Chapter 30: Arianna
When I peer into Dell’s bedroom door early Saturday morning, he’s up and on his computer.
“Knock, knock,” I say. I’ve dressed before coming down the hall, this time in a more respectable top, a flowing short-sleeved tunic in the same slate blue as my employees’ smocks. I often wear it when we do events so that I both match and set myself apart from my staff.
He looks up, his hair playfully tousled, his chest bare. He wears more than last night, at least, a pair of running shorts pulled over the gray boxers that are seared in my memory after he appeared in them last night.
“Already been out?” I ask. As I get closer, I can see a sheen of sweat across his shoulders. I have to force myself to drag my eyes from it.
“Yes. I do some great thinking while running,” he says. “I came in and started looking immediately.”
I lean in beside him, assuming whatever it is will be no secret from me.
“My staff was able to confirm that twenty-three of the twenty-five potential mothers were not pregnant this year. Recent photos, news links.”
“But not the last two,” I say.
“Right. They’ve gone missing for almost a year.”
“Do they show back up?” I ask.
“One does,” he says. “And look at the before and after.”
He pulls up two photos of a tall blond woman.
The first shows a bright, vibrant thirtysomething in stylish clothes, waving to a crowd from a red carpet. She’s with an extremely handsome man.
“The Emmy Awards,” he says. “Early last fall. She would have been about one month pregnant. Might not even know it yet.”
His mouse hovers over the second image. Same woman, but completely different look. Tired, haggard, sad. Her hair shows dark roots. Her clothes are baggy. The caption says her name is Winnie Simmons.
“When is that one?” I ask.
“Two weeks ago.”
“Wow,” I say. “Something definitely happened.”
“I’ve been reading,” he says. “You can’t get your hair dyed while you’re pregnant.”
“You’re not supposed to,” I say. “But people do. Generally, though, women who are planning to get pregnant will revert to their natural color.”
“Exactly,” he says. “She didn’t plan it.”
“Was she the sort of woman who would sacrifice her looks for a pregnancy?” I ask.
“Maybe,” he says. “She was a kind woman. Thoughtful. We spent a week in Paris just before this. So the timing is good.”
I look at the vibrant picture, jealousy slicing through me. So she got a whole week with him. In Paris, no less.
I think about last night and what I could have done differently. I could have gone to him. When Grace went back to sleep, there would have been time.
But I have a bigger purpose now. I want her. I want this baby.
I’m not going to throw that away if he decides to discard me and blow me off like that girl who lost her shoe.
“Where is she now?” I ask.
“Chicago,” he says. “I’ve already got my pilot filing a flight plan.”
“Wait, you’re going?” I can’t hide my shock. “I thought you were waiting on DNA.”
“I was,” he says. “But look at this.” He pulls up another picture. It’s the haggard version of the woman again, but this time, she’s standing in front of a very well-known location. Radio City Music Hall.
I gasp. “She was here?”
“Four days ago,” he says. “That puts her right here in town to leave Grace with me.”
“But why the big secret?” I ask. “Why not just bring her over?”
He pushes back from the computer. “That’s the million-dollar question.”
“You think if you just confront her, she’ll spill?”
He kicks off his running shoes. “I’m banking on it. When I show up with Grace, she’ll know she’s busted.”
“You’re taking Grace?”
He slides his running shorts down his legs. “Hell, yes. Carrie can take care of her on the trip.”
There’s a quick knock on the door. “Did I hear my name?”
“Come in,” Dell says. “You may need to rush home to pack.”
“Pack for what?” Carrie asks. She comes in, halting when she sees me. Then Dell, wearing nothing but gray boxers and socks. “Oh!”
“Arianna spent the night to help with Grace since you couldn’t. I’m taking the baby to Chicago.”
“Today?” Carrie looks from Dell to me.
“Today,” he says. “I can only really spare the time on a weekend.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “And you want me to go?”
“Yes, that was the deal. Days and nights until Monday.”
She frowns. “I didn’t know we’d be traveling.”
“It’s a private plane,” Dell says. “Easy and quick.”
The color drains from her face. “I can’t do that.”
Dell pauses in the middle of pulling off his socks. I was wondering exactly how bare he was going to go with both of us in the room.
“Why not?”
Carrie twists her hands. “I’m…afraid of flying.”
Dell stands, tossing his socks toward the closet. “And you were going to tell me this when?”
Carrie’s face is contorted. “I didn’t think it would come up! You’d travel. I’d stay with the baby.”
He waves her off. “You’ll just have to get over it. Take a Xanax or something.”
Carrie looks panicked. “I’m working on it. But I can’t just…go. Not with a baby too!” She gestures to me. “Take Arianna.”
Now it’s my turn to stand a little straighter.
“It’s the weekend,” Carrie says. “It will be a fun little trip for you!”
Dell turns to me. “You up for it?”
The last four days flash before my eyes. Grace. Dell. Shopping. Kissing. Bare chests.
But what else do I say? I want the time with Grace. “Of course.”
“All right,” Dell says. “Carrie, we’ll let you know when we return. Probably late tomorrow night.”
Carrie’s relief is evident. “I’ll be here the minute you call,” she says. “Thank you.”
“I’m going to shower,” Dell says, dropping his boxers to the floor. He faces me. “Can you be packed and ready in an hour?”
“Uh…yes, sure.” I’m surprised my mouth works at all. Dell is standing naked before both of us. He’s glorious.
“Good. I’ll be out shortly.” He strides into his bathroom. After a moment, we hear the sounds of the shower.
Carrie and I turn to look at each other.
“Does he always do that?” Carrie asks. She’s fanning herself with her hand.
“Not when I’m around,” I say. Frankly, I’m relieved it’s a first for her too.
“This might be a very interesting job,” she says.
I turn back to the bathroom. I don’t say it, but I think to myself, this could be a very interesting trip.