Carey

 

Two weeks later …

 

“What do you mean you’re out of the saké roll?”

 

Brady’s voice cut through the quiet ambience of the sushi restaurant where he and Carey were having lunch.

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the waitress, a young girl who Carey figured she couldn’t have been more than a few years older than, “we had a problem with the order this morning, and we’re out for the day. Can I interest you in the tamago?”

 

Brady rolled his eyes and scoffed, as though he couldn’t have imagined being asked such a question.

 

“No, you can’t interest me in the tamago. I want saké sashimi, and I don’t care what it takes for you to get it!”

 

“Brady,” said Carey, placing her hand on his. “Just order something else.”

 

He turned his glare to Carey, clearly upset that he’d been interrupted in the middle of his righteous anger. Carey glanced around, mortified to see that the eyes of just about every other table were on her and Brady.

 

“Fine,” he said, yanking the menu out of the waitress’s hands and flipping through it. “Give me this sashimi platter. This one right here—” He tapped impatiently on the menu. “Am I too out of line to assume that you have all of this in stock?”

 

“We … do,” said the waitress.

 

Carey knew the look that the waitress had on her face; it was the stone-still expression that you wore when dealing with a difficult customer, one that a server wore when doing everything it took to hide his or her true emotions at that moment.

 

“Then fetch it for me, would you? And another one of these,” he said, tapping the side of his whiskey glass with his fingertip.

 

The waitress nodded and hurried off, and Carey tried to count just how many whiskeys Brady had already drunk, realizing that it had to be no less than three.

 

“Is that really necessary?” asked Carey. “I worked as a waitress during the summer; customers acting like you are what makes the job miserable.”

 

“You were a waitress?” he asked, his eyebrows raising in disbelief, his tone so shocked that Carey would’ve thought she’d told him that she’d worked as a nuclear engineer. He chuckled slightly.

 

“What?” asked Carey. “Something funny about that?”

 

“Just imagining a girl like you from a family like yours working such an undignified job.”

 

“‘Undignified’?”

 

“Of course! Running around, taking orders, fetching things for people—not the sort of job that a girl like you should have.”

 

“And what kind of job should a girl like me have?”

 

“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t work at all,” he said, a dreamy expression on his face as though imagining their future together. “I’d bring home the money and you’d spend your time with the children. I suppose you could paint or whatever when the kids were at school.”

 

“Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” asked Carey.

 

Come on, Carey, she told herself. Don’t mess with the plan.

 

“I mean,” she said, correcting herself. “Maybe someday.”

 

Brady smiled and reached across the table, taking Carey’s hands into his.

 

“These last few weeks have been just wonderful,” he said. “And I hope you’ve been as happy as I’ve been.”

 

“Very … very much so,” said Carey, forcing the words out.

 

He smiled and gave a quick nod.

 

“Off to the bathroom. Don’t eat my food if it comes.”

 

He got up, patted her on the head, and took off.

 

Carey sighed as he started towards the bathroom, feeling relief wash over her now that she was alone, if only for a few minutes. A buzzing in her pocket caused her to pull out her phone and check the screen, only to see that it was blank.

 

Damn phantom texts, she thought.

 

And she knew just who she wanted to hear from—Owen. She’d blocked him, sure, but part of her wished that he’d find some way to get around it, to contact her anyway and rescue her from all of this. But then, just as always, the images from the fight flooded her mind. Then, just as always when she was reminded of her dilemma, she placed her hands on her belly, reminding herself that as hard as this was, it was all for the baby.

 

Her stomach turned, however, when she realized that she’d been putting off sleeping with Brady. She had to get the timing right if she was going to convince him that the baby was his, and she could only avoid sleeping with him for another few days.

 

Moments later, Brady plopped into the seat across from her.

 

“At least the bathrooms are well-kept,” he said, wiping his hands on his pants.

 

The waitress arrived with the food, placing it in front of the two and hurrying off before Brady could snap at her again.

 

“Let’s eat!”

 

***

 

Sitting in the back of the Mercedes after they were done with their dinner, Carey considered the night ahead of her. She knew that she should just bite the bullet and sleep with him, but the idea of it was like taking some vile medicine that she’d have to simply close her eyes and swallow.

 

“Let’s go back to my place,” he said, placing his hand on Carey’s leg and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ve got a great idea of how we can spend the rest of the evening.”

 

Oh shit, oh shit, thought Carey.

 

She realized that this was going to be the night, that she couldn’t put it off any longer. They soon arrived at the massive home near the country club where Brady was staying.

 

“I still can’t believe that the bank is letting me live here for free,” he said, stopping in front of the house and looking at it with pride. “One day, I’ll have a home twice as big as this.”

 

Before Carey could say anything, he took her by the hand and led her eagerly through the front doors.

 

As soon as they crossed the threshold into the massive, cavernous house, a sick feeling formed in Carey’s stomach. She realized that she wanted to be anywhere else but here, with Brady. Over the course of the last several weeks, she felt as though she’d seen every facet of his personality, and it left her more certain than ever that he wasn’t the man for her. In fact, she found herself wondering if the man he once was when they were dating so many years ago in high school had been nothing more than an illusion courtesy of rose-colored glasses.

 

Carey hated how snooty he’d become, how entitled. She hated the way he flashed his money and title around to anyone within earshot, she hated the way he treated service staff like slaves, and she hated the way he clamored for her attention, becoming pouty and insolent like a little kid when she didn’t provide him with what he wanted.

 

And, most of all, she hated the way he pestered her constantly for sex. He seemed to think that simply because they’d been sexually active long ago that he was entitled to pleasure on demand. The more Carey thought about it, however, the more she knew that she couldn’t think of a person who she’d rather less be intimate with.

 

However, she knew that if she was going to provide her baby with the life she knew he or she would need, then it was inevitable.

 

“What a place!” he said, stepping into the enormous living room, the floor-to-ceiling windows of the back wall affording a sweeping view of the nearby lake. “And I get to stay here for free! Can you even imagine!”

 

“Very impressive,” said Carey, craving the glass of wine that she knew she couldn’t have.

 

Brady, his limbs heavy with alcohol, grabbed a remote off of a nearby table and pressed a few buttons. A fire roared to life in a large fireplace and sultry, corny jazz filled the air. Another button press lowered the lights. Tossing the remote onto a nearby couch, Brady turned his eyes to Carey, a lecherous look on his prim features.

 

“I think …” he said, “… I could do with another drink. Something for you?”

 

“No,” said Carey. “I’m fine.”

 

He waved his hand through the air as he turned towards the bar.

 

“What are you,” he asked, “some kind of teetotaler these days? I don’t think I’ve seen you touch a single drop since we’ve been back together.”

 

Back together? thought Carey. Oh, shit—he thinks we’re dating. But then again, we’ve been spending the last few weeks together; have I been doing anything to make him think otherwise?

 

“Just not much of a drinker these days,” said Carey, stepping into the living room and wishing the night would already be over.

 

“I can see that,” he said. “How boring.”

 

He poured himself a small draw of whiskey, tossed it back, and then poured himself another for sipping. Carey watched this with curiosity. Brady had never been much of a drinker in high school, both of them always avoiding the cheap beer on tap at the few parties they went to, but it occurred to Carey that something had changed in him to give him a real taste for booze. She wondered if there was something about the new life that he led that caused him to drink so heavily. Either way, she didn’t like it one bit.

 

Drink in hand, he sauntered over to Carey to the beat of the music and slipped his arm around her.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, the scent of whiskey heavy on his breath. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have another chance with you. And we haven’t even gotten to the … good part of our relationship.”

 

With that, his hand slipped down along Carey’s collarbone, his fingertips grazing against her cleavage. Without thinking, she shuddered and stepped out of his arms. Once she was free, Carey’s eyes flicked back to Brady and she saw that an expression on his face that was a mixture of outrage and surprise.

 

“What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice slurring. “I try to touch you and you jump away from me like I’m a damned reptile!”

 

“Um, I was just a little surprised, is all,” said Carey.

 

She realized at that moment that she couldn’t put off sleeping with him any longer. He wanted sex, and if she continued to deny him she knew that she’d alert him that something was seriously amiss.

 

“You’re going to have to get used to me taking you by surprise,” he said, stepping towards her again. “I love spontaneous lovemaking.”

 

He placed his hands on her shoulders, resting the glass of whiskey against her skin. Then, he closed his eyes and moved slowly towards her, his lips again already puckered and ready.

 

Here goes nothing … she thought.

 

But right at that moment, an idea occurred to her.

 

“Wait!” she shot out.

 

“Oh, what now?” asked Brady, his voice lined with frustration.

 

“I … Um, we need to talk about something. Before any of this happens.”

 

“What is it?” he asked, taking another sip of his drink.

 

“It’s kind of silly,” said Carey. “You might laugh.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” he said, his eyes narrowed just a bit in mild annoyance.

 

“Well, when I was away at college, all of my friends were, you know, getting up to things with guys. They wanted me to come out and have fun with them, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that kind of party lifestyle wasn’t for me. I wasn’t into casual sex, and I wasn’t into endless flings with guys. So, I decided that I was going to wait before sleeping with another guy again, to wait until marriage.”

 

Brady’s eyes rose.

 

“Does that mean that you haven’t slept with anyone else besides me?”

 

“Um, that’s exactly what it means,” she said. “After all, who could compare?”

 

The naked flattery made Carey a little sick to her stomach to speak, but she could see that it was having the effect that she wanted. A pleased smile formed on Brady’s lips and after finishing the last of his whiskey and setting down his glass, he held up a finger.

 

“In that case,” he said, “why don’t you head out onto the balcony. I have something for you.”

 

With that, he hurried off as fast as his booze-heavy limbs could carry him. Carey listened to his steps quiet as he hurried down the hallway, her body tensing as she prepared for whatever he had in store.

 

Stepping out onto the balcony, Carey looked over the lovely sweep of the lake and surrounding properties, the moon heavy in the ink-black sky above. Turning around and resting her body on the balcony railing, she looked into the house, noting that it was about as close to a palace as she could imagine.

 

This is a nightmare, she thought to herself, but if I can be a big girl and go through with it, this is what my baby will have. He’ll never want for anything, and all I’ll have to do is put up with some bi-monthly duty sex. It could be much, much worse.

 

Despite everything, however, all she wanted was Owen. After all, he was the true father of the baby, and she knew that by going along with whatever Brady had in mind she was denying the child a chance to know his real father. But she knew she couldn’t risk him turning into a criminal like his father.

 

“Here we are!” said Brady, hurrying back into the living room and out onto the balcony.

 

He arrived in front of her breathlessly, his right hand stuffed into his pocket. Carey’s eyes went wide in shock and fear—she knew right away what he had in mind.

 

“Now, Carey, I know that this has all been very sudden for you. It’s been a shock to have you back in my life too. But it’s been more than wonderful. I know you’re the exact type of woman that I want to have by my side; it would almost be stupid for us not to do this …”

 

He pulled his hand out of his pocket. Carey saw that it held a small box.

 

“Um, let me just.”

 

He fumbled to get it open, his hands sloppy with booze.

 

“Whoops!”

 

The box fell to the floor with a clatter and he dropped to his knees to pick it up. After a moment of scrambling, he had it back in his hands.

 

“Saved me the trouble of getting on my knees,” he said with an awkward laugh. “Anyway …”

 

He popped open the box, revealing a diamond ring that was the largest and gaudiest that Carey had ever seen in person.

 

“Carey Oakley, will you marry me?”

 

The next few moments passed in a blur. Carey remembered mumbling out a yes, slipping on the ring, and putting up with a sloppy, overexcited kiss.

 

“You’ll, um, have to excuse me,” she said.

 

“Ah yes,” said Brady. “Get on inside and text your friends—post the ring on Instagram, too! That baby was made to be shown off!”

 

Carey nodded, rushing inside. As she hurried through the living room, she almost could swear that the ring was so heavy that it threw off her balance as she moved. Moments later, she was in one of the guest bedrooms, the door shut behind her.

 

She didn’t want to text anyone, however. All she wanted to do was what she did next, which was collapse onto the bed and have a proper, miserable cry.