Sealed With A Kiss

18

"IT'S NICE to finally meet you, Miss Masters," I shook her hand and smiled.

"You too, Mrs. Aquilla," we sat down, and she raised her hand for the waiter. Looking carefully at her, she seemed to be at least in her early seventies, but stunning regardless.

She looked like one of those women that would be on the cover of Vogue for aging gracefully. She was filthy rich, so of course, she had access to the best products and enhancements available in the world.

"I've heard you're one of the best when it comes to divorce. Do you think that's true?"

"I believe that I do the best that I can for my clients," she smiled, as the waiter came over.

"Two glasses of your best wine, please," she requested.

"I'll just have water," she looked at me curiously, "I don't drink on the job."

"Such a professional. Run along, honey. I'm parched," she winked at the waiter, before he walked off, "now, let's talk about this divorce of mine."

AFTER A long discussion with Mrs. Aquilla, I decided to go see my parents. The taxi pulled onto the curb, and I noticed my grandfather on the porch, reading the newspaper.

I got out of the car, and walked towards the house, "Grandpa?" I probably should've called to give them a heads up. But I wanted it to be a surprise.

He lowered the paper, and narrowed his eyes, "Allie? Is that really you?" He folded the paper, and rested it beside him.

"Yeah. I'm in town for a couple of days," he got up, as I walked up the three steps to get onto the porch.

"Glad you decided to stop by," he pulled me in for a hug. He led me inside with his arm around my shoulders, "your mom's in the kitchen making dinner," like the perfect housewife.

"And Dad?"

"He'll be home soon. The school has him overlooking detention since the term began."

My dad taught highschool Juniors, since I was a toddler. Other than that, he hosted a prayer group every Sunday after church, something I hadn't attended in almost twenty years—not since I went off to college.

"Allie?" My mom walked out of the kitchen, with an apron wrapped around her petite body, and oven mitts on her hands.

"Surprise?" I wasn't enthusiastic about it. I was just waiting for the disapproving comments from her, and the ignorance of my father.

"You should've called. I would've cooked you something special," that might have been a good idea.

"It slipped my mind. I only came to meet a client, and I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Always so busy," she hugged me, "I'm happy you got some time to come by though."

I hugged her back, and enjoyed the warmth of her embrace, "yeah."

"Let me go finish up in the kitchen," I nodded, as my mother ran off to the stove.

"How's the firm? Have you been promoted yet?" Grandpa asked.

"Grandpa, I'm partner, remember?"

"Right. You've always been a smart one," he patted my shoulder.

We sat down, and I placed my hand over my stomach—it became something that I did subconsciously.

I sighed. Should I tell them I'm expecting? I didn't have the courage to. I wasn't married, and the father wasn't in the picture. I tried looking for him on the site, but he was nowhere to be found. Maybe it was a sign that I was meant to do it all on my own. I mean, I doubted that he wanted to have a baby. He was very insistent on a condom, yet it didn't seem to matter. We could have just done it barebacked.