“Have you considered asking him to move out?” Blue asked tactfully.
“He has nowhere else to go.”
“Cleo, sometimes you have to think of your own needs,” Blue pointed out, and Cleo scoffed.
“I spent most of my life being selfish and thinking of my own needs, to the detriment of others. When I look back on how I was, how much I took my grandparents and Luc and everything they sacrificed for me for granted, I’m so ashamed. When you met Luc, he was taking care of my grandparents 24-7, he only ever took time for his studies. He used to beg me to come home, to come and visit my grandparents.” Cleo kept her eyes downcast as she spoke. She knew that Blue had probably heard all of this from Luc, but knowing her brother, he had sugarcoated the facts, and right now, Cleo wanted her friend to hear the ugly, unadorned truth about her. “And I never did. I was always too busy, having too much fun, practicing too hard. I made excuses not to visit because I didn’t want to deal with their constant disapproval. I always felt like nothing I did was right.
“So I stayed away and left Luc to deal with it all, and only toward the end did I finally relent and visit them.” She choked back a sob. “And they were so old and so obviously dying, but they were so grateful.” Her voice broke on the word as tears seeped down her cheeks and dripped into her salad. “Just so grateful and happy that I’d come to visit them. There were no recriminations, only warmth and love and pure happiness. And I felt like such an imposter: their beautiful little ballerina who was so ugly on the inside. All those years I spent resenting them when all they ever wanted was my happiness. I can’t go back to being that awful person. Cal did a lot for me after my accident, and I won’t turn my back on him when he needs me.”
Blue reached out to squeeze Cleo’s hands. They were silent for a while, Blue patiently waiting for Cleo to gather herself before changing the subject to her and Luc’s upcoming anniversary, and about the dress she was thinking of buying. It was a welcome change in topic, but it didn’t take Cleo’s mind completely off her problems.
After Cleo returned home, she went into her bedroom, pushed the pile of clothing off the bed, and curled up in the center of it, trying to make herself as small as possible. She placed her palm over the flat expanse of her abdomen and gently applied pressure, trying to feel this tiny presence, which had made such a huge impact on her life. She felt nothing and it was hard to imagine anything in there, yet it was there. It existed.
At nearly eight weeks—according to the literature Dr. Klein had given her—it was smaller than a kidney bean but was developing tiny little webbed fingers and toes and eyelids. It was alive and moving even if she couldn’t feel it. She lifted her hands to her face and found it wet with tears. Her baby was alive and it needed her. It depended on her for food, for oxygen, for its very existence, and she couldn’t make the decision to snuff out that tiny life.
And just like that, terminating the pregnancy was no longer an option.
If she were younger, who knows what her decision would have been. But she was twenty-seven and—despite all her dreams to the contrary—realistically speaking, she didn’t have a dance career to think of anymore, and she was no longer the same selfish Cleo she had been years ago. She still didn’t know if she would keep it or put it up for adoption, but now that the immediate decision of having or terminating had been taken care of, the pressure of making any other urgent decisions had been relieved a bit. She had time to figure that out. She still didn’t think she would make a good mother, but there were so many other women out there who would die for the opportunity to have a baby to love and take care of.
Cleo fell asleep clinging to that positive thought.
When she woke up a couple of hours later, it was early evening, and the light was starting to go. Cleo immediately called Blue and told her that she planned to have the baby.
“I know it couldn’t have been an easy decision to make, but Luc, your friends, and I are all here for you.” Blue’s warm voice washed over her, soothing her and making her feel so much better about the choice she’d made.
“How do I tell Luc?” Cleo wondered miserably.
“Your brother will understand. He’s not entirely unreasonable, you know?” the other woman teased, and Cleo made a sound that was half laugh and half sob.
“He’ll be gutted.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“I’m coming to see you guys; I think it’s best to get this over and done with,” Cleo decided.
“No. We’ll come to you. I’d just feel better if you weren’t driving in these conditions while you’re so distracted,” Blue said firmly, and hung up before Cleo could protest.
She got up from bed slowly, alarmed when her head spun and her stomach roiled in protest at the movement.
“Morning sickness, my butt,” she muttered beneath her breath. The term was a complete misnomer. She sat quietly and breathed deeply to try and regain her equilibrium. When she felt steadier, she made her way to the door and peeked into the living room. Cal was sitting on the couch, making out with some guy Cleo had never seen before.
They didn’t even notice when Cleo stepped into the room and only—leisurely—ended their kiss when she cleared her throat pointedly.
“Hi, hon,” Cal greeted cheerfully. “This is the guy I told you about. Greg.”
“Oh, Greg, yes. Cal never stops talking about you,” she lied. Greg—a good-looking guy about ten years Cal’s junior—smiled sweetly. He had stars in his eyes as he looked at Cal. Poor kid.
Cleo turned toward the kitchen and was gratified to note that Cal had tidied up a bit while she was asleep, probably in anticipation of Greg’s visit. Cal left Greg on the couch and joined Cleo in the kitchen.
“Hey, hon, I hope you don’t mind us chilling here for the evening,” he said casually, clearly not really concerned with Cleo’s response. “But Greg still lives at home, so we couldn’t hook up there.”
“He lives at home? How old is he?” She looked at Greg again and reevaluated her initial assessment of his age.
“Nineteen? Twenty? Something like that.” Cal waved a dismissive hand. “Isn’t he adorable, though?”
“Cal, he’s a baby,” Cleo hissed impatiently. She was getting a little fed up with her friend’s casual hookups. “When are you going to stop messing around with these little toy boys and find a decent—age-appropriate—guy?”
“Age-appropriate guys aren’t fun and lack stamina,” he whispered smugly. “What Greg lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm.”
“Look, you and young Greg are going to have to go someplace else tonight. I’m expecting guests,” she said, and Cal’s eyebrows rose.
“Guests?”
“Luc and Blue are coming,” she explained, and Cal rolled his eyes.
“They’re hardly guests. They won’t mind if Greg and I are hanging around.”
“Cal, I have something really important to discuss with Luc; I just need a bit of privacy.”
“Since when do you have secrets from me?” he teased.
Cleo’s patience just snapped. “Since now, okay?”
Cal took a step back and his face froze over.
“No need to lash out,” he said icily. “Keep your precious secrets. Greg, babe, we’re going out. We’re not welcome here.”
The passive-aggressive comment was so typical of him.
“Cal,” she said miserably, and he held up a hand, still not looking at her.
“It’s okay, Cleo. This is your flat, and you have every right to want it to yourself sometimes. I’m sure Greg and I will find someplace to go in this weather. Right, babe?” Greg’s pretty blue eyes were wide and confused, but he nodded.
“It’s just for a couple of hours,” she explained. “I’ll text you when they leave.”
“Whatever.” He shrugged, grabbing his coat. She tried her best to shove aside the guilt as he and the hapless young Greg left. She really didn’t need Cal’s drama right now, but that’s how he always was, and she continually made excuses for him.
“Who’s the father?” Luc asked. He had been grim and silent when Cleo told him about her pregnancy and had remained that way for nearly five minutes after she had stuttered to a halt. She had never seen her normally amicable brother so quiet and unreadable before. Blue had filled the silence with slightly nervous chatter about the weather and the new leaks they’d discovered in the roof, all the while darting uncertain glances at Luc like he was a ticking time bomb about to go off. And now, when he finally spoke, his voice was cold enough to freeze the air around him.
“His identity is unimportant,” Cleo said, trying to keep her voice from wobbling.
“You do know who the father is, right?” The question was designed to wound, and Cleo felt the impact of it like a blow to her sternum. She gasped and folded in on herself defensively.
“Lucius Knight!” Blue barked, angrier than Cleo had ever seen her before. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
To his credit, Luc looked immediately contrite.