The guilt is really starting to get to me. Every time I give Tyke an out to walk away from me, he doesn’t take it. As a matter of fact, it only makes him fight harder to stay and convince me that he’s not going to hurt me.
Since Annie died, I haven’t been close to anyone. Not really. My father never mentions Annie and has very little time for me. Mother is, well . . . Mother—only concerned with herself. I never really had any other girlfriends who I was close to. They were more like acquaintances because Annie was my closest friend and the men in my past were just random passersby.
But Tyke . . . he’s different. Even though I’m here to help him overcome his addiction, he’s helped me in more ways than I can count. He’s the first person to be genuinely concerned for me, the first person who seemed upset when I cried. But not only has he helped me personally, but professionally, he’s my greatest success. The one client I seem to really be getting through to.
I know I’ve kept my being pregnant a secret from him because I’ve convinced myself that he’ll throw me away the first chance he gets, but maybe that isn’t a fair assessment of his level of commitment. He’s been nothing but accepting, and completely there for me when I’ve needed him over the past couple of weeks. Maybe he can handle the news of a baby.
I sigh deeply and stare down at his chart as I wait for him to come into my office for his scheduled therapy session. My mind is made up. I’ll tell him what I’ve been keeping from him so he’ll understand why I’ve been so upset lately.
The moment Tyke steps into my office, I frown as I take in the beaten-down expression on his face. This takes me aback because yesterday he seemed perfectly fine. It makes me wonder what happened between then and now.
I stand up and walk over to him as he shuts the door behind him. “Something wrong?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve been working on some songs for the new album. Trip called yesterday and we went over some of the things the label has demanded, and it worries me that we won’t be able to produce enough songs in time. I’ve only written one so far. I’m pretty proud of it, but the rest are total shit.”
I poke my bottom lip out and wrap him into a hug. Tyke sighs into my hair as he returns my embrace. “It’ll come together. I believe you can do it. You’re amazing.”
“It wouldn’t worry me if I had more time, but they want us in the studio in two weeks to record new material, and we’re not ready. It’s times like these, when I’m stressed, that I . . . ”
He trails off, reluctant to finish his sentence, but I think I have a pretty good idea of what he’s eluding to.
I pull back and stare up at him. “Do you feel like you need to use?”
Shame washes over his face at my question, telling me the answer without him even speaking. It’s then I switch into therapist mode, using the techniques that I’ve been trained in.
“This is where you need to find the will inside to steer clear of the substances that you used for comfort when you feel stressed and anxious. You need to find other ways of calming those feelings, beside drugs.”
Tears pool in his eyes. “I really am a fucking junkie, aren’t I? I didn’t want to believe it. Going through detox was a huge fucking wake-up that I was fooling myself, but now . . . the craving is fucking eating at me.” He pauses. “I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want to feel this way every time I get news that’s too hard to handle. What kind of man does that make me?”
I grab the hem of his shirt as the desperation rolls off him. I need to make him see how far he’s come already, and that he’s well on his way to overcoming the demons that plague him. “Listen to me, Tyke. You are a strong man. You can beat this. You have to find the will. You have to find something that’s worth fighting for.”
A tear slips down his cheek, and my heart breaks. The moment he reaches up to swipe it away, I grab his wrist and wipe it away for him with my free hand. “Don’t be afraid to cry with me. God knows you’ve seen me do it enough. Let me be the person who’s there for you, like you’ve been there for me.”
“I don’t want to be weak, because if I am, how am I ever going to be strong enough for you? I want to be the rock you lean on,” he whispers.
I stare into his eyes as I stroke his face. “We’ll be each other’s rock.”
With that, I kiss his lips, quieting his fear that he’s not man enough for me. His mouth works in time with mine as his body begins to relax against me. This is helping take his mind off the anxiety he’s feeling, but I can tell we’ve got a long way to go before he has a firm handle on his addiction. Being able to divert his need to use will be huge for him—once he figures out healthy ways to deal with issues that stress him.
For the time being, I know telling him that I’m pregnant won’t be good for him. He’s got enough stress, worrying about the band’s new album, without me springing the news on him that I’m having his baby. I’ll tell him, when the time is right.
When I’m sure that he can handle the news without relapsing.
The cell on my desk rings just as I’m finishing up my notes from Arnold’s session. Mother’s name flashes across the screen, and I sigh while I answer. “Hello, Mother.”
“Francine, darling. It’s so good to hear your voice,” she replies and I stiffen, recognizing this tone as the one she uses when she’s trying to butter me up.
“What is it now, Mother?” I ask, snapping the laptop closed.
“Is it a crime for a mother to simply call her daughter and be nice?”
I roll my eyes, because for her, yes, it is. “I know there’s something you want or else you wouldn’t be calling.”
“Oh, all right,” she huffs. “There is something I want, but I would also like to see you. I miss you, darling.”
I raise my eyebrows. That’s the first time she’s wanted to spend time with me in a long while.
“I’m going out of town next weekend, and I’m asking you to please watch Spencer and Ruby for me. Last time I had to leave them with Nickolas, and the poor dears were shaking little messes when I returned. I don’t want to inflict any additional trauma on them. Will you please do this for me?”
Poor Nickolas, my parents’ private chef, hates those two damn dogs almost as much as I do. I bet he was fuming that he got stuck being their caregiver when I refused my mother’s request last time. Mother’s lucky that Ruby and Spencer weren’t poisoned by the time she returned.
“Oh please, Frannie.” My mother’s plea sounds genuine, and while I’m not completely thrilled about the idea of dog sitting the two little mongrels, I do like that she’s actually sounding sincere this time.
Besides, a little distance between Tyke and me might be a good thing. A little time for me to get away from this place and reflect on my situation, and how I’m going to break the news to him, might be beneficial.
“I’ll do it,” I tell her. “I’ll take the train first thing Friday morning and be there by dinner.”
“Oh, thank you.” The relief in her voice comes through crystal clear. “I can’t wait to see you, dear. It’s been too long since I’ve seen my girl.”
Her last sentence chokes me up. I remember a time when she would have ended that same line in the plural because she would be referring to both Annie and I. It was nice back then. When we felt almost like a family, versus this discombobulated mess we are now.
“I’ll see you soon,” I tell her before I end our call.
I stare down at my hand, resting protectively over my stomach, and wonder if it will be as easy for me to pretend this baby didn’t exist when I give it away to some family who is ready for a child. Handling the loss of my sister has been devastating, and I just don’t know how I’m going to handle carrying a child that I’m eventually going to give away.
I wrap my arms around my torso and inhale deeply. Tyke’s scent lingers on my skin and clothes. It was harder than expected to tell him goodbye this morning, but it’s something I’m going to have to deal with very soon.
The train pulls into the station, and I quickly gather my bag. That’s the thing about quick trips back home—packing is very light.
I make my way to the front of the station, smiling when I find our driver, Ricardo, wearing his signature black suit and white gloves as he waits by my family’s black Lincoln Town Car. “Ricardo, it’s so nice to see you. How are the little ones?”
He takes my bag from me and opens the back door. “They’re excellent, Ms. Mead. The little one just had his fourth birthday last weekend.”
“Four?” I say as I climb into the backseat. “I can’t believe he’s that old already.”
“Time flies when it comes to children. My oldest will be fourteen this year,” he says with a proud smile that accentuates his white teeth against his dark complexion. “Having children is the most rewarding thing in the world.”
“I bet,” I reply before he shuts me inside, and I place a protective hand over my stomach.
One day, when I’m settled and with a man who’s ready for a family, I’d love to experience the same joy that Ricardo does. I think having a child will be an amazing experience, and I’m looking forward to that someday, but just not right now.
Once he deposits my bag in the trunk, we head toward my family home, and it doesn’t take long before we reach Lincoln Park. The moment Ricardo pulls onto Burling Street my palms begin to sweat. It’s not that I’m scared of my parents or anything, but it’s just so hard for me to be here without Annie. Everything in this place has a memory of her attached to it.
He pulls up to the largest house on the street, and I stare up at the immaculate gray home with all its breathtaking architectural features. It wasn’t until I grew up and started mingling with people outside our family’s social circles that I realized how lavishly we actually lived. Before losing my sister, my world was all about proper social standings and finding the right CEO husband who would enable me to continue in that manner. I didn’t know that the rest of America didn’t have the same upbringing I did.
After losing Annie, and getting lost in the wild life of college crowds, I learned that engaging in meaningless sex took my mind off my pretentious world, and made me forget what it would be like to endure it without my confidant.
Ricardo opens the car door and I step out, beginning my ascent toward the house. The moment I enter the house, Ruby and Spencer come sprinting down the staircases, barking as loud as they possibly can. I kneel down and pet them as they wag their tails and lick my hands, causing me to smile.
Damn those cute little pests for making me love them even though I don’t want to.
“Francine? Is that you?” Mother glides into the room wearing a pressed skirt and blouse.
Her dark hair is pulled into a tight French twist, and her makeup is perfect. To most women, this would be office attire, but for my mother, it’s her outfit for just another day around the house.
I stand to greet her. “Hello, Mother.”
She stretches her arms out and embraces me in a firm hug before pulling back and kissing both of my cheeks. “Let me take a look at you.”
Her eyes inspect me carefully as she pulls away, and she pulls my arms out to my side. “You look different. Have you met a man?”
My mouth gapes open. How in the hell could she possibly know that?
I’m at a loss for words for a moment, stunned by her perceptiveness, but I do know that I’m not ready to tell her about Tyke just yet. “Why would you assume there’s a man?”
She smiles slyly and arches a perfectly manicured brow. “Because, Dear, you’re practically glowing . . . which means there’s a man.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “You and your assumptions. No, there’s no one.”
“Well, good.” She takes my arm and wraps it in the crook of hers as she leads me off to the parlor, where she just came from. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”
Oh, boy. Here she goes—matchmaking again. When is she ever going to learn that these stuffy suit types don’t do a thing for me? Wishful thinking on her part, I guess.
We enter the room and my father and a couple of men in suits are standing around, puffing on cigars and drinking brandy from expensive crystal glasses. My father is fifteen years my mother’s senior, pushing well into his sixties. His hair is a little more silver than the last time I saw him six months ago and his fitted gray suit hugs his thin body.
The moment Father spots me, he smiles and pulls the cigar from his mouth. “Gentlemen, I’d like you all to meet my daughter, Francine, who is home for the weekend.”
I walk over and hug him and kiss his cheek, knowing that while I’m here I have to play the part of doting daughter. “Hello, Daddy.”
The men take turns greeting me, each taking the time to shake my hand and introduce themselves to me. It’s not until I get to the last man when I understand that this is the one Mother intended for me to meet.
He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and extremely handsome. The definition in his chest is obvious, even through the tailored jacket and dress shirt he’s wearing. The dark hair on his head is styled neatly, complementing the black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and the hint of a smile playing along his lips tells me that he’s checking me out as well.
“Hello, Francine. I’m Jacob Myers, CEO of Mead Enterprises.” He gives me a firm handshake that lasts just a little too long as I process what he’s just said.
I see exactly where Mother was hoping this would go, but I hate to break it to her that I’m simply not interested in any man who isn’t Tyke Douglas right now.
I smile politely. “It was so nice to have met all of you, but if you’ll excuse me, I just arrived and need to get settled in.”
A collective “It was nice to meet you” response echoes around the room, and my mother’s lips pull into a tight line as I pass by her. Clearly, she’s disappointed that I’m not all over my father’s new hunky CEO, but she’s just going to have to get over that.
I toss my purse onto the bed and then flop down next to it. I don’t know why I’m so exhausted. It’s not like riding on the train is hard work or anything, but all I feel like doing is napping.
My phone vibrates inside my purse, and I dig around to retrieve it. Ever since that stupid video email came in, I’ve been obsessive about checking any and all messages the moment I receive them. It’s nerve-racking waiting on a response from the blackmailer.
My email app shows one new message so I quickly open it, and my heart begins to race when I see that it’s from the same anonymous address.
This subject line simply says: You’re Not Special.
I swallow hard as I read on.
Thought you’d want to know what he does behind your back. Imagine all the fun he’ll have on the road.
Sincerely,
A Concerned Citizen
When I scroll down further, I find a photo attachment. I click on it and gasp the moment the picture appears on my screen. Tears burn my eyes before they spill out because there, clear as day, are Tyke and Josie . . .
Kissing.