Three weeks later

Carefully I fold the cashmere sweater before I place it in my Louis Vuitton suitcase. I can't help but grin as I close the suitcase. A year ago, I wasn't even able to dream about such wealth. And now... Now I'm a part of it. Part of the High Society. Part of the Upper East Side Elite. With him by my side.

He changed my life. Turned it upside down - and I wouldn't want it any other way.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.

"Come in!" I said in a loud voice. It's the first morning without this strong nausea for six weeks now. An awesome feeling! I definitely won't miss this room. Or the food. He was right, the food is horrible in this hospital.

My smile drops as I see my best friend walking in.

"Oh, why so sad Maine?" she asks me, a little disappointed.

"I just..." he promised to pick me up. But ever since Richard started working again a week ago, he has been absent. Not full time, but... His mind seemed somewhere else every time he was with me. Physically he was there, but his mind... His mind was very far away from me. Us. His family.

She reflects my disappointed smile, "I know, honey. He has to work. But don't worry, I brought you company to keep you happy." she says before she holds out the door. Amanda and Lizzie walk in grinning. "SURPRISE!"

My huge grin drops as soon as my eyes catch a nervous Patricia. "You told them?!" I mouth to her, as both women throw their arms around me.

She shakes her head and mouths back, "Told them you had an accident... In the shower."

I roll my eyes before I hug the two women.

"Alright, we need to go shopping!" Amanda announces, "As in wedding shopping!"

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Ring!" Lizzie says, grabbing my left hand. "Huge!" she announces as her's and Amanda's eyes are focussed on my engagement ring.

"I know."

"Richard Faulkerson style!" Patricia said giggling.

I roll my eyes. "But we need to drive to my place first. Luggage..."

"No need for that. Lizzie!" Patricia says in a loud voice. Wait, is he working for her now as well? Is that even legal?

"Lizzie..." I breathe out.

"Glad to see you're doing better, Miss Mendoza. I'll take these." Lizzie says smiling, picking up the suitcases.

I nodd, "Thank you, Lizzie."

"But before we go wedding dress shopping, we have to get our mani and pedis!" Patricia said smiling.

"So, how did you guys meet?" Lizzie asks me.

Does she have to ask me that question now?! Now when I am trying to get my pregnant body into this wedding gown?! Now when I'm in the fitting room?! After Kleinfeld, and Monique Lhuillier are our last stop in the wedding dress world.

"Hasn't Patty or Amanda told you the story?"

"They did, but I'd like to hear it from you. After all, this seems all like a Cinderella Story..."

I fake a laugh, "Well it surely didn't start as a Cinderella Story..."

"It was fate."

I smile, "Yes, maybe it was..."

"What was your first impression of Richard?"

"That he is an arrogant, superficial, intimidating and very hot man." I say and laugh, "You know, usually men feel intimidated by me but he was the only man who ever made me feel intimidated. I call it the Faulkerson-effect." I say as I close the zipper of the dress. Finally I made it into this dress. God, it's been pure torture...

"Oh this dress is beautiful!" Amanda says grinning as I walk out of the fitting room.

"It's too much of a gown." I answer, remembering Patricia's dress as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The strapless gown is shaped in an A-line in ivory. A beautiful gown with a diamond belt at the waist but... It's not me.

"It reminds you of my dress, doesn't it?"

I shrugg, touching the chiffon of the dress. "Kind of."

"And you want something classy..."  Patricia says grinning.

I bit my lip.

"Which means, we're at the wrong bridal shop!"

I raise an eyebrow at her, "What?"

"We should go to Vera!"

"Oh no, Patty!" Not another wedding boutique. I am exhausted. Beyond exhausted, actually I think as I walk back into the fitting room, to get myself out of the wedding gown.

"Don't you worry, we won't go today. Or this week, actually. Vera is in Milan for this week. We'll have an appointment next week."

"You haven't even called her, Patty." She rolls her eyes,
 
"I'm a Grey woman, now. And if only she will hear that she could design the dress for your wedding with Richard, she's..."

"She would probably fly back to NY within a blink of an eye."

She laughs, "Yes she would."

"But we..." I lower my voice so Amanda and Lizzie are unable to hear me, "need to have this appointment alone."

"Because you're going to let the bomb explode to Vera?"

"If she has some nice idea, I'm gonna have to. Who knows how my body will look in two months, huh?!"

"Speaking of two months, how far is the wedding planner?"

"So far we have a location and a date."

Her eyes widened right away, "TELL!"

"Monti Fleur on March the 15th."

"Monti what?!"

"It's an island.Richard owns a small island, on which we could spend our honeymoon without any paparazzi." I say, as I walk out of the fitting room again.

"Aw!" she says grinning like a five year old.

"I know."

"It's perfect. Really perfect. I mean, a wedding at the beach? That's so you. So him. So… Faulkerson/Mendoza "

I roll my eyes, "Amanda, Lizzie! Let's go."

"Already?"

"Yes."

"You won't get a dress from Monique?"

"No."

"But they're so beautiful!" Lizzie says grinning.

I roll my eyes, "Every dress is beautiful. But I need a dress which is me."

"And Vera will give you this dress." Patricia sings to me as we walk out of the store.

I brush through my dark brown locks as I wait in the elevator to finally bring me home. It's been a stressful day and I'm tired. Tired and insanely hungry for peanut butter with strawberries. I've been craving for those the past hours so badly.

The elevator doors glide silently open and I inhale the smell right away. It's a fresh scent with a toxic residue. Wait a second, is this paint that I'm smelling?!

"Richard, " I hear a female voice saying. Seconds later I see the blonde goddess walking down the thin long glass hallway, having Manhattan in the night behind her. A breathtaking woman with a breathtaking view behind her and a breathtaking body. A body which is coated in a Rolling Stone shirt. Not any shirt - my Rolling Stone shirt with the unmistakably red tongue. The very same shirt I wore after my first night here with him. The very same shirt I still wear, whenever he is not in town. My shirt.

And she is only wearing my shirt.

She freezes in the middle of the hallway as her glaze meets my angry one.

"Maine, " she breathes out, having the most tensed body I've ever seen. Not even Richard was ever so tense.

"Sasha." I say, gnashing my teeth in anger. What is she doing here?! IN MY SHIRT!

His chuckle reaches my ears before I turn my head to the right side. He's walking down the hallway, wearing dark washed jeans only. No shirt. No shoes. The jeans have spots on them.

He freezes as well as soon as his eyes see me. "Maine, " he says, just as amazed as Sasha was only a millisecond. "You shouldn't be here." he adds in a surprised voice. I shouldn't?!

Am I unrequested right now?! "What the hell is going on?!" I nearly yell. "What is she doing-"

"This isn't what it looks like." Sasha interrupts me, fluttering with her long black eyelashes. What the fuck?!

"O-oh, so you are not standing in front of me only wearing a shirt?!" I hiss at her, eyeballing her figure for the first time. Damn it, I wish I had those legs! My eyes notice tiny white spots on her bare feet. Feet which have dark purple painted nails. A color only Chanel produces. It was limited edition. "Is that my nailpolish?!" I say my thoughts out loud.

"Yes, but I-"

"You fucking used my nailpolish?! And you're wearing-"

"Maine, I-"

"NO! You lost every right to call me that!" I hiss back at Ricard.

"Maine, we didn't sl-"

"Screw you!" I yell at Sasha, "Screw both of you." I said to Richard, who still hasn't found any words. He just stands there barefoot. His face is tense. He's biting his lip. Something he has never done before. Has he... Did he... I feel the anger building inside of me. A kind of anger I've never felt before. Not in such an intensity.

"Have you slept with her?" I ask him in a calm voice, unable to hide the shakiness - the anger - in it.

"Maine, we didn't even-"

"I haven't asked you, blonde Bimbo, now did I?!" I hiss at Sasha, "Get the fuck out of this apartment or I will throw you out of the window and I don't care if you'll survive this, hoe!"

"Nicomaine!" he hisses back at me.

My eyes widen, "You fucking chose to protect her instead of - Oh my God!" I breath out, covering my open mouth with my hand. "You can't even answer me."

He is silent.

"I-I should go." Sasha says in a shaky voice.

"And you should take off that shirt." I hiss back.

"I'll get your clothes." he says before disappearing.

Wait, her clothes are here?!

Suddenly her frozen face starts to show emotions. She starts smiling. "Who knew that you could turn into a bitch as well?!"

"Don't push your luck, Sasha!" I hiss at her, my eyes reflecting only anger.

She holds up her hands, "I am innocent. It was all his work."

Oh, okay that's enough! How dare she!

She shrugs, grinning. "Guess I was just too-" I shut her off with a slap.

Her chin falls down as she holds her red burning cheek.

"Don't ever take a step into this penthouse again, you hear me?! Don't you ever try to get near my man again!" I hiss at her.

She smiles innocently and I turn around. Richard is standing behind me, holding a pair of jeans and a cashmere sweater.

Sasha takes the clothes before she slips silently into her jeans. Then she takes off the shirt to get into the cashmere sweater.

"I... I'm sorry." she apologizes to him before she hands me the shirt. "Don't you dare think you won this game. Seems like your playpartner likes to change his partners." she whispers into my ear before she quickly walks into the elevator, saving herself from more than just a slap this time.

I take a deep breath as I start feeling my pulse rising. What was that with lowering the stress level? Right, that should happen now more often in order to have a healthy pregnancy... Not so easy, when your partner is called Richard Faulkerson. And Sasha.

"Ma-" he touches my shoulder as I am facing his back.

I push his hand off of my shoulder. "Don't you dare-"

"But nothing happened!"

"She was wearing my shirt! She was standing there halfnaked in our apartment! And you... You're only wearing jeans! A fucking jeans!" I yell before I turn around.

"Yes, but-"

"Don't you dare say those words again!" I said,direct into his eyes.

"But we didn't-"

"You know what, I get it okay?! I am not blonde and unattractive and I don't have her legs anymore." I said, rolling my eyes. "But h-how could you do that to our-"

"Shut up!"

"What?!"

He sighs, "We painted."

"Oh, you guys painted. Mhm right, who painted out of the line first?!" I hiss at him, feeling the tears forming in my eyes.

"What?" he asks me confused before he sighs. "Look," he says, grabbing my icy cold hands, "This was supposed to be a surprise, okay?! That's why I sent Patricia to the hospital to pick you up today. I came up with this a couple of days ago and called Sasha to help me out. All she did was help me..." he trails of, leading me down the corridor.

"Help you with what?" I ask him, confused. "And why couldn't I help you? Or Samuel? Or Patricia?"

"Patricia has to work and Samuel still doesn't know about our unborn child. At least, I hope Patricia can keep her mouth shut. Besides, I doubt that she is a good artist..."

"What?" I ask him confused before we stop in front of a white wooden door.

Without any words, he opens the door. I've been right. The smell is paint. Oil based paint to be exact.

Lots of canvases are lying in the room. Some are already painted. Some are still blank.

"What is this?!" I ask him confused as I take a step into the room.

"Sasha is teaching me how to paint."

"She's what?" I ask him, shocked. He doesn't know how to paint?

"I was horrible in art class. And Sasha is awesome. She did the painting in my office. And in our living room."

"But the artist is called Clayton. Sasha is Clayton?!" Boy, if I knew that I would have thrown them away! "We're having a picture of your..." I don't even know how to call her. Mrs. Evil? Blonde Bimbo? Godess? Root of his lifestyle?

"Friend." he answers my question.

"She's anything but a friend."

"She's my friend."

"She's in love with you."

He is silent. "She is not in love with me. She let me go."

"It didn't look that way two minutes ago. She has done anything but let you go. She's still in love with you."

"Anyways, as you can see we've only been painting."

I looked around, they really painted. A lot as I can tell from all these paintings. I can clearly differentiate his paintings for her's. Her's are pure perfection. She used black and white pictures, to form a bigger one.

"Are those pictures from the ultrasounds?" I ask confused.

"Yes. We're using them as an inspiration."

It's amazing. She used the ultrasounds to create a picture of us. A picture of the little horserace's parents. Wow.

"You could have informed me. Why didn't you tell me that this..." God, how should I call her?!

"friend."

"A friend has been walking from left to right in our apartment?!"

"Because I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to paint a nice painting for you. But frankly, I am still an awful artist. So, I decided to let her paint it after all."

"How long have you been working with her?"

"Since three days."

"And why are you guys both half naked? Is that her method to get kissed by a muse or something?!"

He chuckles.

"It wasn't a joke. I'm serious. I don't like her."

"The first time we painted she showed me the basics. After the session we had paint all over our clothes. A Chanel dress with paint spots on it doesn't look so good. So, I gave her a shirt she could wear every time we would paint. I picked out those old jeans. And I was shirtless because I just got paint on my shirt." He says simply as if there isn't a deeper message. As if he was explaining to me how much water there is in a human body. As if I was a dumb student.

"Nothing happened?"

"Besides me making a complete fool of myself, nothing happened, Maine."

"You didn't have sex?"

"It hurts me that you don't trust me. I gave you my word, that I wouldn't ever betray you. I gave you a ring which symbolizes that I love you more than anyone else. I gave you my word, that we're in this together. In this life. A life with only you and our family beside me. A life until death will do us apart. Death, not any other woman, Maine." he says, staring with his ocean blue eyes into my insecure one's.

I gulped. How could I have been so stupid?!

"Look, " he starts, lacing his long fingers with my left hand staring right at my engagement ring. "I recognize the glances as well. Women stare at me as if I was sent straight out of heaven. As if I was an angel. But I ignore them. Their glances awaken nothing in me. I feel nothing when they look at me. But one single glance from you and I feel unprotected. You stare right into my soul. You see everything about me. Every shade. Every imperfection. Every lie I ever told. Every wrong turn I ever took. You see the bad sides and the good's. Sometimes, I worry that the bad sides are too much for you. Sometimes, I worry that I am not good enough for you. Because I recognize the glances coming from other men as well. I see how they undress you with their eyes. How they eyeball you, licking their lips. I see it and try very hard to not lose control of myself. I try very hard to not punch them straight into their faces. I keep myself together. I try very hard to ignore them. I ignore them, because I know that you are mine. That you will stay by my side no matter what I do or say. You don't leave. You will never leave me, just because it gets rough. When it gets tough, you stay and we figure things out. We figure things out. That's why I love you. That's what makes you the most important person in my life. Women come and go. But you stay... You stay."

God, suddenly I feel nothing but guilt and remorse. All they did was paint! Fucking paint! And I completely overreacted! I even thought he cheated on me! How could I be so fucking stupid?! This man loves me! "I am sorry. I completely overreacted. Seeing Sasha half naked in our hallway and you in only jeans just... I freaked out. Big time and I apologize. I wasn't... Myself. I don't know what has gotten into me. It just..." I stop and brush through my dark brown locks, "I don't know what freaked me out more, you and Sasha both half naked or she wearing my shirt."

He chuckles, "Your shirt?"

I shrugg, "It was the shirt I wore after the first night I spent here. I wore it over the white Chanel bikini when I walked to the pool... Gosh, I remember this day as if it was yesterday." I say and chuckle, "I was so nervous that morning and so in anticipation of... I don't even know of what. Was it you? What you would do with me next? What I would do next? I don't know. All I knew was that you had a nice taste in music. After all, I was wearing your shirt." I say with another shrugg, "I still wear this shirt whenever you're out of town... It's my shirt."

"I didn't know that it means so much to you. I just picked up one shirt out of the closet. I didn't pay attention. I didn't mean to hurt you in any way."

"I know. And I didn't mean to hurt you by asking you that question." I say and brush through his chestnut colored hair with my free hand. "But I don't like your friend. I will never like her, because she tries to rip us apart. She still loves you, probably always had since you guys met at Yale years ago. Perhaps she used all the other men to keep her mind off of you..."

"But I don't love her. She's just a friend."

"She's the closest friend you have."

"Not the closest. But one of the closest, yes."

I sigh, "Anyway, I hate her and she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you."

"Yes she does."

"How come you know?"

I shrugg, "She called me a hoe. Back in december, at Meredith's gala. She called me a hoe for being with you. For breaking your heart, not once but twice. For... For pulling you through so much pain."

"S-She did what?!" he asks me shocked.

I bite my lip. Damn it, now he's mad. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing! She called the mother of my child, my future wife, the love of my life a hoe!" he hisses before he storms out of the room.

"Where are you going?" I call through the long hallway, which he is storming down.

"I'm going to show  her limits." he hisses back.

Wait, what?! I run after him, "Don't!" I say as I reach him. "Take a deep breath and calm down first. It's already evening. Don't get your stress level up, Richard."

"But I-"

"Please." I almost begg him. "It's late. I'm tired. You are tired. Let it go."

He sighs, "I can't." he says before he pushes the button.

"Richard, please don't go to Sasha's and-"

He grabs my hand and pulls me into the elevator.

"Where are we going?" I ask him confused as he pushes a button.

"I'm going to let some steam out... And I want you to see it. See this side of me. The furious one, which loses control." he says with gnashed teeth.

I guled. Suddenly I feel fear.

The elevator doors glide open and he steps out, still holding my hand, dragging me behind him. We're in a gym. An empty gym - after all, it's nearly midnight.

He stops in front of a punching bag. Then he lets go of my hand. Is he going to punch it now? Is this his - really healthy - way of letting out steam? I mean, it is healthier than having sex with me. He has found a way healthier way to let out steam. Did Dr. Flynn suggest that? I don't know.

Instead of punching the bag, he starts coating his hands with white bandages. First his right hand, then the left. He does it quickly, as if he has already done it a hundred times. But yet he does it carefully, as if this was the first time.

I sit down on the dark grey armchair which is standing in the corner. Out of the sudden I seem to have disappeared for him as he starts punching the bag. He looks like a real boxer. Like a professional boxer. Someone who has been doing this for years. I wonder if he did. Probably. He starts punching the bag slowly, as if he wants to warm up his muscles. Get used to the heavy red and black bag which is hanging in front of him. After minutes he gets quicker, punching harder than before. Left. Right. Left Right. Left. Right... Sweat drops are running down his forehead as he punches against the heavy bag. He creates a rhythm. His very own Richard Faulkerson's rhythm.

And then I start seeing it. He's punching out every cell of anger, disappointment... Frustration. Every nerve which is tensed due to his emotional state, is now active to release his mixed emotions. With every punch, he starts to get calmer. Not in his physical shape. But his mind starts calming down. I don't know how to explain it. It's not the way he acts. It's not the way he punches against that bag. It's not the way the sweat drops down his muscular upper body. It's...

It's the way his eyes slowly start to lighten up. It's the way his breath comes out.

I slowly raise from the chair, as he still punches against the bag. Left hand. Right hand. Left hand. Right hand. Left hand. I stop in front of him with the punching bag behind me, facing him. He doesn't strike out. He doesn't touch me, as if he is afraid of what he will do next. He just stares at me.

And I stare back. For seconds, we just stare into each other's eyes. Then I take his left hand and start to unbandage it. Slowly, I take the white strip off of his hands. His hand is glowing in a tomato red, yet his knuckles are not sore. He watches my every move. I fold it together and place it on the table. Then I do the same with the right hand before my eyes face his again. The dark color has disappeared as I brush through his messy chestnut hair. It has been replaced by a light blue. A blue so clear, I can almost see my reflection in it.

And then he kisses me. A soft kiss. A kiss filled with nothing but love. Nothing but pure love.

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