The Consequences (10 page)

Stephanie knew that she still loved Robert . . . but Kathy loved him too. And Robert . . . ? Well, only Robert knew whom Robert truly loved. He said he loved her; he'd even proposed to her. But in this very room, last Tuesday, when his wife had asked him if he still loved her, he'd replied “Yes.”

Nothing had changed since then.

Robert twitched and moaned in his uneasy sleep, and Stephanie suddenly realized that she had again, unconsciously, placed the palm of her hand across her stomach.

No: Everything had changed.

Last Tuesday, she hadn't known that she might be pregnant. She wasn't the sort of woman who was going to try to use the baby to trap Robert. He was the father, and she expected him to help her support the child. But if he was the man she thought he was, she would hope he would want to do more than just provide financial support. She hoped he would want to spend time with her and the child. His two children by Kathy were teenagers. Would they need him as much as a newborn? And even if he did leave Kathy and live with her, that didn't mean that he was never going to see his children again.

The thought stopped her cold.

That was the first time since the argument on Tuesday that she had allowed herself to even consider the possibility that he would want to leave Kathy for her.

Would she want him? Even after all that had happened?

Before she could work out an answer, Robert's phone rang, the sound shockingly loud in the stillness of the room, and she jumped. Robert mumbled, and slowly, groggily came awake. He blinked, trying to focus, obviously unsure where he was. Then he groped for the cell. “Hello . . . ,” he began, then licked dry lips and tried again, “Hello . . .”

Even before he spoke the next sentence, Stephanie knew who was calling. She saw the look in his eyes—a combination of guilt and fear—before his entire expression turned shifty.

“Kathy . . . Yes, I'm fine. I'm at the office . . .” His eyes found Stephanie's face and darted away. “Yes, I'll be home soon.” He hung up.

“Why did you lie?” Stephanie wondered aloud.

Robert straightened in the chair and coughed. “Well, I could hardly tell her the truth, now could I?”

“You could have said we had some unfinished business.” She smiled, without humor.

“I promised Kathy I would never see you again.”

“And yet you're breaking that promise,” Stephanie said evenly.

“Well, I made that promise before . . . before I knew about . . . about you and . . . and . . .”

“About my being pregnant?”

“Yes. That.”

Stephanie stood. “I'm going to make that tea now. Why don't you go grab a shower. I need you awake and alert when we talk, and right now you're barely conscious. You've got some clothes in the closet, and there's a toothbrush and a razor of yours in the bathroom cabinet. Shower and change; you'll feel much better.”

“Yes, I will, thank you.” He stood up and obviously caught a hint of his own stale sweat. “Gosh, I stink.”

“Yes, you do,” Stephanie said. And in more ways than one, she thought as she turned away quickly, before he could see the grimace on her face.

CHAPTER 19

S
he found him lying asleep on her bed, wrapped in her red flannel bathrobe. She stood and looked at him for a long time, trying to iron out her conflicting emotions. She wanted to make sure that the feelings she'd had for this man—still had—were not now colored by the pregnancy. And yet she knew they must be.

She had nothing but respect for those women who—either by choice or circumstances—brought up children on their own. It would be tough; she had no illusions about that. She would have to make changes in just about every area of her life—but she would make them. She might even have to sell the condo; she realized now she should never have converted the smaller second bedroom into a luxurious bathroom.

But if she had Robert's support, it would be a lot easier. He was working in a job that gave him great flexibility in his working regime and hours. He could work from home and look after the child while she returned to her job in the agency. It would make financial sense for her to continue working; she earned much more than he did.

Placing the hot tea on the bedside table, she opened the closet and took out a thick duvet that she gently spread over him. Then, turning off the light, she stepped out of the bedroom and allowed him to sleep.

 

“Robert? Robert?”

Robert Walker opened his eyes and looked around. And, for the first time since he'd appeared on her doorstep, he smiled. “Hi . . .”

“Hi.”

Then the smile faded as his eyes moved toward the curtains, which were pulled against the night outside. “My God, how long have I been asleep?”

“A few hours. It's almost nine.”

He jumped out of bed. “I've got to go. . . .”

“You've got to eat,” Stephanie said firmly. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with a tray in her hands. It held a broad, flat pizza flanked by a bottle of ginger ale and two glasses. “I ordered from Zesto's. My fridge was empty, and I didn't want to leave you.”

Robert looked at the ham and pineapple pizza and started to shake his head, but she distinctly heard his stomach rumble. “Just a slice then,” he said with a wry grin.

They ate in companionable silence.

Although Stephanie poured herself a glass of soda, she barely touched it; her stomach was aching.

When Robert picked up his fourth slice, she smiled. “When did you last eat?” she wondered aloud.

He shook his head. “I've grabbed a few bites on the run. When Jimmy . . . when Jimmy died, I was left to make the funeral arrangements and contact his family. Two of his three brothers are coming home. They're spread all over the world: Lloyd is in Australia, Mikey's in Canada, and Teddy's in New York. I spoke to Mikey, the oldest. He told me to go ahead with the removal, but to delay the funeral until they arrived.”

“When will the funeral take place?”

“Monday the thirtieth, at Forest Hills Cemetery.”

“That's just a few blocks from here.”

“I know. Teddy and Mikey are coming in tomorrow morning, but Lloyd's not going to be able to make it.”

“That's a shame.”

“True, but they've never been close. Jimmy never really told me the full story, but I know he went to live with his mother when the family broke up, while the older brothers chose to live with his father. When his parents separated, it destroyed all their lives and shattered the family. Almost exactly like my own experience.” He glanced up at Stephanie and smiled that shy smile that always tugged at her heart. “I'm sorry; I've done nothing but talk about me. Tell me what you did over Christmas. You went home?”

Stephanie nodded. She lifted the tray and moved around the room to put it on the nightstand. Then she leaned back against the windowsill and folded her arms. “I went home. It was a last-minute rush, and I had to go via Chicago and Milwaukee, but I made it back late on Christmas Eve, and I'm glad I went. It was good to see Mom and Dad again. They're getting old, Dad especially. I know people say that time slips by—It doesn't; it races. I'm going to try to get home regularly, maybe every second or third month, to keep in touch with them.”

“That's a good idea.” Robert pushed away the duvet and slid his legs out over the edge of the bed. “I really should be going.” He tugged on his underwear, pulled on his socks, and stepped into his trousers.

For a few moments, Stephanie was shocked speechless, then she exploded. “Hang on a second! We've talked about everything but the most important thing: us. Me. And the fact that I'm probably pregnant.”

He opened the closet and pulled out one of the shirts he'd left there, then turned to her as he buttoned it up. “How sure are you?”

“Sure?”

“Sure that you're pregnant.”

“Almost positive. I'm nearly two weeks late now.”

“Did you do a test?”

“Yes. It came back positive. That's why I came home.”

He nodded as he tucked his shirt into his pants, and Stephanie realized that he was doing everything but looking her in the eye. “So, let's say you are. What are you going to do about it?”

Stephanie came off the window ledge to stand directly in front of Robert. “What do you mean by that?”

He blinked in surprise. “I mean, you can't seriously be thinking of having it?”

Having it. It. It. Stephanie felt the single slice of pizza she'd eaten curdle in her stomach. “Of course I am,” she whispered.

“But you can't. You've got this place . . . and then there's your job. You can't have all that and a baby.”

“I could if I had a partner.”

Robert concentrated on his cuffs. “If I'm the father of this child . . .”

She cracked him across the face, the force of the blow snapping his head to one side. For an instant something dark and ugly flared in his eyes, and she thought he was going to hit her back. “How dare you! You are the father. There's been no one else!”

“I'm sorry,” he said, drawing in a deep breath, pressing the palm of his hand to his stinging cheek. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything. It just came out wrong,” he protested, but she didn't believe him.

Stephanie looked at him, saying nothing.

“I mean, let's be logical about this. I don't want to start again.” She could hear him begging, emotion and fear driving each successive plea. Was he trying to convince her, or himself? “C'mon,” he pleaded. “You don't either. You're on the corporate ladder—a child would stop that dead. Neither of us can afford to have a screaming baby in our lives.” There was a pause, and he added grimly, “And what would I tell Kathy and the kids?”

She was seeing the real Robert for the first time. She was seeing the selfish, self-obsessed, arrogant bastard that he was. She didn't want to think it, didn't want to believe it, but the bitter conclusion now was that he'd only ever been interested in her for sex and the work she could bring to his ailing firm. She watched him now, mouth moving, words forming, and she knew with soul-chilling certainty what he was going to suggest.

“I'll pay for the abortion of course. And we'll go on with our lives.” Robert smiled, but it was an artificial, patronizing curl of his lips, with no real emotion behind it.

When she spoke, her voice was so low it was barely audible. “Get out.”

Robert attempted his quizzical smile again. “Well, what do you think?”

And then she screamed, the sound shocking them both. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

Robert backed away from her. Stephanie reached for the nearest item—the pizza plate—and flung it at him. It missed and shattered against the wall, leaving a bloody smear of sauce.

“You bastard!” she gasped, suddenly breathless. “You bastard!”

“Stephanie . . . I'm just suggesting . . .”

“You've got a key to this house. Give it to me,” she demanded. She reached into the closet and tore his other shirt off the hanger and flung it at him. She pulled his tie off its hanger, the silk catching and ripping on the metal, then snatched up his black patent-leather shoes and threw them across the room.

“Stephanie.”

“Give me the key. Give it to me!” The vehemence in her voice frightened her.

Robert tugged the key off his key ring and dropped it on the bed. “Let's talk. I know you're upset—”

“Upset? I am way beyond upset. We're finished,” she said icily. “Don't you ever speak to me again.” There were tears in her eyes now, but she was determined not to cry. “I loved you. I loved you with all my heart. Now, I see you for what you are: an egotistical, arrogant bastard. This isn't a problem to be solved; this is a life and a future we're talking about. And you think an abortion will solve everything! A quick abortion, then we go on as if nothing has happened? I hate you, Robert. No, more than that. I despise you. Now get out. And don't come back. Don't ever come back.”

She watched him, eyes blazing, arms folded across her heaving breasts, as he backed out of the room, and then she heard his feet on the stairs. It was only when she heard the door slam and then, minutes later, the car reverse away, that she allowed herself to lie back on the bed and cry, huge, heaving, racking sobs that took her breath away.

And buried deep among the other emotions, among the fear and loathing, the disgust and anger was another: relief. She was glad she was finished with him.

She was glad it was over.

Finally.