It’ll have to blindside him. I can’t let him see it coming, or else I won’t be able to pull it off.
I need my best friend to help me. I need Kate now.
I fall asleep, content with my new resolution, my hand on my stomach, praying to God that he can find a way to help me.
I wake up in agony, folded over as pain rips through me. I look at the clock radio beside the bed and see it’s barely 5 a.m. It wasn’t daylight that woke me up; it was the stabbing sensation in my stomach and an aching sore back. As another wave of pain sweeps through me, I feel a wet sensation between my legs.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no.
This can’t be happening.
I cup myself between my legs as I jump out of bed and race to the bathroom, pulling my pants down. I see blood everywhere. I know what this is; I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’ve seen enough women come through during my hospital observation shifts with similar symptoms. This is not light spotting which can be considered normal in early pregnancy. This is a miscarriage. My baby is gone.
I turn the shower on and discard my soiled pants, throwing my top off as I hop into the cold shower, not waiting for it to warm up. I look down and see the red tinged water wash down the plug hole. I’m hit with a wave of regret, of loss, then suddenly overwhelming guilt. Deep down, it’s like I wanted this to happen; somehow I willed it to become reality. I slide down the wall of the shower and cradle my arms around my legs as I start to cry, sitting there for what seems like an eternity. I cry for the baby that I lost, for how trapped I am in this life, for the man that Beau has become, and finally, for everything that should have been but wasn’t. I stay there until the water runs cold, and I’m a shivering mess on the shower floor. Most of the blood has washed away now. All I feel is empty and free.
And guilty that I’m relieved that God chose this path for me.
I get out of the shower and get dressed, I grab my phone and call my best friend, knowing that if I’m going to do it, now is the only chance I’m going to get to escape this life and leave Beau.
“Kate, it’s Mac. I need a ticket home, today,” I spit out, my voice still shaky from spending the last hour crying.
“About freaking time, babe. Pack your stuff, go to the airport, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Kate?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Mac. I’m so glad you’re coming home. Everything is going to be okay.”
I grab whatever I can and stuff it into the two suitcases I have in the closet. I check that I’ve got only what I need, then carry the bags to the front door. I take my key off my key ring and place it on the kitchen counter. I take one last look around the empty room that has been my home for the past six months. Scratch that, I can’t even say it’s been a home. A home is full of love, and warmth, and for the past five months it’s been full of lies, deceit and if I’m going to be honest, fear.
“Goodbye, Beau Gregory,” I whisper as I click the lock and pull the door closed behind me.
Walking away from this life, I make a vow to myself; never again will my life be dictated by a man, and never again will I let love lead me astray.
But as I’ll soon find out not four years later, vows are made to be broken.
Chapter 2 – “The First Time I Ever Saw Your Face”
Four Years Later…
I’m on my way home after finishing a shift at the hospital. I’m just getting comfortable and texting Kate, when I drop my phone. Of course, it had to slide down the train away from me. Thankfully, being 8 p.m., the cab isn’t too full. Just as I’m about to get up and search the floor in a desperate last attempt to regain my life, hey, my phone is my life, don’t judge, I see him.
As luck would have it, my phone hit a strange man’s black loafer clad foot, and when I look up, I see said man making his way towards me. This man is sex on legs delicious. I totally clocked him when he got on the train at the stop after me. I’m amazed that I’m even coherent enough to notice anyone, given that I’m at the end of an eight hour day shift where I was rushed off my feet. I’m dog tired, but my mind is restless, wired, and you guessed it, horny.
Noah has been on a training course for the week, so there has been no chance of any on-call room hook ups, Sean has been out of town for business for the past few days, and Zander has had back to back bookings all week. It’s just been me, my trusty rabbit who, as luck would have it, has run out of juice, or option number three, this delectable man who is now walking towards me.
Ding, Ding, Ding! I pick door number three.
He just doesn’t know it yet.
He’s wearing a granite colored suit, the jacket hanging over his arm which is carrying a black leather briefcase. His white dress shirt has the sleeves rolled up, and he’s obviously finished work for the day because his top two buttons are undone, giving a slight glimpse of a tanned and toned chest that you just want to lick. I’m in businessman fantasy heaven, and he is being delivered to me on a plate, or in this case, a rattly, somewhat dirty, Chicago train.
But beggars can’t be choosers.
He’s totally caught me staring at him, his pearly white smile growing on his gorgeous face as he gets closer. I give him a slightly embarrassed, yet cute smile back, knowing that I’ve been caught checking him out. He holds his hand out to me when he reaches my seat, and being the socially awkward idiot that I am, I put my hand out to shake his, feeling absolutely mortified when I realize that he was only trying to hand my phone back.
“Sorry, is this your phone? It slid down the floor from this direction, and you’re one of the only people on the train without a phone or an e-reader in your hand, so I’m taking a lucky guess,” he says with a sly grin, thankfully not laughing at my social ineptitude.
“Yeah, that’ll be mine. Sorry to make you come all the way down here,” I reply, an uncontrollable blush creeping up my cheeks.
“Hey, it’s no problem. I don’t mind being given an excuse to talk to a beautiful stranger, on the L, at night, alone…”
His words are calculated. He somehow has managed to compliment me at the same time as chastising me for traveling alone on the L at night. Now that is talent! I feel a chill run up my spine at the sheer presence of this man.
“Makenna Lewis, but everyone calls me Mac,” I say, this time actually holding my hand out to shake his.
He looks down at my outstretched hand and drags piercing caramel colored eyes down my scrub clad body, his jaw twitching as he returns his gaze back to my face.