Page 20 of Double Mountain Men

But now, any fantasies that I held dear to my heart have been blown to smithereens. Brett and Chris don’t care about me that way, and they never have. I’m nothing but a warm female body to them, to be used and discarded, and I swallow painfully because sometimes ... the truth is hard to bear.

11

Misty

Two years later.

I sigh as I look at Sylvester. The baby has dumped his food all over his head, and smiles at me through the orange mush, his chubby cheeks round and blue eyes sparkling.

“Mama,” he burbles. “Mama, Mama.”

I smile ruefully because this child is the greatest love of my life, and yet also the bane of my life. I never knew that I could feel such incredible adoration, and yet Syl drives me out of my mind sometimes! Like right now, for instance. We scrape by on the tips from my waitressing gig, and I can’t afford extra baby food. Hell, I can hardly even afford the tiny apartment we live in, not to mention utilities, clothing, and doctor’s appointments for my growing boy. Syl is still small, but he’s completely upended my life in every meaningful sense.

Needless to say, things ended badly with his fathers two years earlier. I stood on the porch that afternoon, my eyes dry and hot as I waited for the black car to come. Sure enough, said vehicle arrived, and I got in without looking back at the cabin.

“Miss Earnshaw?” the chauffeur asked.

“Yes,” I managed in a steady voice. “To Evergreen College, please. The Trammell dorm.”

Then, I stared straight ahead as we set off down the mountain road. But as we drove, another car zoomed up the same remote road with a young woman in the backseat. I only caught a glimpse of the girl, but she was brunette and beautiful, with wide-set blue eyes and a tip-tilted chin. Most of all, she looked excited, and suddenly, I knew exactly who she was:Chris and Brett’s next hook-up. The fuckfest was continuing, and my two alpha males would be in bed with the new girl in an hour, savoring her curves as she screamed and cried out with ecstasy. Me and my hissy fit were already old news.

I broke down then. I could no longer hold back the firestorm of emotions brewing in my chest. I’d been a model of dignity and reserve, confronting the alpha males without losing my cool. But the reality of the girl in the back of the car shattered my resolve, and I began to sob and heave as we drove.

“Ma’am, is everything okay?” the chauffeur asked, looking at me in the rear-view mirror. “Can I offer you some water?”

“Nuh-uh-oh-oh-oh,” I blubbered, shaking my head. “Just drive!”

It’s pathetic, but I cried for the entire three-hour trip. Then, I dragged myself back to my dorm room, and cried for another solid twelve hours, unable to hold back the flood of emotion and tears. I felt betrayed, broken-hearted, and horrified at myown naïveté. Chris and Brett are ruthless corporate sharks, and they bring that kind of remorseless edge to their personal lives as well. Hell, this wasn’t even personal. The two men were in a cabin for a month, fucking a parade of young women, and that was the plan all along. None of it was personal. It’smewho made it personal.

I resolved to put it out of my mind. It would be a “lost weekend” that never happened. In fact, I was so successful in compartmentalizing that I didn’t think about the menage for two months until I realized I hadn’t gotten my period. Slowly, horror overtook me. Could it be ...? No, because I was on birth control!

But the pregnancy test was positive, and I called Jenna immediately, crying as snot dripped from my nose.

“I’m pregnant!” I blubbered. “From my weekend with the mountain men! I’m expecting their child.”

My friend was enviably calm, her pretty face composed.

“No, you can’t be,” she said. “Sweet Lies requires us to be on birth control. It’s just a mistake. Those home tests are garbage.”

I shake my head.

“Iamon birth control!” I whisper, my hands shaking. “But I got pregnant because contraception is never one hundred percent.”

“But most slip-ups only happen if there’s an accident, like if a condom breaks,” Jenna says in a calm voice. “But there was no accident because you’re on the pill, so I don’t get it. Were you taking antibiotics? Anything that could mess with the oral contraceptives? Did you miss a pill?”

I shake my head, tears pouring down my cheeks.

“No, I never missed a dose.” Suddenly, a thought strikes. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping though, and I’ve been using St. John’s wort as a remedy. Do you think that could be it? Nooooo!” I wail.

Jenna fumbles for a moment, staring at her phone.

“Let me look it up,” she murmurs, tapping away. Then she raises her head, her face drained of color. “Misty, I don’t know how to tell you this, but it says on this website that St. John’s wort doesn’t mix well with chemical contraception. It says, ‘A study shows that women who took birth control pills and St. John's wort at the same time had higher rates of breakthrough bleeding and an increased breakdown of estrogen in their bodies, signs that the contraceptives might not work as well as they should.’”

Silence rings in my ears and I feel dizzy. I literally collapse against the wall, my knees unable to support my weight. I’m pregnant with Chris and Brett’s child, and all because of a supposedly innocuous herbal remedy meant to address my insomnia. The staggering unfairness was a blow, and I could hardly breathe.

But there was no relief because now, I was having a child. I had no thought of termination nor adoption because I can’t live like that. It’s fine for other women, and I support a woman’s right to self-determination. But for me, keeping and loving my child is the only option, and as a result, Sylvester was born about eight months later.

By then, I’d dropped out of school, and was residing in the big city. Life is more expensive in Minneapolis, but my waitressing tips are also more substantial. Most of all, the diner that I work at was willing to hire a pregnant lady, and keep my jobfor me after delivery too. The owner, Belinda Santos, has five children herself, and I think she took pity when she saw a girl in ragamuffin clothes with a desperate air. She knows what it’s like as a single mother, and was kind to a younger woman in the same shoes.

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