Tristan_Intergalactic Dating Agency Page 3

  “Your wife is going to be fine,” says the nurse. “I’ll update you as soon as we know anything.”

  He leans down and kisses me quickly. “Everything will be okay. I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I say as he releases my hand reluctantly. Wheels rumble over the tile floor as I’m pushed through a doorway.

  A whirlwind of activity happens around me while I’m hooked up to monitors, blood is drawn, and my vitals are checked. A woman with blond hair pulled back in a ponytail that drapes over her shoulder says, “I’m Doctor Carroll. I understand you’re having some cramping.”

  I nod.

  “When did they start?”

  “This morning,” I say. “But they didn’t hurt much at first. I thought it was because of something I ate.”

  “Okay. How is your pain now?”

  I think about the dull ache in my belly that comes and goes. “They gave me something, so it’s not too bad.”

  “All right. I’m going to do a pelvic exam so we can figure out what’s going on. Okay?”

  “Sure.” I close my eyes and try to relax as Dr. Carroll examines me.

  When she’s done she says, “It appears your baby is anxious to get out.”

  “But it’s way too soon.” I wish Tristan were here to hold my hand.

  “It is.” She smiles kindly. “So we’re going to take measures to keep the little one inside you for as long as we can. Would you like your husband to come in and hear this too?”

  “Yes.”

  My need for my husband fills me with near panic, and when Tristan comes in the exam room I sigh with relief. He pauses for a second, and I notice his usual greenish pallor is a sickly shade of chartreuse. The doctor quickly assures him, “Cassie isn’t losing the baby on my watch.”

  He rushes to my side and lifts his hand to touch me. It shakes a bit, as if he’s afraid I’ll break, before he smooths an imaginary strand of hair out of my face. His words are braver than his expression. “Our baby’s a fighter,” he says.

  “It sure is,” says Dr. Carroll. “We’re going to have to fight back for a while though. At least until your child is viable.” She looks at me. “I’m ordering you to bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy.”

  Tristan and I speak at the same time. “Bed rest?” My voice is full of panic while Tristan sounds confused.

  “Yes,” says Dr. Carroll. “Tristan, Cassie will need to stay reclined or sitting as much as possible to keep the pressure of gravity from interfering with her keeping your baby in her body.”

  “But I’m a lawyer,” I say. “I have a big case.” The heart rate monitor begins to beep faster as the reality of my situation ramps up my emotions. “The Henry Wyatt one.” I glance at Tristan as if he can save me. “I can’t do my job from my bed!” The beeping of the monitor ramps up more as it seems to get louder.

  “Cassie,” says Dr. Carroll as her cool hand lands on my arm and she leans in to lock her gaze with mine. “Take a deep breath.”

  I inhale slowly along with her and then exhale just as slowly. She says, “I know this is overwhelming and feels like the end of the world right now, but it’s only a few short months.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” I reply. “You’re not the one who has to stay stuck in a bed while trying to win a legal case.”

  “We can make it work,” says Tristan. “I’m happy to do everything you need. I can wait on you and run to the office to get any papers you need. And you know what? We can even set up a video—”

  “Stop!” Tears rush to my eyes, and I speak in a softer voice now, “Please stop.”

  Tristan frowns at me. “Cassie, I know you’re upset right now. But it’s going to be fine.”

  “What? You think I’m going to be able to do a teleconference from my bed?” I look at Tristan through a watery veil. “There’s no way Lara would allow it.”

  He sighs and takes my hand. “We’ll figure this out. The important thing is that we didn’t lose the baby.”

  I close my eyes as tears roll down my cheeks. He’s right. That is what’s important, and I should be grateful. But that knowledge doesn’t take away the ache in my heart.

  Chapter 5

  “Thank you,” I say as I gaze at the salad Tristan sets before me. “This looks delicious.” I stab a piece of chicken. I’m parked on the couch with a stack of magazines, books, and my laptop on the coffee table. Tristan is treating me like a queen and I shouldn’t complain, but I’m anxious about the status of my job at Sawyer, McCall, Underwood and Garret.

  “Still no word from Lara?” he asks as he sits on the other end of the couch with a salad of his own.

  I shake my head as I chew and savor the rich flavor of avocado dressing. I left my boss a message this morning explaining I was rushed to the hospital yesterday afternoon and that I needed to talk to her. Knowing Lara, she’s too busy with her own cases to deal with me. I’m reaching for a glass of water when my phone buzzes with a call. Lara’s name pops up, and I glance at Tristan in fear.

  He says, “We’re good no matter what happens.” Before I called Lara this morning, my husband and I discussed the possibility of me working at home. We revisited his idea of video conferencing and having one of my peers brought in for the court appearances, but I’m sure it was a waste of our time. Lara is not one to make compromises, and when I told Tristan that, he said we’d talk about it once we knew for sure.

  “Okay.” I take a deep breath and blow it out before answering the phone and say, “Hello, Lara.”

  “You’re off the Wyatt case.”

  Typical. Lara jumps to a conclusion based on whatever worst-case scenario pops into her head. “Do you know what happened?” I ask.

  “You’re pregnant and on bed rest.”

  I don’t want to ponder how she got the information because it’s probably not legal, so I say, “I understand.”

  “And since he’s your only client, I suppose that means you don’t have any work. And since you’re too sick to come to the office—hmm.”

  Her snark gets under my skin, but I do my best to remain calm. “Lara. Trust me. I don’t want to be on bed rest any more than you want me to be, but I can still work. I can assist on other cases. Write briefs or—”

  “We have paralegals for that.”

  This is going as I expected, but I give it one last attempt and brace myself for the fallout when I say, “It would really be a shame if you were punishing me for getting pregnant. Or even firing me for such a condition.”

  Lara doesn’t respond right way, and I imagine I can hear steam hissing out of her ears. She lets out a dramatic sigh I recognize as her strategy for calming down. “I’m doing no such thing. But if you haven’t got work, then there’s no reason to pay you.”

  I knew she’d find a loophole. And short of cold-calling past clients in an effort to drum up fictitious business, if Lara doesn’t want me to work, I won’t. “Right.”

  “I’ll expect your resignation letter by the end of today.” Saccharine drips from her voice as she says, “It’s been a pleasure, Cassie. Best of luck with your new family!”

  The phone clicks before I have a chance to reply, and I pull it away from my ear to stare at it. As a lawyer, my first instinct is to sue Sawyer, McCall, Underwood and Garret for wrongful termination, but I know what would happen if I did. The case would be drawn out forever then no matter the outcome, I’d be a pariah in the legal circles of this town. Like I suspected, I’ve lost my job and there isn’t a darn thing I can do about it.

  “So?” asks Tristan.

  “I’m unemployed.”

  Tristan’s salad bowl clatters on the coffee table as he sets it down, and he asks, “Are you okay?”

  I nod. I’m numb, because I’m not sure what to feel. When I first considered that Lara would likely fire me once she knew I was pregnant, I consoled myself with the knowledge that plenty of firms would consider themselves lucky to get me. But that was before I was ordered to bed rest for the next six
months.

  I shouldn’t be surprised by any of this. Except for falling in love with Tristan, nothing I’ve done has been easy. Dread makes me queasy, because I know I’ve been lax. I haven’t been watching what was going out versus coming in, and I have no doubt I’m not as flush financially as I was a few months ago. It seems no matter how hard I’ve tried, I’m likely in a position where I have to worry about finances. Again. And this time it’s my own fault.

  Tristan’s face is clouded with concern, but he doesn’t need to know I’m worried. “Really,” I say. “I’m fine. I’ll figure something out.”

  “We’ll figure something out, Cassie.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances at it. “I’ve got to get going. I’m off to do my volunteer shift at the clinic.” Tristan works with aliens who are addicted to caffeine. Relief floods me, because while he’s gone, I can take the time I need to review our finances. He stands up and our bowls rattle as he stacks them. He bends down to give me a quick kiss. “Try not to worry while I’m gone. Everything is going to be okay.”

  “I know.”

  He calls out as he leaves the room. “I love you, Cassie Nichols. This is just a small glitch.”

  “Love you, too.” I grab my laptop, and the screen is bright when it flashes open. I find my spreadsheets and pull up the budget before I log into online banking. I take a deep breath and dig into my financial picture.

  “Cassie?” I glance up at Tristan as he pokes his head back in the room. “I hope you’re not already looking for another job. You need to rest.”

  “I’m not.” I give him what I hope is a sheepish smile. “I was looking for a movie to take my mind off things.”

  “Good. I’ll be back in time to make lunch.”

  “Bye,” I say, and the moment the door clicks shut I dive into my spreadsheet. The memory of my mother showing me how the program could do the math I was learning at school comes to mind. The anniversary of her death is just days away, and I feel the pain of my loss like I do every year.

  When my mother died, I lost more than a parent. She was the breadwinner in our family. So when my father’s drinking over the loss of my mother got bad enough he could no longer work, it didn’t take long until the money disappeared. I quickly learned if I wanted to eat, I needed a job. I was clever enough to get one in a restaurant washing dishes because I’d heard they fed you during your shift. I discovered that a lot of food goes to waste in fine dining, and learned to scrape off untouched portions of meals to take home for my father and myself. I shudder, because it sounds disgusting to me now. But in reality, it was minor compared to the other things I had to do to take care of a drunken parent. I shake off my memories and return to my spreadsheet. While I don’t want to touch my retirement and investments, I do have a safety net.

  It doesn’t take me long to figure out that if we cut a few extras, we have three months of expenses covered by my savings before income needs to start coming in again. My breathing becomes shallow as I fight off panic. In three months, I’ll only be six months pregnant, and still on bed rest for another three. I glance over at Tristan’s laptop. When I answered the questions for being matched with an alien, I was very clear that I planned on being the one who made the money. So when Tristan arrived, we decided he would work at his writing without any need for him to bring home a paycheck. When he’s published, the money he makes will be for extras. He’s nowhere near ready yet. Besides, we’d need to sink money into editing, a cover, and marketing before seeing a dime anyway.

  I let out a sigh. The arrangement I have with Tristan means it’s up to me to find a job, no matter how menial it may be, to help eke my savings out a few more months. I stretch out my legs and groan a little from the stiffness. It’s time to start making phone calls to my work connections and beg for anything I can get.

  Chapter 6

  I made a list of law firms to call, but it was useless. When I spoke to the first prospect, they asked if I had a non-compete clause in my contract with Sawyer, McCall, Underwood and Garret. Which I do. I can’t work for another law firm in his town for six months after my departure date. Pain radiates through my arm when I bang my hand on the edge of the coffee table. “Damn it.” Now what am I going to do?

  I pick up my phone and dial Hannah. She answers just before it rolls to voice mail. “Hey,” she says. “Please tell me you’re not calling to cancel on Saturday night.”

  “Oh.” I’d forgotten about our dinner with her and Jake. Since my calendar isn’t exactly full now that I’m unemployed I ask, “How do you think Jake would feel about cooking here? I’ve been sentenced to bed rest for the duration of my pregnancy.”

  “What? Oh my god. When did this happen?”

  “Yesterday afternoon.” I let out a sigh. “And it gets worse.”

  “The baby?”

  “No. The baby’s fine, but I lost my job.”

  “Oh, Cassie. I’m so sorry. It was your bitch of a boss, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. And—” my voice cracks as my throat gets thick with the urge to cry. I’m sure it’s pregnancy hormones because I’m usually much stronger. Although, if I’m going to cry to someone, it might as well be one of my best friends. I let tears fall as I say, “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Cassie?” I let out a sniff and Hannah says, “You’re crying! I’ll be right over.”

  “Thanks,” I sob into the phone before I hang up.

  Hannah only lives a few blocks away, but I make myself stop crying before she gets here. When she lets herself in, my friend has a manila envelope in her hand. She comes over and hugs me tight before she says, “The doorman said this was delivered for you.”

  She sits on the end of the couch and hands it me. The paper is smooth in my fingers as I notice the logo of the law firm that just fired me. “Tell me everything,” says Hannah.

  I replay what happened at the hospital and then tell her about my phone call with Lara as well as the constraints of my contract. I tear open the envelope I’m sure contains the paperwork about my job termination, and I ask, “How am I supposed to support Tristan and me now?” A tear drips off my nose to splatter on the contract.

  “You can’t. I doubt you’re supposed to be dealing with the stress of working long hours when you’re on bed rest. It can’t be good for the baby.” Hannah pauses for a moment. “Tristan needs to get a job.”

  “No.” I frown as I glance at the cover letter and begin to skim it. I say, “Our contract with each other clearly states that I’m the breadwinner.”

  “You have a contract?” asks Hannah.

  I can’t answer because I’m reading the words ‘all benefits are terminated.’ “Oh my god,” I groan.

  “What?”

  I shake my head as anger simmers in me. Typically an employee gets benefits through the end of the month. Instead of the urge to yell and scream, tears fill my eyes. “This is crazy. As of midnight, Tristan and I no longer have health insurance either.”

  “Can they do that?”

  I nod. “Yes, because we can extend the coverage if we wish, but the cost comes out of my pocket.” I swallow hard to keep from breaking down in sobs. “I have to call right now.”

  “I’ll go make you some tea,” says Hannah, and she leaves for the kitchen while I get health insurance sorted out. When she comes back, she hands me a steaming cup and asks, “Tristan can’t get a job because you have a contract?”

  I love Hannah, but I have no doubt my artist friend doesn’t get the need for a legal agreement. Until Jake came along, she didn’t worry about selling her paintings unless the money in her bank account was gone. “Of course I do. That’s what marriage is.”

  She chuckles at me. “Okay. Fine. So you said you would have the job and he’d stay home, but the situation has changed. Surely he’s capable of going to work.”

  “Not really.”

  “What?” Hannah slurps her hot tea. “Come on, Cassie. Tristan is a bright man and very capable.”

  “He is, but
he’s trained as a teacher for Eroscians. Even if a teaching job could bring in enough money, he’d still have to take a few classes to get a license first.”

  “You’ve written him off as incapable just like that?” She shakes her head. “Have you talked to him about this?”

  “No.” I place my hand on my stomach as I get queasy. “This isn’t his problem to fix.”

  “Wow. I hate to break it to you, but I bet Tristan thinks you’re supposed to fix it together.”

  The door clicks open, and I glance up at my husband as he walks in. “What do we need to fix?” he asks. He walks over to us.

  Hannah says, “Cassie was just telling me about how she lost her job and—”

  I practically shoot laser beams at her with my glare as I cut her off. “And I’ve looked over everything. We’re going to be fine.”

  Tristan glances between Hannah and me and I think he suspects something. His tone confirms it when he says, “Okay. Then I’ll go get something to eat. Can I get either of you anything?”

  Hannah says, “No thanks. I’m good.”

  Since I’m always hungry these days, I say, “I’ll take whatever you’re making.”

  After Tristan leaves, Hannah hisses at me, “He’s not stupid, Cassie. You have to tell him what’s going on.” She stands up and chides me like a child. “It’ll come out eventually, and you know it.”

  I frown as I realize the shame burning in me is what Hannah probably felt whenever I used to scold her for being financially irresponsible. I let out a small huff. In my heart I know she’s right, and I hate that she’s giving me a dose of my own medicine. “Fine. You’re right. Happy now?”

  Hannah gives me a small smile. “I know it’s hard for you to let someone else shoulder responsibilities, Cassie, but that’s what a good marriage is about.”

  I’m not so sure about that, but I nod at her. “Thanks for coming over.”

  “Any time,” Hannah says as she moves toward the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

  I pick up a magazine from the coffee table, and the pages rustle as I flip through them without looking at the pictures. My stomach is queasy because I failed, and that’s not something I do well. But avoiding the situation and trying to keep it secret from Tristan is not the solution. I recall the way Hannah put off preparing for a big art show she had coming, right up until the point she almost lost it. The way she procrastinated made me crazy, but part of me knew that she did it because of her lack of confidence in her abilities. I need to get over myself and swallow my pride. Tristan deserves to know what’s going on, even if I’m not sure how I’m going to fix it.