The Baby He Wants: A BWWM Pregnancy Romance (12 page)

*****

Ava went
home to find Bob eroding the living room carpet, Joe Black in his
arms.

“
Where
have you been?” he demanded as soon as she was in the door. Ava
opened her mouth and then closed it. She had told Bob where she was
going because she’d been sweating bullets and needed a support
group of one to get her through her nerves. As she left she’d
texted him to call the cops if she wasn’t back by midnight. It
was a bit of dramatic joking but apparently Bob had taken her
semi-seriously. Well…considering the police weren’t
around probably not so seriously but still, obviously he had been
worried.

“
Sorry;
it turned into a sleep over,” she said.

“
Really
?
How dumb can you get Ava?”

“
Hey,
I got pregnant by a guy I’d just met at a rock festival. That’s
how dumb I am.”

“
Touché,”
Bob said. “But seriously what were you
thinking
?”

Ava
shrugged, “We were talking and then…we weren’t. I
don’t know what to tell ya.”

“
So?
When you weren’t busy
doing it
,
did you come to some sort of agreement about the baby? Is he going to
step up?”

Bob was
worried about her and the baby. He knew she really couldn’t
afford to have one. She had no income and how would she find a job
while dragging a newborn about? She definitely needed support and he
was worried he might be the one saddled with a new mother and her
child.

“
Yeah,
he said he wanted to be involved. He even said he was ready to pick
up my medical bills so I don’t think you have anything to worry
about Bob,” she held out her hands for Joe Black. He hopped
gracefully from Bob’s hands to hers. He was really getting big
now. Almost heavy. That could have something to do with all the food
he was given. Spoiled rotten didn’t begin to describe him.

“
Well,
I’m just gonna go brush Joe Black’s hair.” She said
heading to her room.

“
Yeah
well, I have to get to the LGBT center anyway. I’m teaching a
class on make up,” Bob informed her.

“
Great.
Enjoy,” she replied waving at him.

*****

“
Mama,
I need to speak to you,” he said walking into her office.

“
Can
it wait? I’m waiting on a call from Japan,” his mother
said her voice absentminded.

“
It
really can’t mother,” Tristan said settling into a chair
and rearranging his jacket as he did so. His mother sat back in her
own chair, crossed her legs and lifted her eyebrows.

“
I
got a girl pregnant,” he said trying his best to suppress any
hint of excitement from his voice.

“
From
the use of ‘
a
’
girl you don’t mean Savannah,” Cleo Carrington said
dryly.

“
No.
Unfortunately it's not Savannah, however she is definitely pregnant
and the child is mine. I would say that is cause for celebration.”

“
Who
is this girl?” his mother asked going at once to the pertinent
issue. The real question she was asking was whether Ava had
sufficient pedigree.

“
She’s
a music engineering student at Berklee. We met at a music festival
and hit it off right away.”

“
I
see. Who is she? Who are her people?”

Tristan
took a deep breath, “You don’t know her people. She’s
an orphan; her mother died a while back and her father left when she
was very young. She’s basically on her own.”

Cleo
nodded, “I see. So she’s a nobody. Are you sure-“

“
I’m
sure. The baby is mine mama,” he cut in before she could
besmirch Ava’s character with uncomfortable questions. Even
though Ava wasn’t here now didn’t mean that Tristan was
ready to hear trash talk about her.

“
So
what do you plan to do?” she asked as she folded her hands
beneath her chin and fixed Tristan with a no nonsense glance.

Tristan
closed his eyes and prayed for strength, “I think that in the
circumstances, it would be best if I married her.”

“
I
beg pardon?” Cleo said face paling.

“
She
is pregnant mother. This may well be the
only
child I ever have. Would you agree that
it would be well to have it be legitimate?”

Cleo was
silent. She could see his point but she’d had this idea of the
merging of the Carrington-Leicester empires for so long. It was the
most strategic long term move to be made. But Tristan was right; it
meant nothing without an heir and he might not have another. The
question remained though, was this pregnancy really his and why was
he so sure that this woman was not pulling a fast one on him? In his
own admission, she was a nobody, she had nothing. It would not take
much to impregnate oneself and present Tristan with a fait accompli
of his most dearest wish.

“
I
want to meet her first,” Cleo declared. “Let her come
home for dinner this evening.”

Tristan
frowned like he wanted to protest but after a slight hesitation he
simply nodded his head and acquiesced.

“
Meanwhile,
what is her full name?” Cleo asked pencil in hand, ready to
write.

“
Ava
Richards,” Tristan said as if he was pulling teeth. He knew his
mother would have her checked out; he’d done the same after
she’d come to the benefit. He wasn’t a fool. There had
been nothing to find. But if anyone could make a mountain out of a
molehill, it was his mother. Still, there was nothing to be done but
to subject Ava to her. If they were to be married then she’d
have to get along with his mother anyway. It occurred to Tristan then
that he hadn’t even asked her yet.

*****

Cleo
Carrington’s driver came for her promptly at six. He informed
her that she would meet Tristan at the Carrington mansion. Ava was
nervous but not to the point of paralysis. It made sense that
Tristan’s mother wanted to meet her. Especially in light of
what Tristan had told her. She was carrying what was possibly this
woman’s only grandchild. Of course she would want to know its
mother. Ava could handle this fine.

"Please,
wait here a moment Ms. Richards."

The maid
left her standing in the entryway and disappeared in the direction of
the Carrington office. She was back less than a minute later with a
gorgeous woman in a charcoal-gray suit and a tablet.

"Ms.
Carrington?"

"That’s
me."

The
woman lets out a tiny sigh before donning a professional smile.
"Welcome to the Carrington estate. My name is Tamara and I’m
Mrs Carrington’s assistant. Follow me please, she’ll see
you now."

Tamara
has a polished British accent and short spiky hair. Ava had to give
herself a short lecture about the fact that America fought for
independence from the British ages ago and there was no need to feel
inferior just on the strength of the other woman’s accent.
These rich people and their assistants though…

"I'm
sure I'd like to talk to her too. What about, though?"

Tamara
ignored her and simply kept walking down a long corridor until they
reached a set of double doors climbing so high Ava thought she
couldn’t quite see the top of them. Tamara opened the doors and
stepped back, gesturing for her to enter. Ava entered the room with
trepidation; for some reason she felt like she was entering Satan’s
throne room.

The
woman sitting behind the desk lived up to all of Ava’s
expectations. She was poised, well groomed, elegant. Her high
cheekbones and glacial blue eyes stared at her impassively, mouth
pursed in a straight line. She looked like whatever she was seeing in
front of her was not what she’d hoped for. Ava smoothed down
her dress; she’d borrowed it from the props department at her
college. It was a black cocktail dress, floor length which clung to
her breasts and then fell in an A line to the floor. Her hair was
twisted in a neat bun and she wore a pair of diamond studs that her
mother had left her. She
thought
she
looked respectable enough but Tristan’s mother looked like
she’d seen a rat.

Ava took
a deep breath. “Hi. I’m Ava Richards,” she said
hesitating for a moment before extending her hand out to be shaken.
Cleo Carrington regarded the hand for a moment before reaching out to
give it an anemic shake.

“
Cleo
Carrington. I’m Tristan’s mother.”

Ava
nodded, “I gathered as much. It's nice to meet you.” Ava
looked around in an exaggerated way. “Er, I was supposed to
meet him here; has he arrived yet?”

“
No,”
Cleo said coldly. “I thought you and I could have a talk first
before Tristan joined us.”

“
Oh,”
Ava said in a small voice.
Here we go.

“
Fire
away then,” she told Cleo.

*****

Cleo
studied the girl who possibly carried her grand child. She was pretty
enough in a common type of way but for the life of her, Cleo could
not understand what Tristan could possibly have seen in her. He must
have been devastated with grief over his potential sterility. She
couldn’t see what other reason he would have to choose
this…
urchin
.

“
Sit,”
Cleo said to her.

Ava
looked around and sat in the straight backed chair that faced Cleo’s
desk. She crossed her legs, black painted toe nails peeping from her
sandals as her dress rode up a bit. Arms folded in her lap, she
looked up at Cleo expectantly.

“
Would
it be too forward of me to ask you directly what it is you want with
my son?” she asked.

Ava
shook her head, eyes closed, mouth set in a straight line. “I
don’t want anything,” she said.

“
Is
that so? How is it then, that you come to be pregnant by him?”
Cleo accused.

Ava
smiled and looked at her feet briefly before lifting her eyes to face
Cleo. “That’s none of your business,” she said with
a tight smile. In spite of herself, Cleo blanched.

“
Excuse
me?” she said.

Ava
leaned forward, eyes fixed on Cleo. “I get that Tristan is your
son, and you’re concerned about him. Doesn’t give you the
right to know every single detail of
my
personal life. If you have a problem with me, take it up with your
child.” She said, her heart frantically beating but her face
resolute.

Cleo
stared at this woman in shock. It had been too many years since
anyone dared to speak to her like this. She was…intrigued. Not
so intrigued that she thought this marriage of convenience was in any
way a good idea; not so intrigued that she was willing to insult the
Leicesters. Still, a grandchild was not to be sneezed at; especially
if it might be the only one.

“
I
have no ‘problem’ with you. I am just curious as to why
you made the decision to have unprotected sex with a man you barely
knew regardless of the risks and potential consequences.”

Ava
smirked, “When you put it like that…” she said
voice trailing off thoughtfully, “Okay, I’ll tell you. I
was a virgin; I didn’t go to the festival expecting to have
sex. It just…happened. We
both
didn’t think.”

“
Clearly,”
Cleo said dryly.

“
So.
What now?” Ava asked.

“
Now
we move to the pertinent business of proving that the baby you’re
carrying is actually Tristan’s.”

Ava’s
eyebrow rose, “And how do you propose we do that?”

“
A
DNA test of course,” Cleo said.

“
Of
course,” Ava agreed dryly.

“
Are
you willing to have one done on you?”

Ava
shrugged, “Sure. Why not?”

“
You’re
that sure about the results?”

Ava
shrugged again but said nothing. Cleo sighed.

“
Very
well then. Shall we retire to the lounge for some aperitifs?”

“
Alright,”
Ava said standing up. She followed behind as Cleo walked straight
backed to the lounge. Several maids were waiting, behind trays. One
came forward to find out what Ava would have to drink. It was all
very surreal.

*****

Tristan
walked in ten minutes later, looking a little flustered.

“
How
was the drive up, honey?”

“
Good.
It was good. You... really did the whole nine-yards again, huh? Even
though I said not to?"

Tristan
grimaced a little at the assembled group of the help, but Ava was
just taking it all in. The same might be said for Cleo, but she only
had one person in her sights.

There's
a lot of Ava to process.

"Of
course. I thought it'd be nice for your…friend to see everyone
before the daytime staff leaves for the night." Cleo said.

The
smile on Tristan’s face became a little more strained, and then
downright apologetic when he turned to face Ava. "You didn't
have to."

"Sure
I did," Cleo declared. "They all wanted to see you, too."
Only then did Tristan's mother turn from him to Ava. "So this
is...?"

"Ava.
Ava, this is my mother, Cleo. But I’m sure you know that since
you got here before me."

Ava
stepped forward, smiling awkwardly. She held her hand out to Cleo,
“We’ve met.”