Chapter Fourteen
“Well, what is it?” Monique asked, pleased at how calm she sounded.
From the moment she’d seen Ashley talk with Zaine from a distance, her stomach had tightened. Of course they worked together, but something about that picture knotted her insides in a way that defied description.
Zaine had insisted on talking in a private place, and they walked together for a few minutes until they stepped out of the ballroom and found an unlocked room. He opened the door, and as she walked in, she caught a whiff of bleach. Various cleaning supplies crowded the small area, complete with a couple of stocked carts.
He closed the door, then jammed a hand in his pocket. “Ashley just told me she’s pregnant.”
Monique’s blood turned into frozen custard. Dizziness claimed her and she wobbled, as if she’d just lost her footing. She clamped her lips together, looking at him.
Pain flickered in his eyes and his expression hardened. Was he going to break up with her? Of course he was. Zaine took responsibilities seriously—he’d done it at an early age, stepping in for his late father and being the backbone of his family. And now he wouldn’t leave his own child alone. Nor did she want him to.
Still, a sadness enveloped her, squeezing, suffocating her until tears blurred her field of vision. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“Congratulations,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks without any finesse. Not giving a shit about her makeup.
He frowned. “I had no idea. She just told me and showed me an ultrasound picture.”
That’d be her second question. Was it true? She blinked back new tears from forming. Her fingers trembled and she planted them on her waist. Ashley wouldn’t make up a story without having evidence to fall back on. “How far along is she? Did you two…” Her voice trailed off, and she didn’t bring herself to ask him if he’d screwed both of them at the same time. She’s the wife and I’m the other woman. She was the one looking in from the outside, whether she liked it or not.
“No,” he said quickly, and stepped forward. “The last time I touched her was a few months ago. She said she waited to tell me because she wasn’t sure about what she’d do.”
Of course. Ashley seemed to always calculate her next move.
Monique stepped back, lifting her hand to keep him from invading her space. She needed to think, and this time be rational. “Does she want to get back together?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “But I don’t. I want you.”
“And how will this work, Zaine? I give up my dream of working in Africa while you both raise a baby?” she said, remembering how a strange sensation had lurked when she’d seen Zaine and Ashley talk earlier. Nausea filled her stomach, and she caressed her neck to keep the bile from floating up her throat. She’d traveled thousands of miles from her home country and in the end she became the outsider. Again…just like when her father had left her mother.
He thrust his fingers into his hair and shook his head violently. “We’ll work out a way. I didn’t want to say this under these circumstances, but I love you, Monique. I feel for you what I have never felt for anyone.”
Love isn’t enough. Her mother had loved her father, and ended up broke and alone. She had loved him so much, she didn’t see him for who he really was. “I got a really good grade on my English test. I’ll be going home sooner than expected,” she blurted, before she lost her nerve. Should she mention she didn’t expect him to pay her for the time she wouldn’t, hmm, be there to screw him as promised?
“What? You never told me,” he said in an accusatory tone.
She glanced down. “I just found out today.”
He paced the area, his nostrils flaring. Frustration oozed from his body. “You can’t leave me. You agreed to stay when we were in the limo.”
She folded her arms. Her heart slammed against her ribcage. She needed to do this—not because she wanted to, but because it was the right thing to do. She had been the outsider and hated herself for it. Why should she do it again? And why should she serve as a distraction for Zaine and come between him and his wife? His perfectly groomed wife, who carried his child, who worked alongside him, who had known him for a lot longer than she had?
“I agreed before you learned you’re to become a father.”
“We can do this together.”
“No, we can’t. See, as a teenager, I didn’t like that my father’s lover came between him and my mother. I can’t possibly do the same thing to a new baby. It wouldn’t feel right.”
“You don’t understand… I need you. I’ll be present in this baby’s life, and I’ll be the best father I can be. But I can’t go back to Ashley when I don’t love her.”
She believed his words. Another wave of misery washed over her, but she swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. Whatever emotions welled up, she needed to hide them for the time being—or do her best.
“Zaine, I can’t stay. I can’t give up on my dream for you to have it all. The baby, the girlfriend, the ex-wife who doesn’t want to be an ex anymore.” Hell, could he imagine the type of drama Ashley would create if he kept Monique around? Did she really want to be a part of all that? “I can see Ashley hating me and doing whatever she can to be in our way.”
He threw his hands in the air. “Honey, who cares?”
“I care. Because your attention should be focused on the baby, and not on anything else. You’ll be a great father. And one of the hardest decisions begins now, Zaine.”
“I can’t believe this. I love you.” Pain flickered in his eyes. “I want to be with you. You’re the one who always talked about honesty, yet you never mentioned once taking the English exam earlier. And you said yes when I asked you to stay.”
“I was overwhelmed. You were fucking me when you asked. I’d have said yes to anything. Look, this baby news maybe isn’t so bad after all. This way, we can go for a clean break. Before things get too messy,” she said. Even if he didn’t go back to Ashley, she wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that she had been the reason why. She didn’t want to be the reason why he wasn’t with his baby full time.
“You don’t mean it.”
“I do. Would it be fair to the baby if I started resenting not being able to follow my dreams to work elsewhere, if I had to stay here in California at your convenience?” she said, changing her strategy.
He sucked in a breath, then exhaled, his expression growing tired. “You wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“Maybe not right away. But a year in, yes. This is just the truth, Zaine. We had a passionate affair and tried to make it into something it’s not. You think you love me because of the intensity of our time together, but once you take a breather and see the big picture, you’ll know that going our separate ways is the best you can do,” she said, managing to keep a steady tone. All she wanted was to disappear from his view and find a safe place to cry or drink. Preferably both. But to be able to convince Zaine, she needed to sound sure.
“You’re lying, because you’re scared. You don’t think I can do both. Be yours and the baby’s.”
She lifted her hand in disagreement. “I don’t think I can do both. I don’t want to do both,” she said, pacing the floor, avoiding looking him in the eye. “I don’t want to be the one keeping this baby from having a real family. One day he or she will grow up and will listen to all the stories Ashley will be happy to tell.”
“You’re thinking way ahead.”
“Because someone has to. I’m sorry. All my life I did things for my family. Then I came here with a goal in mind. I can’t derail my dreams anymore—and blame you or the baby or Ashley. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“I don’t know what to say. I thought you were different.”
She stopped pacing and gave him one lingering look. The contours of his face hardened, and tears formed in the corners of his eyes. An instinct to reach out to him and hug him stabbed at her, but she stiffened, brushing it aside. Be strong. “It’s a good thing I’m not different. Makes it easy for everyone,” she said, leaving the room.
…
Three weeks later…
Dear Ms. Drummond, congratulations on being accepted into our international teaching program. We’re thrilled to have you join our team, and my assistant will call you soon to make arrangements.
Monique read the email again. Only two weeks after she’d broken up with Zaine, she’d been accepted into the program. During the past seven days, she’d been tying loose ends, packing, saying goodbye to people and places in California. The next day she’d fly to France, where she’d hug her family for a week or two until it was time to head to Africa.
“Are you ready to order?” the curly-haired waitress asked.
“Yes, please. I’ll have the salmon salad and your house white wine,” she said, proud of herself for gathering her strength to say goodbye to the restaurant where Zaine had taken her a couple of times, and where she’d met his best friend Nico and sister Emma.
A bittersweet nostalgia assailed her, and she caressed the table linen, wishing she had some company. Wishing she had Zaine.
Her throat began to thicken, but she cleared it, determined to make it through the supposedly celebratory meal.
Why did she choose to come to this place out of all the thousand eateries in LA?
Because I miss him.
The waitress brought her glass of white wine, and she thanked her, her voice so low, so filled with pain. She downed the liquid a bit quicker than necessary, eager to dissolve the knot throbbing in her throat.
No such luck. The yearning for him, for his touch on her skin, his warm embrace, his scorching kisses, remained strong. Time will help. A voice inside her laughed, but she had to think positive. Had to.
“Monique?” she heard a female voice call and turned her head in the direction.
Emma, his sister, waved at her from the sidewalk. “Hey. Mind if I join you?” she asked, already opening the small gate that led inside.
Guess not. Her heart raced a bit, part nervous, part excited. When Emma approached her, pretty as usual with her silky brown hair, she gave her a hug. “What a coincidence.”
“I used to have an in-house translating job in a company in this area, so I love visiting and shopping here,” Emma said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I enjoyed meeting you, and well, I’m sorry about how things turned out between you and my brother.” Emma sat next to her. “Are you okay?”
Monique blinked, the pulse at the base of her neck throbbing. Get a hold of yourself. She supposed now she didn’t have to pretend not to be a hot mess, because she no longer was with Zaine. So who cared what anyone thought of her?
Monique nodded, for it was easier than lying.
Emma gave her a compassionate once-over, kindness flickering in her pretty hazel eyes. “You’re not okay. I understand.”
Monique drained the remainders of her drink before speaking. “I’ll be okay. How’s Zaine?” she asked, before her common sense alerted her not to. But damn, in those three weeks she hadn’t heard from him, he hadn’t called or texted, which she’d told herself was for the better. He’d deposited in her bank account the remaining money for the month she was supposed to be in town. She wouldn’t use the money for herself, but debated between using it for a local charity or one in Africa, then opted for the latter.
She thought about telling him she felt like paying him back the entire amount when she could. She’d have to save for a long time. But he hadn’t gotten in touch with her, and she fought the need to call him. How could she be upset over his absence? After all, wasn’t she the one who told him that’s what she wanted? A clean break and distance?
Well, she got her fucking distance and it killed her, little by little. All sorts of scenarios messed with her head, involving him and a pregnant, elated Ashley.
Emma sighed. “He’s a wreck, too. He still hasn’t allowed Ashley to move back in. He’s really resisting the idea.”
Monique drummed her fingers on the table, unsure of what to say. Anxiety filled her like air, and she wished she had something stronger to drink. Like a bottle of tequila. “I shouldn’t have asked,” she said, more to herself than to Emma.
Emma patted her shoulder. “Sorry. You know, he’s not into Ashley. Why don’t you give him a chance to show you?”
Monique tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She could explain to Emma all about her principles, but they no longer mattered. “I’m leaving California tomorrow. I got the job I wanted. I’m going to France to be with my family before I head to Africa to teach.”
Emma rubbed her hands together. “Wow,” she said, with wide eyes. “I mean, that’s great. Congratulations. We have to celebrate then,” she added, injecting more energy into her voice. She turned her head, silently searching for a waiter or waitress. Thankfully, the same one who had helped Monique earlier understood the cue and approached them.
“Good afternoon. May I help you?” the brunette asked, smiling at Emma.
“Yes. A bottle of champagne. We’re celebrating.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be right back.” The waitress nodded and sauntered away.
Emma shifted back to Monique. “I’m happy for you, even if that means you’ll no longer be the coolest girlfriend my brother has ever had. You better keep in touch on Facebook.”
“Thanks,” Monique said, angling closer and reaching for Emma’s hand. She gave her a light squeeze, and Zaine’s sister’s pretty face softened. Ever since their first meeting, his sisters had always treated her well, never like an outsider, even though she was the girl their brother dated shortly after the end of his marriage.
They had reasons to be skeptical about her, suspicious even. Yet, they never showed a trace of arrogance or superiority. They’d treated her like an insider, and for that, Monique was truly grateful.