THE BABY VOW Read online

  “Have you thought about what I said?” Gregory asked without looking up from his notes.

  She tried for some levity. Her father did have a sense of humor buried somewhere under his professional exterior. It couldn’t hurt to start with a smile. “About how you won’t buy me pretty things anymore if I’m not perfect?”

  The glance he gave her was pained. So much for her attempt at humor. She glanced down at her plate and sighed.

  “You should be prepared to take this seriously, Amelia. I am.”

  “Why the sudden interest in my behavior?” She’d seen that look in his eyes before and it meant there was no talking him out of what was about to happen. Amelia was suddenly a little afraid that her logical approach wasn’t going to do the trick. She remembered that he’d mentioned setting her up with Anthony as part of the plan. A life of stilted conversations and boredom.

  “Have you been paying any attention to my campaign?” he asked, his voice already tight with annoyance. “The last thing I need right now is you creating headlines!”

  “What could they say?” Amelia demanded, hurt by the fact that he was more concerned about his campaign than he was with their already strained relationship splitting at the seams. “State Representative’s Daughter Does What Most People Do and Enjoys a Night Out With Friends? Where’s the scandal? Look at what Lauren Dorfman does in her spare time!”

  “Her father isn’t a politician and I’m not taking any chances!” Gregory dug through the stack of papers beside him and pulled out a newspaper. “Look at this.”

  A young man smiled out at her confidently. The headline over him asked if it was time for Gregory Stratton to exit Nevada’s political arena and let new blood take over. The opinion piece that followed pointed out that Stratton might be a little out of touch with today’s voters. Given his “war on drugs” party last night, Amelia was inclined to agree, but she knew better than to point it out.

  “They’d rather have youth than experience,” her father said flatly. “But I’m not going down without a fight and I don’t need any distractions.”

  “My life counts as a distraction?”

  He looked at her steadily. “Yes.”

  “It might make you look young and hip,” she said bitterly. “Having a daughter on the party circuit.”

  “And how will it make me look when she comes home pregnant?”

  Amelia rolled her eyes. “Times have changed, dad. They won’t stone me for it anymore.”

  Gregory yanked the paper back across the table and slammed it down on top of the stack so hard Amelia winced slightly. The plates and cutlery rattled. “I’m not discussing this,” he hissed. “Either you play by the rules or you find your own way. I’m sure I don’t need to point out how useful your degree in human services will be in getting a job.”

  Amelia’s hand clenched on her glass and she put it down with a loud thump. Her father wasn’t the only one who could abuse dinnerware to make a point. “I could get a job with that degree right now!”

  Gregory laughed. “Sure you could, honey. And where would you live with your minimum wage salary?”

  “Wouldn’t it make you look better if I did something like that?” she demanded, trying to remember what she’d originally planned and bring the conversation around in a way that would satisfy him and get her the hell out of this house. “Selfless Gregory Stratton and his selfless daughter, helping the poor. Dad, it couldn’t possibly make you look bad.”

  “What could you possibly accomplish?” he asked, and the genuine confusion in his voice made tears well in her eyes. “There’s nothing you can do for these people. They live the way they live because they want to. They can’t be taught.”

  She felt sick all over again, and it had nothing to do with her hangover. “Dad, you’re supposed to care, too. The last time you were running, you talked about bringing jobs here and helping people rebuild after the economic crash.” She’d been proud of him then. He actually had helped create some jobs back then and the economy had taken a slight upswing.

  “I do care! I care about keeping our meaningful citizens safe!”

  “Meaningful?” She pushed her chair back, sick from her stomach and in her heart. “I don’t care if you do cut me off. I--”

  “I’d rethink that,” he said, calm again. He looked at her with derision as she started to walk away. “Come back to me when you’re less emotional. There are a lot of things to work out.”

  # # #

  Amelia stomped upstairs and into her bathroom where she turned the shower on full force. She hated how childish it all felt. He’d practically told her to go to her room!

  What she hated more was what her father had said. Taking care of meaningful citizens? Poor people were poor because they wanted to be? She agreed more and more with the opinion piece. Her father was out of touch. Out of touch and possibly even dangerous to people who were counting on him to help them. If he lost this race it was because he deserved to. She would leave as soon as she had some things together. There was no way she could stay after that argument.

  She stepped under the pounding spray, holding her breath and letting the hot water pour down on her throbbing head. More of her father’s words reverberated through her mind though and her indignation turned to worry. If she did leave, where would she go? He wasn’t going to let her take any money and she didn’t have any friends that she wanted to talk to about this. Except Aubrey. But Aubrey wasn’t exactly close by. And Amelia liked her too much to feel okay asking to borrow money from her. She was stuck at home for now.

  What would she do with her degree? Where would she live if she didn’t live with her father? She knew what she could expect to make and it wasn’t enough.

  Who was she kidding? She’d never make a difference anyway. Unless...would she be able to do more if she stayed in the political scene? Anthony might be boring, but he’d also want to look good, to bring his father more votes and status. Amelia’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. She might hate the life of a political kid, but she knew it inside and out. She could stay in, work from the inside, and maybe actually do something that meant something.

  Or was she rationalizing so she didn’t have to leave her comfort zone? She glanced around at the grey and white swirls in the marble tile that surrounded her. It had been imported from Italy when she’d wanted the bathroom redone after high school. The soothing gray blue on the walls complimented the tile perfectly, just as the interior designer her father had hired had told her it would.

  Amelia glanced out of the steamed-up glass shower door and looked at her Japanese orfeo. Made of hammered steel and deep enough for her to sit in up to her neck, it was the showpiece of the room. Candles and jars of expensive bath salts that she bought on whims and then somehow never actually used were balanced on the wide rim. She didn’t even actually know how much she’d spent and the realization made her feel even worse.

  There wouldn’t be any of this if she lived on her own. No more meals out. No more days at spas or boutiques. No more pampering in general.

  It wasn’t necessarily the stuff she’d miss, though. It was the fear of how she would be without it. Bitter ex-rich girl? She’d met a few in her time and she’d felt bad for all of them. It was the last thing she wanted to be. Being her father’s puppet wasn’t exactly at the top of her list either, however. All of her thinking had brought her right back to where she’d started.

  Amelia sighed and reached for the shampoo, tilting her head back and lathering up, letting the sweet scent do what it could to make her feel better. She needed to decide. If she was going to give in to her father – and she usually did – she wanted to give in on her own terms. So what did she really want?

  There were a lot of things, but there were probably only a few that she could actually manage under the radar. Her mind raced over everyone she knew. Lauren’s freedom stood out. Lauren, who flitted from man to man with a smile and absolute confidence. Amelia had never been able to do that. Probably why she was still
a virgin.

  Her hands went still as she thought of Anthony. Would he expect her to go to bed with him? That was a completely unappealing thought. There’d been no hint of a spark between the two of them. Maybe he didn’t want her either. Amelia was more relieved than insulted.

  She thought about losing her virginity to Anthony and it looked bleak. Passionless. Lauren always said rich boys were terrible lovers.

  When Amelia had asked her why, she’d smiled bitterly and said, “Darling, they never have to work for anything. Give me a working-class man in bed any day.”

  Amelia had always taken it with a grain of salt that every trust fund free man was good in bed, but Lauren had much more experience and knew a lot more about that sort of thing. Amelia had considered it a few times, but there’d never been anyone who’d been anything more than a moment of curiosity. She wanted more than that. She wanted a man who could make her need him, even if it was only for one night.

  Her thoughts ground to a halt. Was that what she wanted? A night free of the cage before she signed the majority of her freedom away? Free to do whatever...whomever...she wanted?

  Yes.

  Her father was going out of town on a business trip, too. Now was the perfect time. He wouldn’t know where she was. More to the point, he wouldn’t know she wasn’t at home. Her hands began to shake, but more with excitement than anything else.

  Having made up her mind, she began to take more care with the shower. She rubbed on a facemask, and smoothed a hair mask through her long hair. While she waited for those to do their magic, she made sure she was shaved and smooth, looking at herself more critically than usual.

  She’d never set out to seduce anyone before. Tonight would be different. She’d find the best-looking guy in the seediest bar and go home with him, come hell or high water.

  There was a knock on her bathroom door and she nearly dropped her razor.

  “Yes?” she called over the sound of the running water pounding down.

  “I’m leaving,” Gregory said, his voice heavy.

  “Fine,” she answered. “Oh. Dad...before you go...”

  “Yes?”

  “I just wanted to let you know that I’ve decided to do what you asked.” She waited, hoping her acquiescence would make him see how unreasonable he was being.

  “Good,” he said. “I’m glad you decided to see some sense. Anthony is planning to take you out this weekend. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  Fresh anger flooded through her, but she kept her tone sweet. “See you soon. Have a good trip.”

  He didn’t respond, but she heard the floorboards creak slightly as he moved away. Good to know that she apparently had a date. Creepy to know her father had arranged it for her already.

  Chapter 4

  Amelia

  As evening drew in, Amelia stared blankly into her closet. She might know exactly what she wanted to do tonight, but that didn’t mean she had any idea how to dress for it. Jeans and a tee shirt? No, that didn’t make sense. She was going for seductive. Something a little more revealing? Something much more revealing? Her heart pounded even though she was still in her own home. She didn’t have to go through with the plan. Not if she didn’t want to.

  Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Yes, she did. Her father’s words still rang through her mind. The more she thought about them, the angrier she became.

  She was still staring at the array of clothing when her computer chirped the Skype alert. There was only one person who ever Skype called her. She rushed over and hit accept.

  “Hey, Amelia!”

  Amelia smiled. The first real smile she’d felt in a long time. “Aubrey!” She tilted the screen, eyeing the women who filled the screen. Something was different. “You look great!”

  Aubrey grinned and pretended to fluff her new pink and blonde pixie cut. “This old, fabulous hair? Why thank you.”

  Amelia laughed, feeling most of the stress she’d accumulated since before the fundraiser vanishing. She was Amelia’s oldest friend. Aubrey had moved to Nevada in sixth grade and she and her military family had been gone before seventh grade started.

  Amelia had expected that to be the end of their friendship, but Aubrey had been determined to stay in touch. She had written Amelia letters on Lisa Frank stationery faithfully, week after week. Amelia had taken a while to respond, but it hadn’t mattered. Aubrey had seen Amelia’s need for friendship and had decided to fulfill it. In a very real way, Aubrey had kept Amelia sane through her formative years.

  The letters had become emails as the years passed, the emails became instant messages, and now they spoke on Skype several times a week. In addition to being her longest friendship, Amelia knew without a doubt that Aubrey was her only meaningful friendship. They might talk about clothes, money, and men from time to time, but normally they talked about Aubrey’s job, or the latest news in any number of subjects. Aubrey stayed informed on almost every issue somehow, and Amelia always felt better and smarter after one of their talks.

  “How’s the new job going?” Amelia asked. “You must be doing well if you’re celebrating with fancy hair.”

  Aubrey’s eyes lit up. “Amelia, it is so great. The director and I are really on the same page, and I finally feel like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, you know?”

  Not really. “I’m happy for you,” Amelia said instead of answering the question. “It sounds like the move really was the right choice.”

  “It was,” Aubrey agreed. “I swore I’d never move again after I got my own place and didn’t have to follow Dad around the country anymore.” She grinned and shrugged. “So, having inadvertently lied the first time, I hereby swear it again.” She held her clenched fist up to the ceiling of her living room and shook it dramatically. “As God is my witness, I will never leave Texas!”

  “I like having you a little closer,” Amelia said. “Ten hours is better than...what was it? Thirty-five when you were in Connecticut?”

  “Thirty-eight,” Aubrey corrected. “And I kind of like this dry heat thing Texas has going on. You know I hate the snow.”

  “Only because you’re scared to drive in it.” Amelia stood. “Mind if I take you over to the dressing table? I’ve got to get my makeup on.”

  “Go nuts. You know the stuff fascinates me.”

  Aubrey never wore anything more than lip gloss and maybe a coat of mascara if she was feeling fancy. She wasn’t making a statement; she just didn’t have the interest.

  Amelia envied the confidence. She hadn’t walked out the door without makeup on since the age of twelve when she’d seen a picture of herself in the paper next to Lauren and was horrified at how much more polished the other girl was.

  She carried the laptop to her dressing table, set it down on the edge and flicked on the lights of her mirror.

  “My eyes!” Aubrey cried dramatically, clapping both of her hands over her face.

  “Oh, sorry!” Amelia angled the laptop so the bulbs on the mirror weren’t shining directly into the camera.

  Aubrey laughed. “I can’t believe you still have that mirror.”

  “Hey, it might be as old as I am, but it works,” Amelia replied, getting her brushes and palettes out, assembling what she hoped would end up being an irresistible makeup look.

  “You know I was dying for one the first time I saw it, right?”

  “Really?” Amelia looked at the white-framed mirror with its attached Hollywood-style bulbs and then at her no-frills friend. “It doesn’t exactly seem like...you.”

  “I know. So impractical. It would have gotten broken the first time we moved. That’s probably why I wanted it,” she admitted.

  “I know what your housewarming present should be, then,” Amelia said, patting concealer under her eyes and making a mental note to order the gaudiest, fanciest makeup mirror she could find the next day.

  “I’ll hold you to it,” Aubrey promised. “So, let’s talk about you. What are you getting ready for?”


  Blatant disobedience. “Nothing special.” She didn’t know how Aubrey would react to her plan and she didn’t want to test it. She’d already ruined one person’s opinion of her. Amelia began blending her foundation and then applied a few coats of mascara.

  “I don’t know how you do that without opening your mouth,” Aubrey commented. “I thought the weird face was an essential part of putting on mascara.”

  Amelia snapped the wand back into the tube and closed it with a practiced flick of the wrist. “That’s only because you’re a hippie.”

  “Hey!”

  A glance at the screen told her that Aubrey wasn’t offended. To be honest, Aubrey rarely was. She was the most easygoing person in Amelia’s life and talking to her was always as soothing as a visit to a spa.