Brilliant, Shelby, just fucking brilliant. You pissed around waiting on Jack so he could bail on you like he always does. One of these days, you're going to get it through your head he's no good for you. As usual, you make plans based on what he tells you he's going to do, and lo and behold, at the last minute he doesn't follow through. And suddenly, you're asking yourself why the hell you've wasted two years on this douchebag.The dialogue continues in my head as I try to gather as much as I can from my apartment and load it into my car. My mind becomes more confused as the unanswered questions plague my thoughts. Having no idea how long I'll be gone makes it difficult to know what to pack. I do know I'm running out of time if the news channels are correct about when the storm will hit.The Governor of South Carolina ordered a mandatory evacuation of Charleston yesterday, and the hurricane is getting closer and closer. Each advisory shows the strength of the storm building and
You have got to be fucking kidding me. About thirty miles outside of Mount Pleasant, we slow to a snail's pace. It takes two hours to go another seven miles. Five hours later, total gridlock.Somewhere between Monk's Corner and Orangeburg, I'm stuck on a desolate stretch of highway with a million other people trying to escape the storm. Unfortunately, the roads weren't designed to handle this kind of volume, and the Governor was too stupid to allow evacuees to drive on the opposite side of the highway coming out of the coastal towns.People have run out of gas, which has caused even bigger problems as they abandon their cars on the road. They're out of their cars talking to other travelers around them, throwing footballs, playing Frisbee and hacky sack; the Charleston hippies are out in full force.The rain has let up, and passengers sit on the hoods of their cars having picnics and sharing food with strangers. It's like they're out for a Sunday drive and not trying to avoid the
Settling in my driver's seat, I make sure Mr. Kitty is comfortable next to me. When I start the car, I realize I'm sitting dangerously close to empty. The likelihood I will make it to the next exit before running out of gas is slim to none, but I pray like hell the gods are smiling on me; being stuck out here would be a nightmare. There's no one I can call, and they couldn't get to me even if there were.Traffic is moving, but it's incredibly slow. I don't think I've broken ten miles an hour in the last fifteen minutes. The one bad thing about my car is there's no gaslight, so I have to calculate the miles I can go on a tank of gas. That's fairly easy to do when you're driving on the highway or in town, but not so much when you sit idling for hours on end. When the needle is touching the E, I know I'm in desperate need of a gas station, and thus far, there's no exit in sight.Seventeen minutes later, as the car starts to sputter, I pull over on the side of the road and coast as she
It's a modest house from what I can see in the dark. I glance at the clock, noticing it's almost midnight. An everyday ranch style home sits in front of us. Nothing special from the outside, but the yard looks like it's well cared for, and there's two rocking chairs on the front porch. The neighborhood looks like any other middle-class American community would.As I continue to take in my surroundings, Mason comes around to my side of the SUV, opening my door to help me out. Escorting me inside, he tells me to make myself at home while he goes to get our stuff from the car.I've never understood what people really mean when they say make yourself at home, so I kick off my shoes and stand awkwardly in the foyer while waiting for his return.The door opens and his smile warms me from head to toe. He has Mr. Kitty under one arm and our bags in the other."Baby, you look lost."As I shrug my shoulders, he motions for me to follow him down the hall. In what appears to be a guest r
He stops. "I don't want to hurt you." There's something similar to fear in his eyes."I want you to." I smile in an attempt to show him I'm not afraid of him."I haven't been with anyone in a long time. I like things really rough. If I don't keep it slow, you could end up with bruises from the neck down.""I'm willing to take that chance."Pushing up, he tries to pull away. "I'm not."Grabbing his arms, I plead with him, "Mason, look." I don't really know how to explain what I'm feeling. He mistakes my hesitation for indecision. "Listen, please. I've never attempted to put this into words, and honestly, I've never trusted anyone enough to try-so bear with me."Nodding, he lowers his body back to mine, and I notice he gently moves inside me, likely in an attempt to stay hard. I take a deep breath to clear the confusion clouding my mind.Ensuring I maintain eye contact so he can see the truth in my eyes, I start my stream of consciousness. "I'm wired differently than most p
Rolling off me in a not so graceful fashion, he lands on the floor next to the bed. I can't help but laugh at him. Physically speaking, he is perfection. Clumsy would not have been an adjective I would have used to describe him.Peeking over the edge, expecting to see his bruised ego, he catches my hand and pulls me down with him in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. His grin radiates, causing the appearance of a dimple in his left cheek I haven't noticed before.Cradling my fall with his arms, he tucks me into his side, essentially pinning me between him and the floor as his other arm comes around, finding my ribs vulnerable. I can't protect them quickly enough, and he's on them, tickling the shit out of me. Writhing under him in an attempt to escape this ridiculous torture, the hysterical laughter turns to tears, as I can't catch my breath."Mason..." I plead for him to stop, but it's muffled at best. "Please. I'm going to pee on you."The fits of heavy breathing and inability
The sound of the phone ringing startles me. Waking up in a strange place, staring at unfamiliar walls, it takes me a minute to realize where I am, and more importantly, who is lying next to me. It dawns on me it's not my phone ringing.As I nudge Mason, he opens those gorgeous, brown eyes, and I have to admit, I love being the first thing he sees. It doesn't take him any time to realize where he is, and he instantly focuses on my face, rewarding me with a grin."Your phone keeps ringing." It stops as I finish my sentence.He raises his eyebrows at me, like somehow I wasn't being honest or I was the one calling his phone. When it starts again, I raise my brows in return, and he busts out laughing as he rolls off the bed.Digging his phone out of his pocket, he answers on the fourth ring. "What's up, B?" I'm assuming that's Brian on the other end. After a series of yeahs, uh huhs, and one final all right, he says later and hangs up the phone.Turning to me, he gives me the gist
Mason arrived promptly at four the following day. We sat in my living room for hours talking about his expectations of me, me expressing my thoughts in return, in essence negotiating the terms of our relationship.Years later, I have to wonder why everyone doesn't start off relationships with a consideration period, a detailed discussion of wants and limits (not just of the sexual variety), and clearly defined expectations for both partners. We revisit that conversation every six months without fail, and as we have grown as a couple, the conversation has changed and evolved.Over the last couple of years, any time Mason and I have a disagreement, it's easy to revert back to those discussions where I readily agreed to outline rules that to this day govern my life.It's not him having control-it's us having respect. I tend to liken it to traditional gender roles. We have discussions, but ultimately, Mason makes the final call. He is dominant in the bedroom and in life, and I'm subm
Three days in a hospital was enough to make me crazy. I was ready to get the hell out of Dodge. I finally admitted to Hale that I didn't have a car seat or an outfit for Holt to go home. He disappeared for several hours, along with my father who had arrived when promised. It was odd for the two of them to go blissfully into the day, jovial like best buddies, but I welcomed the quiet reprieve so I could take a nap.I admitted I was impressed when they returned. Neither of them bore any visible war wounds, and they toted bags of all things baby. They were both elated by the little boy who had my stunning blue eyes, my temper, and propensity for getting his way. I was enamored. Completely. My father excused himself, blaming business on his departure but assured me he'd be back to take us home. When we finally checked out of the hospital, Hale pulled around to pick us up in a Mercedes GLE63 S with a blue bow on the hood. I sat in a wheelchair with Holt in my arms when he rounded the f
Days turned into a week, and I was too terrified to reach out. I had no idea what had happened that day with Beth or the outcome of her seeing us fucking-doctor and patient-in the exam room. I'd been left in the dark. Once again by myself. Still unable to reach my friends and my father keeping me at arm's length, I waited out the rest of my pregnancy in silence. Eight days after Beth's untimely interruption, the pain became so great, and the contractions so intense, I had no choice but to call Morris. I didn't think it was safe for me to drive once my water broke. At just over thirty-four weeks, I was early but not overly concerned about the safety of the baby. My father's driver showed up to escort me to the emergency room, effectively breaking me from the memories of the rocky road I had taken to get me here. We rode in silence as I thought about the fact that I didn't have anything remotely baby related. As tears streamed down my cheeks, I wondered what kind of life I'd possib
The closer I got to my due date the more precarious my visits to Hale's office became. His staff had started to question why he closed the office so frequently and wondered if it was related to his mother's cancer. Luckily, she'd been in remission and rather healthy, all things considered. I'd had the pleasure of meeting her once, and it was apparent Hale hadn't kept his end of the agreement because she knew all about me. I reminded myself she had a disease many didn't outlive and gave him a pass on the breach of contract right after he kissed my ass for about three hours.All my appointments were moved to the end of the day on Fridays so he could send his staff home early and I came in an hour later. Funny, they all stopped asking questions when they got a half day off every other Friday and would get one every Friday once I hit thirty-six weeks. Nearing the end of my pregnancy, at thirty-three weeks, I had one more two-week appointment before I had to start going weekly. Hale ha
After a nap, Hale insisted we go to his office for the checkup and ultrasound. I still hadn't decided if I wanted to know the gender, but he assured me he could keep it a secret. Then I decided, I didn't want him to know the gender if I didn't know it. "I think we should just skip the ultrasound if we're gonna go," I said as I twirled a piece of my hair on my finger. "Actually, let's not go and pretend like we did."He pulled me into his lap, forcing me to meet his stare. "Why don't you want to do the ultrasound?" I gave him a half-hearted shrug. "Just not up for it." My brows rose as I continued to educate him. "You're aware that women didn't have them done for centuries, right? It wasn't until recent years that they became the norm."I jumped when he poked me in the side, and a grin spread across my face. "Yes, I'm aware. They mentioned something like that in medical school." He watched my expression and quit playing games. "What's the real reason, Kate?""I'm scared. It
Hale sent me a couple texts before my next appointment. I didn't respond with anything other than one-word answers. His contact was obligatory, not because he gave a shit, so there was no reason to bother. Each Tuesday at nine in the morning, I got a message that asked how I felt. Apparently, he'd set a reminder on his phone, and that irritated me more than his silence. He didn't owe me anything. I'd decided to tell Kappy and Carmella about the baby the night before my next appointment. At twenty weeks, this appointment would include another ultrasound, and if I wanted to know the sex of the baby, I could. I wanted one, or both, of my friends with me. I couldn't bear the thought of doing this alone anymore. It wouldn't go well, but I had hoped my two best friends would forgive my night of indiscretion and my secret. "You're not serious. Are you, Kate?" Carmella hissed at me with a nasty scowl. I chewed on the side of my bottom lip and nodded. I hoped Kappy would come to my res
A week after my appointment, I got a series of text messages from a number I didn't know but promptly identified the sender upon reading them. HALE: IT'S WRONG. I KNOW IT IS, BUT I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU.HALE: PLEASE DISREGARD THAT LAST TEXTHALE: I DIDN'T MEAN TO SEND ITHALE: I MEAN, I DID, BUT I SHOULDN'T HAVE SENT IT TO YOU.HALE: DAMN IT. I MEAN, IF I HAD INTENDED TO HIT SEND-IT WAS WRITTEN FOR YOU. I SHOULDN'T HAVE SENT IT, BECAUSE IT WASN'T APPROPRIATE. HALE: AWW HELL. FUCK IT. AT THIS POINT, I COULD LOSE MY LICENSE, ANYHOW.I took note of the times and realized they spanned about two hours. I'd been at Carmella's house, who still didn't know I was pregnant. I'd left my phone in the car with the intention of coming clean-regarding the pregnancy, not Dr. Hottie-but had chickened out and left with my secret...both of them. At fourteen weeks, no one other than my father and Hale knew.I giggled to myself. Hale must've been freaked out, thinking he'd overst
There was a reason I shouldn't be a parent. I sucked at responsibility, and it wasn't because I was an idiot; it was because I didn't care and people always cleaned up my messes. That card Dr. Duek gave me, the one I had promptly put in my purse, never made it back out. Meaning, I'd missed my appointment. The one he closed his entire office for. Still oblivious to my faux pas when a random number displayed itself on my caller ID, I answered with the exuberance of any other day. "Hello?""Kate?" The gruff voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it."Yes.""It's Hale."It took me a split second to recall who Hale was. "Hey, Hale. What's up?" For the life of me, I didn't remember giving him my number, but somehow, he had it and used it."Your appointment."Fuck. I left him to hang in silence as I dug through my purse looking for the card. I glanced at the chicken scratch on the back, noting today's date, and my watch indicated I was over an hour late. His vo
Dr. Hale Duek. OBGYN. I liked his online ad, and he was farther away from my side of town than any other doctor while still being in the same city. Hopefully, I wouldn't run into anyone I knew, and photographers would lose interest as I crossed the track into a less affluent part of the community. When I pulled up to the little mill-hill home that housed his practice, I started to regret not accepting my father's offers of help. He had insisted on the non-disclosure to protect my privacy, and his own, but he'd relented on the bullshit story about artificial insemination and agreed we simply would not answer any questions regarding the details of the pregnancy. Eventually, interest would die down, and something else would take the place of my promiscuity. If I played my cards right-kept quiet and wore concealing clothing-it would be months before anyone knew I was pregnant, and a couple months after the birth, no one would be interested, anyhow. I hadn't told Carmella or Kappy and
The only thing worse than being caught having a threesome was the press publicizing it. My father had me on total lockdown after the charade at Scene Six. I hadn't made a public appearance in close to two months. I swear to God, I believed he had sabotaged every interview I went on to keep me from getting a job and reinstating my trust fund freedom. Only the necessities were paid, and he wasn't afraid to cut those off as well. The first couple weeks hadn't really bothered me. I was as embarrassed as my father when I saw the picture that I fucking posed for on the cover of the daily paper, and my friends wouldn't shut up about my debauchery. The image that dominated the front page the next morning was, in essence, soft porn. The straps of my dress had fallen from my shoulders almost wholly exposing my breasts, and any periodical reader could now tell you the shade of my left areola along with the color of my panties. To make matters worse, I'd been dancing, drinking, and sweating all