CHAPTER 2
Chelsea stood leaning against the side of the bed, trying to maneuver her swollen feet into a pair of comfortable, low-heeled shoes. Her cute, sexy heels had to make room for the no-nonsense shoes she was forced to wear in the third trimester of her pregnancy. She was more tired than usual, but she knew from her first experience when carrying Johnny, that fatigue was the natural state, particularly toward the end of the pregnancy. This baby was very active too, and beginning to wear her out, constantly shifting and jabbing her. She didn't know the sex of the baby, wanting to be surprised instead, but it was clear this baby was growing very impatient to make his/her entrance into the world.
She cast a glance out the window at the dreary, rainy day taking shape in the early morning hours, and groaned slightly as the baby shifted against her ribcage. "Give your poor mom a break," she murmured uncomfortably.
As much as she enjoyed being pregnant, she was eager to put this part of the experience behind her, and hold her precious baby for the first time. Would this baby resemble the father? Would he have daddy's blue-grey eyes or the same cute chin dimple? Part of her wanted this to be the case, but another part of her was horrified at the prospect.
Adam couldn't know that he was this baby's father. The lie began out of spite, and then morphed into a primal fear, fueled by her best friend Chloe. Chloe was right though. Adam would definitely take the baby and use his child to gain daddy's approval, Chelsea thought decidedly. She was certain of it. She couldn't bear the thought of her baby being used as a pawn in a never-ending quest to gain Victor's favor. No, lying was her only recourse.
Anger seeped into her brain, as she thought of how Adam had cast her aside like an old stock tip. She loved him fiercely, and her love was returned until Adam's ex started sniffing around him again. She despised her once, and blamed her for busting up her marriage to Adam, but he was no innocent. He allowed Sharon to come between them, so the onus was on him. If it wasn't Sharon, it was his obsession to beat Victor Newman, the patriarch of the Newman clan, and class "A" prick.
Chelsea couldn't understand Adam's unquenchable thirst to prove himself to a man as unworthy as Victor Newman. His love came with conditions and hurdles. He treated his children as if they were trained seals in a circus, and he was the Ringmaster. She hated that Adam always felt inferior- to Victor, and to his golden children, Nicholas and Victoria. He had another half-sister, Abby, but she was only allowed into the coveted Newman circle because she was sweet and endearing, albeit a little flakey. Adam was different. He was difficult at best, and a pain in the ass at worst. He was easy to dismiss and hate.
None of that stopped Chelsea from falling in love with him though. Truth be told, she fell in love with him the first time she saw him, but she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing he held that kind of power over her. He had the obvious Newman charm, but there was something else about him that captivated her almost immediately. He knocked himself, but did it with a smile. It was self-deprecating, but she could still see the pain in his eyes behind the mask he held out to the rest of the world. He had this cocky, transparently false bravado, but there was an unmistakable vulnerability there, which made her heart melt. She instantly wanted to love him, and take away his insecurities. He was the opposite of self-effacing, and she loved that about him too. He was broken, but so was she. Together, they were whole.
Chelsea's eyes suddenly clouded with sorrow as the pain of what she had lost hit her as if it had just happened. While there was so much more to Adam than looks, he had these unmistakable blue-grey eyes that held her, and never let go. He towered over her, which made her feel protected and girly in his presence. His crooked smile was so rare, so when he gifted her with it, it absolutely stole her breath and literally made her heart skip a beat. She loved that she could make him smile more than anyone he had ever allowed into his heart, save his mother.
When they kissed for the first time, she knew she was in trouble, and could have stayed in that moment forever. He was very passionate in everything he did. No half-measures for Adam Newman. He hated in the extreme, and he loved in the extreme. She could still feel his touch, and her pulse quickened at the memory, betraying the desire she had for him, even now.
Her persistent thoughts of Adam reeked havoc on her emotions, threatening to consume her. She had to harden her heart toward him if she was ever going to move forward with Dylan. Sweet, protective Dylan. When would the ache ever go away she wondered, as she absent-mindedly placed a protective hand across her tummy, once again feeling the squirming baby beneath her splayed fingers.
As her thoughts shifted to Dylan McAvoy, the handpicked replacement father for her unborn child, her mood suddenly brightened. He was everything Adam wasn't. He was kind, sweet, and uncomplicated. He was light, where Adam was dark. He was gentle, and steady, where Adam was fiery and unpredictable. Dylan had also had a loving relationship with his own father, so she wouldn't have to worry about the kind of baggage Adam would bring to this child's life. She knew she was being grossly unfair, but once the lie began, it took on a life of its own. Still, Dylan didn't deserve this, and deep down inside, she knew Adam didn't either.
No one, including Chelsea, really knew much about Dylan or his past. He blew into town after serving in the military, with the sole intent of reconnecting with his ex, Avery Clark. That didn't work out as he had hoped because she had fallen in love with Adam's brother, Nicholas Newman. Dylan was on the verge of leaving town when Chelsea ran into him, and they developed a relaxed quasi-friendship of sorts. She ended up sleeping with him because she subconsciously wanted to punish Adam, and she needed a new father for her baby. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but she was in it 'till the end now. Nothing was more important than protecting the growing life inside her.
After completing her ensemble of a silky, flowing tent-like shirt-dress and maternity leggings, Chelsea threw a hasty breakfast together, consisting of a piece of toast with blackberry jam and butter smeared generously across the top. She scarfed it down, and chased it with a large glass of tomato juice, as she had an early morning meeting with a buyer. No more time to reflect on her decisions. She threw on a coat, attempting to cinch it with the belt that came with it, before deciding that she looked like an overweight gumshoe detective, and opted to remove the belt and just let it all hang out. Gathering her umbrella, purse and car keys, she quickly noted the time on her iPhone, before dashing out into the rainy fall morning.
…...
Adam groggily fumbled for the alarm clock as the droning buzzer penetrated his liquor-soaked brain. After Sharon left, his mood soured even further, so he decided to do the only wise thing he could do, and drink. He lost track of how much he drank, but when he turned maudlin, and weepy, and started to reach for his cell phone to call Chelsea, he knew he had overdone it. Thank God he stopped himself before he removed all doubt from her mind that leaving him was the wisest thing she had ever done.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he immediately knew what it meant to drink oneself into a stupor. The floor immediately started spinning, as he was simultaneously gripped by powerful nausea. He collapsed backward onto the mattress as he tried to decide whether to just go ahead and throw up and get it over with or wage an unsuccessful battle against it. The decision was made for him. He clamored over the side of the bed and stumbled into his giant master bathroom. There, he clumsily got acquainted with the commode, and spilled the contents of his ruined stomach into it.
After he had nothing left to throw up, he showered, and dressed in his customary suit and tie. Maybe his socks matched, maybe they didn't, but he didn't much care. The dull, but steady pounding in his head almost caused him to make love to the commode again, but he somehow managed to recompose himself.
"Where's the fucking Excedrin?" Adam groaned, grappling with the contents of the medicine cabinet, causing pill bottles and other remedies to noisily strike the ceramic tile floor of the bathroom. He felt like he had ten thumbs on his hands. Finding the Holy Grail of Excedrin, he pried the child-proof cap off, dumping four sacred pills into his shaking hand. He downed all four pills at once with a glass of water from the bathroom faucet, and stared back at the pale reflection in the mirror, with the bloodshot eyes.
"Lovely," he whispered disgustedly.
Unfortunately, he had a meeting with the new associate attorney at Newman Enterprises in about one hour. If he was going to make it through the meeting alive, he knew he would have to force something down, but the thought of food made him want to weep. Something bland, he thought. He finally decided on dry toast, which he washed down with about a gallon of water. He was so dehydrated he felt like he had just crossed the Sahara desert. What he wouldn't give to just be able to lie in bed all day, and let blackness take over.
"Man up Adam," he muttered to himself.
