Chapter 12
“Excuse me, beautiful. Is this seat taken?”
Prissy glanced up from the martini she’d been sipping to meet the interested gaze of an attractive, forty-something black man who’d joined her at the bar. Everything from his cheap suit to his flirtatious smile told her he was a lonely businessman on the prowl for a one-night stand.
Unfortunately for him, Prissy was a happily married woman who was still coming off the high of the explosively erotic sendoff her husband had given her last night. So cozying up to another man was the last thing on her mind.
“Is it okay if I sit here?” the stranger persisted.
Not wanting to be rude, Prissy murmured, “It’s a free country.”
His smile widened as he lowered himself onto the bar stool beside hers. The heavy musk of his cologne invaded her nostrils, making her want to sneeze. When the bartender materialized, the man ordered a gin on the rocks, then glanced at the martini that Prissy was nursing.
“Can I buy you another drink?” he offered.
“No, thank you,” Prissy demurred. “I’m still working on this one.”
After the bartender served the glass of gin and moved off, the man returned his attention to Prissy.
“My name’s Torrance,” he introduced himself.
Prissy shook his proffered hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine…” He trailed off pointedly, waiting for her to supply her name.
She hesitated. “Priscilla.”
“Priscilla,” he repeated, his dark eyes slowly roaming over her body to linger on her crossed legs. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
Prissy chuckled softly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the compliment—”
“I was being sincere.”
“Maybe, but your sincerity is wasted on me.”
“Why?” He nodded at the twinkling four-carat diamond ring on her left hand. “Because some lucky man had the privilege of meeting and marrying you before I could beat him to it?”
Prissy laughed, shaking her head at him. “Do you rehearse these pickup lines before you use them? Or have you had so much practice approaching women at bars that the lines just roll off your tongue?”
He smiled suggestively. “Well, since you’ve taken such an interest in my tongue—”
“There you are,” a woman’s familiar voice interrupted. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Prissy glanced over her shoulder just as Celeste Wolf leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
“Hey, baby.” At the narrowed look Prissy gave her, Celeste winked, indicating that she should play along. “Have you been waiting for me very long?”
“Long enough,” Prissy answered gamely. “But I know you’re always worth the wait.”
“Aww. Aren’t you sweet?” Celeste stroked Prissy’s cheek, then turned and raked the man with an amused look. “Who’s your new friend?”
“He says his name’s Torrance,” Prissy drawled.
“Torrance, huh?” Celeste gave him another mocking once-over. “Looks more like a Dick to me.”
Torrance laughed, seemingly unfazed by the insult. “Funny you should mention—” He broke off to watch as Prissy dipped two fingers inside her martini glass and retrieved the olive, then fed it to Celeste, who sighed with exaggerated pleasure.
Torrance looked from Prissy to Celeste, his tongue all but hanging to the floor. “Are you two…?” He trailed off, barely able to contain his excitement at the thought of the two women being lovers.
When they just smiled at each other, he asked hopefully, “Is there somewhere we could all go to get better acquainted?”
Celeste smirked at him, draping a possessive arm around Prissy’s shoulders. “Sorry, sugar,” she said, affecting a Southern drawl that was thicker than molasses. “Two’s company, three’s a crowd.”
“But—”
“I don’t think she stuttered, Torrance,” Prissy said mildly.
Giving her and Celeste a look of patent regret, Torrance picked up his drink and moved off, no doubt to find a more willing conquest.
Prissy and Celeste looked at each other, then burst out laughing like two schoolgirls.
“Oh, Pris. It’s so good to see you again.” Celeste hugged Prissy tightly, then drew back to give her an admiring once-over. “Girl, you look amazing!”
“Thank you,” Prissy said, not entirely immune to the flattery. “I’ve been trying like hell to stick to my diet and exercise regimen. I’m determined to fit into the gown I bought months ago for next Saturday’s fireman’s ball.”
“Well, whatever you’re doing is definitely working,” Celeste declared. “Girl, you look like you’re already back down to a size eight!”
“Um, not quite. But thanks for saying so.” Prissy smiled at Celeste. “You look good, too.”
But that was nothing new. For as long as Prissy had known her, Celeste had always been beautiful. At thirty-five she boasted a petite, slender figure, a flawless café au lait complexion and cinnamon-brown eyes. Like Prissy, she wore black heels with a fitted black dress. But unlike Prissy, Celeste hadn’t needed to tuck in her stomach with a girdle.
Gently clasping Prissy’s hands between hers, Celeste said earnestly, “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet me for dinner, Pris.”
“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” Prissy said wryly. “You called my hotel room and threatened to crash my workshop tomorrow if I didn’t have dinner with you.”
Celeste grinned unabashedly. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
Before Prissy could respond, the hostess appeared to escort them to a table tucked into a corner of the upscale downtown restaurant, which was reputedly one of the best in Rochester.
After Prissy and Celeste perused the leather-bound menus and ordered their entrées, they quietly regarded each other across the linen-covered table. Both knew they had a lot of ground to cover, but neither knew where to start.
It was Celeste who broke the silence. “How long will you be in town?”
“Just until Sunday when the conference ends.”
Celeste smiled knowingly. “I’m sure you’re eager to get back home to Stan and the boys.”
“I am,” Prissy admitted. “I miss them already.”
As soon as she checked into her hotel room that afternoon, she’d called Stan to let him know that she’d arrived safely. After they chatted for a while, he’d passed the phone around to their sons. By the time Prissy finished talking to Mason—who’d promised to score a touchdown for her during his football game on Saturday—she’d been ready to grab her suitcase and catch the first flight back home. How pathetic was she?
“How’s your mother doing?” Celeste asked.
Prissy sipped her martini that she’d brought from the bar. “I just spoke to her this morning. She’s doing well.”
Her widowed mother lived with Prissy’s older brother, Theo, and his wife and twin daughters. “Everyone’s coming to Coronado for Thanksgiving this year.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Celeste said warmly. “I know how much your mom and Theo miss seeing the boys every day. I thought they’d never forgive you for leaving Atlanta.”
“I’m not sure they have,” Prissy said wryly. “They fuss at me every chance they get.”
“They mean well.” Celeste’s smile was tinged with sorrow. “I’m not sure where I’ll be spending Thanksgiving. Grant invited me to accompany him to Vermont, but I don’t think I’m ready to meet his family. It’s…too soon.”
Prissy said nothing.
An uncomfortable silence passed.
“So,” Celeste ventured carefully, “how are things between you and Stan?”
Draping her linen napkin across her lap, Prissy said evenly, “Things are fine.” No way was she telling Celeste the truth—that part of her still suspected Stan was having an affair, to the extent that she’d considered canceling her trip so he wouldn’t be tempted to play while she was away.
“So I was right,” Celeste continued. “Your fears about Stan were completely unfounded.”
“Yes.” Prissy forced a smile. “You were right.”
“See? I told you that man loves you and would never cheat on you.”
Prissy was spared from responding when the waiter materialized with their starter salads. As she and Celeste began eating, Prissy decided to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“Where are you and Grant staying?”
“Around the corner from the Mayo Clinic,” Celeste answered. “They put him up in a beautiful two-bedroom condo with lakefront views.”
“How nice.” Prissy paused, then couldn’t resist adding, “Sounds like quite an upgrade from the humble abode you recently vacated.”
The edges of Celeste’s mouth tightened. “You asked the question.”
“I did,” Prissy calmly acknowledged. “But I didn’t expect you to embellish on a description of your love nest without an ounce of shame.”
Celeste’s nostrils flared. With forced composure, she speared a slice of cucumber and slid the fork into her mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately.
Prissy waited.
“I know you think I’m a horrible person for what I did to my family,” Celeste said quietly, keeping her gaze trained on her plate. “Believe me, not a day goes by that I don’t regret my actions. I wish things could have turned out differently.”
“Do you?” Prissy countered cynically.
Celeste’s eyes snapped to hers. “What do you mean?”
“Do you really wish things could have turned out differently? Or are you just saying what you think I want to hear? Because it seems to me that everything is working out pretty well for you so far. You’re living in a lakefront condo on someone else’s dime. You’ll be getting your master’s degree on someone else’s dime. You quit your job, yet here you are wearing Chanel and treating me to dinner at a five-star restaurant you couldn’t have stepped foot inside three months ago. You seem to be getting everything you ever wanted, Celeste. So forgive me if I have a hard time believing that you wish things could have turned out differently.”
“Are you serious?” Celeste demanded, her eyes flashing with outraged disbelief. “Do you honestly think that losing my family has been a damn picnic for me? Marcus hates my guts! Every time I call the house, he refuses to speak to me, and Michael can’t get off the phone with me fast enough! I love my children and I want custody of them, but I can’t bear the thought of hurting Sterling any more than I already have, and I’m not even sure that Michael and Marcus would agree to live with me after what I did. I feel like a complete failure, the worst mother that ever walked the face of the earth. So don’t you dare sit there and tell me that I’m enjoying the way my life has unraveled, because you have no fucking clue what you’re talking about!”
“Oh, please!” Prissy hissed furiously. “Spare me your sob story, Celeste. You’re not a damn martyr. You’re responsible for the way your ‘life has unraveled.’ Not only did you cheat on Sterling, but then you had the audacity to allow Grant into your home, for God’s sake! You weren’t thinking about your husband and children. All you cared about was fulfilling your own selfish needs and desires. And you proved that once again when you decided to run off with Grant without giving a second thought to the children you claim to want!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Celeste fired back, oblivious to the curious glances they were attracting from other diners. “I do want my boys, but I refuse to put Sterling through a bitter custody battle. That would be selfish. As for me running off with Grant, I told you we’re only going to be here for four months. If we eventually get married and decide to relocate to Minnesota, it’s not like I’d be committing a capital offense. As hard as it may be for you to accept, Priscilla, that’s what people do when they get divorced. They move on with their lives. Deal with it.”
Prissy had heard enough. Setting down her fork, she leaned across the table and said coldly and succinctly, “Sterling Wolf is a good man—the best thing that ever happened to you. He was there for you when Wendell died, and he manned up and did right by you when you got pregnant with Michael. For the sixteen years you were married, he was nothing but a wonderful husband and father. He may not be as rich or successful as Grant Rutherford, but he’s ten times the man that Grant will ever be. Someday, after you’ve finished chasing whatever it is that you’re chasing, you’re going to wake up and realize what a horrible mistake you made by walking out on Sterling. And when that day comes, it will give me great pleasure to look you in the eye and say I told you so. Until then”— Prissy tossed her napkin down on the table and stood —“have a nice fucking life.”
“Wait!” Celeste said urgently. “Please don’t leave, Pris.”
“I have nothing else to—”
“I’m pregnant.”
Prissy gasped.
Even if she’d tried to walk away at that moment, her legs wouldn’t have supported such an endeavor.
Reeling with shock, she dropped back into her chair and stared at Celeste. “What did you just say?” she whispered.
Celeste smiled weakly. “I think you heard me the first time.”
“I couldn’t have, because I thought I heard you say that you’re pregnant.”
“I am.”
“But…how? You had your tubes tied after Marcus was born.”
“I did,” Celeste confirmed, her tone wry. “But apparently I’ve now joined the one percent of women who still manage to become pregnant after undergoing a tubal ligation.”
“But you got your tubes tied ten years ago! I thought the chance of getting pregnant decreases every year after the procedure.”
“That’s true. But there are always exceptions.” Celeste shook her head, her lips twisted into a bitterly sardonic smile. “As a nurse, I’ve seen my fair share of medical miracles. I just never thought I’d become one.”
Prissy stared at her, at a loss for words.
Just then the waiter arrived with their meals. Prissy watched impatiently as the young man made a production of grinding black pepper over their steaming pasta before he gathered their salad plates and departed.
Neither woman touched her food.
“When did you find out?” Prissy asked.
Celeste hesitated. “A month after I moved out of the house. When I first noticed that my period was late, I just assumed it was from the stress of everything that had happened. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could be pregnant after all these years. But then I started feeling really tired and nauseous. So I went to see my doctor and…well, the rest is history.”
“Wait a minute.” Prissy stared at Celeste, struck by a sudden realization. “Is there any chance that the baby is Sterling’s?”
Celeste held her gaze for a long moment, then whispered, “Yes.”
“Oh, my God.”
Tears welled in Celeste’s eyes. “Sterling and I made love the night after I slept with Grant at the hospital. So the baby could be either of theirs.”
“Oh, my God,” Prissy repeated, leaning back against her chair as she shook her head at Celeste. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Celeste sniffled, swiping at the corners of her eyes with trembling fingers.
“I just thought of something,” Prissy said. “Getting pregnant after a tubal ligation can lead to having an ectopic pregnancy, right?”
Celeste nodded.
“So is the baby…?”
Celeste hesitated for a long moment. “My doctor ran tests.”
“And?”
“The baby appears to be normal.”
The disappointment in her voice was unmistakable, and Prissy knew why. Ectopic pregnancies were so high-risk that they often had to be terminated to save the mother’s life. Being forced to abort an unwanted child would have absolved Celeste of any responsibility.
“Does Grant know?” Prissy asked her.
“No.”
“What?” Prissy was stunned. “Why haven’t you told him?”
“I’m not ready.” Celeste exhaled a deep, shuddering breath. “Grant doesn’t want any children.”
“What?”
“It’s not that he doesn’t like children,” Celeste hastened to defend her lover. “He does like them. He just doesn’t want any of his own. His career is really taking off. If we stay in Atlanta, he’ll be promoted to head of the neurosurgical residency program, which means even greater responsibilities on top of his research studies and the numerous committees he serves on. And once I start school next fall, we’ll both be too busy to raise a child.”
So once again, the couple’s needs and ambitions took precedence over the welfare of innocent children.
“What about Sterling?” Prissy demanded. “He has a right to know that you might be carrying another child of his.”
Celeste grimaced. “I know.”
“So when are you going to tell him?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Prissy’s eyes narrowed warningly. “I hope you’re not thinking of keeping this a secret from him.”
“Of course not.” But Celeste didn’t look or sound too convincing.
Prissy frowned. “Celeste, you can’t—”
“Damn it, Pris,” she snapped, “stop telling me what I can and can’t do! Everything’s not as black and white as you like to believe! I love Sterling, God knows I do. But I was drowning in our marriage, drowning in misery and hopelessness. So I’m not going to sit here and pretend to be okay with this pregnancy. I’m not okay. I’m devastated. I don’t want another baby—with Sterling, Grant, or anyone else. If that makes me even more of a monster in your eyes, then so be it.”
Prissy had gone still. “What are you saying, Cel? What are you planning to do?”
The two women stared at each other as the word abortion hung in the air between them.
After a long, tense silence, Prissy sat forward in her chair. “Whatever you decide to do,” she said in carefully measured tones, “please don’t keep Sterling in the dark. You were married to him for sixteen years. He has a right to know that you might be pregnant with his third child. If the baby is his, he deserves to have a say in what happens to him or her.”
“I agree.” Celeste held Prissy’s gaze. “I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”
“And when will that be?”
“I don’t know. But I need you to promise me that you won’t breathe a word of this to Sterling, Stanton or Mama Wolf.”
“Damn it, Celeste—”
“I’m serious, Pris. Not a word to anyone.”
Prissy scowled. “You know I don’t like keeping secrets. And you’re putting me in an impossible position by asking me to lie to my husband.”
“I’m sorry, but you know as well as I do that if Stan finds out that I’m pregnant, he won’t hesitate to tell Sterling. And that wouldn’t be fair. It’s my body and my baby. So the news should come from me, not anyone else.” Celeste pinned Prissy with an intent look. “Do I have your word that you won’t say anything until I’m ready?”
After wavering for several moments, Prissy heaved a resigned breath. “Fine. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Thank you.” Celeste’s expression softened with gratitude. “Even though you’re angry at me and you don’t approve of the recent decisions I’ve made, I’m glad you’re here, Pris. I need your friendship now more than ever.”
The naked vulnerability in her voice tugged at Prissy’s heartstrings, making her feel guilty for the way she’d turned her back on Celeste after the divorce. Celeste had made a terrible mistake, but did that mean she deserved to be permanently banished from Prissy’s life?
“Is everything all right?”
Prissy and Celeste glanced up to find the waiter hovering at their table with an anxious expression. “You haven’t touched your meals,” he said, “so I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Celeste looked meaningfully at Prissy. “Is everything okay?”
Prissy hesitated for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Everything’s fine.”
Celeste smiled, visibly relieved.
But as Prissy picked up her fork to begin eating, she couldn’t help feeling as though she’d just made a pact with the devil and condemned her soul to the fiery pits of hell.