Complicated Love Pt. 07

Chapter 11

Chris was in the balcony, sitting on the ledge, legs stretched out in front of him. If he slipped, he would fall, but he was not bothered. He was angry, hurt and more angry. He knew that what he had done was wrong to a certain extent, but not completely. He had not cheated on Cassie. He had not loved her then.He could not understand why she was staying away, and it did not occur to him that she was staying away more because of her own insecurities, and not from the fact that he had slept with Frieda.

He ran his hand agitatedly through his tousled hair and looked out at the sky. It was sunset, and hues of red an orange were splashed across the normally blue sky. He sighed, and swung his legs off the ledge and onto the floor, getting up in one fluid move. He turned and saw Ann standing in the door way, watching him.

"What?" he asked, brusque, because he knew what she was going to say. He also knew that she was right, which just made it harder to listen.

"You're stupid," Ann said softly, coming up to him and standing in front of him, her eyes boring into his. Chris felt slightly intimidated. There was a certain power that sisters had over their brothers, and Ann was making full use of it.

"She's the one acting childish," Chris countered his voice level. How he was calm, he didn't know. He just wanted to rage at everyone and vent out the hurt. Ann was refusing to give him that chance by being right.

"God, you men are so dense," she muttered, lightly slapping Chris across his face. He looked on at her, stoic.

"She's not angry with you," Ann said, exasperated. "She's scared because she thinks that she isn't good enough for you. She thinks that if you chose Frieda once, you would choose her again, over Cassie. Do you understand now?"

Chris nodded, comprehension nodding. The little idiot! She was doing this, treating him like this because she thought that she wasn't good enough for him. Little did she know that it was the other way around.

He frowned, spying Cassie standing in the door way now. Knowing her, she was waiting for Ann to finish before she could come and make her own apology. Ann noticed and left, tactfully.

"Chris," Cassie said quietly as he walked to her. "I..."

"I know," Chris said, hugging her. He had decided that giving in to his urge was a good thing.

"I was scared that you would always choose someone else over me," Cassie mumbled into his shirt. "And I was so scared that I stopped talking to you because I thought...."

She trailed off, sniffling into his shirt.

"It's okay," Chris was stroking her hair when Ann suddenly came hurrying up the stairs, her face white.

"Dad's very sick."

---

The gathering was quiet, although no one had worn black. It was the way James had wanted it. Chris, Cassie and Ann stood by the coffin, watching through a thin film of tears as friends, colleagues and relatives stepped up and bid James their final adieu. Ann was leaning on Cassie, holding tightly on to her hand. Cassie was standing straight, as was Chris, her face impassive but for the silent tears that coursed down her cheeks.

Cassie could feel her heart constrict as she looked at the man who had been the closest thing to a father for her. She was silently cursing fate, fate that had taken him away from her almost as soon as it had given him to her. She placed a small hand on Chris's shoulder and squeezed, looking up at him as he held her hand gently and squeezed back. Once everyone had paid their last respects, the beautiful coffin was lowered in a grave dug beneath the elm tree, James's favourite spot. He had never wanted to be buried in a cemetery, and Chris and Ann had preferred that his grave be where he wanted to spend his whole life. At home.

As the guests trickled by, offering their condolences, Cassie caught sight of the one person she did not want to see. Rosalie was standing among the guests, dressed as revealingly as possible and dripping with jewellery. Cassie felt the disgust well up in her. It had been James's wish that they not wear black, but there was no need for extravagance. She knew that Chris's reign on his temper was quite short, and she didn't want Rosalie's presence to cause him any discomfort.

She walked up to Rosalie, and politely drew her away to the balcony, which was empty.

"Go away," Cassie hissed, her anger written clearly all over her face.

"Why should I? James Quentin was my father's business partner. I have a right to be here," Rosalie said, her voice icy and strangely triumphant.

"Any right you had was revoked the minute you walked in here looking like a tramp. No go away before I'm forced to do something drastic," Cassie's voice was shaking from rage.

"Oh really," Rosalie drawled. "And what could you possibly do?"

---

Ann was standing by the drinks table, nursing a glass of straight scotch, her eyes red. She suddenly felt arms encircle her slender waist, and a soft voice whisper in her ear. Without missing a beat, she turned around, the arms still around her waist and buried her face in Sam's shirt, tears dampening the material. Sam stroked her hair softly, whispering soothingly in her ear. He had been watching her for a while, admiring the way she held up and handled all their guests. When she finally had some time, he decided that it was time he drew her away and let her have some time alone with her grief. It was the least he could do.

He led her upstairs, to a lounge and held her while she cried in his arms. He knew that her father meant a lot to her, and the fact that she would lose him to leukaemia had made her a mess. He folded her against him and rocked her quietly until the sobs died down to gentle hiccups.

"You feeling better now?" he asked gently, stroking the damp hair from her face. "Those people can get extremely painful at times."

"I'm not fine," Ann said hollowly, resting her head against the wall of her chest. "But I'm feeling slightly better. I think I can face these people now, without bursting into tears. Thanks."

"Its fine," Sam said softly, continuing to stroke her hair. "Now you have to get back."

"I know," Ann said, reluctantly unfolding herself from his embrace and standing up. Looking down at him, sitting on that bench, with his shirt damp from her tears, she felt a tug in her heart. Only he could do that. She let the tears fall, and watched as she rose and gently wiped them away.

"You are stronger than this," he whispered and smiled gently, sadly, at her.

Ann nodded and they were descending the stairs when they heard raised voices coming from the balcony. They found Rosalie, looking like a very rich stripper, and Cassie standing there. Cassie was asking Rosalie to leave, and Ann thoroughly agreed with her. Sam stood beside her, his face darkening as he looked at Rosalie. He had his own reservations about her, especially after the way she had treated him when she had first met him. But that was irrelevant now.

"Oh really," they heard Rosalie say. "And what could you possibly do?"

"She could kick you out physically, and I could help her," Ann suggested, her voice even but her eyes giving off sparks of anger.

Rosalie knew that when she had both Cassie and Ann against her, she couldn't do anything.

"I'm leaving," she said sulkily. She sashayed to the door and stopped beside Sam. She turned her face to him and whispered sweetly, "Give me a call sometime will you darling?"

He ignored her, walked over to Ann and slung his arm around his shoulder, pulling her close.

Rosalie shrugged, the smile on her face evil.

"You'll regret this Cassandra Stevens," she said, her voice dripping venom. "You'll regret ever having met me."

She left, leaving Cassie looking angrily at her retreating back.

"I'd kill her now, but I can't" Cassie said wearily, collapsing into one of the chairs in the balcony.

"It's okay," Ann said, breaking away from Sam to come stand next to her.

"I think I'll leave now," Sam said tactfully and left.

Cassie stood up and looked at the setting sun. It was beautiful.

"What can she do?" she asked softly.

"Nothing," Ann said firmly, coming to stand next to her.

"You think he's up there?" Ann asked after a moment's silence, referring to the beautifully painted sky.

"Yes," Cassie said, turning to look at the younger woman. "And he's looking down on us this minute, so don't you dare cry."

The two women stood there for a long time, looking at the sunset, and grieving for the father they both had lost. They had no idea of the storm that was to follow.

---

"Those bitches think they can order me about?" Rosalie fumed as she slid into her car and imperiously ordered her chauffeur to take her home. She scowled as she looked out the tinted windows, her beautiful face looking ugly as her features twisted with her annoyance.

Her phone rang then, and she answered it.

"Rosalie here," she said curtly.

"Ma'am, its Kirk," a smooth, slimy voice answered. "I have the information that you wanted."

Rosalie smiled slightly. After the party where Cassie had snubbed her publicly, she had gotten in touch with a PI who worked for her father and often resolved her rather...personal issues.

"Tell me," she said, her excitement clearly expressed through her voice. This was exactly what she wanted, right now.

"Chris and Cassandra have a paper marriage. A contract which stipulates that the marriage will be annulled once James Quentin dies."

Rosalie breathed in, unable to believe the extent of the deception that the two had pulled. It had definitely been deception, because even she had been fooled into thinking that there was something between those two. Or was there? She recalled the anger in Cassie's eyes and the cool dismissal in Chris's. No, those emotions could not be faked. They were, very unwisely, having a relationship.

"Ma'am?" Kirk asked over the phone, unnerved by her silence.

"Yes," Rosalie said, recovering from her shock. "I want you to get me a copy of that contract, and do it immediately."

"Whatever you say Ma'am," Kirk replied. "Although, that will cost you considerably."

"You know I'm not bothered about price," Rosalie snapped over the phone. "Just get me those papers!"

She hung up and leaned back in the comfortable seat. Now, she thought to herself, Chris and Cassie were going to get what they had coming. They were going to pay. And Ann? Well, now Sam and Ann had something coming their way too, just as soon as she could get her hands on them. Suddenly, she wasn't angry. She was happy.

---

That night, Cassie waited for Chris to come to bed, but he didn't. She felt tears welling up, but decided that she was being irrational. Chris probably had his reasons, perfectly plausible ones, and they didn't have anything to do with the fact that their marriage, by contract, no longer existed. But she had had a very emotional day, and she found herself crying herself to sleep. The pillow was saturated with tears when she finally dozed off, her pale face looking vulnerable and childlike in the soft light.

The next morning, she woke to find that Chris had left.

"With dad's death, there are some things that need to be sorted out and Chris had to leave for Barcelona," Ann said, looking at Cassie in puzzlement. "Why, didn't he tell you?"

"Yeah, he did...I must have forgotten," Cassie said vaguely, knowing that he hadn't told her, and instantly coming to the conclusion that once James was dead, he didn't want anything to do with her. Her heart disagreed and agreed with this. One part of her said that there was no way Chris would leave. He loved her, she knew that.

But the other part, the insecure part, was questioning things. Then why didn't Chris come to bed last night? Why didn't he call or tell you about his trip? Why has he been distant? Her head had the answer, his father had died, of course some things slipped his mind. She had to be understanding, but she could not be.

The insecurity of a few days back, the grief of losing James and now Chris's absence was too much for her to bear.

"Ann," Cassie said, looking at the plate of food in front of her with distaste. "I think I'll go back to bed, I'm not feeling too well."

Ann nodded. She knew that Cassie had loved James and was probably trying to escape her grief. Ann was doing the same.

"Sure," she said tonelessly, looking down at her own plate. "I think I'll do the same in a while."

The two women spent the day in their own rooms, reliving every moment they had had with James. For Ann, it was painful, but it was equally painful for Cassie. She had loved the man like a father, and unlike Ann and Chris, had had only a few short months with him.

Mingled with that was the confusion about Chris. Was he avoiding her? Was it just the grief? She wished he would share it with her, but other than for the physical closeness he had yearned for in the funeral, he hadn't spoken to her or talked to her. She knew that he had needed her by his side then, but she wasn't sure now.

She waited for his call, but it never came. She went down for dinner with Ann, and then they spent hours sitting by James's grave. They sat side by side, arms around each other, rigid, like two pale ghosts in the moonlight. When Cassie finally went to bed that night, she had not received a call from Chris. She cried herself to sleep again, wondering what was going to happen to her life now.

---

A week passed, and still no word from Chris. Ann was as out of the loop as she was, and could not tell her anything. She could tell that Ann was removed from life, still living in memories, and she did not want to trouble her. Finding the house depressing, she decided to go out, and maybe visit the library. Anything really, to get her mind off things.

She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, sighing as the soft warm spray soothed her. She gently lathered herself and washed, trying to scrub away the grief and the sadness. But it never went away. She stepped out of the shower and dried herself, rubbing herself down. She pulled open the medicine cabinet to get out an aspirin for the raging headache she suddenly had. Thinking about the past week always did that to her. As she popped in a pill, she noticed an unopened pack of tampons standing there.

She frowned. She was supposed to be on her period already. Still frowning, she stepped outside the bathroom and went to take the small calendar in which she marked her dates. There it was, a week before James's death. With that week being fraught with her fight with Chris, she had not noticed, and with James's death, it had completely slipped her mind.

She felt cold as she looked at the calendar. She was two weeks late. Her periods were five weeks apart instead of four, but she had always had her period like clockwork. It was very regular. For it to be delayed by two weeks meant only one thing. She tried to remember if Chris had worn a condom the last time they had had sex.

With a groan she realised that he hadn't, and he'd never worn a condom when he was with her. It had completely slipped both of their minds. And now, she could be...

She pushed the thought firmly out of her mind, but it kept coming back to haunt her.

She dressed quickly and called her doctor to make an appointment. There was only one way to be sure. But if she was pregnant, she certainly had chosen the worst time possible.

--- Ann stood near her father's grave again, looking down at the headstone. She had taken to coming here every day, spending almost the entire day here. She knew that Cassie worried about her, and that she was dealing with her own problems, but she was numb, too numb, to care.

The tears rolled down her cheeks as thought of her father. She shook a she stood there, the tears becoming silent sobs.

"Ann?"

She turned to look and saw Sam coming toward her. It was the first time she had seen him since the funeral. He had wisely given her space, and was here now to see how she was doing.

Ann saw him, and something broke inside her. She forgot about the fact that she hated him for the things he had said, that she could not stand him. She rushed to him, her arms flying around him as she buried her face into his chest and sobbed.

Sam sighed inwardly and sank down into the grass with her. He held her, just as he had held her in the funeral. Now, he knew that she needed to talk.

"It's okay to miss him," he said softly as she sobbed. "If you want to talk, I'm here."

He was right. She needed to talk. Words came out of her in a frenzied, incoherent flow, then became a stream of memories. She told him about her father, and he held her and listened.

When she finished it was evening and the sun was setting.

"Thank you," she mumbled, looking at her father's grave as she sat down leaning against him.

"Why don't you come have lunch with me tomorrow?" Sam suggested, idly stroking her hair. It'd do you good to get out of the house for a bit.

Ann nodded and rose, pulling Sam up with her. She was a shadow of her old self now, but at least she was that.

Sam led her to the house and left, thoughtful. He needed to tread carefully around Ann now, she was vulnerable. As he got into his car, there was only one thought running through his head. He wanted her to need him like he needed her, and love him like he loved her.

--- Chris ran his hands through his hair and looked at the computer screen in front of him. He tried reading the words, but could not. His brain was refusing to process them. Admitting defeat, he turned the computer off and leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. His head throbbed, and he tried to ignore the pain. He was in Geneva now. From Barcelona, he had flown to all their European offices and looked over things. He resented the scepticism that greeted him in many offices. He knew that people were muttering about him taking over as President.

"Young blood," they all said. "Inexperienced."

He clenched his teeth. What did they think he had been doing for the past year when his father had withdrawn from the company? Simply playing at being CEO?

But he would prove them wrong.

Amidst all these thoughts, a face came to him. Cassie's face. He tried to push it away. He knew that he should call her, but he couldn't bring himself to. He was finding solace from his grief in his work, and talking to Cassie meant that he would have to face his father's death.

Talking to her meant that he would have to share his grief, open the wounds which he had managed to close with his work. He knew that he was going about it the wrong way, but it was what he had always done, and it was too late to change his habits now.

He sighed and sat up, knowing that he was hurting her and himself by distancing himself from her. He was adding to all the sadness. He was being childish.

He remembered seeing her before he had left. She had been curled up in their large bed, her face white and withdrawn. Her pillow had been wet. He couldn't bring himself to awaken her, and had pushed her hair back gently from her damp faced and kissed her softly in goodbye. She probably didn't even remember that. He would go home the day after tomorrow, he told himself, and he would put things right. It was time he stopped running, and went home. It was time he went back home to Cassie.

* * * * * *

It was dark when Cassie returned home. She had met her doctor. Dr. Morris had confirmed that Cassie was indeed pregnant, around four to five weeks along. She had cried herself out and was unsure of what to do. She didn't know who she could talk to, where she could go.

Chris hadn't called, and she didn't know how he would react. Ann was not an option. Cassie couldn't force this on Ann too.

She refused dinner and went to bed directly after taking the supplements that Dr. Morris had prescribed for the pregnancy. She wanted the baby, that much she knew. She had objected vehemently to the idea of termination when Dr. Morris had brought it up.