All's Fair in Lust & War (13 page)

TWELVE

Becky sat on
the bed in her childhood room, trying to find the energy to unpack. It had been an exhausting week. She’d whirled into action the very same day that she’d quit, burying her pain in activity.

Finding a renter to sublet her apartment and getting her things packed had been the easy part. Making peace with leaving New York had been a good deal harder. She’d always thought she’d spend the rest of her life there. She’d dreamed of having a wedding in Central Park and of raising a family in a brownstone on the Upper West Side. And as for her career—well, she’d assumed she’d spend it in the ad agencies on Madison Avenue.

Returning home to Michigan had never been part of the plan.

But without a job she didn’t have a lot of choices. Her fifty thousand dollars wouldn’t last very long in New York. And raising a baby alone in the city was a challenge she wasn’t sure she was up for.

So here she was, back where she’d started. She sniffed, quiet tears falling down her face. So much for her big plans.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” she said, hastily wiping the evidence away.

Her mother entered, carrying a laundry basket.

“I brought you some clean sheets.”

“Th-thanks, Mom.”

“Are you crying?’

“No. Yes. Maybe?”

“Oh, honey,” her mother said, perching on the bed beside her. “I know things look bad right now. But it’ll get better. Before you know it you’ll have a job, and a place of your own, and a baby to love.”

“I never meant for this to happen, Mom,” she said, leaning her head on her mother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” she said. “Especially not when you’re carrying my grandchild! It would have been better if you’d gotten yourself a husband first, of course. But you’re young. It will happen in its own good time.”

Becky looked at her mom, flabbergasted. That didn’t sound like the conservative Catholic she knew her to be. “I didn’t expect you to be so calm about all of this,” she said.

“We’ve been watching a lot of reality TV these last few years,” she said. “I know the world has changed.”

Becky just barely managed to stop herself from laughing. She could tell her mother was completely serious.

“Well, I appreciate it. You don’t know how much.”

“Not to worry. It’s all part of the job. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Becky put her hand on her still-flat belly.

“I guess I will at that.” The thought filled her with fear. “Mom?”

“What, honey?”

“Do you think I’ll be any good at it? At being a mother?”

“Of course you will. You’ll be an amazing mother.”

“But I don’t even like kids.”

Her mother laughed out loud. “You probably never will like other people’s children. But you’ll always love your own. Trust me.”

Since she didn’t have many choices, Becky decided to try.

* * *

Mark scowled as he examined the printout Jessie had brought him.

“Jessie, this is nothing like we discussed,” he said.

“I know, but I thought this was better,” she said. “No offense, but your idea kind of sucked.”

“Jessie, I’m your boss. You can’t talk to me like that,” he snapped.

“Just look at it,” she said. “Please?”

“No. I need you to do what I asked you to do.
Now.
”

She glared at him and stomped out.

Sighing, he sat down in his chair and glanced at the printout. He hated to admit it, but she was right. It
was
better.

He called to his assistant. “Susan?”

She poked her head in the door, looking tense. “Yes, Mark?”

“Can you ask Jessie to come back to my office, please?”

She nodded and left.

A few minutes later Jessie returned, looking even more furious than she had when she’d left.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Sit.”

She did—reluctantly.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “This
is
better. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me lately.”

Jessie snorted. “I do. Its name is Becky.”

“This has nothing to do with Becky,” he said, feeling the weight of the lie in his heart.

“Whatever you say, dude. Have you told the client she’s gone yet?”

“We’ve told them she’s taking a leave of absence. We didn’t clue them in to the fact that it’s a permanent one.” And if he had his way they wouldn’t. At least not until they were happy with what he and his team had put together without her. He owed it to Becky to keep them on board and in love.

“I could dress up in a blond wig and pretend to be her at your next meeting if you want.”

He laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think that would go over very well.”

“Okay, but if you get desperate you know where to find me,” she said, turning to go.

“Hey, Jessie?” he asked, hating himself for what he was about to say.

“Yeah?”

“Have you heard from her?”

“Her who?”

“You know who. Becky.”

“Oh, her. Yeah. She’s okay...considering.”

His blood ran cold. He’d never forgive himself if something bad had happened to her... “Considering what? Is something wrong?”

“She’s pregnant. Unemployed. And the father’s being a dumbass. So, yeah. There are some things that are wrong.”

He had asked for that, he guessed. Sighing, he motioned for her to go, but she was already gone.

He’d thought it would be easy to forget about Becky. After all, their—well, whatever it was they’d shared had only lasted a few weeks. Just the blink of an eye, all things considered.

But he missed her right down to his core. He’d thought about asking Jessie to give him her contact information on a hundred different occasions, but stopped himself every time. No matter how much he wanted Becky, he did not want to be a father to their child. Which meant he had to respect her wishes and stay away.

Just as he was about to sink into a vat of self pity there was a knock on his door.

“Yeah—come in,” he said.

“That’s how you greet your guests?” a familiar voice asked. “I thought I had taught you better than that.”

Mark looked up and was shocked to see his mother standing there, looking out of place in her conservative pantsuit and sensible shoes.

“Mom? What are you doing here?” he said, trying not to let the shock show as he rounded his desk to give her a hug.

“Oh, you know. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.”

“Mom, you live in Connecticut.”

“I just came into the city to do some shopping,” she said, picking nonexistent dust off her navy jacket.

“You hate shopping in New York,” he said, flabbergasted.

“All right,” she said. “I came specifically to see you, if you must know.”

“Why?” She’d never done that.
Ever.

“Because I haven’t heard from you since that night you yelled at me over the phone. I was worried.”

Worried? His mom was worried about him? That was news to him. He couldn’t stop the sudden warming of his heart.

“You could have called.”

“I did. Repeatedly. You never answered.”

Damn it.
She had him there. He was behaving more like a spoiled teenager than the adult he was.

“Look, Mom, I’m sorry. Let’s start over, okay? It’s lovely to see you.”

“Thank you, Mark. It’s wonderful to see you, too. Do you have time for lunch?”

He really didn’t, but he’d have to be a total ass to tell her so.

“Sure. Where would you like to go?”

“I’ve already booked a table, darling. The car’s waiting downstairs.”

* * *

She had chosen a kitschy bistro in Little Italy, complete with red-checkered tablecloths and traditional Italian music playing in the background.

“This has always been one of my favorites, but your stepfather won’t come here,” she told him as she settled herself into her seat. “The lasagna is to die for, but he can’t appreciate it. Too many carbs, he says. As if that’s possible.”

“He does seem to have a hard time appreciating anything enjoyable,” Mark said blandly.

“He means well—you know that. But he takes his responsibilities very seriously. He has a hard time letting go.”

“That’s the understatement of the year.”

“Be nice, Mark,” his mother said sharply.

“Sorry,” he said. But he wasn’t. Not really.

A smiling waiter came to greet them. “Lucille,” he said. “How lovely to see you. The usual?”

“Yes, please.” She smiled.

Turning to Mark, he said, “And you, sir?”

“I’m told the lasagna is to die for. So I guess I’ll try that. In fact, bring me whatever she’s having.”

“Very well. Two usuals. I took the liberty of bringing your favorite wine with me, Lucille. Would you like me to pour?”

“Certainly. Mark, can you have a glass during working hours?”

“Sure, why not?” He’d probably need it to get through this conversation.

Once the waiter had retreated his mother looked at him with a serious expression on her face.

“I want to talk about our last conversation,” she said.

“Look, Mom, I was out of line. I’m sorry. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“Yes. We do,” she said, a hint of steel in her voice. “We need to clear the air. Or at least I do. Now, listen very closely. I love you very much. I always have. I sent you away to school because your stepfather insisted it was necessary to ensure you had the best possible foundation for college. Every family we know did the same thing. It’s what people with money do.”

Mark squirmed uncomfortably. He so didn’t want to have this conversation.

“It felt like he was just trying to get me out of the way. Why would he want to look at his wife’s illegitimate child every day if he didn’t have to? Especially since everyone knew I was a mistake.”

“You probably won’t believe me when I tell you this, but he’s very proud of you.”

“That’s not what you said when I was a kid. You told me I was an embarrassment to you both almost every time you saw me,” he said, unable to keep the whine from his voice.

“I admit when you got yourself thrown out of three boarding schools in the space of one term I was a bit frustrated with you. Anyone would have been. I probably said some things I didn’t mean. But, Mark, I never meant to make you feel unwanted. You’re one of the best things that ever happened to me—even if you were, ahem, unexpected.”

“Did you ever regret having me?” he blurted, unable to stop himself from asking.

“Never. Not even for a minute. How could I? You’re my son. I can’t imagine life without you,” she said, practically glowing with sincerity.

Mark smiled, surprised to realize how much her answer mattered.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for telling me that.”

Their food arrived and they applied themselves to the delicious baked concoction, watching the traffic go by on the street outside. A mother passed by with a gorgeous little blonde girl in tow. The child saw them looking and waved, her whole face lighting up as she smiled. Mark laughed and waved back.

“I hope you have children of your own someday,” his mother said, a certain wistfulness playing across her face. “A family makes life worth living.”

“Maybe someday,” Mark said, trying not to think about the baby currently growing in Becky’s womb. “When I’m ready.”

His mother snorted. “You’ll never be ready. No one ever is. You just figure it out as you go along and hope you don’t make too many mistakes.”

He nodded. He was pretty sure if he told his mom what had happened she’d tell him he’d already made a giant one.

* * *

Becky slammed her car door and hit her fist on the steering wheel. This had been the week’s third job interview and it had been just as big of a bust as the last two.

Although her interviewer probably didn’t think so. Judging from the light in his eyes when they’d said goodbye, he thought he had found his next senior copywriter. If only the job hadn’t sounded so boring.

Her phone blared in the silence. She looked down at the number. It was the recruiter she’d been working with.

“Hi, Amy,” she said, sighing into the phone.

“Hey, girl, you rocked another one,” an excited voice said. “I just talked to Jim and he said he’ll have an offer put together by the end of the week. That means you’ll have three opportunities to choose from.”

“That’s nice,” Becky said.

“Really? I tell you you’re about to have three offers thrown at you and all you can say is ‘That’s nice’?”

“It’s just—well, I don’t want to work on cars,” she said.

There was a beat of silence. “Becky. You
do
realize you’re in Detroit, right? Cars are what we do here.”

“I know, I know. And I’ll do it. It just doesn’t thrill me.”

“Well, I’ll bet you’ll feel differently when the offers come in. They’re going to throw buckets of money at you, honey.”

“All right. Call me if you hear anything,” she said, and hung up the phone.

She turned the key in the ignition and drove out of the soulless office park. Everything here seemed so sterile. Although cars jammed the streets, there was not a single person on the sidewalk. There was no music. No street vendors. Not even any taxis leaning on their horns. It was as if somebody had hit the mute button on the world.

The leaden skies didn’t help, either. The only thing worse than early December in Detroit was late February in Detroit. It was cold. Wet. And eternally cloudy. Only the twinkling Christmas lights that winked into life after the sun went down relieved the monotony.

But that didn’t help during the day.

God, but she missed Mark...er...New York.

She put her hand on her belly and sighed. “I hope you appreciate what I’m trying to do here, kiddo. Because I gotta tell you, it kind of sucks.”

* * *

Mark stepped into the dimly lit bar, hoping a night out with his college roommate would snap him out of the funk he’d found himself in. Quickly he scanned the room, looking for the former football player.

It didn’t take long to find him. Although John had blown his knee out the season before, he was still the guy who’d kicked the winning field goal in the Super Bowl a couple of years back. He attracted a crowd wherever he went.