Chapter 490) Old Friends and New Problems

“The first symptom of true love in a man is timidity, in a young woman, boldness.”

Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

Henford-on-Bagley
Cromwell Manor

Looking at a photograph of four horses like other people would display family photos on Max’ credenza in his study, I couldn’t help but snort a brief, joyless laugh, triggering him to come over, pick up the photo and proudly explain all the championships each of the four horses in it had won.

“… and this one is also an exquisite breeding mare, sturdy yet elegant with a light gait named …” Max babbled on next to me.

“Charlene?” I helped, giggly and sarcastic, earning me a grumpy glare by Max as he put the photo away, clearly offended.

“Sorry. Was a joke.” I added.

“I do not find that funny in the slightest!” he told me, still put off, and even madder when I rolled my eyes at him.

“I thought you had a sense of humor. Forgot you do not.” I grumbled.

“I have a sense of humor if something is actually amusing. This is not. Charlene is a beautiful, kind woman with a zest for life. That is to be appreciated, not ridiculed. I understand that knowing your ex-husband is seeing someone again can’t be easy, but our post-marital disputes and discord should not be taken out on the innocent. None of this is Charlene’s fault. Remember, you are also a mother and as such you should be supportive and lead by example for our children!” he told me sternly.

“Thanks for the lecture. Are you gonna spank me now too? That’s what I needed, to be school-mastered by the ex. NOW I feel better! Can’t wait for someone to teach me how to walk, talk and sit properly, the Cromwell way. Oh wait, we already did that!”

“Why are you so cranky, Aria-Grace? Your mood swings are off the charts! Could you be … you know … “

“No, I do NOT know. What are you even talking about? My mensies? Are you seriously asking if I am PMSing?! Since when do YOU care about my bodily functions? Last I checked, I wasn’t a horse. Not even a Cromwell anymore.”

“I wasn’t referring to your monthly thing, but maybe rather the lack thereof. Could you be pregnant? You always became rather testy when you were with child.”

“WHAT!? EXCUSE THE DUCK OUT OF ME!? You have SOME nerve, Maximilian! Oh, and also, you are a majestic royal dumbass, your Highness!” I snapped at him very unladylike, shoved him out of my way, then ran out of his study through endless hallways and up to the guest room I had been assigned, tears of anger already bursting from my eyes.

Oh, I was mad, not even so much at Max’s audacity, but because in a convoluted way it reminded me that I hadn’t seen Jack again in what felt like ages and missed him terribly. Each day that passed made my mood ranker, I had bitten off every living being’s head at least once by now, even though it was my own damn fault. I knew he couldn’t just up and travel as he pleased, he had no phone, cos those had no reception where he lived anyway.

And I was too proud to run after him, especially after his cryptic ways, usually leaving me with more questions than I had going in. I was still chewing on that ‘no’ he left me with last time. Dafuq?! No WHAT exactly?!

A soft knock at the door had me scrambling for composure. Max, of course. I tried to get rid of him, but he insisted, and before I knew it he had me in his arms, rocking me, calming me. And I hate to admit that it actually felt nice.

“You should go see a doctor, my dove. You are 30 now and may need to up your folic acid.” he now said softly near my ear.

With a dismissive huff I abruptly pulled away from him.

“Stop, please, Max, have mercy already! Not the whole ‘you are too skinny, it’s unhealthy’ bit AGAIN! I know, I know! I am working on it. I’ve already gained some weight. And that despite all the stress of moving and furnishing a home, a guest house and stables and learning how to take care of a horse … oh speaking of horses, the reason I wanted to talk to you. Got a minute?”

“For you, always. But I didn’t mean your weight. You do look significantly better; less – dare I call it ’emaciated’? – your skin is glowing. Another reason I can’t help but think you might be expecting.”

“Goddamn it, Max! Are you drunk or something?! I am not pregnant! In order to be pregnant, you have to have … oh! Uh oh.”

Max just raised his eyebrows as if he knew. As if he knew things nobody but me knew. He didn’t. This was just Max’ keen sense of observation – and a lot of guesswork. And nonsense anyway. I always used protection. Every single time, with either man. Right? Umm …

“Just see your physician, Aria-Grace, for your sake and for my peace of mind. We may not be a couple any longer, but I won’t ever stop caring deeply for you and I want the best for you. Just get checked out. You don’t owe anybody any explanations, including me, I am not judging you, just worried. Please, skip the pride and just err on the side of caution. So, what is your question about horses?” Max’ tone was urging, yet soft.

“It’s less a question and more a … request.” I told him.

“Oh?”

“I want one of your horses, Max. Preferably a male. And not some old nag or reject. A good one, a younger one. Or even a colt.”

Max stared at me as if I had lost my mind, so I decided to sweeten the deal.

“Not for free, of course. I will pay you. And pay for him to be delivered to me. You can even pick for me, if you must.”

“Aria-Grace, love, why would you need a Cromwell horse now? You’ve only just begun learning about horse ownership, and Arabians aren’t exactly beginner horses, especially not Cromwell steeds. I’d be more than happy to accommodate your request but think this should be a discussion for the slightly more distant future.”

“I want to breed Kismet, once she comes of age. She is very special to me, her mother, Sorrel, is very special to me as well, but Jack won’t sell her to me. I want to preserve her line forever. Fine, then just have one of your stallions sire a foal for her, and I pay you the usual stud fee. If you won’t give me the whole horse, then at least that. I’d even take a vial full of you-know-what and have my vet inseminate her.”

Max’ face went from utter disbelief to amused to downright laughter, until I slapped my arm into his midsection, reducing it to a chuckle.

“Oh Aria-Grace, you do not randomly breed two horses just because they are special or pretty. A whole lot of planning and science goes into that. Especially if you are talking about Cromwell horses. You cannot ruin their lineage by breeding them with an equine mutt, and I am certain your Kismet is a darling mare and the epitome of equine beauty, but pardon me for saying so, though it is the truth, she isn’t purebred, is she, let alone anything like an Arabian class horse?”

“Kismet is no mutt! Jack’s Sorrel and Trapper are the same breed …. I think. I just don’t know which that is, obviously not Arabians, but I can ask. I WILL ask! Jack would know. He knows EVERYTHING about horses. Just like you.”

“Aria-Grace, my precious angel, if they were purebreds of any kind, you would know. My guess is that both Sire and Dam are descendants of whatever has been roaming the prairie for generations. Either way, they are not breeding material for any Cromwell horses. I would consider giving you a gelding some time down the line, to ride and enjoy. Alas, I do not currently have any. Restoring Cromwell Stables back to its former glory has taken a lot of work, time and money, but finally paid off and I can’t hardly keep up with demand. All horses I currently own are at grass, you surely have seen them on your way here, and they are all spoken for in one way or another, either by buyers or myself.”

Somehow Max managed to talk me down and calm me, we went back downstairs for some tea and biscuits, which was when Charlene showed up, unannounced and demonstratively smooching around on him constantly, until I had enough. Max could barely get two sentences out without having her attached to his body somewhere. Needy bitch! Mega-Yuck!

Yes, I know, none of my business anymore, but I’d like to see you cheering on your ex when he’s playing kissy face with the new chick right under your nose! Please remember, Max and I didn’t divorce because we fell out of love. I still very much cared about him, and he about me. We both just moved on, because something deep within had been broken by his late brother’s unforgivable deeds. So don’t judge us, we were both victims of circumstance.

Somehow, I was still feeling like a victim here. Just not really sure what exactly the crime was.

Days later, back home in Brindleton Bay, sitting in a cafe with Bianca, who was staring at me, mouth open like a fish underwater until she spoke.

“Sooooo .. now what?”

“If I knew that, I would have told you already! I know nothing at all right now, gotta wait until after my doctor’s appointment next week to find out if I am really screwed or just need some vitamins or whatever. If I am, once I quit REALLY freaking out, I’ll try to come up with something resembling a plan. So far, I took 10 OTC tests, 3 were positive, 3 negative and 4 undecided. So, I know even less now than I did going in.”

“If you … you know … ARE … are you planning on keeping it?”

“I don’t know, Bee! I just don’t know. Probably not.”

“Whose is it?”

“Good question, next question …” I told her, shrugging.

“Oh boy! Your dad and Nick are gonna lose their shit when they hear that. Nix that, your mom is going to explode. Like literally physically explode.” Bianca predicted.

“You’re not helping. Besides, I am almost 31 years old. Bit past the age where they get to have a real opinion on my choices. Spoiler alert, I even dress myself already.”

“You think your parents and Nick will give a crap about your age when they hear about this nugget? I have been in a similar situation, remember? Maybe you should marry Mauro. That way it would look intentional, and I mean, he’s SO handsome, charming, he’s rich … has a very nice yacht, several homes, …”

“Seriously!? You mean like YOU did when Gavin knocked you up, but you wanted to keep him your dirty little secret, so you married the first rich guy your dad picked out for you like a sweater and tried to sell baby Jake off as his? OMG, YAS girl, let’s do that, since it worked out SO great for you. Welcome to the 21st century! You just set women back hundreds of years with that idiotic idea! I am NOT marrying ANYONE.” I hissed at my bestie across the table.

“Ouch! Why you being such a bitch to me, AG? I am trying to help and yes, we all make mistakes, but I would say it worked out FABULOUSLY for me in the end, ended up marrying the love of my life, we had another planned kid and we are still going strong, years later. Especially since I DID know who my baby daddy was!” she landed her own burn.

“Yeah, after Jake was born with fangs you did! Now your man and kids even got unturned and you get everything you wanted. Must be great to be you. Sadly, my life isn’t like your little fairytale, I screw up and always have to deal with the consequences! So … SCREW YOU, Bianca! This is BULLSHIT and literally the last thing I need right now!” (re-read Bianca’s story here)

Fuming, I jumped up, about to run out, but she caught me and pulled me into a hug.

“Shhh … Sorry babe. I know you must be uber-stressed. You know I am here for you. We got this. You got this. Sit back down, let’s talk. Please.”

I weighed off my options, decided I really needed my best friend right now, so I plopped back down in my chair, defeated.

“I got nothing, Bee. I went to see Max to get my horse pregnant, came back empty-handed, except with a strange suspicion of maybe having a baby growing inside of me instead of Kismet, a baby I can’t use and don’t want. What in the actual rubber duck is this!? I don’t even like kids. Why is my life so messed up ALL THE TIME now?”

“Max? Oh, AG, don’t tell me he’s part of the baby daddy lineup! I thought it was just between hunky Mauro and cowboy Jack!”

“What?! NO! How could he be, he’s happily nailing that arrogant Charlene Ashford, apologies, LADY Ashford now. Urgh. She is the personification of fingernails on chalkboard!”

“Wait a minute! Are you actually jealous? Do you still love Max?! OMG, I can’t with all the plot twists!”

“No! Well, maybe a little. Not really. I mean, he is always sweet and we did have good times. But he’s moved on anyway.” I rambled incoherently, mostly because my thoughts were even less coherent.

“OH! MY! GAWD! Finish your coffee, we are going to the spa RIGHT NOW. I need Kris to beat that stupid thinking out of you with a Deep Tissue massage! Normally I’d suggest getting as much champagne as we can get into the trunk of my car and getting trashed over a girl’s night, but not knowing what we don’t know, I don’t want to risk it, so massages it is! For now. But as soon as we know you are NOT, that girls’ night is ON. So on. I am stressed out now, and I am not even the one with the maybe baby drama.”

“Bee, you are blowing this out of proportion. Of course, I care about Max, but not like THAT. He’s the father of my kids not the secret object of my desires.”

“And we are sure he’s not the baby daddy this time too? Maybe he got to lace the ears a little at least, you little hussy? Tell me the truth now!”

“NO! I mean, yes, I am sure he’s not. The only thing we are not sure of here is the if.”

“Well, AND the who. I need a percentage for the possibility it could be Max. Cos, gurl, that would be a whole new level of Cameron right there. And I can say that cos I married into this family and lived with the ultimate Cameron, your grandpa Blaine, for MANY years. The things I have seen and heard … But you getting knocked up by Max would top everything!”

“Nope, that’s all been done before, and I am actually the product of such a thing. My mom got knocked up by my dad after she had her stomach pumped when she overdosed to dull the pain of missing dad, while they were going through a nasty divorce. He came to save her … and then months after their divorce I was born. But I am 100% certain it’s not Max, Bee, so get off my back already! I have enough problems without you jockeying me into insanity!” (re-read about AG’s unplanned conception here)