Perregrine Neale paused. “You want to terminate?”
Lexi nodded.
“I can arrange that, of course. But don’t make any rushed decisions. Clearly, the pregnancy was unexpected. Perhaps if you gave yourself a chance to get used to the idea-”
“No.” Lexi shook her head fervently. Her mind was filled with images of Gabe, his face, his body. Forcibly, she pushed them out, screwing her eyes closed. “I can’t do it, Perry. There’s work. Kruger-Brent. We’re only just starting to rebuild. The timing couldn’t be worse.”
“Lexi, please don’t take this the wrong way. But you’re forty years old. You may not get another chance at pregnancy, at least not naturally. There’s always IVF, of course, but statistically the odds are not great.”
“I don’t want another chance.” Lexi stood up. She was shaking, but her voice was firm. “I don’t want children, Perry. Please set up a termination as soon as possible.”
She walked out of the office, slamming the door behind her.
Gabe McGregor sat on the veranda of his new Cape Town apartment, lost in thought. Maybe he should have waited? Shopped around a bit before signing the lease? It was the first place the real-estate agent had shown him that met his requirements: private, not too big, excellent security, ocean views. Gabe had signed on the dotted line within a minute of walking through the door.
But now he thought: What am I doing here? This isn’t home.
What had he expected? He’d moved back to South Africa because, after Lexi, he had to leave New York. And because he had nowhere else to go. Scotland wasn’t home anymore. London was cold and gray, not a city to move to when trying to escape depression. South Africa had been his home once. Maybe it could be again?
Or maybe not. Cape Town was so charged with memories of Tara and the children, of Dia and Phoenix, of happiness found and lost, that when Gabe walked the streets, even the air smelled of grief. He’d hoped his new bachelor apartment might jolt him out of his sadness. Something modern and fresh, with no womanly touches, nothing to remind him of Lexi or his marriage. But it was no good. A fresh start wasn’t about geography or chrome kitchen fixtures or black marble bathrooms. It was about moving in his heart. Sipping his Beck’s beer, gazing at the bleeding blood-orange sunset, it came to him with searing clarity.
I don’t want to move on in my heart.
I want Lexi back.
He’d thought about contacting her after she sent the check. He’d even picked up the phone a couple times and gotten halfway through her number before hanging up, cursing himself for being a fool. It wasn’t the money that broke us up. It was the distance, the secrets, the lies. I never really “had” Lexi. Kruger-Brent did, and it still does.
Gabe followed the news about Kruger-Brent’s revival with a sort of agonized compulsion. Every article, every TV news story, was a connection to Lexi that both thrilled and tortured him. In interviews, she looked poised and confident, a brilliant businesswoman on her way back to the top. There was no trace of pain, let alone heartbreak, beneath the flawless studio makeup. When Max’s suicide hit the news, Gabe expected-hoped?-to see some cracks in Lexi’s invulnerable facade. But even her response to that had been cool and on message.
“My heart goes out to his wife and family, of course. But at Kruger-Brent it’s business as usual.”
No one watching her would have guessed that she had once loved Max with all her heart. That they’d grown up together, as Lexi herself used to say, like two sides of the same person.
It was getting cool. Gabe finished his beer and walked inside his pristine, state-of-the-art apartment.
He’d never felt more lonely in his life.
Lexi woke at five A.M., sweating.
The dreams were getting worse.
She was six years old, walking along the street in Dark Harbor with her father, pushing a doll carriage. Max, adult and naked, ran up to the carriage and snatched the doll. Except it wasn’t a doll, it was a baby. Their baby. He wrapped his hands around its tiny, fragile neck and started to choke it.
Lexi was going into labor. Gabe was pushing her through the hospital corridors in a wheelchair. He spun the chair around and said: “I know you’re lying to me. Tell me the truth about Kruger-Brent and I can save you.”
“Save me from what?”
Blood started gushing from between Lexi’s legs, torrents and torrents of blood, till the hospital floor was no longer a floor but a thick, viscous red swimming pool. She was drowning, screaming for Gabe to help her, but he couldn’t. “I love you. But I can’t go on.”
Weakly Lexi crawled out of bed and into the shower. Her appointment wasn’t till this afternoon. How am I going to make it through the next ten hours? She rubbed shower gel all over her wet skin, washing not because she was dirty but because it was something to do. Cupping her breasts in her hands, she marveled at the weight of them. The baby-it-was about the size of a pinhead, but already her boobs were preparing to feed the five thousand. She wondered how long it would take them to go back to normal afterward. Days? Weeks? Her usually washboard-flat stomach now had a slight but pronounced curve to it, but it looked more like middle-aged spread than pregnancy. This wasn’t her body. It was the body of a stranger. Soft. Maternal. All the things that Lexi was not. Could never be.
She thought about Gabe. Maddeningly, the tears started to well up. She tried not to think of “it” as a baby, still less as Gabe’s baby. Even so, the knowledge that she was about to destroy the last piece of what they’d had together…
Lexi put her head in her hands and sobbed.
Goddamn these stupid hormones.
All Lexi wanted was for the nightmare to be over.
“I see this is your second scheduled appointment with us?”
Lexi glared at the abortion-clinic receptionist. Are you asking me or telling me?
“You canceled a previous procedure on…” She scrolled down her computer screen. “On the tenth. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“And what was the reason for the cancellation?”
Gee, well, let me think. I’m throwing away my last chance at natural motherhood? I’m killing the child of the man I love, the best thing that ever happened to me, not to mention my own baby? I’m scared of hemorrhaging to death on the operating table like some kind of sacrificial lamb, being punished for all the sins that no one knows I’ve committed?
“I had a business meeting.”
The receptionist raised an eyebrow.
“An important business meeting. It couldn’t be rescheduled.”
“Right. So you’re quite sure about this afternoon’s procedure?”
“Quite sure.” Lexi signed the consent forms. “When can I go to my room?”
“As soon as you’re ready, Ms. Templeton. One of our nurses will show you through to the patient suites.”
The girl sighed as she watched Lexi disappear through the double doors. It didn’t matter if it was a panicked teenager or a world-weary CEO, and it didn’t matter how tough a front they put on. Abortion was always sad. Part of Lexi Templeton’s heart would break today, never to recover.
Next week, the receptionist decided, she would look for another job.
The captain’s voice rang out through the cabin speakers.
“I appreciate your patience, folks. We’ve been asked to circle around for just a few more minutes. Should have you on the ground shortly.”
A collective groan from the passengers jolted Gabe awake. Through his tiny plastic window he could see New York sprawled out below. He wondered for the hundredth time what the hell he was doing coming back here.
You know why you came.
Because you had to.
Your heart never left.
“We’re running a little behind today.” The nurse smiled sympathetically as she bustled about Lexi’s room, drawing back the curtains and refilling the pitcher of water. “You’ll probably go down to the operating room at around four. Can I bring you some magazines? I’m afraid we can’t offer you anything to eat.”