Page 44 of Julian's Curse

I hesitated. I didn’t want to go too deep in my explanation. What could I say anyway?She likes you a lot,Bradley,I noted instead, knowing that he probably already knew that much.

Maybe I’ve given her the wrong impression, Lucie. She’s got a great sense of humor, and we connect when we talk.She was just right there, and things progressed a bit further than I should have let them.

He didn’t need to explain more. A guy who was really into a girl wouldn’t casually admit to leading her on.

It’s fine. Don’t worry, she’ll shake it off in no time. Val as you know, she always has suitors. Do you like her enough toconsider a relationship eventually?I didn’t want to give up hope.

It’s more about me and what feels right. I’m planning to stay single for a while.

This usually meant that there was a lack of feelings involved. Bradley, to some extent, could be a lonely wolf, and I respected that.

About us,he continued.

Us?If that was true, I’d buried it so far in the past that it might as well have been in another lifetime. We’d built an ironclad friendship over the one year we’ve known each other, though.Don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything. He reminded me.

It was a kind offer and one that made me want to reach out to him more, but I held back. Still, in my mind, it would have been so easy to tell him.

Bradley?

Yes, Lucie?

Julian’s in rehab,Iwantedto text, the words feeling heavier with each thought.I found out only a few weeks ago that he’s addicted to cocaine. And I think I’m scared. I am scared because we’re expecting a baby. And I feel so lost. I am considering an abortion. But this wasn’t the kind of thing you just dropped on someone out of the blue, so I never sent anything close to it. I knew it would make him angry, to see me so shattered.

Is there anything I can do for you?He checked as if he knew I was down in the dumps.

No, I am going to be good.I quickly assured him.Do you ever just feel like you’ve messed up and you can’t fix things anymore?” I texted, letting the words flow out freely.

It took him a little while to message back.You may think that, but you’re just living your life the best way you know, Lucie.

Before I could stop myself, I was full-on sobbing. The weight of it all—Julian, the lies, the fear—broke me open, and I didn’t know how to keep it together anymore.

The following day,I had an early appointment at Planned Parenthood in El Cajon. I picked the East Country location, as it seemed like the least likely place where any journalist would find me. It wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where a billionaire’s girlfriend would ever be seen, and with my outfit—an oversized hoodie, baggy skater pants, and an N95 mask, a convenient relic from the Covid years—it was nearly impossible for anyone to recognize me. The hardest part, though, was getting past Will. He was practically living in front of my apartment now, his presence constant and suffocating. So, I had to get creative. The plan was simple: I’d sneak out and make it look like I was just taking out the trash. Slippers, robe—anything to look casual, like I had no agenda beyond the most mundane task. I stuffed everything I’d need to change into in a bag, holding my breath, hoping Will wouldn’t notice anything was off. The plan succeeded because he didn’t. Once I made it down to the parking garage I was in the clear.

The moment I was on the freeway, I sent Will a message there was a sudden change of plans and I needed to run an errand.

“Miss Benton, please inform me of your destination, as I have orders to follow you without exception,” the automated voice from my hands-free device announced.

“Will, I’m sorry, but I’m going to undertake this trip alone,” I spoke clearly to the speaker to answer. I knew he wouldn’t like it,but I had no choice. I couldn’t have him tagging along, not today. “It’s personal.”

Then, I put my phone on silent and drove to my destination. I parked the car a few streets away in a quiet residential area, far enough from the clinic to avoid suspicion. Even if Will tracked my location because of a device in the car, he’d never figure out where I was going. The last thing I needed was for him to show up and inform Julian. The fear that Julian would quit the rehab loomed large.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. This was the only way I could do it—by staying a step ahead. Thus, I walked several stories up a dilapidated orange building, the lack of signage making it hard to find the entrance. Thankfully a woman who was just leaving pointed me in the right direction.

The waiting room was empty, which was a relief. I didn’t want to risk running into anyone I knew—or worse, someone who might recognize me. I quickly checked in for my appointment, handed over the insurance copay in cash—more discreet that way—and then took a seat, attempting to calm my rattling nerves.

The silence in the room felt heavy, and my mind kept drifting to all the things I was trying to outrun. I felt like crap —depressed, disgusting, and guilty, now wondering about the little human inside of me. A boy or a girl? How could I have let things get this far?

Meanwhile, a young man in his twenties wandered in, asking about free STD testing. The check-in assistant at the front desk gave him a reassuring response and confirmed that it was available.

Within minutes, a nurse called my name. She greeted me with a polite smile, but there was something in her eyes that made me think she recognized me. I couldn’t quite place it, butthe feeling was there—like she knew me from somewhere. At this point, it could have been just about any tabloid.

The main RN arrived shortly after, and I immediately took a liking to her. She was Black, her hair braided and dotted with orange spangles that caught the fluorescent light of our room. I couldn’t help but ask, even if just for a moment, what had inspired her to work at this particular clinic. She paused for a brief moment before sharing that, when she was younger, Planned Parenthood had been there for her during a difficult time. The care and support they had offered her then had made a lasting impression, and it was that experience that now motivated her to give back by working there.

We then switched the conversation to me. The initial consultation took about one hour. First, she wanted to know if I was certain about my decision, which I wasn’t—but I tried to make it seem like it, knowing well they wouldn’t proceed if I had doubts. They ran a blood test, then pricked my finger to check for anemia. Everything seemed satisfactory.

“Honey, do you want to see pictures?” the nurse asked gently, as she continued with the ultrasound.

“Yes, why not,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, though inside, I was falling apart. Would I see my baby? Would Julian want to be a father? I was certain he’d want us to keep it, despite all the risks. But that was exactly why I couldn’t bring myself to tell him.

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