I’ve been walking on eggshells for the last four months. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder and listening in on conversations that aren’t my business just to see if anyone around the office has caught on to what is going on with me.
There hasn’t been any gossip. No one has been the wiser.
I’m not sure if it’s because no one has noticed, or they simply don’t care enough to look. Either way, I should be grateful to have flown under the radar as long as I have.
My gut is screaming at me that everything is going to change today.
Because now people are giving me looks. Now people are whispering about me.
And today started out so damn good.
Now look at where we are. I’m on pins and needles just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it’s all because of a spilled cup of coffee.
There was no way I could continue to wear the white blazer I put on this morning to hide my baby bump. The moment I took it off, coffee stain and all, the whispers started. I should have never worn a dress today, even this one with the empire waist and the fluttery bottom. With the blazer, it was chic and professional. Without it I might as well have a giant neon arrow pointing at my belly.
“Miss Page, please come to Mr. Page’s office,” the clipped demand from my father’s secretary doesn’t surprise me when it comes through the intercom on my desk phone.
It also doesn’t escape anyone’s notice who is in the vicinity. As I stand up, my heart starts to race in a way that I’m sure can’t be good in my current state. My nerves were already frayed and now I need to go and face my father?
Fuck. This isn’t going to end well.
When has it ever ended well when I’ve been called to my father’s office like I’m just a random employee instead of his daughter?
As much as I try to slink away undetected, the whispers follow me.
“How did we not notice she’s pregnant?”
“Who is the father?”
“I heard she’s supposed to be marrying Eric soon. Do you think it’s his?”
The speculation and the murmured judgements have my cheeks heating. I try to keep my head up and ignore every word, but each step feels like I’ve been caught in quicksand and am sinking quickly.
By the time I make it to my father’s office, not even caring whether I see Eric on the way or not, because he’s the last thing on my mind, I’m sweating. I feel it rolling down my back and dotting my forehead.
My gut is roiling, and I have to swallow a few times around the lump in my throat. Going to meet with my father shouldn’t feel like facing a firing squad, but it does.
I hate that we’ve become this, but it’s not like we’ve ever been any other way, either. I always knew I wasn’t what my father wanted. He wanted a son to carry on his name. Instead, he got a daughter he could mold into the perfect woman and wife for his partner’s son. What I wanted wasn’t a consideration, it never was.
My father’s secretary looks at me with pity. She nods toward the door and everything in me is screaming to turn around and run. When I step up to the door, I pause at the angry voices I hear coming from the other side.
“Have you seen her?” Eric spits out the question, his voice simmering with rage. “Everyone is talking about it. She looks like a fucking whale.”
Instead of making me want to cower, his words send my anger spiking. How fucking dare he. Eric is the furthest thing from a prize. He’s a slimeball. The way he radiates creepy shouldbe illegal. He’s probably never noticed, but women avoid him, especially around the office.
My father wanted me to marry him because of who his father is. I’d love to say it would matter if my father knew how much of a creep he is and how uncomfortable he makes the women around here. I don’t think it would make a difference or change anything.
For all I know, my father does know and still wants me to marry the man.
This is supposed to be my family. What a joke.
I don’t bother knocking. Not this time. I swing the door open and walk into my father’s office with my back straight and my shoulders squared for the first time in my life. I’m not going to cower even though part of me wants to. If I could avoid this whole show, I would, but it’s not going to happen. I sure as fuck am not going to be insulted by a walking HR nightmare like Eric fucking Prescott.
The only good thing about his entire family is Tasha.
“Avery,” my father growls, his eyes flashing with annoyance, “you should have knocked.”
“I figured since you were discussing me and I was called to your office like a dog who performs tricks then I could come in,” the words fall from my lips like frozen barbs.
