Secrets of a One Night Stand by Naima Simone

Seventeen

For what could possibly be the last time, Mycah climbed the front steps to her parents’ home. Enough anger flowed through her that the thought of never entering the house again was okay with her. But underneath, the love for them that she could never eradicate made her hope it wouldn’t be the final time she entered the place where she’d grown up. The last time she was with her parents.

But that would be their decision.

She used her key and let herself in, then removed it, setting it on the mantel. Odd not to have the key she’d had since she was twelve on her ring, but it was only the first of many changes in her life. Heading toward the rear of the house, she inhaled a deep breath to calm the nerves that fluttered against the walls of her stomach like a flock of migrating birds.

I can do this. I am doing this.

Because it needed to be done.

There was no going back.

She paused in the entryway to the small family room. As she’d expected, only her parents occupied the room; her father sat on the couch reading one of the murder mysteries he loved, while her mother commandeered the antique writing desk. At three o’clock, Angelique wouldn’t arrive from school for another hour or so, depending on if she had play practice. Good. Because this wasn’t a conversation her sister needed to overhear.

“Mom, Dad.” Mycah entered the room.

“Well, this is a surprise.” Her father set aside his book, smiling.

“It certainly is.” Cherise rose from her chair and crossed the room to pull her into a hug, air-kissing both her cheeks. “A good one, though.”

“Is it really?” Mycah asked. “You two should’ve expected me sooner or later.”

“I don’t know what you mean, honey.” Her mother waved a hand, retracing her steps to lower to the couch next to Laurence. “Why don’t you sit down, and I can—”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I’m not staying long, and this isn’t a social call.”

“Mycah, interrupting your mother is unnecessary,” Laurence admonished. “We didn’t raise you to be rude.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m afraid that might become the norm, so you might need to become used to it.” She cocked her head, coolly eyeing them. “Which one of you did it? Which one of you went to the media and told them I was pregnant?”

They didn’t even have the grace to appear remorseful. Not even a little bit. If anything, annoyance crept across her mother’s face. Annoyance that Mycah bothered her with this?

Jesus.

As if she didn’t have the right to be angry.

“Is that what all this is about?” Cherise flicked a hand. “Neither one of us went to the media. I did happen to mention to Margaret Dansing that you were expecting while we were lunching. I’m not responsible for what she did with the information.”

“Margaret Dansing. The same Margaret who told you about seeing me with Cain. The same Margaret whose daughter is a columnist with the Brahmin Post.” Mycah seethed. Paused. And reminded herself this was her mother. She couldn’t disrespect her even though, God knows, the woman couldn’t give a damn about the word respect when it came to Mycah. “How did you find out?”

“Dr. Luther’s office. The nurse there congratulated me on becoming a grandmother. Do you know the embarrassment you caused me when I had to pretend to know what she was talking about?” Cherise frowned. “Really, Mycah, I should’ve been the first person you told.”

“Because of what you did with the information when you did find out?” she snapped. “How could you, Mom? Did you even care about the damage you did? To me? To Cain and Devon? To Achilles? Did you even care that it wasn’t Cain’s baby? Or that people only believe it was. That’s all that mattered to you.”

“I didn’t say who fathered it,” she said calmly. “I let Margaret draw her own conclusions. And since she’d just seen you dining with Cain...” She shrugged a shoulder. “But yes, anyone else is better than people believing that man fathered our grandchild,” she bit out. “What were you thinking, Mycah?”

“I wasn’t thinking about you.”

“That much is obvious,” Laurence said, shaking his head. “What’s done is done. And you still get to keep your little job because Cain couldn’t very well fire the mother of his child and look good in the public eye. It all works out in the end and it’s for the best, if you ask me.”

“It’s for the best?” She stared at them. Gaped. Good God. She loosed a disbelieving laugh. She’d been protecting them all this time when they were ready to sacrifice her—her happiness, her well-being, her future—for themselves. “The best for who? You? You’re connected to the Farrells, but through the right Farrell. And I still work and support you with my ‘little job.’ Well, I hate to break it to you, but that ends here.”

“What are you talking about now, Mycah?” Cherise asked, leaning forward and picking up a magazine off the table in front of her. “You’re being so dramatic about this, but like I told you before, you’ll see we’ve only ever wanted the best for you. Eventually, you’ll understand that.”

“Oh, I see more than you think now. My eyes are wide open.” She reached into her purse and withdrew a check she’d written out beforehand and set it on the table. “That’s a check that should be enough to cover your household bills for three months. I’d spend it wisely because after it’s gone, it’s the last money you’ll receive from me. I’m through supporting you.”

“What are you talking about, young lady?” Her father surged from the couch, his book tumbling unheeded to the floor.

“Just what I said. I’m done. I’ll continue to pay Angel’s tuition and any of her needs because she doesn’t deserve to be penalized, but the tuition will be paid directly to the school. As for you two, I suggest you actually start going into the Hill-Harper office or downsize or actually learn to live off a budget. Because I’m done allowing you to use me. This relationship is toxic, and I can no longer afford it—emotionally or financially. So you’re cut off.”

She turned and headed for the entrance to the family room, ignoring their indignant calling of her name. But at the last second, she pivoted, holding up her hand, palm out.

“One last thing. Achilles Farrell is going to be in my life. And not just as the father of my baby, but as my husband, if he’ll have me. And if you can’t accept that, then I’m sorry. I’m even sorrier that it’s a decision you’re making not to be in your grandchild’s life. Because I won’t have you disparaging my child’s father. If you can’t respect him, my choice of a husband and the father of my child, then you don’t have to be a part of that family. It will sadden me, but again, that’s your choice.”

With that, she left and didn’t look back.

She only looked forward.

Because only the future lay ahead.