Spring City
The pain from Dukeâs betrayal remained raw and unhealed as I talked to Sasha on the phone on Friday morning, the day Duke was scheduled to arrive in Rutland to meet with my dad. Each time his name came up, a new surge of agony washed over me, making it hard to concentrate on the conversation. Still, I tried to keep up appearances, holding onto a sliver of my self-respect in spite of the heartache that consumed me.
The plane just landed. Jordan texted me,â Sasha updates me.
So Dukeâs in Rutland, meeting with my dad about the divorce.
âOkay,â I respond, aiming for a casual demeanor.
âHeâs here, Aisling,â Sasha says, a hint of excitement in her voice.
âWhy are you excited?â
âBecause I think heâs going to stop the divorce. You canât split up.â
I let out a weary sigh. âSasha, whereâs Jordan?â
âHeâs at the airport, picking him up.â
âGot it.â
âI know how youâre feeling, Aisling, but maybe you should give him another chance,â she suggests.
âItâs not simple. To give him a chance means I have to take him back, and Iâm not ready for that.â
âIâm heading to the family house to welcome him.â
âOkay. Iâm off to Spring City. Momâs here to pick me up. Call her house if you need me.â
âWill do.â
âTalk to you later, Sasha.â
I wander into the kitchen and settle on a chair at the island. Elsa and my mother are there, casually talking as they enjoy their yogurt.
âHas Duke arrived in Rutland?â my mother asks, turning her attention to me.
âYes, heâs at the airport. He just landed a little while ago.â
Elsa smirks. âCan we get a live recording of this much-anticipated meeting?â
âA live recording?â my mother repeats, sounding puzzled.
âYeah, I want to see how things unfold between husband and father-in-law,â Elsa explains.
My mother shakes her head. âItâs going to be peaceful, Iâm sure.â
Elsa then turns to me. âDo you think your dad might try to convince you to go back to Duke?â
The thought tightens my heart. âItâs possible. And Iâm not sure how Iâll handle that if it happens. But Iâm not going back, no matter what.â
Spring City
That evening at my momâs house, Iâm engulfed in a wave of melancholy, the sting of Dukeâs betrayal still fresh. Mom invited me over for dinner, hoping to ease some of my pain. Aunt Geneva is here too, and together, weâre making dinner while uneasily waiting for news about Dukeâs meeting with Dad regarding our divorce.
âMy goodness, he was justifying her actions left and right. It was infuriating,â Aunt grumbles, discussing some celebrity scandal thatâs all over the news. Iâm grateful for the distraction from my own troubles.
âThatâs what they do. Defend in public, correct in private,â Mom adds.
âExactly,â I concur, âCelebrities always do that when their families are dragged into controversy.â
âBut why defend them so publicly?â My aunt questions.
âWhat should they do? Criticize them in front of everyone?â Mom counters.
âThey should just keep quiet,â Aunt insists, clearly still annoyed.
Suddenly, the smell of the fish weâre cooking overwhelms me. I cover my nose. âI canât stand the smell of the fish.â
âOh, Iâm sorry, dear. Let me put this away,â Mom quickly says, moving the fish into the oven.
âAisling, are you pregnant?â Aunt teases.
âAunt, stop,â I say, a bit embarrassed.
âItâs just that youâre finding everything smelly all of a sudden.â
âBut Iâve always been sensitive to smells, Aunt.â
âItâs gotten worse lately,â she jokes, and we all break into laughter, easing the tension for a moment.
âSo, when are you moving back?â my aunt suddenly asks.
âBack where?â Iâm confused.
âTo the Chateau,â she says, glancing at my mom.
âAunt, noâ¦â I immediately reject the idea.
âAisling, this trip to Rutland is supposed to get you back home. Didnât you know?â
âIâm not going back,â I state firmly.
âI lost hope for you two the moment your dad agreed to meet with him,â my mother confesses.
âHas he left Rutland yet? Any news?â my mother queries.
I shake my head. âNo oneâs called me about it.â
âWhy donât you call Sasha?â she suggests.
âIâll call her later,â I promise.
âI bet someoneâs going back to Rich Oaks soon,â my aunt teases.
âOh, stop it, Aunt,â I say, half-jokingly brushing off her comment.
âBut did you talk to the doctor about stopping the IVF?â she asks, more seriously.
âYes, I did,â I confirm.
âAnd the results of your tests?â my mother inquires, curious about what comes next.
âIâm still waiting on them,â I reply.
The phone rings, and Momâs quick steps echo as she rushes to grab it. She squints at the caller ID and announces, âItâs Rutland. Jordan.â
My heart skips a beat. âOh, okay,â I mutter, trying to sound casual, but my insides are twisting. No matter what, this isnât something easy to deal with.
My mother answers with a simple, âHello, Jordan? ⦠Yeah, Aislingâs here. Just a sec.â
She hands me the phone, and I escape to the backyard, craving some privacy. My fingers are trembling as I bring the phone to my ear. âHey, Jordanâ¦â
âAisling,â he says, and his voice is a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.
âHowâs your day?â I ask.
âGood. Just got back to Spring City.â
I nod. âYou at home?â
âYeah, just walked in.â
âSo, whatâs up?â
âDuke stopped by today, like they said he would this morning.â
My heart pounds. âAnd? What did Dad say?â My voice is shaky, betraying my anxiety.
Thereâs a pause. âUmâ¦â
I exhale sharply. âJordan, I canât deal with this right now. I need time.â
Then he drops the bomb. âAisling, heâs agreed. You can get the divorce. You won.â
Iâm speechless. âWait, what?â
âYeah. Heâs sorry, wants forgiveness, and heâs okay with the divorce.â
âOkay,â I manage to say, my mind reeling.
âIâll call you tomorrow, andâ ââ
I hang up abruptly, rushing back inside. My breath is ragged, my heart racing.
Momâs eyes are full of worry. âEverything okay?â
âHe agreed,â I whisper, the words feeling surreal.
âTo what?â Aunt Geneva chimes in, confused.
âThe divorce,â I say softly.
âDuke?â she asks, seeking confirmation.
âYeah.â
âAre you sure?â
âYeah.â
âIsnât this what you wanted?â
Tears blur my vision. Yes, this is what I wanted and I understand that it is okay to be emotional. This is a man that I loved with all my heart.
I feel my motherâs arms around me, a comforting embrace. Geneva looks on, her expression a mix of shock and concern. The emotions are too much, and I bolt out of the kitchen, seeking solace in solitude.
The backyard is my sanctuary, a place where I can breathe, think, feel. So when my mother breezes in with news of Auntâs departure and her promise to call later, Iâm anchored in my own world of thoughts. âOkay,â is all I manage, my voice so quiet in the vastness of my uncertainty.
Her presence is gentle and soothing. âDo you want to talk?â she asks, her voice soft as a feather.
I nod, a little too eagerly. âSure, Mom,â I say, with a hope that maybe, just maybe, sheâll have the answers Iâm desperately seeking.
She comes closer, her steps careful, deliberate. Her eyes, those deep wells of wisdom and love, lock onto mine. âYou know itâs not too late, right?â she asks, her gaze searching, probing.
Iâm fighting a storm inside, trying to steady my racing heart, to find my ground. I shake my head, a small, almost imperceptible movement. âI donât want to go back,â I admit, the words feeling heavy, and final, and I mean it. I understand itâs okay and normal to feel the way that Iâm feeling.
Momâs frown deepens, concern etching her features. âThen what made you cry?â she asks, her voice laced with worry.
I sigh, the sound heavy with unshed tears. âI just didnât like the sound of that. But I am okay now.â
What does that mean?â she probes.
I hesitate, my heart pounding. âAll I want to do now is to get away from him. Divorce seems like a huge step, just thinking about it. But I am readyâ¦â
My mother coughs, a soft, almost dismissive sound. Her eyes roll slightly, a hint of frustration there. âThe way I see it, divorce seems like a foregone conclusion.â
Iâm puzzled, taken aback. âWhy? I am serious. I ask, my mind racing.
Her next words hit me like a thunderbolt. âAisling, what about when youâre pregnant? Will you even know what to do then?â
Pregnant.
Her question hangs there, loaded, a challenge that stirs a whirlwind of emotions deep within me.
I stand there, feeling like Iâm in the eye of a storm, my mind a whirlwind of confusion. âUmm⦠No. Why are you asking me that?â I stammer, feeling utterly lost.
Her eyes are full of something unspoken, a deep knowing. âThat means youâll need someone to help you figure it out, right?â she says, her voice gentle.
I nod, a little dazed. âYes,â I agree, the word barely audible.
She steps closer, her eyes bright with an emotion I canât quite place. âSo, can I help?â she asks, her voice soft, hopeful.
My eyes go wide, my heart skipping a beat. âWhat?â It is all so confusing.
âDo you even keep track of your period?â she asks, her question direct, unflinching.
I shake my head, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over me. âI stopped tracking it. Itâs been irregular for years.â
My mother reaches out, her hands enveloping mine, her gaze steady, unwavering. âAisling, Iâve been observing you. Youâre pregnant. Iâm certain of it.â
My heart hammers in my chest. âMum⦠please, donâtâ¦âI canât finish, emotion clogging my throat.
âHavenât you noticed changes in your body?â she cuts in, her voice firm.
I pause, thinking. Yes. My breasts, my appetite, the way certain smells affect me.
âItâs true, Aisling. Youâre carrying a baby,â she says, her eyes shining with joy.
Iâm still, shock coursing through me. âMother, no.â I whisper, overwhelmed. âNot nowâ¦â
âShh,â she hushes me, placing a finger on my lips. â Weâll do a home test to confirm, but trust me, your little one is here.â
I nod, tears and laughter mingling, a storm of emotions enveloping me. Momâs words echo in my head, âThe Heir has arrived,â as I stand there, lost and found all at once.