Jaded (WTF? Series Book 1) (4 page)

This is
totally
different.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" I reply smiling as I revel in this post-orgasmic glow. I am feeling grateful that things between us seem to be better than before.

"Because the welcome-home sex is just
that
awesome," he says, giving me a smack on the butt. "You wore this old man out."

I raise myself up on one elbow and trace a fingernail lightly over his chest. "After
that
how can you possibly refer to yourself as an old man?" I ask incredulously.

"You're right," he replies, "You keep me in shape. I won't ever let you go."

He rolls away from me, and launches his lean frame from the bed. "How about we share a shower and then share tales of our holidays with one another?" he asks, heading toward the bathroom. "We've got some catching up to do."

"Yeah, sounds good," I reply, getting up ready to follow him, feeling my brow furrow with confusion.

"Would you grab some clean clothes for me?" he asks, nodding towards the dresser in my bedroom where he keeps clean boxers, tee shirts, socks and sweats. "I'll get the shower going for us."

"Sure thing," I call back to him before he closes the bathroom door behind him. I'm distracted by the fact that he wants to share holiday vacation stories.

This is definitely new.

And weird.

It dawns on me that maybe Hayden has made some sort of New Year's resolution on my behalf. I mean, we've been sexual for several years, but intimacy like this has always seemed to elude us.

I brighten at the thought that this just might be the turning point our relationship so desperately needs. I'm optimistic that things will be better than ever. And maybe, just
maybe
I'll finally get the intimacy and love that I crave.

Can any one person be
that
lucky?

I'm still thinking those thoughts as I gather clean clothes for the both of us and head back towards the bathroom, tripping over Hayden's shoes.

I stoop to pick up his trousers that are pooled on the floor at the foot of my bed and his wallet falls out.

It's a new leather wallet. A Christmas gift no doubt from a member of his family, maybe even from his wife, Emily.

I drop the clean clothing onto the bed, and start to put the wallet back into the pocket of his trousers when something makes me stop.

I'm not a snoop by nature. Believe me; in the three years since I've assumed the role of Hayden's mistress, I've never snooped through his pockets, or driven by his home, or phoned his house and hung up on whoever answered--that is simply not my style.

I don't even ask him questions about his family. He shares bits and pieces of his life with me as he sees fit, and I don't ask for more than what he's willing to give. But something propels me in this instant to look in his wallet and I don't know why.

With a flick of my wrist the bi-fold wallet opens and I immediately see that there's a picture inside the clear plastic window. It is marked as "Christmas 2014" in script at the bottom.

It's Hayden and his family all together over the holidays. I recognize Emily from the club, and his youngest daughter Simone who's around twelve leaning against Hayden. I recognize her from the club as well. She's on the swim team. Next to Emily is their son Patrick, I presume, who attends a private high school. If memory serves me correctly, Patrick's a senior, which makes him seventeen I would guess.

But my eye catches the oldest son; the one Hayden barely ever mentions who is standing on the outside in this photo. I pull the picture out of the plastic and turn it over. I recognize Hayden's neat handwriting on the back.

Oh my God.

'Em, Simone, Patrick, and Aaron - Xmas 2014 - Playa del Carmen'

Playa del Carmen?

Hayden and his family spent the holidays in
Playa del Carmen?
That's like six hours away from where I had been staying …. But only four hours from where I was
supposed
to have been staying . . .

I hurriedly flip the picture back over and study his oldest son, Aaron. I freeze on the spot, trying like hell to put these puzzle pieces in some logical order. I blink a couple of times, not sure why, but my eyes follow the lines of his very handsome face; the strong jawline that seems familiar, as do the full, sensual lips.

It's when my eyes lower to his chin that I realize there is no mistaking that chin dimple. My lips tingle at my own body's internal memory of having kissed him . . . there; of my tongue settling . . . there; of my finger tracing the stubble . . . there.

Dark shadowy images of my secret lover dance through my mind.

Adam---Aaron?

Fuck.

But why?

He doesn't look any older than twenty-one or twenty-two. I try like mad to remember Hayden's mentioning him before, but there is little I recollect.

Something about him attending college somewhere in the Mid-West; not coming home often, and having a falling out of some sort with him over his career path. I wish I could recall more, but I can't. Hayden doesn't speak all that much of his children, and in particular, his oldest one.

I study the picture again and Hayden's words come back to me.

"
You love what
my
cock gave you."

His son?

"Maybe I need to send your ass to
San Pedro
more often."

He said 'San Pedro'--not
Belize
or
Belize City.

Oh my God.

Had he made a quick detour to Belize City? Surely Janett would've contacted me by cell if something unexpected had happened while she was at the resort there.

Right?

My mind rewinds to the morning I met Janett outside of the airport at the designated spot to retrieve my extra suitcase. We hadn't spoken to one another as planned; because you never know who might've been watching. She looked well-rested, tanned and very happy by the looks of the smile on her face.

I need to call her at the earliest opportunity. I feel frantic now with confusion and apprehension.

"Jade," he calls out from the bathroom. "Are you coming?"

I put the picture back in its place, and hurriedly stuff the wallet back into the pocket of his trousers, letting them drop back onto the floor where he stepped out of them earlier.

I take a really deep breath, willing myself to relax so that he doesn't notice that I'm coming apart. I can't afford to show that to him.

"I'm coming, Hayden," I call out. "Be right there."

And as I make my way to the bathroom, my mind is still a flurry of contradictions and excuses. I feel shaky, and I know I can't face him until I calm down and get rid of the guilt that I know I'm wearing like a mask.

I take another deep breath, and force myself to consider the worst case scenario, that being that he somehow knows what I've done.

Wouldn't he have mentioned it to me by now? Done something to show me that I hadn't gotten away with anything?

The reality of Hayden sinks in and I chide myself for not realizing it sooner.

Regardless of what he may or may not know, I realize there's no way that Hayden will ever divulge the truth to me. Nor will he ever call me out on anything that might make him look as if he hadn't been in control of the situation.

And why should he?

After all, Hayden Barringer the second is
always
in control, everyone knows that . . .

No one ever dupes this extraordinary man.

The reality of the situation seeps into my brain and has an immediate calming effect, just as a rush of dopamine infiltrates my senses.

All is well.

I reach the bathroom door suddenly feeling exhilarated that I have a man such as Hayden taking care of me - seeing to all of my needs, not only financially, but emotionally as well. Letting me know where I stand with him.

"You keep me in shape I won't ever let you go."

I feel the smile form on my lips as I recall his words of only minutes ago.

I am
so
lucky to have him.

Two Months Later

I scoot my butt up to the edge of the examining table as Dr. Maxwell has requested at least three times since he took his seat on the rolling stool.

"Don't worry, I'll catch you if you fall," he teases, as he grabs the warm speculum from behind him. His nurse is standing next to him and, by the dour expression on her face, it is apparent that she's totally bored. Must get old for her.

Same shit, different day.

"Relax your legs," he instructs, "Just let them fall open."

As if.

"That's better," he says, now opening me up to take a look.

God I hate this.

The palm of his free hand presses flat against my abdomen, and he moves and puts pressure in several places, before he finally swabs my cervix and unclamps me. I finally release the breath I've been holding.

"All done," he says, slipping off his latex gloves, and tossing them into the trash can next to the wall. "Raise your left arm up over your head," he instructs, as he starts the breast exam. "That's good. Now the other, please."

I comply and within another twenty seconds, he's finished.

"Seems fine. You can sit up now," he says, holding his hand out for me to take as he helps me up. I'm clutching the paper sheet up around my breasts now, and watch as he studies my chart.

Just then there's a light tapping on the door. His nurse opens it, and the lab technician hands her a piece of paper. She glances at it and then hands it over to Dr. Maxwell.

"Thanks, Sherry," he replies, looking it over. She leaves the room.

"Well Jade, I think I can explain the spotting you've been experiencing in lieu of your normal menstruation."

It's cancer. I know it.

It's just how my luck runs. Hayden and I have been closer than ever since the holidays. I'm not clear on what exactly transpired with him and his family because, that day at my condo, we never got around to discussing it.

Once I joined him in the shower that afternoon, there was no talking…period. It was as if Hayden couldn't fuck me enough that day--and for the days following it.

I had been so grateful for being able to stay under the radar with the stunt I'd pulled, that I had struck a bargain with God. I promised to never take what I had with Hayden for granted again in exchange for him not finding out about what I had done.

I mean, yes, his actions that day were...
strange
but, then again, Hayden is a complicated person. He hasn't gotten where he is by being a fool, and he certainly is a proven master of masking emotions, that is evident in all of his dealings whether business, social or personal.

After he had left my bed the following morning, I had wasted no time in pulling my secret laptop out of hiding, and promptly tossing it into the dumpster out behind the condominiums. I was resolute in my commitment to avoid all temptation. Besides that, I didn't want to know what happened. Sometimes being kept in the dark is the best possible scenario.

Ignorance is bliss.

Like right now, as I continue hearing Dr. Maxwell repeating my name, as long as I don't acknowledge him, then no devastating news can reach my ears.

"Jade," he says once again, his voice verging on a shout. "Are you okay?"

I look up at him, realizing I've let my paper sheet fall to my waist. "It's cancer, isn't it?" I ask quietly.

"You haven't heard a word I’ve said, have you?"

I shake my head, my hands death-gripping the sides of the table, braced for the words that are to come once again.

"You're pregnant, my dear."

Worse than cancer.

Totally not possible.

"That's not possible," I whisper, my eyes widening. "Hayden's had a vasectomy."

Dr. Maxwell takes a seat on his rolling stool, and scoots in front of me. "How long ago?"

"What?"

"How long ago did Hayden have a vasectomy?"

I shrug. "Before we started our relationship, so at least four years ago," I reply.

"Well, vasectomies are 97% effective, but the real issue is whether or not he followed up with his post-op visit and had his sperm count verified. You'd be surprised how many men don't follow through with that," he said, shaking his head. "So, I suggest you ask him about that when you give him the news."

Give him the news?

I'm silent. My mind is blank. Dr. Maxwell picks up on my distress. "Jade, have you been sexually active...outside of your current relationship?"

I shoot him a look.

"I'm not trying to pry; I'm merely trying to help you sort this out."

"How far along am I?"

"Nine to ten weeks. We'll have a more definitive estimation once we do your first ultrasound at your next appointment; that is...uh...if you plan to continue with the pregnancy."

"Yes."

"Yes--you plan to continue with the pregnancy?"

"No. Yes, I was sexually active outside of my current relationship, but only once, and we used condoms."

I feel my face flush with the confession to the non-judgy doctor--at least he's supposed to be, I think.

"Well, condoms are only 85% effective, so of course the odds are more likely that this sexual partner is responsible for the pregnancy but, again, that also is contingent upon the number of times you engaged in sex using condoms. That percentage is skewed because of people that never use anything
other
than condoms and unreported factors. Again,
knowing
if your current partner ever completed his post-surgery sperm count analysis is the key, Jade."

Holy shit.

"I understand," I reply meekly. "I need time to think about this, Doctor Maxwell, to fully absorb this news and to figure things out."

"Of course," he says, standing up, and heading towards the door. "You may get dressed now. Why don't you schedule an appointment for two weeks out just to be on the safe side, if you need to cancel for some reason, well, you always have that option."

"I will," I say, blinking back tears.

"Good luck," he replies, right before the door closes behind him.

I'm in a stupor.

A shocked stupor.

I manage to get my clothes back on, not realizing until much later that I have buttoned my blouse up all wrong. Later, after I've made a follow-up appointment for two weeks out as the doctor instructed. After I've started my car up in the frigid, late February weather, backing out of the parking space, and being oblivious to the fact that Doctor Maxwell is watching me from behind the blinds of his office window.

Because if I
had
been aware, I would've buttoned my blouse up properly; I might have reconsidered making that follow up appointment, and I may have even noticed the doctor staring through the cracks in his blinds making sure that I was out of the building before he picked up the phone on his desk to make a call.

(Previously The End)