Chapter 28 – Invisible Man

“I just don't understand how you can be so nonchalant about this.”

Lance leaned back in the soft, leather-upholstered chair, tapping his foot on the gray carpet underneath him.

“Who said I'm nonchalant?” he asked Addy, who sat next to him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You talk to Mel about this guy like it's no big deal,” she said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “Like what she did last night wasn't stupid and irresponsible.”

Lance sighed. He prayed the nurse would call their name soon.

“Was it stupid and irresponsible? Probably,” he said. “But Addy, she has a point. If he wanted to do anything to her last night, he would have. She was alone. There were no witnesses. He had her in his sights and he had the element of surprise. This guy is cool, calm, smart, and patient. He waited for her for hours, probably. He could have done anything – smashed out her windows, hid in her backseat, cut her brakes...but he didn't. He wanted to scare her. He wants attention.”

“I don't want her to get hurt,” she said. “This has nothing to do with her. This is our problem – if she got hurt because of it...”

“I know,” he said. “And that's why Chris and I are putting her on lockdown. Or trying, anyway.”

“You can't treat the two of us like paper dolls, you know,” she said, finally looking over to meet his gaze. “We're not fine china; we're not going to break if we set foot in the daylight.”

“Right now, you are fine china,” he said. “You're not invincible like you seem to think you are, Addy. Especially since you're pregnant. With my child.”

She rolled her eyes. “It's not like he's called me.”

“Next time, shall I tell him you're dying to talk to him?” he asked. “I'd rather keep it the way it is, thank you. Who's being nonchalant now?”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm just tired of being locked up at home, warden.”

“It's not like I'm chaining you to the radiator and feeding you water and scraps of bread, Ad. You're free to do whatever you want as long as you're not alone. You heard the doctor – you need to rest and not push yourself too hard. Even without psycho-freak on the loose, this is the best thing for you and the baby.”

He heard her sigh and slumped his shoulders. He felt bad for her. He knew she was probably tired of being cooped up in the house like she was. Her doctor had all but put her on full-time bedrest, giving her strict restrictions for how much she was allowed to do. Car rides longer than an hour were discouraged – and in New York, it could take that long just to run to the grocery store if the traffic was bad, so she was limited in where she could actually go.

He tried to find interesting things for them to do that wouldn't push her restrictions too far, but as stir-crazy as she was going it was getting harder to find things that would hold her interest. Sometimes he would encourage her to come to the station with him and sit in on the show, but she had only accepted a few times. Most days, she stayed home – restricted to knitting, watching TV and movies, and reading.

He couldn't blame her; he'd start going crazy, too.

“Just remember to roll me over every now and then,” she said. “Don't want me to get bedsores.”

“Addy,” he said. “Come on. Don't get an attitude with me; it's not my fault. I'm trying here, okay?”

She didn't respond, but when he looked over at her, he could see it in her eyes – terror.

It had been like this the past month, but more so over the past two weeks. It wasn't about the restrictions or the stress that being stalked had put them under – her anxiety all stemmed from being at the doctor today.

Today was their 16-week appointment. He could tell she was nearly in tears. Worry had consumed her for the past two weeks at what they would find out today, and whether it would be good or bad. She wouldn't do it in front of him, but he knew that she had spent most of the past few days stewing and crying, keeping it all inside. It would only get worse this coming month, as they got closer to the point that she had lost her daughter – 20 weeks.

He reached over and grabbed her hand, unfolding her arms.

“It will be okay,” he said quietly. “Don't worry.”

Telling Addy not to worry was like telling a dog not to bark – but he saw her try to smile at him, nodding her head slightly.

“Adeline?”

Her name being called got their attention and they both looked up to see the nurse standing there.

“The doctor is ready for you.”

He grasped tightly to her hand as they followed the nurse down the hallway, stopping to check Addy's weight first. He smiled when she grimaced at the nurse continuing to slide the bar over, eventually narrowing her eyes at the scale to give it a dirty look when it stopped.

“Next time they should weigh me at a semi-trailer station,” she mumbled as she stepped off to the nurse, who only looked back at Lance as they both smiled in amusement at each other.

The wait inside the office was a quiet and fast one. They sat there less than five minutes before the door opened and an older man with dark hair graying in a few spots walked in.

“Hello again, Addy,” he said, smiling at her before he looked at Lance, seated next to her in a chair. “And you must be...”

“Lance Bass,” he said, standing up and reaching his hand out. “Her husband.”

“Oh, last time you were here you were engaged,” he said as he looked at Addy, shaking Lance's hand. “I guess congratulations are in order then.”

“Something came up at the last minute,” Lance said with a smile.

“Aha, yes,” the doctor said. “And that's why we're here today. I'm Dr. Cameron, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Bass.”

Lance nodded cordially before letting go of the doctor's hand and taking his seat again.

“How are you feeling today?” the doctor asked, turning to Addy.

“I've felt better,” she said.

“Are you still having bad morning sickness?”

“Not so much anymore,” she said. “It's just...hard.”

The doctor nodded knowingly. “I know. It's about that time. But we're going to get some reassurance today, right?”

“I hope,” she said softly.

They both went quiet as the doctor walked toward her on the table, going immediately to the ultrasound machine. That moment was when Lance's own anxiety hit him – he didn't know if he could face bad news.

He sat next to her, completely silent. She expected him to say something, but he only held her hand at her side while she laid there, his fingers running over hers softly every now and then.

The doctor ran the wand over her stomach, then pressed a few buttons on the machine next to her. Before she knew it, she heard the soft, repeated thrump sound. She knew enough to know what it was, and the sound was enough to bring a tear to her eye.

“The heartbeat sounds good,” the doctor said reassuringly.

A few more quiet moments passed, neither of them speaking to each other. He didn't know what to say to her. He could only feel his own relief.

“Would you like to know what you're having?” the doctor finally asked.

Both of their heads popped up to look at the doctor, then look at each other. Neither of them knew how to answer that question, knowing that attachment could lead to heartbreak.

But he saw it in Addy's eyes – the need to know, even knowing what could happen.

“Yeah,” Lance said, hearing himself choke out the words. “We would.”

“It's a boy,” the doctor said, looking Lance directly in the eyes.

They both paused for a moment, before looking at each other. He wasn't sure how to feel – until she smiled at him, even with tears in her eyes.

“Everything still looks great,” the doctor said, smiling at them both.

The rest of the appointment went by quickly. He didn't absorb half of what the doctor said after that – all he could think about was the fact that he was going to have a son.

By the time they finished up, booking another appointment before they walked out the door and made their way across the parking lot toward his car, both of them felt that the mood was lighter. He walked to his side of the car and instead of breaking away from him, she came to stand next to him, grabbing his face to turn towards her, placing her lips on his.

“A boy,” she said softly, a smile on her face.

He smiled at her before she let go a few seconds later, moving to walk towards her side of the car.

“Just what the world needs,” he said as he reached to open his car door. “Another Bass boy. Born in December, too. Jeez, maybe this is what the Mayans predicted.”

She could only laugh as she opened her door and climbed in.

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He adjusted the zoom on the binoculars as he watched them walk out of the clinic, all the way to the car, and embrace each other before kissing.

He felt a pang of anger and reached for the pack of cigarettes and lighter in the center console, shaking one out before placing it between his lips and lifting the flame to it. The end immediately burned bright red as he took his first puff, releasing it into the air.

He hadn't smoked since he was 21 years old. He had quit only a few months after meeting her. He could remember that day on the beach like it was yesterday.

Los Angeles in the summer time – when the temperature even at a reasonable 90 degrees was so sweltering that only a day on the beach would relieve it. He had been with his group of friends enjoying their last summer before graduating college. He had spent those days finishing up his film arts degree at USC, working an errand boy job at a production company in Hollywood.

He was waiting, only hoping for his big break into the film industry. He got it only a few months later after a lot of hard work and a bit of luck – but back in those days, his life was about school and volleyball at the beach.

He had returned the opposing team's serve with zest – realizing it was too much zest when it sailed high over the net, over the heads of the other team, and straight towards two girls laying on beach towels a few feet from the edge of the water, landing square on the head of the brunette on the right.

He remembered running over to her, reaching her only seconds after the ball had hit her, as she held her head in her hand.

“Ow!” she said, scrambling to sit up from her leaned back position.

“I'm so sorry!” he said, kneeling down to her. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” she said. “Let me ask the stars I see twirling around my head to make sure.”

“I am so sorry,” he repeated. “I got a little overexcited, and I guess I hit it too hard. I don't know my own strength sometimes.”

“Ya think?” her friend said from next to her, her voice thick with an Australian accent. “You okay, Ad?”

“Ad,” he said. “That's unique.”

“It's Adeline, actually,” she said. “At least I think that's my name.”

“That's a beautiful name,” he said.

“Oh, give it a rest buddy,” her friend said. “Beat it.”

“No, Steph, it's okay,” Adeline said, waving her friend's hand away. “He's just trying to apologize. And I'm fine. Really.”

He noticed out of the corner of his eye the dirty look her friend shot toward him, but held his hand out to Adeline anyway.

“I'm Marcus,” he said with a smile. “Marcus Sutton.”

“That's always a great story, isn't it?”

He snapped to reality when he heard the voice from next to him while driving down the street behind their black SUV, turning to see her in the seat.

He had gotten used to the delusions. He wasn't sure if it was the stress or the alcohol that caused them. Maybe it was the occasional illicit drug he used to numb the pain when the vodka and Jack Daniels didn't do the job.

Or maybe he was really going insane.

“Yes, it is,” he responded.

“Those days are over, Marc,” she said. “Done and gone.”

The Adeline he saw in person and the Adeline he saw in his delusions were two totally different people. The new Adeline was the one with bright blonde hair that occasionally showed her darker lowlights in the right sunlight; the one that attached herself to him at every opportunity that presented itself; the one with the pregnant belly he watched grow in front of his eyes – at a distance, of course.

But the Adeline he saw was the sexier, sultrier one he remembered from those days at the beach. The one who used to scream in laughter when he would pick her up while wading in the ocean, yelling at him to put her down as he lifted her over his head, a smile on her face. This Adeline was the one who loved him – before he came along.

“We married six months later,” she said. “We were young, and stupid, and thought everything was perfect as long as we had each other. But everything wasn't perfect.”

“It was perfect for me,” he said, staring at the road out in front of him.

“You've always lived inside your movies,” she said. “That's where your head always was. If there was a camera filming our life together, it would have had a rose-colored lens. You never could see the underlying issues.”

“There was no issue until he came into your life,” he responded. “It's all his fault this happened.”

“No it's not, Marc,” she said. “You know it, she knows it – even I know it, and I'm the delusion that you've created. I'm not even real. There were problems long before he came along; long before she moved to New York; even long before April was born.”

“Don't bring April into this,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“It's a sore spot,” she said. “You can admit it. It's only me here.”

He pursed his lips, fighting tears. He should have known better than to drink before leaving his hotel – it always made him emotional.

“Your daughter was going to be the apple of your eye,” she said. “The only reason for you to go on living – because you really hated yourself. And you knew she hated you, too.”

To tell the truth, he wasn't even sure why they got married to begin with. At first he thought it was the money. After he had gotten the break to direct his first movie and it had quickly turned successful and the money suddenly started coming in, she was more open to the idea of marriage and settling down. But it turned out to be a fluke, and he realized after a time that the money coming in was convenient timing. She was never into the money; she didn't like to go on huge shopping sprees for clothes and shoes and jewelry like most of the other Hollywood wives he knew. She preferred to stay home and bury her nose into her own work, like he did.

“It was all you,” she said. “She quickly realized that you weren't the guy she thought she had married. That's why she buried her nose into work. It was easier to be away from you, dealing with pampered celebrities' demands all day than being married to one full-time.”

“I don't know where I went wrong,” he said. “I gave her everything.”

“You gave her nothing,” she responded. “You gave her money, fame, and financial security – but she didn't want that. She wanted love. She wanted to be needed – to be wanted.”

“I always wanted her.”

“You didn't want her when it mattered,” she said. “You thought the solution to her sadness was throwing plastic at her, handing over the keys to the Mercedes, and letting her hash out her emotions on Rodeo while she spent the profits from your last great career accomplishment. Meanwhile, you would jet set off to whatever country was next on the agenda and expect to have a happy wife when you came home.”

For the first time, she looked over to meet his gaze.

“Pretty things don't make a happy marriage, Marc,” she said. “Love. Emotional security. Desire. Those are the things that make a happy marriage. And she has all of that with him.”

He felt jealousy pierce his heart, and that was when it took over again – anger.

“Not for long,” he said.

“Do you think you can successfully tear them apart?” she asked. “They have true love on their side, and it will always keep them together. It's the bond that can't be broken, the one that stands the test of time and strife. Even if you do succeed, and you do remove him from the picture, her heart will always be with him.”

“I don't care about her heart,” he said. “That's not what I want. You're right; those days are done and gone.”

“If it's not her heart you want, then what is it, Marc?” she asked. “What drives you to continue your quest for revenge?”

“God took away the only thing in my life that meant anything to me,” he said, glancing over at her. “And I refuse to be the only one to suffer through it.”