Picture Perfect

Chapter 11

Andrew stares blankly at the clock, watching the hands move as the minutes slowly tick by; the wait is excruciating. Unable to concentrate on his case and the disorderly array of documents strewn across his desk, he wishes the day would pass by faster. Usually, Andrew doesn't feel much disdain for his job, but today is unquestionably different. Today he has far more critical matters to deal with. Soon he'll be speaking to Ed Meyer, learning the truth about Maria's supposed pregnancy; most importantly, he'll discover whether her claims about the child's paternity are correct. Today should reveal the extent of damage caused by Andrew's sexual indiscretions.

When the time finally arrives to head to the crucial appointment, Andrew practically flies to the hospital, uncaringly ignoring all speed limitations on the way. Perhaps it's luck on his side that he doesn't get pulled over by the police in his haste, but Andrew would lean more toward the idea that it's his friendship with the chief behind it. Besides, if luck were in the picture, this would certainly not be the aspect of his life where it would be necessary.

An endless pit of worry develops in his stomach, one that can only be defeated by receiving the answers he so desperately craves. He paces the hospital corridor anxiously, bile rising into his throat as he waits, making him feel queasy. Why is this taking so long? Meyer knows what he's doing; this should be easy for him. And he knows precisely how delicate this situation is.

He hates hospitals, too. He bears it for Cora and their child, but this...

Suddenly, Andrew is bombarded with bright, blinding, flashing lights, and he is propelled back in time as he recalls long-repressed memories of his mother in rapid succession. The sight of a five-year-old version of himself enjoying a carefree afternoon in a park beside her. A prepubescent Andrew helping his mother bake brownies in their small kitchen. A young teenager learning how to drive in a beat-up old minivan. A seventeen-year-old struggling to hold back tears at his mother's bedside while she was dying in this very hospital. The images flicker through his mind so quickly that it causes physical pain. His eyes burn, his head throbs, and his chest aches. Doubling over at the overwhelming sensations, he grasps his head in his hands and breathes deeply. When he can finally quell the recollections and silence the screaming within his mind, Andrew presses his fingers to his eyes, hoping it will erase the unwanted visions entirely. Unfortunately, the memories are permanently etched into his eyelids, remaining there solely to torture him in moments such as this.

"Dalton?" A voice calls, snapping Andrew's attention back to the present. His eyes briefly lock with Dr. Meyer's before following the older man into his office. "Miss Ortiz is indeed pregnant," the doctor says as Andrew takes a seat beside Maria, his tone sounding discomforted as he delivers the news. A sliver of self-hatred worms its way into Andrew's heart, knowing that he now has a witness to verify the imperfections he's tried so hard to keep hidden. "I'd hazard the pregnancy is roughly six weeks gestation."

Six weeks? Cora is eight weeks. The babies are going to be very close. Andrew mentally does the math, attempting to figure out if he had been intimate with Maria around the projected conception date, rubbing a palm over his perspiring face. It's utterly useless. He's been seeing Maria for months; there's no way to determine the exact dates of their sexual escapades. How did he get himself into this mess?

Dr. Meyer continues masking his features of the judgment he likely feels, "An accurate paternity test can't be completed until at least seven weeks. I've taken the liberty to schedule it for you. Please don't worry, I will remain as discrete as possible, and all our meetings will be strictly confidential."

Andrew sits silently after thanking his old friend, attempting to absorb and process the new information. He's so wholly lost in thought that he doesn't notice when Meyer exits the room, leaving him alone with Maria. Can he suggest that Maria have an abortion? No. He can't do that, can he? Of course, he would pay for it; she wouldn't have to worry about that. What if she refuses? Can he force her? Is that... the right thing to do?

"Andrew?" Maria calls, a concerned expression plastered to her face. He can't hear her; he can't see her. He can't even acknowledge her existence at the moment because he's far too wrapped up in his thoughts.

Can he bribe her; is there anything that she would want? He's got an abundance of money, but there's a niggling in the depths of his soul that tells him that Maria wouldn't be satisfied with that. She would want more. She would want him, the one thing he can't give her.

"Andrew!" she calls again, her voice suddenly screeching to his ears. It works to pull him back to reality, though.

Standing from his chair, he shakes his head and straightens his expensive suit. He doesn't even glance in Maria's direction as he gruffly says, "Speak of this to no one. We'll figure out what happens next when we receive the results next week." With that, he hurries away, the door slamming behind him. He can't do this right now; this is too much. He needs to get out of here.

Maria quietly ponders her next move as she takes in her lover's reaction to the news of their baby. While it isn't nearly the response she had hoped for, she is pleased that she has succeeded in capturing Andrew's attention. Now that she is bearing his child, she is undoubtedly one step closer to accomplishing her goal. She just has to find a means to get Cora out of the picture, and everything will be perfect.

Maria smiles triumphantly to herself. Although the desired effect hadn't been immediately achieved, she can almost taste the victory. And it's the sweetest thing she's ever tasted.