The Baby Bump

When talking about deleted scenes, this is probably the best place to start. I wrote this soon after completing my first draft.

The idea here was to give Ethan an opportunity to push back against the press, and to show Ethan and Allison bonding over an act of defiance. I loved writing the dialogue where Ethan and Allison turn the press conference into a complete circus, and I thought the scene where Martin reminds Allison that she has a lot more to lose than Ethan was a nice jolt the book needed.

BUT, Ethan and Allison end up acting way out of character in this section. Ethan almost comes off as mean and self-destructive. Allison’s defiance ended up way over the top, and the idea that she would hike up her shirt to prove "I am not pregnant" felt more than a little embarrassing when I thought about it more.

This scene probably lasted the shortest amount of time of anything I cut out of the book—I ended up deleting it from the manuscript by the end of the very day I wrote it.

Allison was sitting in her room answering emails and checking over press releases for the next legs of the tour when she got a Google News alert pop up.  “Who is Ethan Blackwood’s new fling?  Is that bulky hoodie hiding a baby bump? Do we have a little highlander on the way?” The picture showed her sneaking out of the bookstore bathroom a few weeks ago with Ethan in St Louis.

Allison must have screamed because she could hear Ethan banging on their shared door. “Hart? You okay? Stand back. I am going to bust down the door.”

Allison hopped up and opened the door to prevent Ethan from dislocating his shoulder. “You have my spare key…wouldn’t it have been easier to just go around the long way?”

Ethan shrugged, “That would be nowhere near as dramatic. You okay?”

Allison showed him the screen, “No, apparently I am pregnant!”

Ethan’s face turned grey, “Oh, god. Hart, I am so sorry. The press are sharks.” 

The exhaustion and the sheer stupidity of the tabloid speculation snapped something in her. With a huff of pure, unadulterated annoyance, she grabbed the hem of the oversized hoodie and hiked it up, exposing a very nicely toned, very flat stomach to the dim hotel light.

“Does this look pregnant to you?” she demanded, gesturing to her midriff.

Ethan froze mid-stride. Over the last few weeks, Ethan had seen Allison in everything from her bathing suit to finely tailored suits. But this was the first time he had seen her weaponize her body this way. Seeing her bare skin, and realizing just how close he was to her, stopped his brain entirely. 

He let out a strangled, incoherent noise that sounded a bit like a dying radiator, turned a shade of crimson, and spun around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.

“I…uh…I mean…it’s…it’s definitely not…” He stared intently at the beige hotel wall, his heart hammering against his ribs. 

Allison dropped the hoodie, a smirk tugging at her lips. The frustration was still there, but something about Ethan’s absolute, terrified panic made the room feel a little less like a crisis zone and a lot more like theirs.

Allison cracked her fingers and sat down at the keyboard, “I need to craft a response. It has to be perfect. For me. For Moira. For professional women everywhere. We aren’t all wooed by the phony charms of Ethan Blackwood!”

Ethan was tempted to whine, but he had to admit it was partially his fault that this had happened in the first place, so just let Allison go do her thing.

Martin called them. Ethan put it on speaker.  

“Mazel Tov!” 

Ethan scowled, “That’s really not funny right now.”

“No, it’s not. Are you both handling this all right?”

Allison said, “More pissed than anything else, but we’re fine.”

“HarperCollins suggested cancelling the Q+A this morning.”

Allison checked in with Ethan who shook his head, “That’s really not necessary.”

“That’s what I said. When it comes up…and it will come up…stick to the prepared statements HarperCollins sent over. Nothing more, nothing less, okay?”

Allison felt her temper rising, “I was just about to send something.”

Martin said, “HarperCollins is insisting on handling this. Got it.”

Allison opened her mouth to respond, but Ethan cut her off, “We got it, Martin.” He hung up.

Allison turned to Ethan, “Why did you do that?”

Ethan smiled, “I said we got it. I didn’t say exactly how. Get dressed, we got to get going.”

***

By the time they arrived at the Minneapolis Performing Arts Center, the rumors had hit the morning papers, and the fans were rabid. Press turned out in droves. As Allison walked out behind Ethan, she felt every eye in the room raking over her midriff. She had deliberately chosen a cropped, tailored top that left absolutely no room for imagination, a silent, visceral rebuttal to the "baby bump" narrative.

Ethan had not explained to her what he had in mind, but she was ready to back his play however this went. She held the printed version of the statement from HarperCollins.  

Ethan sat up on stage with Allison hovering in the wings. A stagehand brought out a second chair, and Ethan gestured for her to join him. "Hart? You’re part of the circus, too. Come on up." At some point Ethan must have cancelled the moderator who was supposed to be here. He hadn’t mentioned that to Allison. Typically Ethan would start with a reading or some kind of prepared presentation, but today he just opened with the Q+A.  

The first fan in line, a nervous teenager clutching Beneath the Highland Sky, beamed at them. "Congratulations! I’m so happy for you both!"

Ethan didn’t even blink. "Thanks! We're registered at Big Jerry’s Fuel and Feed. We’re really hoping for a high-end air compressor and sour gummy worms."

The girl blinked, entirely unable to parse if he was joking, and Allison stifled a laugh. She whispered at Ethan, “What are you doing?”

He whispered back, “Hell if I know…but it’s going to be fun.”

Ethan didn't miss a beat. He looked up at the girl, his face perfectly serious. "If it's a boy, we’re going to name him Scotland. If it's a girl, we’re just going to leave her on a hillside to fend for herself. It’s tradition."

As the next fan came up, Allison decided to join the fun, “The real worry is that the kid is going to be born wielding a broadsword. I’ve read the medical journals; that sounds like a profoundly painful birth."

"I’m lobbying for a shield," Ethan added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He'll need it to block the paparazzi."

By the time they were ten people into the line, they were locked in a surreal, competitive rhythm. Every time a fan congratulated them, they escalated. They were essentially performing a high-stakes improv show.

Allison leaned over, her bare midriff pointedly visible to a nearby photographer. "We’re thinking of selling the exclusive rights to the ultrasound to the highest bidder. Do you have any connections at the New York Times?"

"We’re also considering a nursery theme," Ethan said to a wide-eyed fan. "Gothic dread meets Ikea minimal. It’s very 'existential crisis chic.'"

Allison smirked, her posture relaxed, her confidence absolute. The tension in the room had evaporated, replaced by a baffled, entertained silence. They weren't just "co-workers" anymore; they were a singular, unified force. They weren't fighting the rumors, they were mocking them into oblivion.  They were going to burn the entire circus down.

***

They managed to get back to the hotel before Allison’s phone rang. It was Martin. She answered, “Hi, Martin!  Did you see the show?”

“Are you alone?”

She shrugged at Ethan, before setting the phone down and putting it on speaker.  She still was spurred on by Ethan’s act of rebellion, “Just me, Ethan went down to the pool.”

“What the hell were you thinking? You are supposed to prevent this kind of thing from happening!”

Allison was disgusted, “What were we supposed to do? Just smile and take it. Ethan wanted to push back, and I am proud of him for it.”

“Ethan wanted to blow the circus up. This isn’t a game. HarperCollins is pissed. They want to pull you off the tour immediately.”

Allison looked at Ethan, and mouthed “Can they do that?”

Ethan shook his head.

“I work for Ethan, not for the publisher. They really can’t do that.”

“Of course they can, kid. At the end of the day, if they decide someone’s head is going to roll for this, it’s not going to be Ethan falling on the sword. He’s their golden goose. It would be Allison Hart”

“Ethan would never do that to me,” Allison said, though her voice lacked its earlier bite. She looked at Ethan, searching his eyes for the lie, but found only that familiar, reckless regret.

Martin’s tone softened, just a fraction, which made it all the more terrifying. “Kid, Ethan and I would have very little say. HarperCollins doesn’t care about loyalty; they care about the stock price. They’d replace you before the ink dried on your termination papers.”

Allison’s eyes fell to the ground, “I didn’t realize…”

Martin sighed, “And that is my fault.  You handle things so well, it’s easy to forget that you are a newcomer in this world. But Ethan certainly should have known better.  That is why I wanted to talk to you first. This isn’t the first stunt like this he’s pulled.

Allison glanced at Ethan, who had a caught with a hand in the cookie jar look. Allison asked, “What do you mean?”

“During the last tour, Ethan showed up at one of the Justice for Lock rallies. He took a selfie with a burning effigy. He was lucky no one recognized him, or he might have gotten tossed right in the fire himself. But he thought it was too great an opportunity to show up. Ethan always assumes he'll be the one paying for his mistakes. Sometimes he isn't, and I don’t want to see you get ground up in it. Even if you don’t get pulled from the road, HarperCollins could make sure your career aspirations never go higher than ‘Ethan Crump’s Assistant’.”

“Is that the worst thing in the world?”

“No. But I suspect you can do far better than that, and I know Ethan feels the same way.” Allison looked at Ethan, whose eyes were firmly locked on the ground.

“I am not Moira.” Allison said firmly

Martin said, “There are far worse people to be, kid. I will do what I can to mitigate this, but you both need to keep low for the rest of the day. That is not a suggestion this time, understood.”

After a long pause Allison said softly, “Understood.”

She hung up and looked at Ethan, who was unable to meet her glance. The silence in the hotel suite felt heavier now, no longer the cozy, quiet space of their late-night storytelling, but a vast, cold expanse. She needed answers, confirmation that this was a partnership and not just another one of his "stunts," but Ethan seemed utterly incapable of giving her either. He stood by the window, the city lights reflecting off the glass, looking like a man who had finally realized the fire he started had consequences.