Chapter 12

From the bedroom, Carly thought the person at the door could be either her husband Paul, or Stephen's wife Paige. Neither would be anyone they would want showing up at this time, but Carly thought she would rather it be Paul. No such luck.

"What are you doing here?" Stephen asked.

"I called Sharon," Paige said, referring to Stephen's secretary. "But what exactly are YOU doing here?"

"I told you on the phone, Paige. I needed some time alone."

"Sharon booked the room for you. She told me. She said you asked her to make the reservation around lunchtime today. I didn't talk to your mom until much later. How did you know you needed time alone until after you found out what was going on with me?"

"Oh ... you mean before I found out that you've been sleeping with someone else? And that you're pregnant?" Stephen decided to keep himself for the moment the fact that he knew the identity of the father. "And it's certainly not mine, because you haven't let me near you for months." Paige paused to collect her thoughts, knowing that what her husband had said was completely true.

Carly sat in the bed just one room away. All she could do was listen. Not only did she not have any clothes, but she certainly didn't want Paige to know that she and Stephen were in the suite together, and in bed no less.

"Honey," Paige said, turning softer, "I've been telling you on the phone, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"It's just too soon, Paige. I told you I need time to think. You shouldn't be here right now. I need to try and get my mind around this before I decide what I want to do next. I need to be alone." Paige then spotted the roses and the champagne Stephen had ordered for the romantic rendezvous with his mother.

"Alone, huh?" Paige said, her tone changing again. "If you're here to be alone, who the hell are the flowers and champagne for? You son of a bitch!"

"Paige, calm down."

"Calm down? You swore you haven't been seeing anyone. You promised me that. Your mother told me you weren't seeing anyone. If you're not, what are those doing here? Did you order flowers and champagne for yourself?"

"I ... it's not ... Paige..." Paige then noticed the small card on the flowers.

"Well, let's just see who the flowers are for," she said, walking over to the dozen roses. "Are they for Stephen, so he can have pretty things here while he's alone?" Paige picked-up the card and read the content silently to herself, then aloud. "To the super sexy Mrs. Brooks." She paused, holding back a tear. "Stephen. These are for me!"

Stephen felt tightness in his chest. Was it guilt, as he had bought the flowers for the other Mrs. Brooks ... the one in the next room, to whom he had just finished making love? Was it fear that Paige would realize soon enough that the flowers hadn't been for her? Stephen even thought he might be lucky enough to be having a very timely heart attack.

"Paige, let me..."

"They're for me!" Paige proclaimed. "Stephen, you were planning this for us, weren't you? That's what Sharon thought when I called her. She said she had made the arrangements and she didn't want to spoil the surprise, but if I wasn't able to get in touch with you, she didn't want us not to get together. Oh, Sweetheart!" Page moved immediately to her husband and threw her arms around him. "You were planning to surprise me! And then I told you that horrible news! Oh Stephen, I'm so, so sorry. Can we please start again? Please? Let's just be here together, just the two of us. We can talk everything over in bed after you make love to me!"

Stephen hadn't heard anything like a conciliatory tone from his wife in many months, much less any form of sexual talk or playfulness. His head was starting to spin again. But one thing he was sure of, there was no way to even pretend it was just the two of them in the suite with Carly wrapped in bed linens in the next room. Then he had an idea.

"You know what, Paige? Talking would be a great idea." She smiled a smile that he also hadn't seen in many months. He was reminded of how pretty his wife could be when she wasn't scowling at him. "But let's talk at home, OK? Let me just grab my briefcase and we'll go home and talk."

"Why, Stephen? You have this beautiful suite. It's perfect! You bought me roses and champagne. Please, Stephen? We can talk and talk, in bed."

"At home, Paige. Really ... I'd just like to put the afternoon behind us. Let's go home and talk." Page gave him a dramatic but surprisingly playful frown.

Stephen thought several things. First, that his impromptu plan was going to work. Paige wanted to stay, but she was willing to do what he wanted just so that he would be open to talking and hopefully for her, open to considering forgiveness. But Stephen also thought of how much he genuinely cared for his wife. He certainly wasn't over the fact that she had slept with his father and been impregnated. But he did still have strong feelings for her.

"OK," Paige said. "We can go home, Sweetheart." She turned and moved to grab her husband's briefcase which sat next to the sofa, so they could head for home. Then something caught her eye.

"Stephen, whose trench coat is that?" Stephen's heart fell to his feet. "It's not yours." Carly had dropped her trench coat a little over an hour before, revealing her naked body underneath. She had tossed it onto the sofa and neither she nor her son gave it another thought.

"Um ... it's..." Stephen was stammering again. "Paige, I..."

"You son of a bitch! That sure as hell isn't your coat, is it? Whose is it, Stephen? Who's here with you?" Paige surveyed the room and for the first time saw the French doors to the bedroom. She walked quickly and purposefully in that direction.

"Paige, wait," Stephen implored. "Paige, don't go in there. Let's just go home and start over." Paige wasn't hearing him now. Her only mission was to see who was on the other side of the glass doors. She flung the doors wide and looked in. For a brief moment, she saw a pair of black heels on the floor at the foot of the bed.

In the next few seconds, Paige's brain seemed to stop functioning. She knew she was seeing a woman. The blonde was standing next to the bed, clutching a bed sheet to her body. Something was familiar, but Paige couldn't get herself to focus. "Who am I looking at?" her mind said. "Who is this woman who's here with my husband? I think I know her." Then Paige's brain snapped back to reality and she gasped, thinking she might faint.

"Paige," Carly said, having no idea what to say next. Stephen had caught up to his wife and now stood behind her in the doorway. He also was speechless for the moment.

"What the hell?" Paige said. "What is going on here? Carly, why are you here?" Both Carly and Stephen realized that Page still hadn't quite put everything together. Stephen thought he still had a chance to get his wife out of the suite before she put all the pieces in place.

"Come on, Paige. We'll talk at home." Paige didn't budge. She stared at Carly, who was still holding a sheet around herself. Paige turned to her husband.

"Stephen, Why is your mother here? I don't understand what's going on." She looked back at Carly, then at Stephen again. She surveyed the room, saw the disheveled bed, the high heels on the floor. She then gasped again and momentarily thought she might faint.

"No!" Paige exclaimed. "Don't you tell me..." Tears began to well up in her eyes. She looked her husband dead in the eye. "You're not really, here with your mother, are you? You can't be!" She turned back to her mother in law. "Carly, you couldn't. He's your son. He's my husband. Oh, no! It's can't be! It just can't!" Tears began to stream down Paige's cheeks. Carly finally found her voice.

"Paige, you should just go home with Stephen. We can talk about all of this later. Now's not the time." Paige continued to stand her ground. Stephen tried to take her shoulder to lead her to the door but she slapped it away and turned to face him again.

"Did you sleep with your mother, Stephen? Tell me you didn't sleep with your mother! Tell me you're not that sick. Please tell me you didn't do that." Stephen snapped out of his stupor.

"OK, Paige. I'll tell you that I didn't have sex with my mother ... as soon as you tell me you didn't fuck my father! Tell me you didn't fuck him and that the baby you're carrying isn't his." Paige now lost a great deal of steam and she dropped her gaze to the floor. "Come on Paige. Tell me that didn't happen and I'll tell you this didn't happen." No one moved, nor did any of the three speak for at least a minute. Finally Carly tried again to be the voice of reason.

"Stephen, Paige, go home, OK? We all have a lot to talk through. But this isn't the time. Stephen, take Paige and go home. I'll go home and talk to your dad. Maybe we can talk tomorrow, or the day after." Hearing Carly's voice brought Paige out of her guilty haze once more. She turned back to Carly, who was still clutching the sheet around her.