Forgotten Love: A BWWM Pregnancy Billionaire Love Story (7 page)

“
It's
okay, you’re fine,” Allen said standing in the doorway
holding a plate. Frances just stared at him, trying to shake the
instinctive panic that still curled her fingers around a non-existent
weapon. He walked toward her, holding the plate of sandwiches out
like an offering.

“
Here’s
your food,” he said.

“
Thanks,”
she whispered hoarsely and moved from the bed to the chair to eat her
sandwich. She didn’t want to get crumbs on the perfect bed. She
ate in silence while Allen sat on the bed and watched her. It was
awkward but she couldn’t think of anything to say and
apparently he couldn’t be bothered. She finished her meal and
then looked up at him and smiled.

“
So,”
she said. “Tell me about me.”

Allen
smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to wait for your memory to
return naturally?”

Frances
shrugged. “Maybe, but I’d like to hear the highlights
anyway. Especially the dirty laundry. For example, why are we
together?”

“
That’s
dirty laundry?” Allen’s eyebrows almost disappeared into
his hair.

“
I
don’t know, do I? How did we meet?” she asked leaning
forward. A wave of nausea overtook her and she had to lean back
again, “Ooh.”

“
What’s
wrong?” Allen asked standing up as she put one hand to her head
and the other to her stomach.

“
I
don’t know,” Frances said. Then she stood up very
suddenly and ran to the bathroom. She got to the toilet just in time
for her sandwich to come pouring savagely out, as well as the
contents of her saline drip at the hospital and any bile that might
have accumulated. After that it was any air left in her esophagus and
finally the heaving stopped.

“
What
was that?” she asked very perturbed as she wiped her mouth.

“
I
don’t know,” Allen said slowly. “Maybe we should
call the doctor.”

Frances
shook her head, “No, it's fine, I’m feeling okay now, we
don’t have to call anyone.”

Allen
shrugged, “If you say so…shall I make you another
sandwich?”

“
Er,
yeah if you don’t mind.”

“
I
don’t mind. Just go lie down and I’ll be right back.”
Allen hurried out of the room as she watched. She crossed over to the
bed and sat on it, ignoring the burning in her stomach in favor of
enjoying the softness. She figured she’d probably been sleeping
in this bed long enough to take it all for granted, but not long
enough to have forgotten the hard floor and the barely there
mattress; the funky smell of the bunker, the cold, wet, hunger…sure
it was however many years ago it had been, but in her head, it might
as well have been yesterday. The discomfort of nausea could hardly
compare to the memory of all that.

Allen
came in carrying another sandwich with a glass of juice and some
salad on the side. He really was a handsome fellow, and those eyes
were to die for. She just didn’t see how they
fit
.

“
The
cook’s arrived,” he said grinning at her.

She
smiled back out of politeness, “Great.” She took the
plate from him, studying its contents. The nausea seemed to have
disappeared so she ate with gusto and finished her meal. She held her
breath for a few minutes, wondering if the vomiting would begin again
but this time the food stayed down.

“
Huh…”
she said. “Maybe my body just needed a salad.”

Allen
laughed, “Maybe.” He breathed in deep, “Soo, do you
wanna watch a movie or something?”

“
Er,
how about some entertainment news? I’d like to see who is
popular now.”

Allen
laughed, “Since when do you care about such shit?”

Frances
shrugged, “Hey, it’s the fastest way to catch up.”

“
Catch
up on what?”

“
On
what people find important,” she said.

“
Don’t
you wanna know what
you’ve
been up to?”

“
Oh.
Wow. Do I wanna know?” she asked wincing in anticipation.

Allen
smiled, “Yes, you really do.”

“
Tell
me tomorrow. I think I need a bath and rest for now.”

“
You’re
the boss,” Allen said standing up to leave her to it.

The next
morning when she woke, Frances vomited again. Allen pulled rank and
declared they were going to the doctor whether she liked it or not.

“
You’re
pregnant,” the doctor declares baldly, coming into the room and
placing the results of the tests in front of them. Frances stared at
him in shock.

“
No
I’m not,” she stated.

“
I’m
afraid you are. We’ve done all the tests from MRI to UTI and
that’s what came back,” the doctor replied. They had
indeed done what was seemingly every test known to man. They had been
at the hospital all day doing them. They took blood, urine, spinal
fluid…it had been nerve wracking. Frances almost felt cheated
that all they’d found was a baby.
A
baby!
Oh
my God, I’m having a baby!

Frances
could feel the hysteria building and building. She was ready to run
away screaming. She glanced at Allen, sitting woodenly next to her.
His face was impassive, whatever he was feeling was hidden deep
inside. Frances felt her breathing escalate, she would be
hyperventilating in a minute if she wasn’t careful. The doctor
was gabbing on, something about options; abortion was mentioned.
Allen seemed to be listening intently, taking it all in. He would
have to fill her in later, once her ears stopped ringing. She looked
from Allen to the doctor, seeing little pin pricks of light in front
of them.
Was she
seeing stars?
Suddenly, her vision went black and she knew no more.

*****

“
Frances!
Fran! Frannie girl you better wake up now and stop fucking around,”
the voice was yelling in her ear and she turned her face to get away
from it. It sounded terrified which was weird; what was there to be
terrified about? Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked around. She
was lying on something soft and a white coated gentleman was standing
a few feet away. The guy who’d been there when she woke up was
looming over her, his black curly hair falling into his terrified
gray eyes. He really had the most amazing eyes she’d ever seen.
He was saying something to her, sounding either annoyed or scared,
she couldn’t really tell which. She felt dizzy and
discombobulated. Her hand rose to close over his arm.

“
What’s
happening?” she asked him, trying to remember what his name
was.

“
You
fainted,” he replied definitely sounding annoyed now.

“
Oh,”
she said hazily. “That sounds unlikely, I don’t faint.”

“
Well,
you just did,” he snapped.

“
What
was your name again?” she asked eyes drifting to his face. His
red, annoyed face.

“
Allen
St. James,” he bit out. “I’m practically your
husband so I’ll thank you to remember it.”

“
How’d
I snag you anyway? Was it a love potion?” she asked. She felt a
little drunk…I mean, how she assumed people felt when they
were drunk. She couldn’t really remember.

Allen
laughed, his face lightening considerably. “You adopted me,”
he said cryptically. She frowned at him, waiting for further
explanation but he said nothing. The doctor took a step forward.

“
Mr.
St. James in light of current events, I think it would be prudent to
admit Ms. Hilton overnight,” he said.

“
I’m
right here,” Frances said not liking the way he was talking
over her. He turned toward her with an apologetic smile.

“
I’m
sorry Ms. Hilton, I didn’t mean to leave you out of the
discussion,” he said.

“
Forgiven.
So why do you need to observe me overnight?”

“
Well
given your accident and subsequent injuries, and now with the
pregnancy and the fainting, we need to check that everything is fine,
that your body is healthy enough for this, identify the reason behind
the fainting; perhaps you’re anemic; nothing showed up in the
blood tests but we can’t be too careful.

“
Maybe
it was just shock? I’m pretty sure it was,” Frances said.

“
Yeah,
it could be that. In fact, given the circumstances, most likely
that’s what it is. But we can’t take the risk of taking
that for granted.”

“
Fine.
I’ll stay the night,” even to her own ears, Frances
sounded sulky. Allen smiled.

“
It’s
a good thing. Give us some time to get used to the new status quo and
what not,” he said.

She
looked at him with a side smile. “Well, can I have a computer?
I noticed that we had some in the apartment.”

Allen
laughed. “Sure you can, especially since it's yours. Did you
er, wanna do some writing?”

“
Writing?”
Frances asked uncertainly.

“
Yeah,
you’re a writer,” he said. He sounded quite proud of her.
her internal eyebrow rose to see it.

“
Am
I any good?” she asked. Allen laughed.

“
Tell
you what, I’ll bring you the book you wrote and you can judge
for yourself.”

“
I
wrote a book?!? Don’t you think you should have led with that?”
she asked voice going high with shock.

“
Sorry,”
Allen said not sounding at all apologetic. “Everything’s
been crazy. It wasn’t exactly in the front of my mind.”

Frances
fell back; he did have a point. “Okay then. Well…I’ll
just check in and you can go…bring the stuff.”

“
I’ll
do that. See you,” he said looking at her expectantly as if she
was meant to do something with that.

“
Bye,”
she said with a small wave hoping it would suffice. She turned around
to follow the doctor to her room for the night, she knew Allen was
watching her go and put a little sway in her step. She didn’t
know why but she wanted him to be attracted to her.
She
was attracted to
him
…it
was strange; it had snuck up on her when she wasn’t looking.
Maybe that was what had happened before and she had seduced him?
Sooner or later she needed to get him to tell her how they met. The
nurses got her settled in and she promptly went to sleep waking only
when someone came to take her blood or other fluids or check her
temperature or pressure readings. She hadn’t realized she was
so tired until she let herself just relax and drop off. When she woke
up much later, she saw that Allen had been and gone. A laptop sat on
the bedside table and on top of it was a book. There was also an
overnight bag sitting on the chair but Allen himself was nowhere to
be seen. He probably had to go off and come to terms with the whole,
‘We’re having a baby’ thing too. She picked up the
book and studied it.

Confessions
of a Former Street Urchin

By
Frances Hilton

Based
on a True Story

The
cover said. There was a picture of a cutsie little urchin on the
cover. Some publisher’s interpretation of Frances’ own
untidy haired intransigence she guessed. She stared at her name on
the cover, fascinated to see her name on the cover of a book. Turned
out that all those stories she used to keep under her mattress
actually amounted to something. She turned the book over to see the
back cover. A picture of her looking sophisticated, hair combed,
actual make up on her face, stared back at her with a smug smile. She
read the blurb at the back. The book was supposed to be about her
life as she saw it. How convenient. She leaned back on the pillow and
opened the first page, hoping her own book wasn’t going to bore
her to death. She made herself comfortable and began to read.

*****

Allen
came for her the next morning and she looked at him with new eyes. It
seemed they had come from far together. The doctor gave them some
anti-nausea pills to go home with as well as advising them to keep an
eye on Frances’ blood pressure. He also gave them various
pamphlets about pregnancy, adoption and abortion. Frances took them
but didn’t look at them, just followed Allen out of the
hospital. He didn’t drive straight home; instead he took her to
an ice cream parlor and sat her at one of the window tables as he
went to get their orders. He didn’t ask her what she wanted so
she guessed she either had a particular preference every time or he
was just that overbearing. The jury was out on which it was. He came
back with peppermint chocolate ice-cream for her, and a vanilla one
for himself. She tasted hers, and found that it was delicious so
maybe this was the one she ordered every time. She pondered for a
moment whether it was worth asking about but then decided they
probably had more serious things to discuss. They’d skirted the
issue for long enough and it didn’t look like Allen was about
to bring it up. So Frances would have to.