AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You can wear it when you go back to work,” my mother assured.
She was right. Why did I need to wear it around the house? When I told Steven about this, we didn’t agree and had a small tiff. He wanted to make sure that other men knew that I was taken. I told him it was ridiculous to argue over a ring.
Chapter 9
I had misgivings about going to work today. It was my first day back to the office since giving birth to CJ. As a result, I woke early and spent as much time with him as possible. Lexi had offered to take care of him since she no longer worked. At least I could have peace of mind that he was in good hands during the day.
But still, it was hard for me to leave my baby. CJ is the joy of my life, and even at four months old, he keeps me entertained. Soon he will be crawling and getting into trouble around the apartment. At least I had baby-proofed everything in anticipation of that day—even making sure I wrapped the edges of the coffee table in my living room with rubber bumpers.
Lexi had laughed at me, saying that I was overcautious, but I didn’t care. I needed to protect CJ, and if that meant making my house look like a cocoon, then fine.
Leading up to today, Steven and I have been experiencing problems in our relationship. As time went on, I realized that we were more than likely, not going to make it to the altar. In an attempt to remedy things, I refused to discuss wedding plans until we worked out our issues. Frustratingly, Steven insisted that it was me who had issues.
The first time we had sex, I accidentally called Steven Chase, though he didn’t seem to hear me. While Steven was very good in bed, he paled in comparison to Chase. I couldn’t stop myself from mentally rattling off what he did wrong and how Chase did it better during and afterward. Of course, I would never say those things out loud, but I had a feeling Steven knew.
Before I had to be out the door, we argued text. He was off and wanted to take the baby for the day. The truth was, I didn’t trust Steven with CJ even though he had been nothing but careful and loving towards my boy. CJ was mine, however, and unless I was around, I didn’t want anyone but my family handling him.
Ignoring our fight, I got CJ ready in his carriage and walked it to the elevator. I had twenty minutes to drop the baby at Lexi’s and catch the subway to work. It would be a hard day of worrying, but he was in good, capable hands.
After I dropped him off and covered his face with kisses, I went to get a hazelnut coffee. I had stopped breastfeeding CJ two weeks ago. My milk production had become less frequent, and CJ dropped a few ounces because he wasn’t eating enough. The doctor told me it could be hormonal or because of stress and had me switch to formula.
Three days ago, I had my first few sips of wine, and I needed it. Part of me felt guilty that I would no longer be able to breastfeed, but the combined stress of my relationship with Steven and going back to work was most likely what caused my milk to stop.
At work, I was greeted with hugs and requests to see pictures of CJ. I had a ton of them. My phone was passed around from coworker to coworker, so when I finally arrived at my office, Della told me that someone had been waiting to see me.
“Did they give their name?”
“No, but it’s a very handsome man,” she said almost in a whisper.
My mind flashed to Chase, but what would he be doing here? He was in Los Angeles, probably planning his wedding. I took a deep breath and opened the door to the ice-cold stare. I stopped short when I saw him.
“Hello, Miss Stanford.”
I quickly shut the door and ignored him as I settled at my desk.
“What can I help you with Dr. Pearce? To what do I owe this visit all the way from Los Angeles?” I asked as icily as I could.
“No need to be so sarcastic.” His tone is just as biting.
“Did you come here to tell me what to do?”
“I read in the newsletter about the birth of your son.”
My stomach tightened, and I dug my nails into the arms of my chair.
“And you’re here to congratulate me? You could have done that over the phone or in an email. Why do you care?”
“Because I want to know if he’s mine.”
A nervous laugh rises out of me, and I shift in my seat. “Even if he was, you have no claim to him. You left me.”
“If he is, and I think that’s the truth, then he’s still my son. I want to support him.”
“He’s my son, and Steven is his father.”
“So, you were sleeping with Steven when you were sleeping with me?”
“Well, no.”
