Chapter 31

Elsa

Judging by the size of my baby bump, it’s getting difficult to tell if I’m six months pregnant, or six years overdue.

It’s the former, for the record. But like most predicaments that Tanner Sharpe drags me into—this one is large, cumbersome and…

Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it anyway. But the fact stands: I’m the biggest that I’ve ever been in my life.

“Remember, it’s not fat.” Dr. Garcia gives me that look like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “You former models always get a little on edge about that point, but it’s true. Your body is changing to accommodate the little bundle of joy growing inside you. You’ll look just fine in your stockings and garter belt after the birth is done—women like you always do.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Women like me?”

She laughs. “Elsa, you’re not the first Wall Street executive or busty model to hide out in Connecticut for the duration of your pregnancy, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

“I wonder why we all choose Connecticut,” I muse.

“Because no one cares who you are here, dear.”

Dr. Garcia closes her eyes and places a hand on my belly like she’s blessing my child through it—prescribes me some vitamins and bids me farewell.

She’s not exactly wrong about Connecticut, really. I’m not a Cohen, a Vanderbilt, or a Kennedy—so as far as the wealthy and to-do out here beyond the streets of New York are concerned—I’m not anyone at all.

It’s been a long time since I felt like that.

I’m half-surprised at myself for it, but I don’t exactly hate it.

The hardest thing, really—is how I left things with Tanner. He should be here by my side for these increasingly frequent check-ups and ultrasounds, quipping at the nurses and making all of the other soon-to-be mommies swoon in their maternity pants.

But Tanner isn’t here for me to lean on, and that’s okay. I’m Elsa fucking Blakely. I’ve been on my own before—I’ll make it through this just fine. But it’s not easy being on your own, is it?

Not that much fun either, really.

Without Dirty Little Angel, and my rollercoaster love-hate relationship with Tanner to manage, I’ve been doing okay; catching up on my reading, taking naps—whatever the fuck those are for—learning how to knit and biding my time.

It’s fucking killing me, but what can you do?

The situation is what it is. Still, I can’t help but envy Tanner for getting to stay behind and keeping his old life.

And speaking of old lives…

“Lis fucking Langley,” I swear, stopping dead in my tracks.

I have to blink several times before I believe it—but when she turns, there’s no denying it.

The messy chic French vanilla hair. The trench coat, belted just so.

The look in her eyes that says gotcha—whether it’s warranted yet or not.

The notebook. The pencil.

It’s Lis Langley alright.

“Ms. Blakely,” Lis says with a coy little smile. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Well, you’ve found me.” I surrender with a little shrug. “If you want to pester, Lis, you’ll have to walk with me. I’m late for mommy yoga.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing with your days since you left New York? Mommy yoga?”

I shrug as I power walk in my designer pumps. “Pilates, too. Tai chi. Yoga. You know, the basics.”

“That’s funny. I never thought of Elsa Blakely as a basics kind of woman.”

“Ah, well. Pregnancy changes you, Lis. You’ll find that out someday.”

Lis scoffs like I just told her she’s about to become president of the moon and somehow—despite her diminutive stature—manages to get ahead of me, blocking my path.

“You haven’t changed a bit, I see.” I eye her up and down and lean back on my heels. “Okay then. Out with it. Ask me what you need to.”

“It doesn’t add up, Elsa. My readers might be dumb enough to buy this shit between you and Tanner, but I’m not.”

“Is this all off the record, Lis? Because I don’t think your readers would appreciate being called dumb.”

Lis shakes her head. “This isn’t for a story, Elsa. I’m serious. Some shit’s going on behind the scenes that no one has clued me in on and I don’t like it. I thought you and I respected each other enough to cut the crap and wade through the web of lies.”

I look down at her for a moment—there’s spirit in those pretty eyes of hers—too much spirit, some might say. The world hasn’t broken Lis Langley yet and it shows. She cares so much and fears so little.

An unbroken New York City reporter. Not something you see every day, at any rate.

“Maybe,” I say, brushing past her. “Maybe you’re right. Or maybe you’re just too close to your own story, Lis.”

“I’m always too close to my own damn story!” I turn to see her standing behind me, holding her ground with her fists clenched. “If you’re not, what’s the point?”

“Sleeping at night.”

“Not my forte.”

“Maybe it should be. I’ve been trying this new thing, you know. Napping. Have you heard of it? I’m still practicing, but I feel like it could—”

“Elsa,” Lis sighs. I can tell she’s at a breaking point…and maybe she should be. “Cut the shit and give me something. Anything. I need to know.”

It’s been a rollercoaster ride between Tanner Sharpe and me since day one, and she’s been along for the ride at every twist and turn.

Maybe I do owe it to her to be straight with her.

Maybe this mommy thing is just making me soft.

“Okay,” I relent. “What do you want to know?”

“Jackson Halo. Tanner knows that Halo’s his father and doesn’t give a shit about it getting out. Why?”

“Tanner’s a big boy,” I remind her. “Daddy issues aren’t really his thing.”

“Okay, then how about Dirty Little Angel. The company should have tanked by now—but the stocks are floating. Why?”

“Solid products,” I explain away with a wave of my hand. “Risk-averse business strategies. Keep trying.”

“The wedding thing with Tanner. He’s not the type to wait around at the altar for anyone—not even you.”

“I’m insulted, Lis. I’ll have you know that I’m quite the catch. Maybe Tanner has finally caught feelings after all.”

I can see her temper boiling just beneath the surface, ready to break. But she’s a smart girl. She’ll put two and two together…eventually.

“You know what I think, Elsa?”

“I’m all ears.”

“I think you two have been playing us. All of us—the public. Your shareholders. The lot. I think you’ve been dealing with dirty fucking laundry, Elsa—and I think it’s all going to blow up in your face. Soon.”

It’s shitty of me, but I can’t help it. I just smile back at her.

“You’re not wrong,” I admit. “But you’re not exactly right, either. By all means, Lis. Keep digging. Just know that my laundry may be dirty, but my conscience is completely fucking clean.”

I leave her with that—because I wasn’t kidding about the mommy yoga thing. If I don’t get there in time, that bitch Patricia Kirkland-Sterling will take my spot.

“Elsa!” Lis calls after me.

I sigh, turn and raise an eyebrow at her.

What can I say? I’m in a good mood today. I’ll let her get in one more.

“Are you going to do it?” Lis asks. “Tanner. The wedding. He says he’s waiting for you…are you going to show up?”

I laugh—the deep, hard kind that makes me feel like the baby’s little feet are fluttering inside me.

“I’m not doing your job for you, Lis. You want to dig through dirty laundry, you should be prepared to get your hands dirty, too.”