Like Allison, she’d trotted out the pregnancy card the moment he backed away.
He would have to tell someone, but the idea of dumping this news on Uncle Mark or Jeff made his stomach churn. They had trusted him. They had believed in him. And he would fail them all. Again.
Courtney dragged herself to work early on Wednesday morning. After spending most of Tuesday night sequestered in her bathroom alternately crying and hurling, she didn’t look her best, but she was happy to get out of her apartment.
Funny how easily Matt had lost trust in her once she’d lost trust in him. Maybe neither of them had ever trusted. It didn’t matter. It was over.
At least she’d told him the truth, and sooner or later, he would come to realize that she hadn’t been lying about the baby, and she hadn’t been trying to trap him into something either. She had every faith that Matt would want to be part of his child’s life. It would be okay. They lived across the hall from each other. Maybe they could share the baby sort of like they’d been sharing the cats.
She headed straight to the Eagle Hill Manor kitchen on Wednesday morning, where Antonin always kept hot water for tea, even in July. She made herself a cup of chamomile tea, and when Antonin asked if she was ill, she requested a couple of pieces of dry toast.
She took her breakfast, such as it was, up to her office, where she tried to focus on the weekend’s upcoming events. The chamomile almost settled her stomach, but it didn’t settle her head or her heart.
Amy arrived—with that pregnant-lady glow in her cheeks that Courtney had yet to achieve—took one look at her, and said, “Wow. Antonin’s right. You do look a little gueule de bois.” Amy, spoiled rich girl that she was, never tired of using her French.
Courtney rolled her eyes. “And that means…?”
“It’s French for hungover.”
“So glad you got to practice your French on my account.”
“Not on your account. I like speaking French with Antonin.” Amy crossed the room and sank into her chair. “So, where are we on the Boysco-Lopez wedding? Did the bride ever decide on the table linens? I have to put in an order for them today.”
Courtney pawed through the papers on her desk, trying to find the notes she’d taken on Friday. She couldn’t find them, and for some reason, that seemed like the end of the world. Her throat thickened, and a sense of doom settled over her. “I know I have my notes somewhere,” she muttered. She hated feeling disorganized.
“Are you okay?”
Courtney stopped looking for her notes and dropped her hands into her lap. She shook her head, and the tears started again. It was like God was punishing her or something, paying her back for all those dry-eyed years when she’d always kept it together. It was almost as if she’d banked her tears for a rainy day and the rainy day had suddenly arrived.
“Oh my God, what’s the matter?” Amy got out of her chair and crossed the short distance between their desks. “Tell me. Don’t be stoic.” Amy parked her behind on the edge of Courtney’s desk and gave her a knowing look. “Stoicism is highly overrated.”
Courtney dug in her desk drawer for a box of tissues just as Willow, also with that pregnant-lady glow, came through the door looking very concerned. “Antonin said you looked like hell, and Mom says you haven’t returned a single one of her phone calls. What’s going on?” She stopped in front of Courtney’s desk, crossing her arms.
Courtney may not have sought this intervention, but she welcomed it. Over the last week, she hadn’t spoken with Arwen about her heartbreak, and she didn’t want to go back to Melissa after all Jeff had done for Matt and the tenants of Dogwood Estates. She hadn’t wanted to burden Amy or Willow either.
But she didn’t want to do this alone anymore. And it broke her heart to think that Matt didn’t want anything to do with his own child. Of course she wanted him to want the baby. Hell, she wanted him to love and trust her. But that was like wishing for the moon.
The two of them had been so scarred by the past that they would probably never find a way toward the deeper trust necessary for a real relationship.
She looked up at Amy and Willow. She didn’t want to bare it all to them, but someone needed to inform the Lyndon family that it was about to get a little larger. And what better messengers could she possibly have? Amy and Willow would be her child’s cousins. And their babies and hers would all be part of the same family.
So she dabbed her eyes and said, “Pull up a chair. This is going to take a while.”
Matt spent the rest of the week living on the edge, waiting for Courtney’s next move. But when no negative stories appeared in the Winchester Daily, he allowed himself to breathe easier. Maybe he’d discouraged her.
Or maybe she was just waiting for the right moment, the way she’d waited to exact revenge on Brandon before she’d gone after his Camaro.
Or maybe she’d told the truth. That thought deeply disturbed him.
But he kept his mouth shut and focused on hiring a campaign staff. Heather, who had apologized for Brandon’s aggressive behavior on the whole Jerry Beyer front, had connected him with Hale Chandler, a political consultant familiar with Jefferson County politics. Hale had been brought on as his campaign chairman and had started vetting people for various positions. They were late getting into the game, and they had a lot of ground to cover in a short time.
The work kept his mind off Courtney, although it didn’t stop him from thinking about her every night when he returned home. The idea that she might be telling the truth always seemed to hit him around midnight.
It never failed to
