With a sinking heart, I realized that I’d seriously miscalculated. Janie is a stakeholder in this too, and she’d been hurt by my actions because I’d never given her a straight answer about Vanity. Instead, I’d ducked and weaved during our conversation while making lots of excuses. I’d tried to brush off her concerns, and I’d tried make my internet addiction sound like nothing. My actions were despicable, incredibly ugly, and self-loathing rose in my throat.
What kind of man am I? I’d mistreated the woman I loved. While dating Janie, I’d refused to take our relationship public. I’d refused to tell anyone about our involvement, and not only that, but I’d surfed dating sites at the same time. My actions were hateful, disrespectful, and frankly, lame. I didn’t feel like an Olympic superstar anymore. I felt like the lowest of the low, and I deserved to be crushed.
Plus now, because of my stupidity, Janie’s gone. After all, why would she want to be with me? She was my dirty little secret, and my stepsister doesn’t deserve that. It’s my own fault that this has happened, and now, I’ve lost the woman I love most in the world.
20
Janie
Three months later.
With a turn of my key, I let myself into Mason’s condo. The silence is deafening but everything is just the way I remember. The walls are a pristine white, and the marble floors are shiny and slick. The furniture is modern and minimalist, just like I remember, and yet my heart dips. Would Mason be okay with a child jumping all over his stuff?
After all, I don’t know what to expect now. I left without telling him, and not only that, but I was pregnant too. It was all too much and I needed to get away for a bit to clear my mind.
Fortunately, the getaway worked, although it wasn’t easy. I moved into my childhood house temporarily, which was empty, since my dad had moved in with Paula. Meanwhile, I’d stopped working at the Donkey because my belly was beginning to show.
“Girlie,” whined Stanley, my manager. “You’re not going to dance here anymore?”
“Stanley, I can’t,” I said exasperatedly. “Look at me, I’m starting to grow,” I said, gesturing to my burgeoning stomach. It was cute, and barely showed through my loose sweater.
“It doesn’t matter,” replied Stanley while rolling his eyes. Then he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “You know some guys like pregnant women. They’ll pay extra to see that belly bouncing around when you get on stage.”
That was gross. I couldn’t subject my unborn child to that because it was just way too sleazy. Putting my child on display in utero? No fucking way.
“Thanks Stanley, maybe after I’ve given birth,” I said tightly. “But not before then.”
So that was that. My only reliable source of income was gone, and I was no longer being supported by my stepbrother. Not only that, but Mason had betrayed me too. As the months progressed, my belly just got bigger and my mood more grim.
But one day, the front door chimed with unexpected visitors.
“Dad!” I gasped after I flung open the door. “And Paula, how are you?”
I tried not to act nervous because I had no idea what my stepmother knew or didn’t know. But I hoped against hope that Frank hadn’t told Paula about Mason and me. Oh God.
So I put on a fake happy face and offered them drinks. As they made themselves comfortable on the couch, Paula asked gently, “Have you seen Mason lately?”
I tried not to squirm as I poured water, praying that I wasn’t blushing. Ugh. What a question. I thought about Mason non-stop, but I hadn’t seen him, no.
“Um, not since the Olympics,” I hedged. “He was so busy when I moved out that we missed each other completely.”
It sounded believable, but Paula wasn’t buying it.
“Mason misses you,” she said softly.
That made me start with surprise, and then I didn’t move. Did she know about us? Something in Paula’s tone made me suspect.
“Why?” I asked innocently. “He’s got a million events to go to. I’m sure he’s very busy.”
Paula shook her head slowly.
“My son has groupies, yes, but life hasn’t been the same since you left,” she said quietly. “Mason’s heartbroken, honey. Actually, he hasn’t done a public appearance in months.”
That surprised me. Then again, how would I know? I’d refused to follow my stepbrother on social media. I’d forced myself not to read the news, and I didn’t surf any celebrity websites because I didn’t want to know what my gorgeous ex-lover was up to. I’d figured he’d attend the White House dinner with some glossy girl on his arm as my replacement. Hell, maybe he’d even brought Vanity. But no public appearances? That sounded strange.
“Why?” I asked. “That stuff with the trans-woman was embarrassing, but if he loves someone transgender, then it’s fine,” I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could manage. “We have to accept people as they are.”