Bastian: A Secret Baby Romance (7 page)

"I love you too, Sebastian."

T
he next morning
, let's just say that Sebastian and I broke in the shower of that hotel quite well. It was nine in the morning before he and I left our room, the key tucked securely in my purse. I had dressed up a little bit, wearing a knee-length skirt that still showed Sebastian plenty of my figure, along with a light blouse and jacket. Our first stop was a place my mother would have had a fit if she knew we were there, a Cracker Barrel.

I ordered enough food to make the waitress give me a knowing look. Thankfully, she didn't know who I was by sight. We were at least far enough upstate for that to happen. As we waited for our chicken fried steak and eggs, Sebastian and I talked like any other couple I had ever seen.

"So, are you going to join in on Mason's campaign?" he asked, sipping at his coffee. "I mean, I know his son's an ass, and you did the right thing throwing him in our pool, but still, Mason's got a good shot at making the State House. It'd be a good mark on your resume."

I shrugged, stirring cream and sugar into my tea. "Maybe, but after we tell Mom and Donald about us, I don't think any political campaign is going to let me within twenty yards of them."

Sebastian nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. "That could be a problem. Although anyone who would turn you down for such a stupid reason as public perception is a damned fool."

"Politics is full of damned fools, you know that," I teased him. "That's why all the best minds go into something besides politics."

"Oh, I don't know, I was thinking you might make a great political leader some day," Sebastian said, reaching forward and grabbing a buttermilk biscuit out of the basket before I ate them all. "That is, if you want to."

I thought about it seriously for a moment, looking at Sebastian the whole time. "No, not me," I finally admitted. "I can't imagine putting on the whole false face bullshit that I know every politician does, and I'm not strong enough to just lead by pure force of will."

"You do a pretty good job with everyone but me," Sebastian commented, taking a bite of the biscuit, which he had loaded up with butter and strawberry jam. "Damn, we have to get Amanda off of her Paleo kick. This stuff is too good."

I laughed, our conversation pausing as the waitress brought the first plates of our food. For three or four minutes I was in pure consumption mode, shoveling fried steak and gravy into my mouth almost as fast as my breathing could allow. When half the plate was gone, I took a deep drink of my tea, setting it down with a sigh of pleasure.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

Sebastian, who had barely touched his own steak, laughed and cut his meat almost daintily. "What I said was, you're a great leader. The only person you can't wrap around your little finger is me."

"Which is why I think I'm not cut out for office," I said, taking a more civilized bite of my steak. "However, I wouldn't mind being the woman behind the man who
is
in office."

Sebastian quirked his eyebrow at me. "You think I'm a good candidate for that?”

Setting my fork and knife down, I ticked off my points on my fingers as I spoke. "You're tall, you're photogenic, which is super important in modern politics. You come from money and have society connections, both again important for roping in the media and getting donors, not that you need them. Our family has a pretty good reputation, although getting any environmentalists on board would be a bit difficult with the oil money. But most importantly, you're smart, educated, and you have a force of will that is unparalleled. Sebastian, you have the sort of personality that, if you turned it towards evil means, could spell disaster for the entire nation, hell the entire world. But you're not an evil man, I know that. You are a leader, the born kind that will have influence whether it is in the political arena or not. So yeah, I think you could be a politician if you wanted. You could even supersede politics if you want as well."

Sebastian looked at me for a moment, and I suddenly felt self-conscious. I wondered if my voice had lifted, and I had to look around to see if the other tables were watching us. Thankfully, it looked like nobody cared about us, although I think there was a high school age girl across the room checking Sebastian out.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so foolish."

Sebastian set his cup down, shaking his head. "Don't be sorry, Cassie. I guess I just never heard anyone really talk about me that way before. Or at least nobody I gave a damn about. All right, well in any case, I have to get through law school first. Tell you what, I'll think about it, but on one condition."

"Which is?"

"You do stay with me as the woman supporting me. I don't know if I could change the world by myself, but with you next to me? Yeah, I think we could shape the world in a better image."

It was a nice thought, but maybe a bit too much of a fantasy given us being step-siblings. It’s not like we were blood related, but I could see the haters coming from everywhere.

After breakfast, Sebastian and I drove over to a local park, which was famous for its outdoor sculpture collection. What we didn't know was that a local farmer's market and craft fair was scheduled for the second Saturday of each month, so instead of statues, we got to stroll around sampling the local culture. The area around Trafalgar was very eclectic, as you could expect from any college town, and in addition to the foods, there were crafts, games, performers and musicians all around. We were caught up in the spirit of things, and about halfway through our little tour of the market, I felt Sebastian take my hand in his, holding it like any other boyfriend in the world. I went along with it, enjoying the simple feeling.

We stopped by a churro stand and bought a couple of the fried treats while watching a group of jugglers perform to the delight of the crowd. One of the jugglers, as part of his act, took things from the crowd and turned them into objects to be juggled, including a baseball cap, someone's keys, and a hot dog which he promptly took a bite from, earning laughs from everyone.

A cameraman shot pictures of the whole act, and Sebastian and I both saw a local news reporter coming around trying to get quotes for a story. Wanting to avoid the press, we made our getaway, strolling away to enjoy the other attractions. By the time we finished the market, it was early afternoon, and we grabbed some soft serve ice cream to enjoy until it was time for dinner. The park had a small pond in the middle, and we sat next to each other on the bench. I don't think I have to explain to you how it felt when Sebastian put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into lean on his shoulder.

"This is a lot of fun," I wistfully said, watching three ducks upend themselves to try and get some food from under the water. "Tell me we'll get to do this more often."

"After this weekend, we can do it as often as you want," Sebastian promised me, licking his ice cream. "Because when we get home tomorrow night, we're going to tell our parents, and let the rest of the world be damned."

"You sure? I mean, it's going to be a lot to drop on them all of a sudden."

"True, but we can't wait much longer. You're going to start showing before we know it. Besides, I'm tired of waiting. I love you Cassie, and that's all that matters to me right now."

I could feel Sebastian's will working against my fears, breaking them down in that way he has. As he looked me in the eyes, each of my arguments seemed to fall apart before I could even say them. It wasn't like I could hide my pregnancy much longer, another two months at the most, maybe three if I was lucky. Besides, every day I delayed telling Donald and Mom meant it would probably make it worse when we did tell them. Finally, I nodded and kissed his free hand.

"All right. Sunday night. Until then, though, can we just not worry about it?"

"Who's worrying?" Sebastian chuckled, taking another bite of his soft serve. "Let the rest of the world worry. I'm on a date with my girlfriend."

T
he restaurant was
as fancy as I had anticipated, with all of the wait staff in dress shirts and vests, and a real maitre' d, complete with the accent -- although his was British, not French. We were escorted to the prime table, as befitting a Witherspoon, and given our menus with only a modicum of stuffiness. Glancing down the list, I saw there were no prices listed, which in my experience meant that whatever I ordered would be hellaciously expensive. While I knew that the Witherspoon finances would hardly even feel the blip, the kid who went to public school for a few years noted it. Thankfully, before I could say anything, Sebastian looked over at me and smiled.

”Yeah, I know. Honestly, I think I may end up preferring the barbecue place we went to more."

The tension broken, I ordered my dinner, the restaurant's specialty, supposedly some sort of Italian/Chinese fusion noodle dish that was part lasagna, part moo goo gai pan, and who knows what else. As we waited for our appetizers, potstickers made with Italian sausage, we chatted about inconsequential things, just really enjoying our time together. In reality, the dinner wasn't all that much different from what we talked about every night around the table at home, but the fact that it was the two of us, out alone and in public together, made all the difference.

I had to admit that my main course was actually pretty good. The lasagna sheets held the Chinese vegetables and sauce perfectly, while the cheese layers carefully accented the whole thing. Best of all though was the meat, shredded oxtail that had been supposedly simmered in a tomato broth for hours before being used in the lasagna. I enjoyed all of it, scraping my plate at the end, regardless of how polite or not it seemed.

"What's for dessert?"

Sebastian pulled the waiter aside, who nodded and stated that he would ask the chef.

"I made a special request, but I don't know if it's ready yet," Sebastian explained. "What put this place on the map is that the head chef used to be the dessert chef at a three-star Michelin restaurant before becoming head chef of this place. Her specialty is tiramisu, but obviously you're not able to have the normal preparation."

"Why?" I asked ignorantly. I mean, I like Italian food as much as anyone else, but I didn't know much about how to cook Italian desserts.

"Her normal preparation involves a nice heavy dose of Kahlua to the mix, soaking the ladyfingers in it. I obviously asked if a non-alcoholic version could be made for us tonight."

Blushing at Sebastian's forethought, I was shocked when the head chef came out to bring us the dessert herself. I had seen her on Food Network a couple times. She cut just as dramatic a figure in her own restaurant as she did on television, with her short spiky blonde hair accenting her sparkling whites.

"I have to thank you for this challenge," she said graciously. "I've been making this with just Kahlua for so long, I had to really dig deep into my memory and my skills to replace the alcohol with just coffee. I added a few other things to liven it up from the classic, so I really hope you enjoy it. I know my staff is thankful, since they got to eat the two trial runs I made before you arrived."

"You shouldn't have," I said, before the chef raised her hand.

"Not at all, Miss Witherspoon. Like I said, it was a fun challenge, and I hope it meets your approval."

The chef left us, going back to the kitchen while the rest of the diners watched us dig in. Abandoning decorum, we shared the large bowl, giggling as we clashed spoons in our enthusiasm. While I wanted to take my time to savor each bite, it seemed like only moments before the bowl was empty, with only a shallow pool of vanilla laced coffee in the bottom.

"My God that was good," I muttered, licking the back of my spoon. "By the way, did you catch how she addressed me?"

"Miss Witherspoon?" Sebastian said, smiling. While it wasn't very well publicized, I had kept my original family name when Mom remarried. My driver's license still read Cassandra Athena Lacadaemotis, and let me tell you that was a pain in the ass to learn to write in first grade. "Yeah, I heard it. Kind of liked it, but it wasn't totally correct."

"You liked it, huh? And what would you make different?"

Sebastian leaned forward, his lips next to my ear and whispered. "I was thinking it would sound better as Mrs. Witherspoon. But, all in good time with that."

Blushing, I barely paid attention as Sebastian paid the bill and we left. Outside, overtaken by the romance of the scene, I practically floated to the parking lot. When we reached the car, Sebastian pulled me in close, giving me a deep romantic kiss that curled my toes before opening my door. We drove back to the hotel, and you can guess what happened the rest of the night.

* * *

I
woke
up the next morning to the sound of my cell phone having an epileptic seizure. Sebastian and I had been up until two in the morning making love, until we both fell into an exhausted slumber. So when my cell phone went nuts at seven in the morning, you can guess my reaction.

I was just about to throw my phone across the room when Sebastian's phone also started going insane, causing both of us to sit up. Sebastian was very privacy-conscious, and had put custom settings on his phone that only certain people could get through. If he was getting messages, they had to be important.

Grabbing my phone, I started scrolling through what I had already gotten. It only took two messages for the color to drain from my face, and my heart to catch in my throat. "Oh my God," I moaned, clicking on the link in one of the messages, this one from one of my so-called study buddies in my economics class. I don't even want to repeat the words I read.

My browser opened, taking me to what I politely call the floating turd in the toilet bowl of the Internet. The most egregious of gossip sites. In any case, the news wasn't just there.

"Keepin' It In The Family!" the headline screamed, with a full sized close-up of Sebastian and I kissing in the parking lot of the restaurant the night before. The text was full of innuendo, although most of it was close enough to the truth to keep them in the clear if I even did want to take them to court. Whoever the real reporter was, they had almost a total itinerary of what Sebastian had done since leaving home Friday afternoon. The barbecue restaurant, the hotel -- including a few quotes from anonymous staff that I seem to be quite the screamer -- and all of Saturday right up until the restaurant.

"Jesus H. Christ," Sebastian muttered, looking at his own phone. I figured his own browser was on the same page as mine, or at least something similar. "Dad is going to be pissed."

We didn't even shower, pulling on our clothes as quickly as possible. Heading downstairs, I wanted to tear the heads off of the woman working behind the front desk, but knew it wouldn't mean anything. The hotel source was anonymous, and could have been another guest, the cleaning maid, anyone. The hotel could plausibly deny anything and everything, and me making a scene over it would just hurt us in the court of public opinion.

After checking out, Sebastian and I took the Interstate back home. While nowhere near as scenic as the drive up, it did shave our driving time down to three hours, including a stop to gas up about halfway home. The rest stop had a convenience store, and I went in alone, realizing that despite all the stress, all the fucked up emotions from the situation we were in, I was hungry. Thankfully, the clerk on duty was either not paying good enough attention, or wasn't the sort to peruse gossip websites, and I was able to buy my Ding-Dongs in peace.

Sebastian was quiet most of the way back, grimly looking ahead while keeping the BMW at exactly ten miles per hour over the speed limit. While I wanted to talk to him, I had no idea how I was supposed to break the silence, and together we just drove while the iPod mix droned away. Finally, about ten miles before we got off the Interstate, Sebastian looked over at me.

"I'm not ashamed of falling in love with you," he said quietly, turning his attention back to the road. "I'm not angry or upset about taking you out for dinner last night. In fact, yesterday was the best day of my life. I just want you to know that."

Blinking the tears away, I smiled and nodded. "Me too. I love you, Sebastian."

When we got home, none of the staff greeted us at the driveway, or at the door. The entire house was empty, which wasn't totally unexpected. Parking the car, Sebastian led me inside, where we found Donald and Mom sitting in the dining room, waiting for us.

"So I guess you heard as well?" Sebastian said, taking his normal seat at the table. At a change of pace, I sat down next to him, across from my mother. "I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did, we had actually wanted to tell you tonight."

"To say it was a shock to find your son and your stepdaughter kissing on the front page of a major media site is one thing. To get woken up by everyone from Business Week to Forbes is quite another," Donald said, looking over at Sebastian. "Do you have any idea what sort of public relations nightmare you two have caused? Sebastian, I've overlooked your promiscuousness in the past, even at times helping clean up your mess, although you never knew about it. I figured you would grow out of it. I was quite the hell-raiser myself when I was your age. But to seduce your own stepsister!"

"Donald, Sebastian didn't," I began, before Mom cut me off.

"Not a word, young lady. Of all the stupid, hormone-driven things to do! What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"We're in love," Sebastian said simply. "Father, I knew about those times you covered up for me. I'm not going to beg for your forgiveness now on those times, it's not deserving of how you raised me. But with Cassie, it's different. I love her."

"Of course you do, she's family!" Mom said hotly, her fist pounding on the table. "But do you know what you're doing is illegal?"

"It's not illegal at all, Amanda," Sebastian replied evenly, turning his eyes upon Mom. "We're not blood-related, plain and simple. As for the morals.... well, honestly as much as I love Cassie, I don't care about the morals."

Mom was about to reply when Donald held up his hand. "Wait a second, Amanda. Sebastian, are you serious about what you're saying?"

"Yes, Father. I love her.”

Donald nodded, looking over at me. "And Cassandra? Do you feel the same way?"

Looking at Sebastian, I nodded, taking his hand in mine. "Yes, I do. Donald, I love your son. He's the perfect man for me, and I'm proud to be with him."

Donald nodded, then looked over at Mom. “We’re just going to make it harder on everyone if we don’t go along with this."

Mom looked from Donald to me to Sebastian and back, kind of a circle. "But Donald, our family...."

"Our family is stronger together than it is scattered and split," Donald said, and for the first time I could feel the force of Donald's personality turned on fully. It was a match for Sebastian's, and I could see why he was the only person Sebastian couldn't influence in his life. It was as physical an aura as his son's, but with more years of experience behind it. "Amanda, I love you, and I love Cassandra. That Sebastian has fallen in love with her is something not totally unexpected, she's as beautiful as you are, and honestly one of the smartest and strongest young women I've ever met. She's perhaps the only woman of all the women he's brought to this house or other places that I know of that is strong enough to actually be a partner to Sebastian."

"Father, before you continue, there's two other things," Sebastian said, squeezing my fingers gently in his hand. "First.... well, do you want to tell them Cassie?"

I nodded, smiling. "I'm pregnant. You're going to be grandparents." I didn't want to waste time beating around the bush, so I just spit it out plainly.

I don't think I'd ever seen a happier expression cross Donald's face than when I said those words. Mom, on the other hand, looked worried for a moment, but then accepted what had all been said, and a smile came over her face.

"Well then, I guess we'll have to redecorate one of your rooms. I assume you two will want to share the same room, of course?"

I laughed, before something Sebastian said earlier caught my attention.

"Wait a second, Mom. Sebastian, you said two things. What's the second?"

Sebastian reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small black box. He set it in front of me, nodding. "Go ahead, open it."

My hands were shaking as I opened the box, which hinged to reveal a thin gold band with a square cut ruby in the middle.

"I know tradition calls for diamonds, but since rubies are my birthstone, and you're more important to me than my own blood."

I picked up the ring, examining for only a moment before slipping the band on my finger. He didn't need to ask, and I didn't need to answer. It was, of course, a perfect fit.

That's just the way Sebastian was.