Page 8 of Thankful For November

"Of course not, November. I'll set you up with some prenatal vitamins and pamphlets so you and your fiancé can decide what you want to do."

"Pamphlets?" I ask, confused.

"So you can make an informed decision about your options," he clarifies.

But before he can say anything else, I interrupt. "I'm keeping my baby," I say, never considering any other options. I want my baby.

I use the towel he hands me to wipe the gel off my belly and wait for my prescription. Then I get in the car and head straight for Lincoln’s office.

While we only discussed having children in the future, this is just too big and too exciting to keep to myself.

I find it weird that his secretary isn’t at her desk in front of his office door. It’s after two thirty; she should be back from lunch by now.

I’m just about to push open his partially open office door when I hear voices. At first I think he is just in a meeting, but then I realize that it’s Karen’s voice. What is he doing in a closed office with that vicious viper?

Then I hear them.

“Seriously, Lincoln, there is no way you can marry her. I mean, she doesn’t have our status, but more than that, she is not one of us,” Karen says, her haughty voice making my eye twitch.

“And what the fuck does that mean, Karen?” Lincoln asks, a little chuckle behind his voice. What the fuck is going on here?

“Do I really have to say it? “Fine. She’s different than us. She doesn’t fit the…aestheticof our group of people.”

Then he says nothing. I can fully imagine him nodding along with the glamazon, and I hate it. Forgetting everything I had to tell him; I turn and walk away from his office and head home. I’m enraged, and tears are blinding me, which pisses me off even more.

How can I marry a man that doesn’t have my back? Will our lives just be one thing like this after another? I can’t do that. I won’t do that.

CHAPTER 8

LINCLN

I ambeyond speechless right now, driving home. My mind can’t seem to comprehend that She had the nerve to show up at my office like she is of any significance to me. The fucking gall of that woman. No doubt Mom put her up to this, and I will deal with her later. My mind keeps going over the last few things she said to me, which really has me seething.

“Seriously, Lincoln, there is no way you can marry her. I mean, she doesn’t have our status, but more than that, she is not one of us.” She states this plainly as if it were obvious.

“And what the fuck does that mean Karen?” Humoring her seems like the best way to make this conversation end now.

“Do I really have to say it?” She begins moving from foot to foot, no doubt thinking about how she has put her foot in her mouth because now she will have to admit something out loud she and my mother have been trying ‘not to say.’ I simply quirk my eyebrow, letting her know she was going to have to commit to it since she started it. “Fine. She’s different than us. She doesn’t fit the…aesthetic of our group of people.” Yeah, I thought I could sit through this and let her chew off her hands, but this filth hurts my gut.

“What group of people would that be Karen? Bigoted hypocrites who think their pocket books make them GOD? Or would that be snooty stuck-up bitches who can’t have an orgasm without breaking that Botox shot?” Her gasp gives me great satisfaction, especially when she follows it up by clutching her pearls.

“Well I…you didn’t have to..”

“Yes, the fuck I did.” I move closer to her so she can see the deadliness in my eyes. “November is a thousand of one of you. She is smarter, kinder, more worthy and not to mention that gets me harder than any of you stuck-up bitches have ever made me. She will make the perfect wife and mother, not because she fits some portrait but because she is perfect for me. So, walk your fake ass out of my office, and while you’re at it, let my mother know she had her chance. It’s done. She is no longer invited to the wedding, and neither is anyone else.”

I was so fucking pissed by that conversation that all I wanted to do was leave and come home to my woman. Not to mention, she is making my favorite…pot roast. So I did. Walking in the door, I expect to smell food, but instead, she sits at the counter eating cereal.

“Hey baby,” I say, putting down my stuff and looking at her face. “I thought it was a pot roast night.” I chuckle, trying to lighten the tension I am feeling right now.

“Yeah, well, I'm so sorry I don’t have dinner waiting for the high society husband like a high society wife should.” The hair on the back of my neck stands up to her tone of voice because something has to have happened, and as usual, I am out of the loop.

“November, what has happened?” She drops her spoon into her bowl and looks at me like I stole something from her.

“I’m not sure. Maybe I should call Karen and find out how I am supposed to.” I move around the counter quickly, my “Oh hell no,” meter rising quickly.

“Sounds like you have something to say to me.” We are nose to nose right now, and I am trying to tell my unruly cock to ignore the sweet scent of her pussy right now because we have more important matters to handle.

“No. I think I’ll take my cue from you and say nothing...yet AGAIN!” she screams in my face, shocking me for a moment before all the blood rushes to my head. Before I can stop myself, my hand is around her throat. I squeeze and look into her face while her eyes begin to glaze over, not stopping when she sucks in a breath, but instead, before I know it, she is spun and bent over the counter. Somewhere far off, I can hear her shouting and screeching nonsense, but all I hear is waves in my ear.

---