I shake my head no.

She levels with me. “Secrets become lies.”

“I’m not you,” I snap back.

She ignores me and I know I shouldn’t have said that.

“Bell, honey, not telling him isn’t any way to start a relationship. You can’t keep a secret like that. It’s not fair to him. Everyone in our family knows. You know I think you should have told him years ago, but since he wouldn’t return your calls I let you make the decision not to.”

I tremble at the painful memory.

She reaches across the counter to grab my hand. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Tears spill from my eyes. “But, Mom, I’m hurting now. Every time you bring it up, it hurts me. Don’t you get it? I want to forget it.”

“I’m sorry, honey, but you can’t and I can’t let you—not this time.”

I run to my room crying and throw myself on the bed. My hand goes to my belly button, then to my scar, and the memory comes back as if it were yesterday.

• • •

There were no breathing exercises, no Lamaze classes. It was nothing like Rachel giving birth on Friends. I had been diagnosed with preeclampsia and was being monitored closely. Corticosteroid shots were part of my daily regimen to help mature the baby’s lungs. Magnesium sulfate also became part of the ritual to help prevent seizures, but that drug wasn’t an easy shot; it was given in IV form and I hated it. I was warned that when delivery time came the magnesium sulfate dosage might need to be increased. I didn’t understand what that meant, but the nurses looked as though they felt sorry for me.

On March seventeenth, almost eight months after the baby had been conceived, I understood why. My already high blood pressure had risen to an unhealthy level, putting the baby’s life in danger. The doctors had decided it was time to induce me. So with Pitocin in one IV and mag in another, I was in pain, burning up, and dry-heaving in a basin my mother held for me. Her tears only made me cry all the more. The contractions came on quickly. They were nothing like what I thought they would be. They were the worst kind of cramps and so painful I was screaming before I was even close to being fully dilated. I had opted to remain drug free, but the pain was so bad I begged the nurses to call an anesthesiologist. The fear of a needle stuck in my back seemed so small compared to what I was feeling.

However, before relief could even arrive, I was being wheeled down a sterile hall with the words emergency C-section being thrown at me. My blood pressure had reached an alarming level and the doctors could no longer wait for the birth-inducing drug to kick in. My mother wasn’t allowed in and I was terrified. With fear and pain all I could fathom, a mask went over my face and as I counted backward, blackness came. I awoke sometime later in the recovery room. I patted my stomach but couldn’t feel anything. I looked around for my mother, my brothers, but sleep called to me. The next time I woke up I was in a different hospital room. It wasn’t the same one I had been recovering in since the accident. The one I had to stay in even after the trauma had passed while we waited for the baby to come.

I remember the nurse asking, “Do you want to see the baby?”

“I don’t know,” I cried out.

I had told them I didn’t. All I could think about was why were they asking me? The adoption was already arranged—I had selected the people I thought would make the most perfect parents, but having my baby taken from me before I expected left me empty, wondering. I started to second-guess myself. I became hysterical and screamed for my mother. The nurses brought her to me.

“Is the baby okay?” I asked.

She cried, nodding.

“Did you hold it?”

She cried even harder, nodding again.

Once I knew the baby was safe, my doubts were no more. I couldn’t hold the baby, because if I did I just knew I’d never be able to give it up. So on that day I signed my child over to its new parents, never seeing it, never knowing if it was a boy or girl because it didn’t matter. All I knew, all that mattered was that my child would be raised by two people who would forever love him or her. What I didn’t know is I would never stop loving that child either.

• • •

A familiar comforting hand runs up and down my back and I twist around, wiping my tears away.

“Bell, you know how much I love you. I want more than anything for you to be happy. And if you think this man will make you happy, I will accept him with open arms. But you have to be honest with him. I’ve been through a lot in my life and learned from my mistakes. I never told your brother who his real father was and I could have lost him because of that. I’m not trying to hurt you. I know thinking about the baby is painful, but please think about what I’ve said. I won’t bring it up again. How you move forward is your decision.”

With the memories so vivid and painful, I sit up and pull my mother to me. Eventually my cries muffle into familiar sobs as everything I’ve tried so hard to forget circles around me.

CHAPTER 19

Pain

Ben

The beach is quiet as I sit outside on the deck and sip a cup of coffee. After I left S’belle’s house I decided to come home and change quickly and then head into the office before going back to get her.

I can’t help thinking about her while I scan the ocean view. She’s just so f**king sexy all I have to do is glance at her and I’m hard. Everything about her captures my attention—from her cute quirky personality to the sex kitten underneath it. I’m so hot for her I can hardly stand it. The strange thing is our day at the beach was so much fun and last night, although not what I planned, was still memorable. And I actually think that running into her mother and stepfather this morning didn’t turn out to be so bad. She’s been so determined not to tell her family that maybe this was the best way for them to find out about us.

Heading inside, I rinse my cup and walk into my bedroom. My dirty clothes are in a pile on the floor and I stop while picking them up to look at the picture on my dresser—my mother, my sister, Trent, and me just before my mother died. It’s hard to believe she’s been gone a year. I pull my phone from my pocket with an urge to talk to my sister.

“Hello,” she answers sleepily.

“Hi, it’s me. Did I wake you?”

“It’s okay. I have to get up anyway.”

“When did you get back?”

“Late last night.”

“How was Hawaii?”

“Oh, Ben, it was beautiful, fun, and amazing.”

“So, how does it feel to be a married woman again?”

She sighs happily and I can feel her smile through the phone. “The same but different.”

She’s always so matter-of-fact.

“Why don’t you come by for dinner tonight?”

“I can’t. I have plans,” I say.

“Oh yeah, what kind of plans?” she asks curiously.

“How about lunch tomorrow and I’ll catch you up?”

“That scares me.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t gone that long and I talked to you a number of times. So the fact that I am unaware of something and need to be caught up kind of scares me.”

I chuckle. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning. I gotta run into the office now.”

“Okay, Ben, love you.”

“Love you too.” I hang up and can’t help wondering how she’s going to react to hearing the news.

• • •

Typing a response to one of the dozens of e-mails in my in-box, I click SEND and close it down. My crystal typewriter award is sitting on my desk and the way the sunlight hits it creates a mock rainbow around it that mesmerizes me. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep my glance from shifting to the screen of my phone for the umpteenth time. S’belle hasn’t contacted me yet and it’s killing me. It’s been more than six hours—I ran home and showered, came here expecting to stop in for only a few short minutes, and hours later I’m still here.

“Hey, man, you’re here,” Beck says from the doorway just as I pick up my phone to call S’belle.

“Technically I’m not.” I shove away from my desk.

“Yeah, right. Well, anyway, I want to show you this. I came up with it yesterday but couldn’t get it quite right until this morning.”

He sits down with his laptop in front of him at the conference table in the corner of my office.

I join him. “Okay, show me what you’ve got.”

“Be prepared for your world to be rocked,” he gloats.

I shake my head, thinking how much my world has already been rocked and how right now I’m tipping over the edge waiting to talk to her. As Beck walks me through a very detailed and complete design of how he plans to simultaneously launch all of Plan B’s holding into the social media arena, I sit back in awe, genuinely impressed by not only his skills, but his visionary talent. But when my phone chirps from across the room, my attention wanes.

“Hot date?” Beck asks as he catches my gaze drift to my desk.

“I hope so.” I grin. “Give me a minute.” I cross the room to grab my cell.

“No worries, mate, it’s not like it’s a Saturday and I am working or anything.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Alexander. Only difference is you sound like a douche bag using the word mate.”

“Fuck off, at least I’m not a pansy ass who can’t go after what he wants.”

I sit back in my chair. “Ah . . . that’s where you’re wrong. I have been going after what I want.”

“Glad to hear it. All right, then I’ll leave you to it. I’m heading out, working a shift at my old man’s tonight. Need anything before I go?” Beck asks.

“I’m good.”

“And, Ben,” he says.

I look over at him.

“If I were you I wouldn’t take too much longer. She’s liable to move on to a douche bag like me who never would have taken six weeks to close a deal.”

“Thanks for the advice, mate.”

He throws me the finger.

“Close the door.”

He laughs and walks away, leaving it open. Fucker. I read the message from S’belle.

Can you meet me at Pebbles?

I can pick you up and take you out to dinner.

I’d rather meet you there.

Okay, but I’m pretty sure we broke through that wall yesterday. What’s going on?

Can you just meet me there?

You’re not f**king with me, are you? 50 First Dates is not what I have in mind for tonight.

Please.

Sure, when?

Two hours?

See you then. And, S’belle, I can’t wait.

I want to f**k with her some more, but something doesn’t seem right. Her text messages are too straightforward, too direct, so I stop. After I read through a few more work e-mails and forward some of them on to Aerie for her to follow up on, my attention level is close to nil and I decide to call it a day.

Once I open the glass doors, the cool, crisp breeze assaults me. The air is much cooler than yesterday. Fall is definitely here. With plenty of time to spare, I zip up my jacket and decide to cruise up to Mulholland Drive. Having switched to my bike when I went home, I take the winding roads at a speed I’ve come to love. It looks so different up here during the day but equally as breathtaking as when the sun falls off the cliffs and into the ocean at sunset.

Stopping at my favorite overlook, I take the time to get off my bike and climb the two flights of wooden stairs to the top. From up here I have to admit glancing around downtown Los Angeles during the day is a sight. It’s one huge conglomerate. Tall buildings, freeways that sprawl for miles, homes, trees—it’s a view one could get used to. But I’ve lived there and good and evil lie hand in hand—although I suppose that might be true of anywhere. Shaking away the thought, I stride back down to my bike and head into the city.