° Amelia °

Hunter's car took off down the road and I continued walking down the dimly lit path at a brisk pace hoping to catch up to Xiomara.

She had a decent head start and she didn't seem to notice that I was following her.

She ran past the pool before disappearing around a corner, and I swore silently as I transitioned into a jog.

My high heeled shoes made it automatically clear that they weren't made for running as the ball of my feet started to hurt.

As I rounded the corner, I looked up at the house where soft yellow light was filtering through one of the tall windows.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw Willem staring down at me. Both of his hands seemed to be tucked in his pockets and his face remained serious, bright eyes focused on me.

I held his gaze for a second longer before I turned back toward the narrow path Xiomara had taken.

Up above, a sliver of a moon did it's best to shed some light, but the night remained mostly dark.

The chosen footpath led me to a gazebo on a grassy knoll. The gazebo, painted white and octagonal in structure, was wooden and graceful, its double straight roof made out of vinyl.

I climbed up the slope to find Xiomara curled up on one of the sofas. A quiet but distinctive sob escaped her and her shoulders shook as she fought against the onslaught of tears.

Going around the gazebo's central post as quickly as I could, I knelt in front of Xiomara.

"Xiomara, what's wrong?" I asked, ignoring the fact that five minutes ago I'd been the one crying.

Xiomara jerked forward and lifted her head off the sofa, startled to see me kneeling before her.

She sat up slowly, wiping at her tears as she tried to compose herself. "Go away," she rasped.

"If that's what you want, sure." I fell back and watched as Xiomara tightened her shawl around her neck.

She glared at me and then turned her nose in the opposite direction, her profile aligning perfectly with the little bit of light coming from the moon.

As I made up my mind to walk away, Xiomara swallowed and I paused to give her a chance to say what she needed to say.

Yet, silence reigned because she had chosen not to speak her truth to a total stranger and I got it.

I sat down on the sofa across from her and I regretted not wearing something a little warmer.

We were close to the sea and the draft at this hour left a chill in my bones that I'd rather do without.

We sat in silence for a long time and I wondered why I even cared about this woman who had a thing with my estranged husband.

I was lost in my thoughts about how I was going to approach Willem about getting a divorce sooner than later when Xiomara spoke up.

"Thank you," she said, her Spanish accent sounding lovely to my ears.

"For what? I didn't do anything. I saw you crying and I followed you.

"Nonetheless you came and look for me and you sat with me." She rubbed her seemingly flat belly in what I assumed was a nervous gesture.

I wanted to tell her that I hadn't come looking for her because I cared. I wanted to know more about her relationship with Willem and curiosity had gotten the best of me, that's all.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked. "We," I indicated pointing at myself and then at her, "don't cry like that unless a man is involved."

"I'm pregnant."

The two words were spoken in the same tone I usually used to deliver bad news to parents. Nothing good ever came after I used that particular tone. Only heartbreak.

I had a difficult time meeting Xiomara's somber gaze in the semi-darkness of the gazebo. I had a feeling I didn't want to hear what was coming next.

"You don't sound too happy about it. Pregnancies usually come as great news."

I should have minded my own business, I scolded myself as Xiomara thought about what she was going to say next.

"Not for me." Xiomara shook her head and her red lips tightened. "I'm the 10 percent or whatever the number is, where it's nothing but bad news."

"Why is that?"

"He's going to be so mad. I just got this job and then I had to go and do this."

"Who's going to be mad?"

"The baby's father."

I leaned forward in my seat. "Who's the baby's father?"

Xiomara shook her head again, squeezing her right hand into a fist. "I stopped smoking because of the baby, you know, and he barely acknowledges my effort."

I raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Who's the baby's father?"

"I don't know how we're going to do this. I barely know him. I wasn't hired too long ago." She glanced up at me, her eyes wild in the moonlight. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I messed up."

"What are you saying? Why are you sorry?"

It looked like my worst fear was coming true. My husband was having a baby with the maid.

"I can't afford this baby and I need this job. I have five younger siblings to take care of. And I can't rely on my mother for shit."

Xiomara was rambling and I was losing my patience. "The baby's father is Willem, am I right? Just come out and say it. I saw the way you were looking at him."

She frowned. "How do I look at him?"

I shrugged. "Do I have to spell it out for you? Apparently, you slept with him, or should I say, fucked him and now you're pregnant."

"You think I'm pregnant for your Willem?"

"Aren't you?"

"I look up to that man. He's my boss. I mean, I did try to kiss him once but he wasn't interested." She laughed. "I can't believe you think we're sleeping together. That man wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole."

"Then why did you kiss him?"

"I don't know. I was so happy when I got the job and I guess that was the only way I knew how to thank him." She stood up and leaned against the railing of the gazebo. "He's like a brother to me now. He's done a lot to help my family. I can't believe he didn't tell me he was married."

I followed Xiomara's gaze to the ocean across the field. "I don't even think he knows that he's been married for eleven years," I said forlornly.

Xiomara spun around, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Did you say eleven years? How is that possible? Dammit, I kissed a married man?"

"Are you going to tell me who the father of your child is?" I asked, unable to hide my annoyance any longer.

"It's Omar. The man drives me up a wall sometimes. He's so serious and he thinks I'm a gold digger. The last thing he needs to hear is that I'm pregnant."

Worry marred my face. "He's going to think you trapped him."

"What do I do?"

"Do you want to keep the baby?"

"Hell yes. I don't know how I'm going to take care of it by myself, but yes."

"How far along are you?"

"Five months. I'm barely showing, but the doctor said he's doing great."

"Omar seems like a reasonable guy. Just talk to him. I'm sure he'll come around when he finds out he's having a son."

"Reasonable? Did we meet the same Omar? I don't think so. Could you help me tell him?"

"How do you suppose I do that?"

Xiomara approached the sofa and then sat down next to me. "I want you to go to him – even better if I'm around to witness it – and tell him congratulations on the baby."

"Uhm..." I studied Xiomara's elegant face in the darkness and I could tell that she was genuinely scared to tell Omar about the pregnancy.

"Yes?" she prodded.

"Yes, I think I can do that," I said.

"Thank you, thank you so much."

What in the world had I gotten myself into?

"Are you sure you don't want to tell him yourself? Do you think that Omar would be so heartless and not accept the baby? He may appear gruff and hard around the edges, but I sense that he has a soft side too."

Xiomara stared at me with heartbreak in her eyes. "What if he says no? And then what? I can't face the rejection first hand. All you have to do is walk up to him and casually tell him congratulations. Think you can do that?"

I huffed, giving in to her plea. "Alright, I'll do it."

"Ladies," a familiar voice said in the darkness.

Xiomara and I spun around simultaneously and our faces reflected how we felt about the two men climbing up the gazebo steps.

Mine was sour as if I'd just eaten a nasty grapefruit and Xiomara looked sadder than a grieving widow.

My heart skipped a beat when Willem's grey stare fastened on me adoringly. That particular look had to be my favorite one so far, but I refused to fall under his spell.

"Can we join the party?" Omar asked, and before we could answer he was already taking a seat inside the gazebo on Xiomara's side.

"It's not that kind of party," I replied, "but sure, you're welcome to join us."

Willem advanced toward me looking like the perfect gentleman, the top three buttons of his white linen shirt unbuttoned. I tried not to stare at his blondish curls or how the moonlight turned his eyes into granite.

Before I could blink, he took a hold of my chin and planted a firm, but highly seductive kiss on my lips.

I did blink this time but in shock. I licked my lips, hating the fact that my body reacted to his kiss as if I'd never been kissed before, and that the nerve endings in my lips had finally discovered a pleasurable act and were craving more of it.

I scowled and he dared to smile at me as if kissing me like that was a normal thing.

"How was your date with Hunter?" He asked, his voice low and secretive. "Did you let him kiss you?"

"Oh, he did more than that," I said through gritted teeth. Xiomara and Omar were way too quiet sitting across from us, and I was afraid they would hear everything.

Willem clenched his jaw, obviously unhappy with my answer.

Perfect.

I plastered a fake smile on my face and turned my attention back to the task at hand: telling Omar that he was going to be a father.

I studied Omar's body language and the stiff edge of his shoulders indicated that he'd rather go swimming with sharks than to endure the presence of the woman carrying his child.

Xiomara on the other hand seemed oblivious to the tension floating in the air. She scooted closer to him and took his hand in hers.

He barely acknowledged her and the small distance between them got larger, although neither of them had moved an inch.

I bit my lip, doubting this ridiculous plan of ours.

This man was not in the mood for bullshit.

"Amelia," he said kindly, "How are you? How's married life?"

All eyes were on me now and the heat that blossomed behind my cheeks was hot enough to burn plastic.

I peeked up at Willem and he had this amused look on his face. I had no idea what was so amusing about our married life. It was nonexistent.

He was a liar.

A manipulator.

But I couldn't tell them that. Could I?

"Married life is — what should I say? — lovely. However, Willem is no angel."

Omar nodded. "He isn't, but he comes pretty close. He's an incredible businessman, but a the same time he loves his family and he cares deeply for the people who work for him. If I need anything at all, I know he's got me covered."

Willem acknowledged Omar's comment with a nod of his own.

My husband was nice to everyone except me, it seemed. That shit hurt.

I didn't want to talk about my failing marriage to Willem, so I changed the subject. "What about you, Omar? How does it feel to know that you're going to be a dad? Congratulations by the way."

Time slowed down and in that moment silence was anything but golden.

It was awkward, embarrassing, and painful.

Omar sat as still as a porcelain statue, his face carved out of stone. He didn't even blink. Next to him, Xiomara's shocked expression deserved a Golden Globe Award.

"Oops," I said. "Guess you hadn't told him yet."

Xiomara sent me a no-duh look as she tried to fight back tears that were on the verge of spilling down her cheeks.

I felt bad for her, but I had a strong feeling that Xiomara was more than capable of taking care of herself.

Willem cleared his throat before speaking. "Omar, that's wonderful news. Congratulations, my brother. You beat me to it after all. I always said you would."

My head snapped up so fast, I swore I cracked a bone in my neck.

What the fuck was he talking about? Was he going to try and keep up this lie of not having a child?

"Say something," Xiomara whispered.

Omar didn't even crack a smile. He just kept on staring into the dark abyss of the horizon.

Eventually, he turned to face his pregnant woman. "You're pregnant? How the fuck did that happen? You were on the pill."

Xiomara folded into herself until she was a tiny ball on the opposite end of the sofa. She looked frail, but her eyes lit up with determination.

I cringed at Omar's gruff tone and was about to intercept when Willem grabbed me roughly by the arm and started to drag me out of the gazebo and down the dimly lit path.

"We're leaving," he gritted.

"What's the matter with you?" I yelled, dragging my feet on the dirt path, causing dust to rise around our legs. "Was that too much truth for you? Why don't you just be honest for once? Huh? Try it, Willem. Tell me what the hell is going on."

"Calm down, schatje. I have no idea what you're talking about."

His grip on my arm tightened as we approached the house and entered the brightly lit den.

"Of course, you don't know what I'm talking about. And please, could you let my arm go?"

"Are you going to behave if I do?"

I glared at him. "I am not that seventeen years old girl you left back in Curacao. If I tell you to take your paws off of me, just fucking do it without questioning me about stupid shit."

"Watch your tongue, woman. I will not tolerate your disrespect. I did nothing to deserve that."

I laughed. "Nothing? You did nothing? So, you're the innocent one in all of this?"

"Amelia." He said my name with an accent and I knew that he'd had enough of my foolish outburst.

"What?" I challenged. "Are you ready to tell me the truth? It's been eleven years. Aren't you tired of keeping your secret?"

Something clicked in his head and I saw realization blooming behind his hard eyes.

"Upstairs," he said, motioning for me to take the lead.

I rolled my eyes when he let go of my arm. I took the stairs one at a time, Willem following right behind me. I guess I was finally going to hear the truth.

It was about damn time.

🙀