Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)(41)

"Six weeks? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I haven't known for six weeks. I went to the doctor like we talked  about, so I could get birth control. And that's when I discovered."

"You went to the doctor last week," he points out. There's still not a  hint of smile on his face. "Is this why you've been so distant?"

A knot lodges in my throat. "I didn't know how you'd take the news."

"What do you mean you didn't know how I'd take it? Why are you so nervous? You don't want the baby?"

"I'm-" My voice catches. I shake my head, closing my eyes. The image of  the tiny shoes pops up in my mind. "I can't believe you asked me that," I  finish weakly.

"Clara Abernathy!" a voice resounds from deeper inside the waiting room. "Your interviewer is waiting."

"I have to go."

"I can wait until your next break."

"Don't."

"Clara-" he tries again.

"Please don't. I have a gazillion more interviews, and I want to have a clear head."

Without waiting for his reply, I turn my back to him and head straight to my interview room.

***

They start triaging us in the afternoon. By four o'clock, just six of us  are left from the thirty. Theresa didn't make the cut, which is a pity.  I liked her. They'll only hire three though, so the game is still on.  I'm dizzy and hungry by the time they call me in for the last interview.  A woman with a short, graying bob welcomes me inside. My portfolio is  to her right, my custom illustration for them on the left.                       
       
           


///
       

"I'm Sheila Radcliffe. Take a seat, Ms. Abernathy. You're pale. Are you feeling all right?"

Yep, just confused and broken-hearted. And what with the lack of  caffeine in my system and the general drowsiness the doctor warned might  hit me in the first trimester, I feel like I'm wading through a  particularly thick cobweb of thoughts.

"Just been a long day, but I'm excited to be here."

She scoffs. "Please, between the two of us, I can be honest. This  process has been a nightmare. Our HR really needs to get their act  together. Who's got time for ten interviews?"

I smile weakly. "This is my twelfth."

"Pffft, see what I mean? I wanted you on my team since I saw this."

She holds up an illustration from my portfolio. It's two years old, and I  did it on a whim, in one crazy night. It's a little strange and a lot  colorful.

"Wow, really?"

She nods. "Really. This tells me you have creativity. Technique can be  learned, but creativity comes from within. So yeah, that's what  convinced me. But HR insisted on a million interviews to see if we're a  good fit and whatnot." Ah yes, that does sound like HR bullshit. "I told  them the only thing I care about is the illustrator's work, not which  personality type they are, but alas, I don't make all the rules. So,  Clara-can I call you that?"

"Yes, please."

"Brilliant! You're available to start immediately, right?"

I can barely believe this is happening. "I am."

"Good. Because I want to change the plans. I do get to make some rules,  thank goodness. All of the remaining six candidates are my favorites,  and I don't want to narrow it down yet. What I do want is for all of you  to go through with the two weeks of training, and at the end of it,  we'll see who we're keeping."

I nod, a little disappointed that the process will stretch out even more.

"Would you be able to start the training tomorrow instead of next week?  There's a plane flying out this evening-we're paying for all expenses,  of course-and I really want to get the ball rolling."

Oh snap. The training is at their headquarters, which is in Boston. If I  take off this evening, it means I get a very short time to talk to  Blake, and I was hoping to at least get a good night's sleep before  tackling that. But there's no way I can say no. Friendly as Sheila is,  it's clear that saying no is an exclusion criteria.

"Sure, no problem. I'm your girl."

She claps her hands, smiling brightly. "Excellent. I think you'll like it at Ayaks Publishing, Clara."





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT



Blake



Hi, Blake. I got to the next level!!! Which is not being hired. They'll  decide which of us they keep after the two-weeks training. They changed  the schedule and want to start the training tomorrow, so I have to fly  out to Boston tonight. I'm home now, packing, but you're not here, and I  can't wait any longer or I'll miss the plane. Maybe this is for the  bes,t though! You'll have two weeks to think about everything. We'll  talk when I get back. I understand this was a shock to you, but I hope  you'll do right by the baby, even if you don't want me. Please don't  call. I don't want to talk about this on the phone.

I read the message for the twentieth time. She thinks I don't want her.  Jesus, out of all the mistakes I've done in my life, this takes the  cake, by far. Yeah, it was a shock, but that was a knee-jerk reaction.

I planned to apologize last night, but that went nowhere. While she was  here, packing, I was running around setting up our big dinner. I'd  planned on this being a big dinner even before I screwed up. This was  going to be the night when I told her I loved her and officially asked  her to move in. I wanted to wait until after the whole Ayaks business  was over because she spent the week before in a frenzy working on their  custom illustration. It was my "go big or go home" moment. I thought  she'd love a great, romantic gesture. Screw great gestures. This is what  you get for waiting for the right moment. There is no right moment.  There is just right now.

And right now, the morning after, she isn't answering her phone. Yeah, I  respected her wish last night about not calling, but after spending  most of the night awake, I broke down and called. Zip. Nada. No answer.

My phone rings, and I desperately hope it's Clara. It's not. My baby sister's name appears on the screen.

"Hey!" she greets cheerfully. "What are you up to?"

I debate for a moment telling her what happened, then decide against it. It'll open a can of worms.                       
       
           


///
       

"Not much."

"Do you want to have a late breakfast? Pier 39? I'm in the area."

"You got the day off from the gallery?" I ask in confusion.

"Something like that."

"Sure, I can be there in twenty minutes or so."

Twenty minutes later, I'm heading toward Pier 39, making my way through  streams of tourists who've gathered around the docks to see the sea  lions roasting in the sun.

Summer waves at me from one of the tables. I almost do a double take  when I see Pippa with her too. Somewhere at the back of my mind, a  little voice tells me something's gone awry. I mean, my family is up for  impromptu get-togethers often. But both my sisters just happen to want  to have a late breakfast on a workday? Smells like dead fish to me.

"Hey, baby bro," Pippa says, as I sit on the third chair around the table.

"Didn't know you'd be joining us too."

She stretches her arms, closing her eyes. "The morning is too beautiful  to spend it inside the office. It's good to be in the sun."

She's not fooling me one bit, but I go with the charade. "Right. Let's order."

After the waitress writes down our order-I just want coffee, my sisters  order half the menu between them-and takes off, both my sisters train  their eyes on me.

"You look a bit tired," Summer comments. "Slept badly last night?"

"Nah, everything's peachy."

Summer's eyelid twitches, and Pippa's eyebrows climb up to her hairline.  The girls definitely know something. I don't know why this surprises  me. I should accept the fact that the women in my family always have the  upper hand, an ace up their sleeve. Any day now, I'll come to terms  with it.

"How's Clara?" Pippa asks. The waitress arrives with our drinks, and the three of us are silent until she leaves.

"In Boston." That much is true.

The girls fidget more, exchange glances. And even though I could torture  them for hours-I'm a pro at this after so many years-I'm impatient  today.

"We can do this all day," I inform them, pushing my coffee cup away and  setting my elbows on the table. "Or we can cut right to the chase. Did  you talk to Clara?"

"Before we choose sides, how about you tell us what's going on?" Pippa suggests without answering my question.

The waitress appears again, this time with the food, which she lays out  in front of my sisters. They don't even glance at it. Bad omen. My  sisters can't resist food when it's in front of their nose, unless it's  for a good cause. Or a lost cause-which I suppose I am.

What's a man to do when his sisters shoot daggers at him with their eyes? Confess all of his sins.