Happily Ever After With My Dad's Best Friend

The two of us begin giddily planning her wedding, even if it’s nothing more than an Elvis impersonator and the three of us on a road trip. I’ll be there for her throughout the entire pregnancy, and with luck, she’ll return the favor. “Have you been sick often?” I ask. I long to tell her that we’re sharing this experience, but I can’t do that yet. Over the phone is not the way to spring that kind of knowledge.

My door flies open, bounces off the wall, and hits Jean on the arm as she steps into my room. “I’ve gotta go.” I end the call without explanation to Tasha. “How much did you hear?” If Jean goes to Beck, Tasha would be devastated for him to learn about her pregnancy that way.

She grins at me, lips twisted into a vicious facsimile of a smile. “Enough. It’s not why I was listening, but it’s definitely bonus information.” Jean closes my bedroom door and leans back against it, voice so soft it’s hard to hear her. “I’m not stupid, Lia. I’ve been paying attention, and I know something is up with you and Beck. You’re too lazy to keep a full time job this long without screwing the boss.” Venom drips from her words, and I can’t help but flinch at the insinuations she makes.

Jean reaches for the box of tissues beside my bed and throws it at me. “I saw you leave with tears in your eyes today. Poor little rich girl can’t cut it in the real world again and has to make some moves on the boss to try and keep her job? Is that it?”

She slips to the floor and kneels in front of me, one pointed, manicured fingernail directed at me. “Beck has been acting as if some slut was distracting him.” She spits out the word slut as if she prefers it to my name.

Anger stuns me; I just don’t know how to answer the accusations. She’s right, I mean, about Beck and me being together, but not for the reasons she suspects. “Jean, no; it’s not like that,” I start to say. I get up and try to defend myself, wiping away tears of frustration as I get berated anytime I pause to catch my breath.

“And I bet you were going to make a move on Beck, Jean, and you’re married to my dad!” I hear myself yelling, but I can’t stop. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones, or the jealousy burning in the pit of my stomach that she would get that close to Beck, but I hate everything about Jean. That she would even contemplate cheating on my father is near the bottom of my list.

Her hand raises as if she’ll slap me, and I dodge the blow. “I overheard everything, Lia. Tasha is pregnant, probably by that good for nothing mechanic downtown. You’d think that she would have found someone decent given their money and connections.” Jean sneers at me as she climbs to her feet. “I bet she doesn’t want dear ol’ Daddy to know about her being knocked up, does she?” Jean’s voice goes sickeningly sweet. “If you want to be a good friend to Tasha, you’ll stay far away from Beck, or else.”

Jean starts to leave, her nails scratching into the painted trim of my doorway. “You will not stay late or spend any time with him that isn’t one hundred percent about work. If you do, he’ll find out about Tasha, and I’ll tell your dad that you’re banging the boss.”

She slams my door behind her, causing everything in the room to rattle. It’s only from my years as a moody teen and slamming the door repeatedly that I’ve gotten all my art affixed in such a way it won’t fall.

I climb into my bed and cry. Jean has ruined everything. There’s nothing I can do that will end well for any of us. I can’t be with Beck, not if I want to protect Tasha. Jean would destroy that friendship in a heartbeat. And to lose my father’s trust at the same time? I sob into my pillow, throat burning with the tightness of my grief. Just when I started to get my pieces put back together, Jean had to come destroy it all.

I could leave. The thought flits through my mind and is discarded almost immediately. Yes; I could leave now and raise our baby alone. Could, but I won’t. I can’t do that to Beck. It nearly destroyed him when Tasha’s mom cheated on him and then left. I won’t be the cause of that much pain. I care about him too much.

I can’t be with him, not with Jean blackmailing me to stay away, but I can’t leave him either. We still have time for me to figure out how we can raise the baby without being together.

It’s still early, but I curl up in bed without having eaten supper. The food wouldn’t stay down now anyways. At least I did take one of the vitamins Beck bought for me and the baby. That’s something.

My blankets are soft, a refuge against the world outside my door. Beck’s shirt is inside my pillowcase, hiding from prying eyes, and I reach for it, letting my fingers close around the cuff. “Oh, Beck,” I cry. I’m only twenty-two; this is too much. “I don’t know what to do.”

7

Beck

My bowtie tightens each time I swallow a mouthful of champagne, or at least it feels like it. I’ve tugged at it more times than I can count, and I’m reminded of why I normally wear a clip-on when I have to dress up. Tonight has to be perfect. Sliding my fingers deep into my pants pocket, I feel for the house key I had made for Lia. If nothing else, I’m going to convince her to go public with our relationship; that will make everything else easier. No one needs to know how sudden this has been for us; the fact that we’re together will be enough. I have to have her, and knowing how long she has wanted me makes this façade of merely being coworkers into a knife that drags along my ribcage whenever I see her.

“That’s your secretary?” I already regret inviting my brother to the company party, but he’s attended all the prior ones. Uninviting him would have caused more questions than I’m willing to answer. Scott takes a step toward Lia, and I grab him. He’s not going to make a move on my woman.

“That’s Lia, Paul’s daughter,” I confirm.

My brother stops, does the math, and shakes his head. “Little Lia grew up to be a hottie. Does Tasha have any older friends who are just as attractive?”

Hearing her name, Lia looks up at me from her perch on a barstool, and her eyes are swollen despite a makeup job that would rival any magazine photoshoot. I doubt anyone who is unfamiliar with her will notice. Her jaw tightens when she sees me staring, and I watch her hands flex before she spins around, returning to the cold shoulder from before she melted in my arms and begged me to just give her a bit of time.

“I don’t think she likes being your secretary, brother dear. That or you pinched her derriere one too many times.” I watch as Scott wanders off to find a woman a little closer to his age to hit on, and I pray that he doesn’t try and take someone to my office for a little “I’m the boss’s brother” nookie on my desk. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The rooftop garden has been decorated to look like a magical palace, complete with a water fountain doubling as a bar with mermen bartenders. I had no part in the decision on tails; I had given my company’s advertising team full creative control over the party. That’s one mistake I won’t be making again. At least the Christmas lights and greenery make for plenty of places to sneak off a text to Lia without worry of being caught.

I type out my inquiry of how she’s doing, hoping that she’s only trying to keep a professional front. From my vantage point near the DJ, I watch as Lia checks her phone. Her eyes light up for the first time all night, and her smile brightens. I see her fingers start to move across the screen, and my own phone lights up with the little dots telling me she’s typing.