell back against my chair and sighed. “Where do I start?” Mom looked at me perplexed. “So, I started out in PR with Valerie.”

“Right,” she said. “That’s what I’ve heard so far during our calls last week. But I haven’t heard from you much this week. And Kevin hasn’t seen or heard much from you either, except that you’re having dinner tomorrow night.” I winced knowing that I promised Kevin that I’d call Mom and fill her in.

I spent the next ten minutes giving her the Wiki on how my internship started and how things changed, namely—Chase Smythe.

“Well, that is exciting!” she said. “He’s the one you had plastered all over your room not so long ago, right?” I nodded. “So why don’t you sound so excited?”

“I am. It’s a great opportunity. But honestly? Chase is kind of a jerk. He’s lazy, bossy and thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

“That’s too bad.”

“I have only one more week to get through with him, then I’m back to working with Valerie.”

“And that’s it? Chase is a lot of work?”

I nodded. She studied my face silently for a long moment. “Well, you tell me when you’re ready. I’m all ears, and I promise—no judging.”

A server appeared at our table and set our breakfasts in front of us and quickly left the table. My French toast smelled great and I was suddenly starving. I dug right in and enjoyed the sweet goodness of the dish. I looked across the table and watched Mom cut into her poached eggs with smoked salmon. As soon as she burst the yolk, my stomach gave out, and my body instantly started to sweat. I quickly covered my mouth with my hand and I searched for the bathroom. Spotting the sign, I dropped my hand, and with as much elegance as I could muster, I quickly made my way to the hallway.

The gods, finally giving me a break, gave me a vacant restroom, where I quickly locked the door then puked my guts out. I was eternally grateful for the single bathroom, not the row of stalls in so many public bathrooms. As I rinsed my mouth with water from the tap, there was a knock on the door. I heard my mom call my name from the other side and I burst into tears.
She knows,
I thought. Meekly, I opened the door and let her in. Her face was etched with unease.

She hugged me tight, silently.

“I’m not,” I said.

“Not what?”

“Pregnant,” I choked out. “You
know
how I always get an upset stomach when I’m stressed out. And I’ve always been irregular,” I whispered into her shoulder, not sure who I was trying to convince more…her or me.

“I know, I know,” she cooed softly. “It’s okay.”

We hugged for a moment more. “Can you finish breakfast?” she asked. I nodded and she led me out. Returning to the table, I carefully eyed her breakfast, but it no longer did funny things for my stomach.

We ate brunch with polite chat, avoiding the giant pink (or blue) elephant sitting at the table. I let Mom talk about what she was doing in New York. She had returned to Ed Scott’s working three lunches a week. She was also working for Jack’s company, JSS Models, Inc., serving on the fundraising committees boards.

After brunch we strolled back to the apartment looking in the windows and commenting on the window displays and spending more than a few minutes looking at the puppies in the window at the pet store. At the apartment building, Mom and Dominic chatted a moment while I went to the mailbox hoping to find some mail. I kind of panicked when I found that my grades had arrived. One contingency of my transfer was that I needed to clear a 3.7 GPA. I tore open the perforated “envelope” and scanned the short sheet and started to happy dance when I saw that I had cleared the year with a 3.72 GPA.