The Ace and The Assistant Page 7

  Bo’s hand comes down on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “It’s nice to see you back.”

  Giving them both a half-smile, I hold up my beer. “To a new season.”

  Chapter 10

  Casey

  Subject: I’m fine

  Ross,

  My sister is a worrywart. When I was six and had tonsillitis, she wanted to cancel her show because she thought I was dying. She tends to be overly motherly because our mother is not the most affectionate person and it’s my belief that, subconsciously, Charlotte thinks she has to make up for that, and the fact she stole the spotlight for my entire life.

  And just to clarify, she did steal the spotlight but I don’t care. I’ve never wanted the spotlight. People always tend to think I’m lying about that, but it’s the honest truth.

  I digress.

  Long story short, I’m fine. Just feeling a little under the weather and going for a check-up. Nothing to worry about.

  Thanks for asking, though.

  How’s everything in sunny Florida?

  Casey

  P.S. The remodel is so close to being finished. I thought about attaching some pics, but I think it would be better to see it in person for yourself in twelve days. Not that I’m counting.

  P.P.S. I’m really going to miss having the run of your house.

  Smiling, I shut my laptop and stare at the half-drunk cup of coffee. I was being honest with Ross when I said there’s nothing to worry about, regarding my health. I’m positive it’s absolutely nothing, but I just want to make sure. Besides, I’m due for a checkup.

  Having a visit with Doc Walters is better than a therapy session or a dose of antibiotics. Any time I’m feeling under the weather, usually, all I have to do is walk into his office and I immediately feel better.

  He’s like the grandpa I’ve never had and a warm blanket all wrapped up into one.

  My sister, on the other hand, is a big blabbermouth.

  Those Facetime calls that she and Bo are so fond of tend to run the gamut. They go from being all lovey-dovey to talking about new patio furniture for the pool and what they both had for breakfast… and apparently my well-being. It’s annoying.

  The best part is they’ll literally have those chats anywhere—cars, planes, hotel rooms, the freaking clubhouse. If I were to guess, half of the Revelers know I’m going to the doctor today.

  They’re worse than little old church ladies running a prayer circle.

  Checking my watch, I see I only have about thirty minutes before I need to leave for my appointment so I decide to check in on Phil and take him a refill before I leave. I could use a little fresh air and there’s no way I’ll be able to finish this pot by myself today.

  Coffee just hasn’t been settling well lately.

  “Hi Casey,” Phil says with a big smile. “Brought you more of those homemade ginger snaps.”

  “Trade you for this piping hot cup of coffee,” I tell him with a smile of my own, a genuine one that reaches all the way down to my belly, because those cookies he speaks of are like manna from heaven.

  His wife must have them blessed by the pope or use holy water or something.

  “What am I going to do when you leave me?” I ask around my first bite of cookie. There’s no sense trying to put on airs with Phil. We’re past that in our relationship. “Should I follow you to your next job? Do you need a personal assistant?”

  He laughs, walking around the side of the house where his crew is finishing up painting the trim around the new windows. “Tell you what,” he says, stopping as he assesses the work, “I’ll bring you some extra cookies tomorrow to hold you over.”

  “And then you’re going to abandon me? That’s it? We’re over?”

  That gets an even bigger laugh, but I’m not really joking. I’m actually tearing up at the thought of not seeing Phil after tomorrow.

  What is wrong with me?

  “My wife and I have coffee every Saturday morning at Neutral Grounds in the Quarter,” he says with a wink. “You have an open invitation. She’d really love to meet you.”

  “I’m invited to your breakfast dates?”

  “Open invitation,” he repeats.

  Taking another bite of the cookie, I exhale a contented sigh.

  The remodel is basically finished. There haven’t been any major issues since Ross has been gone, or at least nothing I couldn’t handle. We did have to send back some appliances last week that were the wrong size. Since the ones Ross picked out were no longer in stock, I had to make an executive decision, but I think he’s going to be pleased with the replacements.

  All of his affairs are in order.

  I’ve made arrangements for interviews when he returns from Spring Training.

  The house is in tip-top shape.

  Basically, my work here is done, but Ross has asked me to stay on for at least a few more weeks until he has a chance to find someone to hire permanently. I could offer to stay, but the longer I’m here, the harder it will be for me to leave.

  I already feel at home here… maybe a little too at home.

  But I’ll deal with that when the time comes.

  “I’ve gotta run, Phil,” I tell him, giving him a departing side hug. “Don’t forget I’m making breakfast in the morning for you and the crew.”

  He tells me his wife is sending a breakfast casserole, which I’m sure will be amazing. The guys all call out their goodbyes and I make my way back into the house to collect my purse and keys.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m walking into Doc Walters’s office wondering why I’m even here.

  I already feel better.

  “To what do I owe this honor?” Doc Walters asks as I perch on the side of the padded table. “You look like you’re the picture of health.”

  He says that with great pride, like he’s the reason I’m the picture of health.

  “It’s probably nothing,” I tell him, waving a hand in the air. Taking a deep breath, I exhale. “I’ve been feeling… off. But now that I’m here, I’m pretty sure it’s nothing and I probably just need more sleep or extra vitamins or something.”

  The truth is I get great sleep, especially when I’m in Ross Davies’ bed.

  And I’ve been having those green smoothies he has in his freezer every morning since he’s been gone.

  “Or maybe it was something I ate?”

  Doc Walters gives me an inquisitive look. “So, you’ve been tired and… experiencing nausea?”

  “A little,” I say with a nod. “But, per usual, I feel better by just being here.”

  He smiles and grabs my chart. “Well, it’s been about a year since we did any lab work. Let’s just cover our bases. Hazel will be in shortly to get everything going.”

  “I’m not sure…” I start and stop. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Doc Walters says with a look that tells me I’m not getting out of this. “Humor me, Miss Casey. I’ll feel better if I send you out of here with a clean bill of health.”

  Giving him a smile, I concede. “Okay.”

  Hazel, his nurse, comes in a few minutes later and draws blood, then hands me a cup to pee in. After I’ve filled the cup and washed up, I sit back up on the padded table and wait.

  “Let’s check you over,” Doc Walters says when he comes back into the room a few minutes later. “Any other symptoms I should know about? Pains or discomforts?” Using his light, he examines my pupils, takes a peek in my mouth, and then monitors my pulse.

  “No,” I reply, feeling like I’m wasting both of our time. “Like I said, just a bit tired, but I’ve been working for a friend while he finds someone to help him full time. And of course, still helping Charlotte when she needs me. So it’s probably just that. Plus, I heard there’s a bug going around, so maybe my body is just fighting off the germs.”

  Placing his stethoscope on my back, he instructs me to take a deep breath and listens intently. When he’s satisfied with my lungs and heart, he asks me to lie back and
begins palpitating my stomach.

  “Are you feeling any nausea now?” he asks, moving his hands around on my abdomen.

  “No.”

  “Any pain or discomfort when I push here?” he asks, putting pressure on my right side and then my left.

  “No.”

  Offering me his hand, he helps me back into a sitting position. “Everything looks good, but let’s see what the lab results say, okay?”

  I nod, giving him a smile.

  While he’s gone, I occupy myself by checking emails.

  Ross hasn’t replied to the one I sent earlier, but I didn’t expect him to. The Revelers are playing Seattle today and Ross is pitching. I’d love to be there. If Charlotte was still there, I’d make her video it and send it to me like she did last week, but she’s back in the studio this week.

  Clearing out junk mail, I circle back around to my previous emails with Ross. I have them all saved in their own folder. Sometimes, I go back and read them again. It’s crazy how much you can learn about a person when your only ways to communicate are emails and phone calls.

  It’s almost like we’re pen pals.

  Who’ve had sex.

  Amazing, mind-blowing sex.

  Yeah, definitely not what I want to be thinking about while sitting in the doctor’s office.

  Clearing my throat, I square my shoulders and skim a few emails to try and distract myself.

  I smile as I come across an email from earlier this week. Somehow we got off on a side trip of our favorite childhood memories. And surprisingly enough, even though we had very different family dynamics, we had similar favorite moments.

  His was when his mom and dad rented a cabin in Colorado for two weeks. He said his favorite part was he didn’t have to share his parents with their jobs or obligations. It was just two weeks of family bonding.

  I could totally relate.

  My favorite memory is when Charlotte was in between filming and my mom and dad rented a beach house for just the four of us. There weren’t any cameras or famous people. It was just us, and it was so easy to forget we had to share Charlotte with the rest of the world.

  I’m still scrolling through Ross’s emails when the door opens and Doc Walters walks back in.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says, the picture of calm, which makes me calm.

  Putting my phone back in my purse, I smile. “It’s fine.”

  Walking over, Doc Walters starts to speak again but stops, cocking his head.

  The long pause turns my calm into nerves almost instantaneously. “Am I… fine? Or is there—”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  I feel my eyes practically pop out of their sockets and my mouth grows drier than the Sahara Desert. Trying to speak, I open my mouth, and then close it, repeating that motion several times as I try to grasp what he said. But he’s wrong. He has to be wrong, because there’s no way…

  “I can’t be pregnant.”

  Doc Walters gives me his signature reassuring smile. “As far as I know there’s only one confirmed immaculate conception, so I’m assuming you’ve recently been sexually active.”

  “No, I mean, yes, but it was only once… or one night, and I’m on birth control.”

  He clears his throat and pulls up the rolling stool, having a seat. “Abstinence is the only foolproof method of birth control. Have you missed a pill?”

  “Occasionally,” I admit, my mind racing as I try to think back about when was the last time I forgot to take one. “But I always… eventually... remember. Are you sure?”

  “You’re pregnant, Casey.”

  Letting out a nervous laugh, I fight back the tears pricking my eyes. This can not be happening. Ross and I had sex three times in one night. In the heat of the moment, I didn’t even think about a condom. Of course, in hindsight, I realized how stupid that was, but like I told Doc Walters, I’m on birth control. Even though I occasionally forget to take a pill, I always remember and take it as soon as I do. I’ve been taking birth control for so long, I always assumed that when I wanted to get pregnant, I’d have to be off it for months to make that happen.

  The key part of that is when I wanted to get pregnant, which is not now.

  Oh, God.

  “I can tell you’re overwhelmed, which is understandable, and I’m sure you’re going through all of the what-ifs and second-guessing your actions,” Doc Walters says in the calming tone I’ve come to love over the years. “Let’s take this one step at a time, huh?”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat and nod my agreement.

  “We’ll get you a prescription for some prenatal vitamins and schedule an ultrasound.”

  Unable to speak, I nod again.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

  Shaking my head, I swipe at the tear that falls onto my cheek.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Doc Walters assures me with a pat on my knee.

  I try to give him a smile, but it’s wobbly and when he quietly exits the room, I let the tears fall.

  After Hazel comes in with my prescription, tissues, and a comforting hug, I’m able to pull myself together enough to exit the office and make it to my car. Then I break down again.

  A baby?

  How am I going to do this?

  How am I going to tell Ross?

  What is he going to think? What will he say?

  My stomach feels sick all over again and it has nothing to do with pregnancy hormones. There is a cesspool of regret, anxiety, and fear stirring. Top that off with the enormous amount of aloneness and I’m a complete mess.

  It would make sense to run home to my sister, but I can’t go there. Something most people don’t know about Charlotte is that she had a baby and gave him up for adoption. She struggled with that decision for years and I’m afraid if I tell her about the baby, it will bring up too many bad memories. I don’t want to cause her any undue stress. She’s in the middle of producing her next album and can’t afford to be distracted.

  Besides, I don’t know anything except the fact I’m pregnant. A lot of people don’t announce their pregnancies until they’re out of the first trimester because there are so many things that can go wrong…

  What if something goes wrong?

  My hand instinctively goes to my flat stomach. Even though there is nothing to feel or see, something deep inside me clicks into place.

  It’s a moment.

  Sitting in my car in the parking lot of my doctor’s office, something happens, something that transcends time and space—a connection, a bond, a knowing that I’ll do anything in my power to protect this living being… that’s part me… and part Ross.

  Leaning forward, I rest my forehead on the steering wheel and close my eyes as I let my mind catch up to what my heart has figured out—I’m having a baby.

  After driving around for an hour or so, I stop by my favorite cafe for some soup to-go and then head back to Ross’s house.

  The second I step into the foyer, I immediately feel more at peace.

  Stepping into the kitchen, I stand there and stare at the coffee mug from earlier and think about how much my life has changed in a short amount of time. Little did I know that I would walk out of this house one person and walk back into it feeling completely different.

  As I perch on the barstool and pull out my soup, my mind continues to process. I think about opening my laptop and sending another email to Ross, but what would I say?

  No, he’ll be back in a week and I’ll tell him then.

  Except, that will be the opening game of the Revelers’ season. I can’t tell him then. I would never want to distract him from the game. And his parents will be here.

  Oh, God. His parents will be here.

  The soup that tasted so good during my first few bites suddenly sours.

  Pushing the container away, I fold my arms and rest my head on the cool granite countertop.

  When the doorbell rings, I practically leap from the stool, welcoming th
e distraction but when I pull the door open, I almost choke on air.

  Standing before me is none other than Felicia Davies. The ex-wife. We’re acquaintances, but nothing more. When she and Ross were married, she didn’t mingle much, unless it was a high-profile event.

  She squints her eyes, obviously not expecting me to be the one answering Ross’s door.

  “Uh, hi,” I stammer, holding onto the door for support. My delivery is awkward and I feel my face heat up. I’ve thought about what it would be like to come face-to-face with her, but never imagined it like this. Ever since she and Ross first split up, I’ve always wanted to ask her why.

  Why on earth would anyone leave Ross Davies?

  Why would you not want to be married to a wonderful man like him?

  But now, all I can manage are single syllables.

  Felicia’s scrutinizing gaze drifts past me, like she’s expecting someone else to pop out of the foyer.

  Taking a fortifying breath, I try again. “Can I help you?”

  “I know you,” she says, bringing her eyes back to me. “Casey Carradine, right?”

  “Yes,” I reply, forcing a smile. “That’s right.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  I swallow. “I—I’m, um, I work here.”

  She scoffs and raises a manicured eyebrow in disbelief. “Oh, please.”

  When my expression doesn’t change, hers does. She grows serious and her features harden. What’s she doing here? She knows Ross is away at Spring Training, so why is she knocking on his door and who did she expect to open it?

  Perhaps she was only knocking out of precaution?

  When I think about her barging into Ross’s house while he’s gone, my hackles raise and it’s exactly what I need to find my backbone.

  “Can I help you with something?” I ask again.

  When she steps forward, like she’s going to bypass me and walk into the house, I put my arm out to stop her.

  “Excuse me,” she huffs, obviously annoyed.

  Making direct eye contact with her, I stand my ground. “No, I won’t,” I say calmly, but it’s a front. Between the bomb that was dropped on me today and Felicia’s surprise visit, I feel anything but calm, but I won’t let her know that. “Ross will be home in a week. If you need something, you can come back then.”