Page 64 of The Billionaire's Off Chance

The next day, the excitement from the media concerning the court case dies down, and it seems Claudette has gone into hiding. No one has been able to get a hold of her. It’d be better if she left the country, and I never see her again. So, I hope.

It's a chilly afternoon with the snow falling and the sun high up in the sky; yet it doesn’t reduce the cold a bit. Chasmin drives out to go see her mom and help her fill the new home with basic essentials. Eric is curled up beside me in his sweater; he rests his head on my thigh while watching a TV program. Soon, I realize that he has fallen asleep. Carefully, I lift him and make my way to his room.

Setting him down on the bed, I pull the covers over him and check the room heater to keep the room warm. A minute later, I leave. As I go downstairs, I hear the doorbell ring. As soon as I open the door, the ringing stops. I see a woman swaddled in layers of shirts and a large black coat. She has ear muffs on, and her gloved hands are stuck in the pockets of her coat. I can only see her face, and I don’t know who she is. “You are?” I ask.

“Let me in, Lance. The cold is killing me,” she says, her teeth chattering. The cold is also getting to me, and I’m shocked with the familiarity of calling my name.

I stare at her suspiciously, but I don’t let her in. I tighten my jacket around me, stepping out and shutting the door behind me. The woman takes off her cap, and short brown hair falls to her shoulders. Her light brown eyes are drinking in the sight of me. Her face is vaguely familiar. “Who are you, and what do you want?” I ask again.

“Oh, come on. Is that how forgettable I am to you? You hurt me, Lance.” She places her hand on her chest, frowning.

“If you don’t speak, I’m throwing you out of my home.”

She stops her pathetic act and glares at me. “I’m Pearl. We met at the Crystal Club two months ago when we had the night of our lives,” she stammers and winks.

I remember going to the club. It seems that I had too much to drink and can’t remember much of that night. Did I have had sex with Pearl back then? I can’t be sure. It was a wild night of drinks and music. I met her months before I met Chasmin.

“Okay, and why are you here?”

“To tell you that I’m pregnant. We have to make plans before I start showing the signs and go chirping to the media.” She grins, folding her arms. Oh God, not again. Can I believe her or is she here for a quick buck? What will Chasmin think and can I be sure that the child she’s carrying is mine?

Chapter 33

CHASMIN

IknockonMom’sdoor, and a minute later she opens it. Smiling, she wraps me in her embrace. “Chasmin, welcome. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could have prepared a meal for you.” She brushed my hair off my face, still treating me gently, the way she always does.

“Well, call it a surprise. I said I was going to help you decorate your new home. Here I am. Kindly let these gentlemen bring these boxes in,” I say to her. She gives way and watches in amazement as the men I hired to bring in the Christmas tree, decorations, and other essentials enter the house.

We enter her apartment. I see that the boxes have been arranged compactly in the living room, and they’ve erected the Christmas in the designated spot. The men leave, shutting the door behind them. “I still can’t believe I have all this. You guys are taking good care of me,” she professes, taking in the sight in front of her. What pleases me is that she looks happier and more relaxed than she had ever been with Paul. All she had to do was leave him.

“Well, I also have a selfish reason for doing this.” I place my arm around her. “It’s been too long, and we haven’t had time to ourselves. I want us to bring this home to life, the way both did when I was younger. I missed decorating the Christmas tree with you earlier this year. I have another chance now.” I suck in a deep breath as the memory grows vivid of running home alone or with my late brother to bring the Christmas tree to Mom. My father was never in the picture, but that never affected me. I had all the love I needed from her.

“I’d love that. Come on, we can do this. It’s already bringing back old memories.” She laughs brightly, heading to the green tree that’s filling the room with the scent of pine. Smiling, I slide my feet out of my heels and take off my jacket. I open a box, and we begin to decorate the tree together. The tree isn’t as tall as the one Lance got for our home, which makes it easier for us to reach all the branches.

The highlight of the moment is seeing the smile light up on Mom’s face when the lights twinkle around the tree. She claps her hands and wipes the thin film of sweat on her forehead. “I didn’t know how much I missed this. Sit, I should get us something to drink.” She bustles out of the room to the kitchen. I’m a bit exhausted, yet still full of energy. I take a seat, curling my legs on the couch and gaze out the window with the silky white curtains parted.

I feel at peace, watching the snow fog up the windows. Mom and I rarely had such moments in our lives. Lance made this possible. I smile and press my face into the couch, unable to keep away the distracting thoughts filling my mind. The sound of Mom’s footsteps drags me back to reality. I turn to look at her. She sets down a wine bottle and two glasses. “Mom? What’s this?” I haven’t seen Mom ever drink wine. I’m surprised.

She shrugs, sitting beside me. The cork has been popped. She fills both glasses, handing one to me. I take a grateful sip, while I watch her from the side of my eyes. She takes a sip, then swirls the wine in the glass. “I can see you staring, Chasmin. I know how this looks, but being alone and with my thoughts was hard through the night. I needed something to unwind, and I chose this. I hope you don’t blame me?” she asks sadly, a tired smile etched on her face.

“I don’t.

“I don’t. Although, I’m curious what’s keeping you up at night. Do you mind sharing?” I can guess what she might be thinking. Probably about Paul.

“About your father. No, not Paul. Your real father, Jack Motley.” She has a fond reminiscing look on her face. I feel myself gaping. I never expected her to talk about Jack. She rarely ever spoke about him, even when I pleaded with her to say something about him. She continues, “I know I hardly ever speak about him, and I’m sorry about that. The memory is a bittersweet one.” She sighs and downs her beverage.

Since she wants to open up, I’ll take the chance and ask, “What happened? Why did he leave?” I don’t know why, but I still hold on to my foolish idea that if he had stayed, things might have been better for Mom. Ash would still be here.

“We were young and drunk on young love. I had the greatest time falling in love with him in college. He was in law school, with just one more step before becoming a lawyer. I was studying Economics and met him when he was in my lecturer’s office. We went on from there, and a romance started. I was head over heels. I’m lucky because he was sincere. But…”

She stares into her glass. “I got pregnant in college and didn’t want to abort the fetus. I moved in with him till I had you and your brother. I had plans to go back to college. He kept me in his world, and we had our first Christmas tree when I gave birth to you. But he changed, not wanting me to go back to college. He preferred that I completely depend on him. That started our first fight, and the rift between us grew.”

I try picturing all this, especially my father’s face. All my mind can bring up is a tall man with a blurry face.

She sets down her glass, clasping her hands. “He started associating with the wrong people when he graduated from law school and became an attorney. He started coming home late. When I followed him, I saw him with another woman and a child. He had another family! That shattered whatever illusion I had. I confronted him, and it led to a nasty fight. He left home that night and never returned. When I lost Ash...” Her voice breaks, and I hold her close. “I went out in search of him. We were in such a dark place that I put aside my resentment. Ash died without getting to know his father. I didn’t want that for you. Unfortunately, when I found his new family. I learned that he died of pancreatic cancer a month earlier. He never got a chance to say goodbye or to have Christmases and birthdays with you.” She falls silent.

I struggle to find words to comfort her. She had never shared much about her past, and I could imagine how hard it was to raise us alone. I thought I had to feel heartbroken, knowing my real father is dead; rather, I feel empty. I never got to know him. “That led you to Paul,” I say under my breath, and she nods. I remember months after my brother’s death when Paul started to appear in our lives.

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