Season 2
Three weeks went by, and Andrew's life had turned upside-down. The paternity test came back, and yes, he was now the father of two premature daughters. He didn't know how to react. He didn't know how he felt. He supposed it was a bit of everything. Happiness that he really did have two more children, sadness at having to raise them alone, guilt at ever getting involved with Siobhan in the first place, fear about the future of his daughters.
But, despite their prematurity, they were just as beautiful as Juliet had been seventeen years ago. He only wished he had been there for their birth. He remembered Juliet's vividly. Only twenty-one years old, he sat next to Catherine, trying to calm her down as she screamed for the doctors to "get this fucking baby out." At the time, he thought it was just her labor pains talking. Or maybe that's what he had hoped it to be. Anyhow, once he held Juliet in his arms for the first time, he felt happier than he ever had before. He hadn't even thought of a name for her until that moment, and "Juliet" instantly came to mind as he looked at her, reminded of Romeo's words "I never saw true beauty till this night." He only wished now that he had been a better father to her. He had tried to give her everything she needed. Hell, he had tried to be both mother and father to her, as Catherine had all but been absent from her life, never wanting anything to do with her. He might have done well in the beginning, but he knew he eventually strayed, putting his mind more toward work than her, and he knew he couldn't do the same to Portia and Regan.
But, what could he do? With the divorce proceedings, in a matter of months, Siobhan would be out of his life for good, and like Catherine, she wanted nothing to do with her children. Once the renovations to the penthouse were done, he had brought them home from the hospital and immediately hired a nanny to look after them while he worked. Just as he had done with Juliet. He didn't know what else to do.
His first day back at work was miserable, because as soon as he walked into his office, he was bombarded with images of him and Siobhan on his desk. He immediately began putting them in boxes. He couldn't look at them anymore. He didn't want anything to do with her.
But, then he came across one photo that had just been taken in the last few months, back in March, at yet another investor party that his company held. The woman in the photograph with him had a smile on her face that was brighter than the sun, and the way she was clinging to him made him want to cry again. He thought he had had the perfect marriage with her, but he was wrong.
A sudden knock woke him from his thoughts, and Tim Arbogast appeared in the doorway.
"I'm glad to see you back," the older man said. "But, you look terrible."
"I know," Andrew responded shortly. He knew he looked terrible. He hadn't eaten much or slept well in days as a result of his newfound father duties and it didn't help that he couldn't keep from cutting himself shaving.
"Look, Andrew," Tim walked into the room and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know this must be hard for you, thinking you had the perfect marriage and finding out she was nothing but a lying piece of trash."
"You have no idea," Andrew said, still staring down at the photo.
"But, you have to let it go," said Arbogast.
"I know," Andrew said again. He felt so broken.
"Are you sure you need to come back today?" Arbogast asked. "If you need more time off—"
"No," Andrew said vehemently. He had two new daughters to care for now. He couldn't hide forever. "I'm fine."
Before Arbogast could respond, there was another knock at the door.
"Mr. Arbogast," the receptionist, Claudine, looked nervous as she stepped into the office. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but your grandsons are downstairs. Their nanny dropped them off."
"Why?" asked Arbogast.
"I don't know," she replied. "She said that your son-in-law gave her money and told her to drop them off here. She didn't say why."
Andrew flinched. He never wanted to hear any mention of Henry Butler again.
Arbogast nodded. "Alright. I'll take care of it. Will you be alright, Andrew?"
"Yes, sir. I'll get to work," Andrew said. No doubt he had a ton of emails to answer.
After Arbogast left, he put the photo of himself and Bridget in the box with the rest of Siobhan's photos and logged on to his computer.
As he had suspected, he had a whole slew of emails from a hoard of investors. He decided to go down the line and answer them one by one, starting from oldest to newest. It took him close to three hours, but finally, he reached the last one, and discovered that it wasn't from an investor at all.
Andrew, it read
I knew that if I sent this from my own email that you would delete it without a second thought, so I had to send it under the guise of an investor. I know that I'm the last man in the world that you want to hear from, but I don't care. You need to hear me out.
By now, Bridget's probably told you everything she knows about Siobhan. But, one thing I didn't tell her was that, while she was in Paris, Siobhan had Tyler Barrett open several fake accounts and subsequently stole about thirty million dollars from your company. Of course, she did nothing but spend it on fancy hotels and jewelry, and other petty things that don't matter. For a while, I was in on it, too, but when she lied to me about the paternity of her daughters, I stole the rest of it from her, and now I'm giving it back to you. You'll find it in the account I used to invest.
Now is the time for me to tell you that I am truly, deeply, irrevocably sorry for what I did. I know you probably don't believe me, but I know that I never should have slept with your wife. I never should have looked at her. I deserved the punch you gave me and so many more. She was the most manipulative, horrible, twisted woman I've ever known, and I can't believe I fell for her. I should have said no. I should have walked away, but I didn't, and now my life is ruined in more ways than I can ever say. However, I don't think I can say the same for you. I think you still have a chance at happiness.
Bridget loves you. I know she does. I saw her face the night you were shot, and I'm telling you right now that no one could fake it. I think I can honestly say that between you taking a bullet for her and her reaction to it that I saw unconditionally love for the first time in my life that night. So, don't let her go. Give her a second chance. Forgive her, marry her, raise your daughters with her. You were meant to be. I just know it.
By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I don't know where I'm going, but I'll find my way somehow. I can no longer take of my children, so I'm leaving them with Tim. He'll give them a life that I never could.
Henry Butler
Bridget turned her key to Solomon's apartment and let out a long sigh as the door opened with a creak. She had had a long day, ten hours on her feet to be exact, and she couldn't wait to pass out on the couch. Since leaving Andrew's home, she had gotten a job at a McDonald's as a cashier and was working her butt off to find her own place. But, until then, she was stuck living on Solomon's fold-out couch. His apartment wasn't big at all. One bedroom, one bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and an even tinier living room. It was strange to her. She had expected that with the amount of money she had been paying him as Siobhan that he could have afforded much better, but as it turns out, he was putting most of that money into child support. She supposed that was best, though. His children could live happy lives with the money.
She went to the bathroom and pulled off her greasy clothes, watching the salt fall out as the clothes dropped to the floor. It was amazing how much salt from the fries she accumulated over the day. She turned on the bathtub faucet and let the water run for thirty seconds or so before sliding in. The water on her feet felt amazing.
After her long bath, she dressed herself in some old ragged pajamas and put her hair in a towel and then made her way to the couch to flip through channels. There was nothing on except for a re-run of the Kardashians and some stupid jewelry auction show. Since she needed something to make her laugh, she chose the former.
About an hour later, Solomon arrived home, wearing his usual suit and tie.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," he replied. "How was work?"
She rolled her eyes. "Horrible, of course. But, it beats being a stripper." Wasn't that the truth. She stood up. "Would like me to fix dinner?"
"Sure," he said. "I'm gonna go take a shower."
As he made his way to the bathroom, Bridget went into the kitchen. Solomon had just gone to the store yesterday, so the refrigerator should have been packed with food. She picked out a pork sirloin that she could bake, some broccoli to steam, some potatoes to mash, and some onions to sauté for the pork sauce. She greased a glass pan and put the pork in the oven. Then, she chopped the onions and started on the sauce.
However, as the onions began to brown, the smell began to overpower her, and she found herself running to the bathroom, not caring that Solomon was in there behind the curtain. She started vomiting profusely, gripping the toilet with all her might.
"Bridget? Are you ok?" Solomon turned off the water, wrapped a towel around his waist, and was soon holding her hair back as she continued to puke.
That was when a horrible thought occurred to her. She gripped the toilet even harder.
"Solomon," she said once the vomiting subsided. "What's today's date?"
"Um…" he grabbed his phone off the sink and looked at it. "It's the ninth of May."
Her heart stopped as she realized. "I'm almost three weeks late."
Solomon looked at her bewildered. "Three weeks late for what?"
She stood up and it took all her courage to prevent herself from screaming. "My period! It's three weeks late. I was supposed to start on the twenty-first of April."
His eyes widened as he understood what that meant. "Well…are you sure you didn't just skip a month? Doesn't that happen sometimes?"
"It's never happened to me before," she said as she began to panic. "I'm always on point with my periods. They never skip. I mean, I knew I was late, but I thought it was just because of stress, but now I'm really worried."
Her heart began to beat faster. What would she tell Andrew? How would she tell him?
"Ok," said Solomon, trying to calm her down. "I'll go get you a test. Just let me get dressed."
He walked out of the bathroom, leaving her in absolute fear. She never in her life had ever planned on being pregnant. Not until she had met Andrew Martin, that is. Since then, it was all she dreamed about. But, she wanted a child with him, not a child of his to raise all by herself.
When Solomon left, she laid herself down on the couch and cried. She couldn't believe what she had gotten herself into.
It seemed like it to took him forever to get back with the test, and when he did, she didn't want to take it. She was too afraid of what the answer might be.
"I bought you three sticks," he said, putting the plastic bag down in front of her. "Just to be sure. I'd start drinking a lot of water if I were you."
She didn't want to, but she knew she had to do it. She had to know, and the sooner she knew, the sooner she could find a way to tell Andrew.
She slugged herself off the couch and went into the kitchen for some tap water. Before long, she had consumed eight glasses and her stomach was about to burst. Still, it took about an hour for her to have to pee, and when she finally had to, she couldn't even hold it in to make it to the toilet.
And before long, she was staring at three sticks, all with plus signs, staring back at her.
Juliet arrived home from school around four-thirty, and as the elevator door opened, she took in the sight of her apartment. It wasn't until then that she realized just how much had changed since Bodaway Macawi's attack. The whole floor and ceiling in the foyer were brand new, as was the paint, and more items than she cared to count were missing from the house, including Siobhan's stupid portrait. What an ego that woman had to have to make such a huge deal of herself. It made Juliet sick to her stomach.
"Daddy?" she called, uncertain that he was even home. He usually stayed at work late, but since it was his first day back, she didn't know if he would or not.
"I'm with the babies," she heard his voice down the hallway, in the nursery. It was once the guest bedroom, but he had converted it into a cozy spot for the babies, miraculously, in a very short amount of time. Actually, he had hired someone to do it for him, but they did a very good job. The walls were a pretty lavender color with matching bedsheets in the crib and there was a beautiful rocking chair that came in very useful for Andrew in the middle of the night when the babies cried.
Juliet made it into the room and saw him sitting in the chair holding one of the twins in his arms, while the other was asleep in the crib.
"Regan doesn't want to sleep," he commented. "I thought of singing her a lullaby, but I was afraid it might wake Portia."
"You should do it," Juliet said. "I'm sure she'll fall right to sleep." She loved her father's voice. He could really sing, and he used to do it a lot when she was little. Almost every night, if he wasn't reading her a Welsh fairy tale.
"So how was school?" he asked. "Did you miss much?"
"Duh, Daddy," she said. "A lot. I have so much make-up work. But, I did get to see my friends. I'm really happy about that."
"That's good," he said and smiled down at Regan. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"
"Yeah," she said, coming closer until she was right next to the rocking chair he was sitting in. "They are."
There was silence for a few moments, as Juliet thought of what else to say. She wanted nothing more than to discuss Bridget. She had done a lot of thinking about her in the past few weeks, and while what she did was disheartening, Juliet knew that she herself was no better. After all, she had scammed her father out of ten million dollars. That was certainly no angelic move, and he had forgiven her. Was it possible that he could forgive Bridget, too? She certainly wanted him to. They needed her back in their lives. She had made them better.
"Daddy," she finally said. "Can we talk…about Bridget?"
He looked up at her with an emotion she couldn't quite read. "Why?"
"Because…Daddy, I know you love her and I know she loved us. I forgive her because I had no right to judge her after what I did. Don't you remember how happy you were with her? I'd never seen you happier. We were like a perfect family. You can't possibly think it was all fake."
Andrew looked down at Regan. She had fallen asleep with her cheek against his chest. "I'm hurt." he said quietly. "I've been hurt by so many women, I just…I don't know."
He stood up and placed Regan in the crib next to Portia and paused before saying, "She was better to me than anyone I've ever known. I really thought I had a life with her." He swallowed and rubbed his eyes.
He couldn't help thinking about what he had read in Henry's email. He had tried not to think about it all day. Why should he believe anything Henry Butler said? He had wrong Andrew more than any man in the world.
But, he couldn't break what he wrote from his mind. Unconditional love. He had certainly felt that for the woman he took the bullet for. He thought about that night, how he would have done anything not to lose her, because he really felt like they had something. He would have never thought doing that a year ago.
"Daddy, are you ok?" Juliet brought him from his thoughts.
"I'm just thinking," he said. His mind was racing. He didn't know what to believe.
He loved her. He knew he did, but was she worthy of his love?
"Is she worthy of my love?" he asked allowed. He hadn't meant for Juliet to respond.
"Am I worthy of your love, Daddy?" she asked. "Come on. You forgave me. Give her a second chance…please."
A second chance. He didn't know if he could.
"I don't know." He said.
"Daddy, please!" his daughter begged. "You're just being stubborn! I was a horrible person because of what I did, and you still love me. I mean, we've all done bad stuff. Siobhan cheated on you, Mom tried to have us all killed… I mean, all of us are bad in some ways… Well, except maybe you. You haven't done anything wrong."
His gut twisted. No. That wasn't true. What about all the clients he had defrauded over the years? But, Juliet couldn't know that. He sighed and turned to look at her, and suddenly, he was reminded of his own feelings about the Ponzi scheme. His entire career had been a lie. He had wanted forgiveness from Siobhan, no, from Bridget, and she had given it to him.
"What we have is worth the pain" he remembered saying to her in the loft moments before he was shot. Was it true?
He shook his head and kissed Juliet on the cheek. "I need to think about it."
