Family Secrets (7 page)

I grip the edge of the counter as my body quivers.

“This isn’t a good idea, Brock,” I warn.

“I think it is, Cassi.  I think it’s a
very
good idea.”  I imagine him sitting in a comfortable chair, in a crisp suit, stroking his chin in contemplation with his long fingers that brought my body so much pleasure on the few occasions we had together.  Forcing the image from my mind, I shake my head, even though he can’t see me.

“It’s not, Brock,” I whisper.  “This can’t happen,” I say, more firmly this time.

“Why not?  Give me one good reason.”

I struggle to find the words.  There are a million reasons why flirting with his kind of dangerous is a monumental mistake.  Forefront of those reasons is him finding out about my daughter.  However, it’s not like I can just come out and say that, so I need to skirt around the issue and not arouse his suspicions even further.  I know he knows I have child; I spoke about her on the dating show.  But, he has yet to ask me about her.  I know it must be playing on his mind, and he is waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring it up.  Or, maybe he is waiting for me to broach the subject. 

That’s never going to happen.

“Cassi?” he prompts when I stay silent.

“Look, Brock, it just is.  There’s a lot of history between us that can never become public knowledge.  The bottom line is, you’re my stepbrother – my
estranged
stepbrother.  I’d like to keep things that way.”

“You want to stay
estranged?
”  he splutters, saying the word like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I just do.  It’s easier that way.”

“What is?”

I sigh, frustrated. 
Why can’t he just leave well enough alone?

“Look, Brock, some things are better left buried, okay?”

“I’m not sure I agree with you, however I’ll let it go for now.  I was actually calling to see if you were free sometime this week?  I’d like to see you again.”

“Sorry, I’m working all week.”  It’s not a lie, I really am working all week.

“Maybe some other time, then?” he murmurs.

“Sure,” I agree, knowing I’ll continue to rebuff his advances.

“Have a good night, Cassi.  Sweet dreams.”  He sounds distant, preoccupied.  However I am eager to end the call, so I don’t bother asking him what has him sounding that way.

“You too, Brock.  Goodbye.”  I end the call and down half a glass of wine in one gulp. 
Damn that man and the way he makes me feel.
  It is like I’m a teenager again, unable to control the attraction my body feels to him, the pull that he has over my senses, and the power he exhibits over my better judgment.

Rather than wallowing in the self-pity I feel, I drag myself to bed and fall asleep surprisingly fast.

*~*

“Cassi, can you come and assist me in Room Two in about five minutes, please?”

“Sure, Mary.”  I smile at my co-worker, and finish off on the paperwork I’m writing up.  It’s been a long day, but thankfully my shift is about coming to an end.

“How’re things going in here?” I ask the patient, Georgina, as I enter the room.

“Fine,” she grits out, managing an attempt at a half a smile despite the pain she is feeling as a contraction ripples through her stomach.

“Excellent.”  I check her chart and watch as Mary performs an internal examination. 

“You’re at about eight centimeters.  Won’t be long now,” she assures Georgina.

She pants, nodding, while her husband rubs her back and wipes her forehead with a washcloth, looking frightened.

“Would you like any pain relief, Georgina?”

“No.”  She shakes her head resolutely, while her husband’s shoulders deflate, defeated.  I almost smile.  The women are usually determined to experience childbirth naturally.  Sometimes that changes within minutes of arriving at hospital, and other times they remain steadfast with their decision.  The men, on the other hand, almost always would prefer their partner to accept the pain relief from the get-go.

Mary and I both begin setting up in preparation for the delivery.  Ten short minutes later, Georgina lets out a guttural groan, then cries out she has to push. 
It’s go time.
  Mary and I both spring in to action, with Mary taking a seat on the stool between Georgina’s legs, and me standing beside her.

“Okay, Georgina, push when you have to.  We want nice big, long pushes.  Let’s get this baby out,” Mary instructs.

Determination washes over Georgina’s face as she prepares her body and mind to push her baby out.

“One, two, three,” I count, as she bears down with her contraction.  She makes good progress, and within half an hour, I see the baby’s head emerge.

“One more big push, Georgina,” I tell her. 

“Okay, now pant.  Don’t push.  That’s it, good girl,” Mary coaches. 

With her next contraction, the baby slides out effortlessly into Mary’s waiting hands. 

“Congratulations, guys.”  Mary stays put for Georgina to deliver the placenta, while I complete the observation checks on the baby and give her the shots she needs.  After I have weighed her and wrapped her tight in a blanket, I hand her to her parents.

“Have you chosen a name?” I ask, as I fill out my paperwork.

“Serenity Michelle Hopkins,” the beaming father informs me.

“Beautiful name.  Congratulations to you both.  She’s a healthy girl.”  I finish up my paperwork and wish them all the best before leaving them to have some time alone.

Thirty minutes later, I’m walking across the parking lot to my car, after another shift has finished.  I’m exhausted and looking forward to a long, hot shower, and a good night’s sleep. 

I look over to where my car is parked and almost fall on my face as I misstep when I catch sight of him leaning casually against my hood.

Brock.

Argh!  I had managed to get through the last four days without any contact at all from him.  I thought he must have given up, and I was happy about that.

I was.

I swear.

Okay, maybe a
small
part of me was bummed he had given up, but that small part was really,
really
tiny, and it was also really, really stupid. 

But here he is, standing there in a pair of dark grey tailored pants and a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone.  He looks utterly delicious, and I hate the way my body immediately reacts to his presence.

“Hi.”  He smiles when I get close.

“Hi.  What are you doing here?”

“I just came to see you.  Thought maybe we could get a coffee?”

When I don’t respond, he drops his chin to look into my eyes.  “Please,” he pleads.

“Fine.  I’ll follow you,” I say, giving in against my better judgment.

I climb in my car and pull out, following Brock in his black Hummer, as he navigates our way to a cafe.  A few minutes later, I park beside him and we walk in to a small coffee shop.  Brock holds the door open for me and then takes my hand, leading me to a small booth in the far corner of the building.  The place is small, but beautifully decorated and the aroma of coffee beans in the air is mouthwatering.

“Can I take your order?” the waitress asks after we sit down.

“I’ll have a skinny latte with a shot of hazelnut, please,” I say.

“Cappuccino for me, please.”

“Won’t be long.”

I watch the waitress’s back as she walks away, and I only glance to Brock when he speaks. 

“How has your week been?” he asks.

“Busy.  Work has been crazy this week. I think every pregnant woman within a ten mile radius has gone into labor.  There must be something in the air.”

“Your face lights up when you speak about your job,” he comments.

“I love it,” I say simply, with a shrug.

“I’m glad.  It’s important to love what you do.”

“What about you, do you love what you do?”

He nods.  “I do.  Growing up, I knew I’d always take over the family business, but the thought didn’t excite me.  However, I’ve grown into the role, and now I’m head of the company, I’ve got more freedom to do things my way.”

“You’d love that – being in control, I mean.”  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel my cheeks heat as I remember just how much Brock likes being in control in the bedroom.

“Spread you legs and show me that sweet pussy, Cassidy,” he demands.  I immediately comply, opening my thighs and showing him what he wants. 

“Good girl,” he praises.  “Touch yourself.  Show me how much you want me.”  My hand instantly goes to my sex, dipping inside to gather my arousal and spreading it up over my swollen nub.  My breath hitches in my throat as my vagina clenches with want.  Brock’s hand goes to his incredible length and he grips it tight.  His hand slides up, gathering the bead of moisture from his red, angry head, and spreads it down the shaft.

I want him so badly.

“Brock, please,” I beg.  “Make love to me.”

“I don’t make love, I fuck.  And, I’m going to fuck you, Cassidy.  Hard and fast.  You’re going to love every minute of it,” he promises. 

“Yes,” I breathe.

We didn’t get to have sex that time.  Celia and Charles came home early and interrupted us, but just a taste of his controlling nature was enough to have me thinking about it for days after.

“Here you are.”  The waitress setting down our coffee snaps me out of the memory and back to the present, thankfully.  My chest is rising and falling quickly and my entire body feels flushed.  I’m turned on from a simple memory.  How ridiculous is that?!

“Everything okay?” Brock asks smugly, as if he knows what I’m thinking.

“Of course,” I say, faking a smile.

“Good.”  He takes a sip of his drink and I can’t help but watch as his perfectly plump lips wrap around the ceramic mug.  A trail of froth coats his top lip and I itch to run my tongue over it, erasing the residue.  My knees clamp together and I pinch my thigh, willing myself to snap out of it.  I’m being preposterous.

I sip my latte and check my watch. 

“Plans for this afternoon?” Brock asks when he catches me looking at the time.

I nod.  “I have things to do, so I can’t be too much longer.”

“I won’t keep you long.  I like spending time with you, Cassi.  I want to do it more.”

“Like I said, Brock, I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Let’s just take it slow, no pressure.”

“Okay, fine, whatever,” I agree. 
I’ll just ignore his phone calls.  Genius!
  “I hate to cut this short, but I really do have to go.  Thanks for the coffee.”  I swallow the remainder of my drink and take out my purse.

“Don’t you dare leave money on the table, Cassidy,” he says sternly.

“Okay, well, my treat next time.  Thanks again.  Bye.”  I rush out and into my car, driving the short distance to Elody’s daycare.  After picking her up for the day, we make our way home and commence our daily dinner-bath-quality time-bed routine. 

When my beautiful daughter is tucked up in bed, I snuggle up beside her and she rests her head in my lap.  Opening up the book in my lap, I begin to read.

“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess…”

At the end of the story, Elody looks up at me.  Her beautiful eyes are droopy with tiredness and her little lips are pouty.  She’s so beautiful.

“Mommy, will you ever find a handsome prince?”

“I don’t need a prince, baby.  I’ve got you.”  I kiss her forehead.

“Every princess needs to find her prince, mommy,” she informs me.

I kiss her again and smile.  “Maybe I’ll find him one day.  But for now, I’m content, baby.  I’ve got all I need right here in this bed.” 
That’s the damn truth.

“Okay, mommy.  Night.”

“Sweet dreams, baby.”  I slide out of her bed and pull the covers up under her chin.  Giving her one more kiss, I turn out the light and pull her door almost closed.

After showering and dressing for bed, I climb under my own covers and in the safety of the darkness, I let my mind wander back to a moment in time that most days feels like a lifetime ago.  But, right now, it feels like yesterday.

THEN

Five years ago

I’ve never been more scared in my life.  When I was a little girl, imagining this moment, I was never alone.  I was always here with my husband, his hand clasped firmly in mine, giving me silent, unwavering support.  In reality, I am alone. 
So alone.
  The only other people in the room are paid to be here.  Another contraction tears through my abdomen and I bite my lip to stop from screaming out.

The midwife tells me it is time to push.  Then, she comes to stand beside me and grips my hand.  Looking into my eyes, she gives me all the determination and encouragement I need. 

“You’ve got this, Cassi.  You can do it.”

“I can do this.  I can do this.  I can do this.”  I groan, deep and loud, while I push with every ounce of strength I can muster.

Finally, right at the point where I’m positive I can’t do this any longer, my baby exits my body and is placed on my chest.  I burst into tears, even though I’m so exhausted actual wetness doesn’t leak from my eyes.  Still, I cry, taking in her beauty, and feeling that all-consuming, overwhelming love as it spreads throughout my soul.

“She’s beautiful,” I sob.

“Congratulations, Cassi.  She’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you.  For everything,” I say, my voice sounding thick with emotion.  “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course you could have.  You’re stronger than you think.”  She squeezes my shoulder and walks out of the room.