Good Girl : An Enemies-to-Lovers, Roommate Romance (Alphahole Roommates Book 2), page 25
She held the phone.
“I’ll deal with her through lawyers. If she’s pregnant and is claiming it’s mine, tell her to have her lawyers talk to my lawyers. I want a paternity test.”
“Or, we just stop with the lawyers and have a family meeting and iron this out. You, Sienna, me, Roger-”
“No. Those people aren’t my family and I’m not a kid. I don’t need my mother involved in my personal shit. I’m not doing this with you. Stay out of it.”
“Austin.”
“I’m hanging up, Mother. I’m heading back to New York, so I’ll see you when I see you.”
“Son?”
I ended the call.
Audra clearly wants to use this situation as a way to smooth things out with her relationship with her future stepdaughter.
I can’t deal with anybody right now. Even my sister is getting on my nerves and I love my sister. But she’s talking about taking this hypothetical baby and either raising it with me or for me while Sienna rots in jail and I am still working at wrapping my head around this reality. And it all makes me very fucking angry.
At one stage, Adele and I even got into a shouting match because I dared to suggest I should ask my lawyers if I can force Sienna to have an abortion because she essentially stole my sperm to get pregnant.
Adele lost her shit on me about the innocence of this hypothetical child and followed me around my house, not letting up on me about how the minute I meet it I won’t think about anything but how much I love that child.
And I don’t know if she’s right or wrong about that. I don’t know how to fucking feel because I’m still infuriated that this even happened to me and now not only has it affected my life right now, it’s something that could change everything.
It pisses me off that I have no rights at this stage. Adele went on about minding my own uterus, and that shut me up, obviously.
But really, how is it fair if Sienna drugged me and essentially took my sperm and wound up pregnant? This is a moral issue, a legal issue, and my guess, it’d stump a lot of people.
When I talked to the lawyer just before leaving for the airport to go back to New York, they hadn’t heard any updates from Roger’s law firm.
I asked if she could be forced to take a pregnancy test and it sounds like I have no leg to stand on there. It’s also a complicated matter to demand a paternity test before birth.
I hate this shit.
***
And now I’m back in New York and when I walk into the apartment, Jada’s looking at me with hurt slashing across her pretty face. She’s hurt because I haven’t been in touch with her and I greeted her less than warmly.
I should never have started anything with her, because having anyone to answer to right now when I can barely stand to look in the mirror is just too much.
***
I took a long shower and then I crashed early, but I wake abruptly at three o’clock in the morning and I’m starved. I find myself making a sandwich and eating it over the sink. I also find myself annoyed that on the top shelf of the fridge is my lunch packed for tomorrow and I don’t know why that annoys me.
As I’m shoving the last of my sandwich into my mouth, I hear Jada’s door open.
Fuck.
She goes into her bathroom across the hall from her room and like a coward, I make sure I’m back in the other bedroom before she comes out.
33
Jada
I heard Austin in the kitchen last night, and wanted to talk to him, see if he was okay. I couldn’t sleep. I went to the bathroom and when I got out, not only was he not in the kitchen where I’d heard him, there was a mess. He never leaves a mess.
There was the lettuce, a half a tomato, and the deli meat on the counter along with a butter knife stuck in the opened jar of mayo. The bag of bakery buns was wide open, too.
I quickly put everything away, wiped the counter, and then went back to bed.
***
When I wake up at nine o’clock I find the kitchen its usual morning-tidy, his coffee mug in the dishwasher. But he hasn’t taken his lunch bag from the fridge.
I text him.
Hi. You forgot to bring your lunch. Want me to drop it off?
Austin: I’ll just eat it tomorrow. Don’t worry about dinner tonight. I’ll be back late.
Okay, what is going on? Am I getting a loud and clear message that the games are over? We’re over?
I don’t bother answering because it feels like it’d be pitiful of me if I did. Instead, I do my weekly expense report and send it to him. Five minutes later he pays me, a day early, and I’m not sure why, but I don’t bother asking. Instead, I get ready to go to my first writing workshop at the library, hoping to forget about Austin for a little while.
***
It’s really useful to hear about the author’s publishing journey because she’s hybrid – meaning she’s both traditionally published and independent for some of her works, so she gives us views on both publishing methods. She wants us to buy her writing craft book and some don’t, but I do, figuring she’s spending her time doing this free workshop, so the least I can do is buy a book or two. Everyone in the group is friendly. A girl named Raven that’s a year younger than me and is writing dark romance invites me to go for a coffee afterwards. We hit it off and talk at length about writing. I learn quite a bit from her. She’s got books ready to go, she’s just trying to decide which approach to take with publishing.
While we’re both aspiring writers, we’re also very different. One difference is that she’s from a wealthy family and doesn’t need to work. She has lots of time to write and is spending all her time learning about and working on her craft unlike me who is hoping to write but isn’t convinced I can make a living or even much of a side-hustle at doing it. I’m almost envious of her except that when she digs into it I realize her life isn’t all perfect because she says she’ll have to keep her books a secret. She is almost ready to publish, has written a trilogy, and she’s trying to decide between approaching a traditional publisher and going the indie route to maintain privacy with her identity. Apparently she’s from an affluent family and knows her family and even her friends wouldn’t approve of her proclivities toward dark erotica and captive romances with dubious consent.
We wind up in that coffee shop for nearly three hours. I describe (blushing ridiculously while she talks about capture fantasies and BDSM without flinching) what I’m writing and she informs that what I’m writing is known as domestic discipline erotica. When Raven says this, she squirms in her seat and wiggles her eyebrows.
She gives me a few author suggestions to read so I can study my genre, but I tell her I don’t want to do that because I’m worried I’ll accidentally take too much inspiration from other authors and want my work to be completely fresh and original.
We discuss the pros and cons of my approach versus hers, which is to study her competition at length, and we exchange phone numbers before we part ways.
It’s been a while since I’ve hit it off with anyone. The last few years I’ve drifted away from old friendships entirely, and I’m glad I went today. I did my best to put aside the Austin stuff, the Shane stuff, and just tried to be present. And being present, taking it all in – I may have made a new friend. A writer friend.
I get to the condo after dark and I’m about to pass a woman in the lobby looking impatient as she talks to Andrew, the new night-time doorman who was hired to replace Shane’s friend Kevin.
Andrew is super-friendly and chats me up whenever I come or go.
“Oh, Hey Jada,” Andrew says, “Do you know when Mr. Carmichael might be back? I buzzed up but there’s no answer. This is his mother and she says it’s urgent that she speaks to him.”
The woman turns and looks at me. And I recognize her immediately. Audra Carmichael was a hot topic on gossip shows a few months ago when she got pulled over for a DUI and slapped the arresting officer in the face. She was the butt of a lot of viral jokes about entitled rich women for quite a while.
“Hello, Mrs. Carmichael.”
“How do you know my son?” she demands.
“I… take care of the apartment, his shopping. I worked for your other son as well.”
She looks me over, “When will Austin get back? I have an urgent matter to discuss with him.”
“He might be at work still, he told me he’d be late tonight.”
“He’s not at the office, I already checked,” she says, looking at me like that’s my fault.
“I’m … I’m not sure where he is.”
“I’ll come up and wait.” She heads toward the elevator. I look at Andrew and he looks at me with sympathy. The look on his face has me thinking he’s already gotten the third degree from her.
It’s already after nine thirty at night. I don’t like being in this position, but she’s Austin’s mother, and I’m the hired help. Not knowing what else to do, I get in the elevator and press the button.
I can’t think of a single thing to say to her on the way up. She’s got an expression that doesn’t invite conversation either, so I say nothing.
When we get inside, she looks around and takes in the space as if she’s never seen it before. Aiden had lived here for over a year before he moved to San Diego. Is it possible she’s never been here? Maybe. She lives in California, after all.
Audra Carmichael is attractive, even though she reminds me of the way the actress Christine Baranski looked in the Grinch movie. Pretty, blonde, but her skin looks too tight, her nose too upturned, her cheekbones too pronounced. She has that middle-aged rich woman who gets a lot of cosmetic work done look to her, but I’m used to seeing that working in a city that’s crawling with women of that category.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask.
Audra Carmichael looks at me like she’s trying to figure something out.
“You don’t have to stay and serve me. I’m perfectly capable of being left alone to wait for my son.”
“Oh, okay,” I say and head for my room.
“Excuse me?” she calls.
I spin to face her.
“You aren’t leaving? You’re a live-in maid?”
“I’m staying here temporarily. I had a housing issue and Aiden and Carly agreed to let me stay. It works well since I’m now working for Austin.”
“In that case, I’d like a martini.”
“I’m not sure if we have the ingredients for that. We have wine. I have a bottle of Zinfandel in the fridge that’s mine and I’ll gladly share, or there are two or three bottles of red wine in the liquor cabinet.”
“And where is this liquor cabinet?” she asks.
I open the cupboard on the side of the island and squat.
“There’s Bourbon or a couple bottles of this pinot noir.”
“Pour me a glass of that pinot.”
“Certainly.”
I lift the bottle and twist the cap off.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Must be one of Carly’s.”
“I’ve bought this one before when Carly’s been here, yes. She likes it.” I smile.
She rolls her eyes. “Not a shock.”
As I’m pouring it for her, Austin comes in.
He freezes, eyes bouncing between me and his mother.
I put the cap back on the wine and present the glass to her.
“What are you doing, Jada? My mother can’t have that. She’s a recovering alcoholic,” he snaps, eyes shooting daggers at me.
My mouth drops open. “Oh…uh…”
“Hello, son,” she says, smiling.
“Mother. Just a minute. That’s all, Jada.”
I stare blankly at him.
“Could you go out for a bit? Take a walk or something?” he asks.
It’s almost ten o’clock at night.
I have no idea where he wants me to go, but he clearly wants privacy.
“Okay,” I say and grab my purse and my jacket. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Carmichael,” I say.
Austin’s mother ignores me. Austin’s gaze is fixed on her and he looks angry.
I guess I’m not the only person in the world he gives that look to.
I leave.
I have no idea how long he wants me to be gone.
I go to the lobby and Andrew is sitting there, smiling as I get off the elevator.
“Things go badly with Mrs. Carmichael?” he asks.
“I… I’m not sure,” I say with a nervous laugh.
Andrew has a big smile on his face.
“Did you tell Austin that his mother was upstairs with me?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah, the guy gave me a look that’d melt paint.”
I laugh again.
Andrew smiles. “You bein’ sent off on an errand to pick up some Grey Poupon or something?”
“No,” I say, “I was asked to give them privacy. Um… for some reason that didn’t include me just going to my bedroom and putting my headphones on so I couldn’t overhear whatever they’re about to talk about, so I uh… maybe I’ll go to the coffee shop down the road.”
I realize I’ve said too much. Discretion is important in my job and by Andrew’s Grey Poupon statement, I suspect he takes issue with wealthy people.
“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you go to that coffee shop and get us both a coffee and you can hang out here with me until you’re allowed back up.”
“I can do that,” I say. “What’ll you have?”
“It’s on me, too,” he says. “Ham and swiss on rye with no Grey Poupon.” He winks. “And a coffee with double cream, double sugar. And whatever you want to drink. Grab a sandwich, too. Or a donut. Or both. Here.” He passes me a twenty.
“Be right back,” I say.
“Be careful,” he warns. “I’m gonna watch from the door to make sure, actually.” He comes out from behind his desk and opens the door for me.
He looks down and smiles. He’s got a really nice smile. And he’s tall. He has to be about six foot three or even four, I’m guessing. And cute.
“Thanks, Andrew.”
“I’m gonna watch you walk there. Unless the phone rings or someone comes in. Make sure you’re there and back safely.”
“That’s kind of you, thanks.”
“No problem, Jada. You shouldn’t be sent out in the middle of the night like this.” He rolls his eyes. “Some fuckin’ people.”
“It’s only ten o’clock,” I say.
“It’s also New York City,” he returns.
This is true, though this is a pretty safe neighborhood, well-lit and busy with plenty of shops open late that have cameras and doormen lingering in lobbies to look after the rich people that live there, so I usually feel pretty comfortable about coming and going here no matter what time, but I know Andrew just moved here, is doing the night watchman job while he tries to break into acting, and to most men, this hour of the night isn’t the time to send a woman off for a walk. He has a point.
But whatever. I’m starting to get accustomed to this sort of treatment by Austin Carmichael.
34
Austin
“You’re drinking?” I demand.
My mother shrugs, eyeballing the glass of wine. She wants it.
“This situation has me on the verge, Austin, honestly.”
I take the glass and dump it down the sink.
“Have you or haven’t you had a drink?”
She sighs and stares at the wine bottle for a long moment before responding.
“Actually, I had a martini on the plane on the way here.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
“Or two. I happen to be under some stress at the moment, Austin.” She smooths her hair away from her temple.
“Why are you here, Mother?”
“I need to talk to you about this business with Sienna.”
Of course.
“I have nothing to say. You’re not impartial to this being with Roger. You’re clearly on his side, or should I say your own side – the side that allows you to breathe the easiest.”
“I’m not choosing sides, Austin.”
“Right. Not like you should choose my side: I’m just your son. Your son who was drugged and taken advantage of.”
Taken advantage of – yeah, I hate how that sounds coming out of my mouth. It makes me want to ram my fist through a wall.
“Son, I just want peace.”
“If you want peace with me Mom, stay out of this. If you keep meddling on the Greers’ behalf, you and me’ll have a problem.”
“Drop the charges, Austin. We can settle this privately.”
“Did she send you or did he?”
“I offered to come. She’s very upset; and so is her father. Just as yours would be if this were Adele.”
“Lucky for my father, Adele wouldn’t roofie a guy to get him into bed and have sex with him while he’s half-unconscious with no birth control.”
She takes a deep breath. “I know this isn’t ideal, but this is the situation, Austin. What can I do here? How can I help bring peace to this situation?”
“What does peace look like to you,” I ask.
She eyeballs the wine bottle beside me. I take it and put it in the fridge and close the door so it’s out of her sight, making her eyes bounce back to me.
“Peace is the Carmichaels and the Greers not at war. If I can talk you down, not only will Roger have this weight off him, it’ll go a long way in me making peace with Suzette and frankly, with Sienna. Roger wants us to all get along. He wants to make peace with your father, too.”
“Suzette? What’s that mean?”
Suzette is Sienna’s mother, Roger’s ex, and one of my mother’s former best friends. I’m guessing Suzette isn’t Audra’s biggest fan since finding out Audra’s been sleeping with her husband for years.
“She’s being difficult with the divorce proceedings. She told Roger that getting you to drop the charges against Sienna would be a good faith gesture that she’ll keep in mind as she divorces him. Her attorney is a shark. It’s proving to be a messy divorce. And it’s dragging out. Roger doesn’t want more bad publicity.”
I scoff.
