Page 46 of Love is Grand

I’d returned home from the Caymans nearly four weeks ago, and I’d wanted to go back every day. My ego wouldn’t allow it, though, not after Shell left my villa in such a hurry. She couldn’t wait to get away from me that night. The saying turnaround is fair play hit home. How many times had I left a woman in their bed wishing for more?

Of course Shell couldn’t wait to get away from me. I was an asshole. I came inside her and then admitted out loud that I was too old to be a father. While she was carrying my child.

I reminded myself of the details daily, and then I made myself feel better by trying to rationalize my behavior. I was scared shitless. Didn’t she know that?

Bringing the treadmill to a stop, I took a swig of water and walked toward the en-suite bathroom in my office. I’d put in the treadmill a few years ago. It saved on time traveling to and from the gym, and allowed me to get a run in whenever I could. Lately, it had been often. Midday, after work, later in the evening, I was constantly battling the worry and self-doubt in my head. Between the sexual frustration and impatience when it came to not hearing from Shell, I was practically a hormonal teenager.

I turned on the water and let the steam billow into the bathroom before stepping into the shower and going over this week’s schedule in my head. Adam had been in last week on his way home from his honeymoon.

“We’re going to have babies around the same time. Rylan’s over the moon,” the fucker had the nerve to say.

Of course she was. He’d spilled the good news, and I was sure Shell had told Rylan the bad news: she was pregnant, and I wasn’t going to be involved.

I wanted to punch Adam in the face at his happiness, not to mention his cavalier attitude. He was married and had wanted a family, and now he was getting it. I was supposed to be the good-time guy, and had never, ever imagined this scenario for myself.

Although, nothing was a good time these days. I didn’t fuck. I didn’t go to see Shell. I didn’t know how Shell’s three-month appointment went.

Just the week before, she’d texted me she was feeling fine and had an upcoming appointment. I texted back for her to keep me posted—like an ass, that’s all I wrote.

I didn’t tell her I missed her, or that I thought of her and the baby all the time. I didn’t text for her to say hi to Weezie—who, by the way, was apparently excited to be a big sister. Another tidbit I’d learned from Adam, who heard while on his honeymoon. Apparently, he spoke to Shell more from London than I had. Lately, all I did was work, drink, and run.

Turning the water off, using a little bit too much force, I dried off and put my suit back on, then tossed my sweaty workout clothes in a hamper. My laundry service would pick it up for me.

What a spoiled prick I am. Shell probably does all her own laundry.

This was what happened at every turn, every twist of my thoughts. I thought about what Shell did.

I told myself it was a reminder of how different our lives were and how we wouldn’t work, but my heart thought differently. It wanted to be with Shell, to provide for her and Weezie and our unborn son. Yes, I was convinced it was a boy.

Back at my desk, I cracked open a protein drink from the mini-fridge and looked at my emails. Another celebrity divorce case had found its way to me, representing the wife this time, and there was a communication from the husband’s studio, requesting a statement.

“Go fuck yourself,” I muttered to the laptop. I didn’t make statements about my clients to studios.

I was getting ready to reply when my personal phone rang.

Seeing the caller ID, I muttered to myself, “About fucking time,” then answered with, “Shell, you okay?”

“Yeah. Hi, Cal, how are you?”

“I’m fine. Tell me about you.” I didn’t say I was losing my shit over her and wanted to run to her, but she hadn’t asked me to come.

“I had my doctor’s appointment.” Her voice was like a salve to my aching heart, a Ricola cough drop soothing a sore throat.

“And?”

“Everything looked good. I’m just thirteen weeks and out of the riskiest time. Heartbeat was still fast and strong. They can hear it through my abdomen now. Doctor wants me to make sure to eat all my meals because I didn’t gain any weight this month. But mostly, they want me to keep up my strength.”

“You need to quit your job. I’ll take care of you so you can be good to yourself.”

“Cal,” she said, my name coming out like a growl. “That’s not your choice. I’ll take care of myself and be good for the baby, okay? But no, I’m not quitting. Is that all you have to say? No other questions?”

Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes. “No, that’s not it. I’m torturing myself here, Shell. I can’t sleep or think straight. I want to see you. To feel our baby growing inside you. But you basically kicked me out.”

Silence hung heavy on the other side of the call.

“Shell?”

“I’m here. I kicked you out? You said you were too old to be a dad.”