The Pitch: City Love 2 (23 page)

After our briefing meeting, it was all hands on deck to come up with revised creative for an entire campaign that covered television, press, radio, and social media. The worst part was that we didn’t even have two weeks. Material deadlines were usually days in advance and it was stressing everyone out, including Paul, who was currently on the phone with me.

“I’ve just sent through the final list of the deadlines we’ve managed to negotiate. You owe me a beer.”

I opened his email and scanned the spreadsheet, then realized I owed him a lot more than that. “Holy shit. How did you pull this off?”

“Strong relationships. Although they’re probably not quite as strong now.”

I blew out a long breath. Paul had managed to convince many of the major television stations and publications to accept our material at the last possible minute, which was no easy feat.

“I’m so sorry, Paul.” I hated to think that ACB’s decision was damaging his professional relationships.

“It’s not your fault. It’s the way business goes sometimes.”

He was being generous. When Mia had told me that no changes would need to be made to the media schedule, she hadn’t anticipated the impact it would have on Paul’s team. They’d sent our creative to the media weeks ago and now they had to contact every one of them and attempt to negotiate new deadlines.

“I miss you,” Paul said softly.

I closed my eyes. “I miss you too.” We hadn’t seen each other in over a week. Sure, we were speaking every single day – multiple times a day – but it was always about work.

“You could come over tonight,” he suggested.

“By the time I get out of here it will be time for bed.”

“So come and sleep in my bed.”

Despite my absolute, all encompassing exhaustion, my pulse quickened. “What about the boys?”

“They’ll live.”

I stared past my computer to the world outside my window, which I felt far removed from at the moment. “No, it wouldn’t be right. We need to wait until it’s the right time for your family, not because we’re desperate to see each other.”

I heard Paul sigh on the other end of the line. “I know. A man can have a moment of weakness, can’t he?”

“You can have more than a moment when this nightmare is over,” I promised.

There was a long beat of silence. “Are you okay?”

“I’m surviving.”

While it had only been a week, my life felt as though it had been sucked into a vortex centered around work. By the time I collapsed into bed at the end of the day I was beyond exhausted – one night I’d even burst into tears. I figured it was due to sheer exhaustion and missing Paul. The other more disturbing possibility was that the tiredness was as a result of my endometriosis worsening – it was a known symptom. But I didn’t have time right now to stress about that, and had resolved to just get on with it.

“You’ll get through this in your usual style. You know that, right?” he said, cutting through my thoughts.

I blinked away tears and walked quickly to my office door. For fuck’s sake. What was with the waterworks? I shut the door firmly and then leaned against the back of it.

“It doesn’t feel like it at the moment,” I whispered, doing my best to disguise the waver in my voice.

“You’re just tired. Are you eating?”

“I’m eating enough.” Paul knew all about my obsessive focus. When I was intent on something I often forgot to eat, but this time I’d actually been pretty good.

“Good. I’d come and do a home-cooked meal for you, but I’ve got my hands full with the boys,” Paul said.

Guilt pricked at me. Paul was supposed to be taking time off during the summer holidays to spend with his children. Instead he was juggling the boys and trying to supervise the team looking after the ACB account. “How are they doing?” I asked.

“Absolutely fine. Jack thinks I’m the best in the world after his social media session at the office and the fact that he now has a Facebook account.”

“I’m glad.”

“They’ve been asking about you.”

I missed the boys too. “Tell them I’ll try to see them soon.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll let you go, but promise me you’re going to take a few days off after the campaign launches?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve already warned my non-ACB team that a few of us will be out of action in approximately a week’s time. We all need a break after this.”

“Good to hear. I’ll give you another call tonight to check up on you.”

“You mean to check that I’m not in the office.” His intentions were gallant, but he was kidding himself.

“I love you, Madeleine.”

I leaned my head against the back of my door. “I love you too.”

*

By eight o’clock in the evening it almost looked like I’d make it home in time for Paul’s call. Our team had done a fantastic job pulling together the new creative and we were sending it to ACB tomorrow for their final approval.

“You hate it, don’t you?”

I glanced up to find Christa standing in my doorway. “You’re worse than Paul,” I muttered.

“Huh?”

I waved a hand in her general direction. “Sneaking up on people like that.”

“You need to go home.” Christa walked into my office and to my surprise, came around to my desk. She leaned down and picked up my handbag from the floor, then plonked it next to my computer. “Go home, will you?”

I sighed and collapsed into my chair. “I was just finishing up.”

“I’m impressed you can still focus on your computer. You look shattered.”

“Thanks.” I should have been insulted by her honesty, but we’d known each other too long. Besides, she was just looking out for me.

Christa hopped up to sit on my desk. “I’m not going away until you pack up and leave with me.”

“Alright, alright.” I started shutting down my computer and collecting my things.

“You didn’t answer my question. You hate it, don’t you?”

“Hate what?”

“The new campaign.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It still doesn’t change your opinion. I’m guessing it’s killing you.”

“I’m not looking for sympathy.”

Christa kicked her legs back and forth thoughtfully. “I didn’t say you were. I was just making an observation, that’s all.”

“What do you think of it?” It occurred to me that we’d both been so busy getting the work done we hadn’t bothered to ask each other’s opinion.

Christa grimaced. “It’s possibly the most bland, uncreative and uninspiring campaign I’ve ever worked on.”

We stared at each other for a long moment before we burst out laughing. “I’m so glad you said that!” I said between breaths.

“That’s because it’s shit! Seriously, the first campaign was so much better.”

“I know. I was proud to put my brand to the first campaign. This … this I just want to curl up in a corner somewhere and hide until it’s all over.”

“We could’ve entered the first campaign for an industry award,” Christa continued.

I gave her a dark look. “Don’t you dare – ”

“I wouldn’t dream of it! If we entered this one, we’d get laughed out of the competition.”

The horrible thing was she was right. “It’s so depressing. I wanted this account to be the one that Grounded Marketing was known for, the one that set us on the path to our next stage of growth. Now it’s just something I’d rather forget.”

Christa reached over and gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “It’s only the first campaign with them. There will be more opportunities to create something memorable.”

“Except now I wish they weren’t even a client.” I stiffened in shock as I realized what I’d said. I hadn’t recognized how I felt until I’d spoken it aloud.

“Really?” Christa gave me a sympathetic look. “Give it time. They’re still a new client.”

“I know, but I can’t help feeling if this is what it’s going to be like, then I should just close up shop now.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Maybe I do,” I said softly. “This isn’t what I dreamed about when I started Grounded Marketing.”

Christa’s expression said it all: sympathy, disappointment and concern all rolled into one. I knew she understood my dilemma. She’d helped me to dream up the corporate identity and branding for Grounded Marketing when I’d set it up four years earlier. She knew all about my aspirations to create an agency that wasn’t going to churn and burn staff. I had to face facts – if I was close to burnout, my staff couldn’t be much better.

“Give it time, okay?” she suggested.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to sell the business or anything.”

Christa jumped off the desk and looked at me. “How long has it been since you’ve seen your man?”

“A week.”

“And nothing since your, ah, car interlude?”

A grin touched my lips. “Not a thing.”

She sighed. “Make sure you book that hotel room as soon as this is over. In the meantime, give me a hug.”

My grin turned to a genuine smile. I stood up and allowed her to pull me into a tight hug. It was laughable really – she barely came up to my shoulder.

“There.” She stepped away and gave me a bright smile. “Now get your things and let’s go.”

I wasn’t going to protest. Although it was only just after eight pm, all I wanted to do was go home and sleep. I bent across the desk to grab my phone and winced. “Ow.”

“What’s wrong?”

I waved my hand at her. “Nothing. I’ve been getting some pains down there. Just the usual.”

“How can it be usual if you haven’t got your period?”

“It’s probably just the endo playing up.”

“But if it’s doing that when you’re on the pill, doesn’t that mean it’s getting worse?”

I threw my mobile phone into my bag and picked it up. “Probably.” I really didn’t want to think about it, because if I did, the reality of what my recent tiredness and pain was indicating about my condition was far too depressing.

I went to walk past her, but she stopped me. “When was the last time you went to your specialist?”

I shook my head, not willing to have a conversation about my crappy, dysfunctional body. “A while ago.”

“How long?” She was small but she wasn’t letting me get past. It was rather impressive.

I sighed. “I don’t know. Two years maybe?”

“Two years! Jesus, Maddy.”

This time I did manage to step past her. I turned off the lights on my way out.

“Madeleine Spencer!” I could hear the soft sashaying of Christa’s feet working double time on the carpet to keep up with me.

“Make an appointment.”

“Yes, mum.”

“Tomorrow.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes!”

We turned off the rest of the lights and locked up the office in silence. It wasn’t until we were both in the elevator that Christa glanced at me and said, “I wouldn’t want to involve your mother.”

“You wouldn’t.”

A slow smile spread across her deceptively innocent features. “You know I would.”

She would too and then there would be hell to pay. I knew when I was defeated. “Fine,” I said between clenched teeth. “I’ll call first thing in the morning.”

“You don’t know how much I needed that.”

Paul was on the bed beside me, his satisfied and slightly dazed expression mirroring my own. “I’ll say. Best damn long lunch I’ve ever had.”

I giggled. We were surrounded by the luxuriousness of a suite at the Four Seasons, the restrained creams and soft browns of the furnishings contrasting the silky smooth white sheets. I had no idea where the hotel sourced their linen, but I wanted a set. After close to forty minutes of healthy, it’s-been-too-long and we’ve-missed-each-other sex, the sheets had maintained their cool to the touch feel.

Paul rolled onto his side and started playing with my hair. “The only problem is I have to go back to work now and think rationally for the rest of the day.”

I was wondering how I was going to manage that same thing. I felt only slightly guilty about skipping out at lunch to come and meet Paul. The truth was I was exhausted. The last couple of weeks had taken more out of me than I’d expected.

Paul continued to study me. “I think you should go home and rest. Or you could stay here.”

God, that sounded tempting. “I’ll be fine. I’ve just got a few things to sort out this afternoon and then I’m taking the next two days off.”

“Alright. Dinner at my place tomorrow night? As much as I’d like to spend the day with you, I’ve been neglecting the boys. You could probably do with a day by yourself anyway.”

“Mmm. I’m going to sleep in.”

He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead. “Good. Please don’t stay too late at the office tonight.”

It was a valid concern, but in this case, unfounded. With the hectic state of my life during the past week, I’d relented and asked my mother to make a doctor’s appointment for me. In her typical style, she’d secured me a cancelation later this afternoon, which meant I’d be leaving the office early.

“Don’t worry. My mother is on the cause,” I promised him. I’d already decided not to mention the appointment today because I didn’t want to ruin the mood. Besides, hopefully the random aches and pains would come to nothing – nothing worse than normal anyway.

“Great.” He tugged on a lock of my hair. “Come here. We might as well get our money’s worth, seeing as we’re only using the hotel room for all of two hours.”

I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. I still needed to shower. I was irrationally concerned about returning to work in any sort of state that suggested my long lunch had been of the sexual variety.

Paul’s mouth curled into a naughty grin. “Don’t worry, I can be quick.”

“You say the most romantic things.”

*

Later that afternoon I sat in the waiting room of my specialist’s office, wishing I was at home in bed. The sooner I was out of here, the better.

I blew out a long breath. Why the hell was I so nervous today? Sure, it had been two years since my last appointment, but it wasn’t like I was new to this. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d sat waiting in this office. Obviously that was the problem. I wasn’t blessed with ignorance, I knew what to expect.

After five painful minutes of flipping through some trashy celebrity magazines which I never usually bothered with – seriously, who really cared about the Kardashians? – the door to my specialist’s office opened.

“Madeleine?” An elegant woman in her late forties looked around the waiting room. When she recognized me, a broad smile lit her face.

Dr. Vivian Carmen was a name better suited to a movie star, and she had the looks to go with it, with her blond hair secured in a neat bun and striking green eyes. She’d been my specialist for the last five years. I’d quickly discovered her refined, calm bedside manner complemented my control freak nature.

“It’s good to see you, Madeleine. Come on in.”

I returned her warm smile and instantly found my nerves disappearing in her presence. I followed Dr. Carmen into her office and settled myself into a visitor’s chair.

“How have you been?” She glanced up at me and then flicked through my file.

“Busy.”

“I see here it’s been two years since your last check up?”

I winced. “I know. Time flies.”

Those astute green eyes found mine. “I’m not criticizing. Obviously if you haven’t felt the need to see me during that time it probably means things have been pretty stable.”

Her attention returned to my file. “So we performed a laparoscopy about two and a half years ago to ablate some of the damage caused by the endometriosis and to restrict further growth. You’ve remained on the pill since then?”

“I have.”

“So is this just a routine check up or do you have some specific concerns?”

“Both. It’s been a long time, but recently I’ve been experiencing some pain.”

Dr. Carmen closed the file. “Alright. I think given your history, let’s pop over and do an examination.”

I nodded and followed her to a curtained area in the far corner of her office. She drew the curtain for me and indicated for me to sit on the stretcher. Before pulling the curtain shut, she caught my eyes with a look that was both empathetic, yet professional. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to identify anything today. As you know, the implants are notoriously difficult to see on an ultrasound, but it’s worth checking anyway.”

I appreciated her honesty and understood the situation all too well. Endometriosis could be very hard to see. It was why keyhole surgery was the only surefire method to determine the presence and location of the disease.

I waited until she’d pulled the curtain and then kicked off my heels. I slipped out of my underwear and skirt and placed them neatly on a chair beside the stretcher. Hopping onto the bed, I lay flat and covered myself with the sheet provided. “Ready,” I called out.

Dr. Carmen returned and switched on the machine. “We’ll start with the abdomen.” She squeezed some of the cold, clear goo onto my stomach and I tried not to shiver. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” I didn’t bother trying to see the small black and white screen on the ultrasound machine. I trusted my doctor and she knew what she was looking for. I also sincerely hoped that there was nothing to find.

“So how’s work been? Aren’t you running your own business now?” she asked.

I’d grown used to the odd dance of polite conversation Dr. Carmen conducted while she was examining me. For her it was just another day at the office.

“Yes, it’s been four years now,” I replied, staring up at the gray ceiling. “It’s going really well but it’s been extremely busy.”

“Stressful?” She pushed the cold ultrasound device down toward my hips.

“Lately, yes, but it should ease off now for a while. We’ve just completed a big campaign for ACB Bank, you might see it around.”

“ACB? Well done.” She pressed a little harder and I tried not to shy away from the pressure. “Tell me, what have your symptoms been recently?”

“The usual. Aches and pains in that lower region. Nothing too painful, although I’ve probably been too busy to pay much attention.”

“Anything else?”

I frowned. “I’ve been extremely tired, but I put that down to working sixty hour plus weeks.” At least, that was what I was hoping.

“That could do it. Do you have a special man in your life now? I recall from your last surgery that you were single.”

I smiled to myself. “There’s a man I’ve been seeing for a few months. Things are going well.”

“That’s lovely news. Any pain during intercourse?”

“None at all.”

“And how often do you give yourself a break from the pill?”

“Every few months, because the periods are still really painful.”

I glanced over at her and noticed she was staring intently at the screen, a look of concentration marking her otherwise unlined forehead. My stomach pitched and I had a feeling it wasn’t good news. Damn. I resumed my study of the ceiling.

She pushed the head of the ultrasound device to the area just above my pelvic bone. “Do you ever forget to take the pill?”

I paused, and hoped she couldn’t see my guilty expression. “Some,” I admitted. “Life has been pretty hectic. Could that account for the pain? Because the dosage of the pill hasn’t been consistent enough to keep everything under control?”

“Yes, it could.”

Dr. Carmen went silent. She was being very thorough, which indicated bad news. If there had been nothing there, she would have moved on by now. Damn it. I didn’t want to have to go through another surgery right now – or ever, for that matter.

I sighed loudly, not bothering to hide my dismay. “It’s bad isn’t it?”

“There’s definitely something worth taking a closer look at.”

“Great.” I figured she’d known me long enough to be able to cope with some sarcasm.

To my surprise, she reached over and placed a gentle hand on my arm. “Give me a moment. I’m just going to turn the sound on.”

Wonderful. Now I’d get to
hear
how fucked up my insides were.

She flicked a switch and then a steady noise came out of a tinny speaker. It was what I imagined the rush of blood might sound like.

“Can you shift around and take a look at the screen?” she asked.

I propped myself up and turned to look at the small black and white screen. The image was a grainy swirl of black and grays. I’d always thought deciphering ultrasounds was a bit like decoding a puzzle.

Dr. Carmen pointed to the screen. “Do you see that area just here?”

She was indicating to what looked to be a large egg-shaped sphere. “Yes.”

“That’s your uterus.” Her finger moved to a darker area inside my uterus, most likely a cluster of endometriosis. “Can you make this out?”

I nodded.

“What do you notice about it?”

I was growing impatient. Wouldn’t it just be easier to tell me what the problem was instead of dragging it out like some kind of science lesson?

“Take a closer look.”

I stifled a sigh and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. I squinted at the image and then blinked, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. It didn’t make any sense. I looked to the doctor for reassurance.

“Can you see it?” she asked.

I nodded uncertainly.

Dr. Carmen’s face broke out into a show-stopping smile, her green eyes bright. “Congratulations, Madeleine. That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”