Lovely Pink

did not.
“But what about love?” The tears were coming so hard now I could barely see his face anymore.
“Love has no place in politics, or games of chess. You play, and do your best to win. That’s how it works. Love tears people apart, and then it destroys them.”
“I don’t believe that at all.”
“You should. Take a long hard look at yourself, Reese. You’re terrified to move on from the love you feel for a piece of shit who discarded you for the right price. He did that for money. What did you just call it? Disgusting, wasn’t it?”
“No, he did not…” I sobbed.
“Yes, he did, Reese. Pellton did not deserve you, any more than he could have made you a happy life.”
I didn’t want to believe Tim could have betrayed me so carelessly, but deep down I knew Gray was speaking the truth. Gray had always been truthful with me, and trustworthy, and respectful, and loyal.
The weight of fear can be devastating, and so I needed to face my fears once and for all, to conquer their hold on me.
“Please leave my house,” I said numbly, “I want to be alone now.”
After he’d gone, I crawled into my bed with Horatio and cried myself to sleep. My tears couldn’t wash away the terrible look of defeat on Gray’s face, though. It was burned into my mind. We’d exchanged some harsh words last night. Some of them, I would painfully remember. Some, I would choose to forget. The truth did hurt, but at least it was an honest hurt. For myself, I would rather be hurt by truth, than by a lie.
When I separated out the facts, I could see exactly how Tim had hurt me with lies, and conversely, Gray with the truth. This revelation changed nothing to stem the pain, though.
Gray was correct about love tearing people apart.
Gray was so right about many things I wasn’t yet ready to own. The hardest part was when he’d asked me if I was in love with him. My answering silence had been deafening.
He told me I knew where to find him if I ever had a change of heart, right before he walked out. Meaning he hadn’t written me off completely. He’d still be there for me if I ever needed him.
And that was the caliber of man that made up Grayson T. Lash III. Solid, dependable, loyal and truthful. A laundry list of admirable qualities, attached to a man who was so much more than I ever hoped to find, in someone I loved.
A phone call the next morning woke me from a dead sleep. I let it go to voicemail, until I heard the caller identify himself. I fumbled to get it before he hung up, and for once, achieved success. “Dr. Romero, hello.”
“Good morning, Reese. I’m so glad you picked up, because I don’t leave messages for this sort of thing.”
“What is it? I feel completely fine after a night of sleep.” Not really, but definitely the more socially appropriate response.
“Ah, good. Glad to hear it. This is about your blood test results that came in a few hours after you’d left us last night, that require me to notify the patient personally as soon as possible.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, your HCG levels indicate that you are pregnant now.”

Chapter Nine REESE
My mother might have been young when she had me, but she learned very quickly how to protect and insulate me away from the powerful influences of my father’s family. By the time they were back in our lives, she was legally and emotionally in control of the relationship. After all, my mother held all the cards once my father was gone, and there was not a thing Theodore Pinkarver could do to change it.
At least not until I legally became an adult.
When I turned eighteen, there was some talk of a new will in place that would name me as a major beneficiary, but I didn’t know very much more than that. I’d never really been interested in how much my grandparents were worth. I knew they were wealthy, but only in the sense that a child looks up to the adults who oversee the purse strings. It made logical sense that families of former presidents weren’t ever going to be on welfare, or food stamps, or homeless.
My first action after hanging up with Dr. Romero was to count back to my last Depo shot and do the math. No method of birth control was one hundred percent fail proof, but I had to concede that I’d been late for my shot by a good month. The safe zone is one shot every three months, so it was possible a few of the little swimmers were not deterred during my night with Gray seven weeks ago. More sex increases the chances. We had provided several opportunities in a single night from what I could figure out. All things considered, I had been under the influence, and yet what little I did remember of the experience, had been Gray asking if I wanted him to use a condom.
I’d very easily (stupidly) told him no.
This was not Gray’s fault.
It was mine.
And it was well past time for me to speak with my mother.
“Reese, my sweet baby girl, why are you crying?”
“Mama, I have messed things up, and I’m so scared. I’m afraid for what will happen to us now.”
“Us?”
“I’m pregnant with Gray’s child and I’ve hurt him badly—and I just found out about the money—and I’ve been to the ER with asthma, and found out that Tim left me because Grandfather paid him off…” I’m sure there was a great deal more incoherent babbling inserted in between my crying meltdown that went into our conversation, but I didn’t care, once I heard my mother’s voice on the other end of the line telling me she was on her way to me.
It would take an entire day for her to