I go into the kitchen, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and start to down it. I put the plastic bag on the counter, retrieving the box from inside. I turn it over in my hands again and again. Meanwhile, Noelle has made herself at home in my living room. I hear the TV on.
“So, I just pee on it?” I ask, stepping into the living room with her.
“Uh-huh,” she turns to look at me. “Tell me you’re not that naïve.”
“Well, I didn’t think I was,” I scoff.
I look at the box again. Pee on a stick, wait three minutes, find out what my future entails. No biggie.
“Noelle, I don’t want to,” I say, dropping the box onto the coffee table.
She turns the TV off, turning back to me.
“Cassidy, it’s going to be okay. No matter what the answer is, you’ll be fine, alright? Your baby daddy is Oliver Windsor. You’ll be set for life if he has to pay child support.”
But that’s going to complicate things even more. Do I tell Oliver if I’m pregnant? Would he even believe me? Do I ask for child support? I don’t want him to pay for everything for me for the rest of my life. I just...I just want things to be okay. We’d have to co-parent...I don’t think we’d be able to do that.
“I can’t do this,” I say, falling next to her on the couch. “I can’t be pregnant with Oliver’s child.”
With a sigh, Noelle reaches out to take my hand.
“Babe, I don’t think you have too much of a choice if you are or not. But...I can tell this is bothering you. I’ll support you no matter what you choose, okay? I’ll be right here with you.”
At least I’m not alone. Maybe Noelle is the real blessing I’ve gained since coming to New York. Forget the boys and their drama, but I’ve made a solid friend who’s one of the most supportive people I’ve ever met.
“Alright,” I take a deep breath, hold it, and then slowly let it out. “Alright. I can do this.”
She squeezes my hand.
“You can. I’ll be right here waiting and then we’ll figure out where to go from there, alright?”
I nod, let go of her hand and stand back up. I walk to the bathroom, pregnancy test box in hand. I close the bathroom door and start to open the package. My hands are shaking. I don’t know what I’m doing; I’m scared to death. I pull the test out of the package, toss the packaging into the trashcan, and take the test.
Afterward, I set it on the bathroom counter. I slide down the wall across from it, staring ahead as I wait those three minutes that I need to. The entire time, my mind is racing. How am I going to handle it if I’m pregnant? Am I ready to be a mother? Am I prepared? What am I going to tell my mom? What am I going to tell everybody?
Those three minutes are the longest of my life. The entire time my heart is pounding in my chest, my hands are shaking. Anxiety is running so high I feel like I’m going to pass out. When my time is up, I lean forward and grab the test from the counter. I close my eyes, not ready to see it yet.
I take a breath. I have to do this. I open my eyes and look at the thin white stick in my hand. In the small plastic window, I see two solid pink lines. A quick look to the side tells me exactly what that means.
I’m pregnant.
I don’t know how to process it. I don’t think I really do. I stand up off of the bathroom floor and step out into the hallway, walking back to the living room with the test in my hand. Noelle looks up as soon as I enter, eyebrows raised.
“What’s it say?” she asks. She takes a good look at me, likely notices how shaky I am, likely notices how ghost-like I’m walking. “Oh.”
She gets off the couch and walks forward, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. She leads me to the couch and helps me sit down.
“You sit here. I’ll make tea. Do you have tea? Do you like tea?” Her nose wrinkles before she shakes her head.
“Whatever. I’ll figure it out. You just stay here and rest. It’s going to be okay.”
She doesn’t even bother to look at the test in my hands. I think she just knows.
I hold the test in my hands for a few more seconds, checking that window countless more times to see if the line changes. What if it’s a false positive? What if I’m just seeing things? I know I’m not. I think I knew the moment I saw that test that I’m pregnant... I’m fucking pregnant.
I put the pregnancy test on the side table by the time Noelle returns with two cups of tea.
“Alright,” she says, setting the mugs on the coffee table. “What’s our plan? What are we doing?”
I’m glad she’s here. Otherwise, I would feel incredibly alone.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t have a plan.”
“Then we’ll make a plan. We need to get you in to see a doctor to confirm it, right? You need to start taking vitamins and taking care of yourself. We’ll decide whether you need to start telling people now or later when we find out how far along you are,” she pauses, blowing her tea before taking a sip. “You’re going to keep it...right?”
I hadn’t even thought of that. I hadn’t thought there was a possibility that I wasn’t going to keep it. I’m not ready to be a parent. I’m not ready to do any of this... but I don’t think I can give it up. Maybe I’m being stubborn. Maybe naïve, but I think I can handle it.
I just need to process.
I nod my head.
“I’m keeping it.” I say, looking at the cup of tea, slowly bringing it to my lips and taking a sip. “I can make a doctor’s appointment for next week. We can go from there.”
“Alright. Do you want me to come with you?”
I shake my head.
“I can handle it.”
I don’t know whether I can or not, but I don’t want to inconvenience Noelle any more than I already have. Especially knowing that she doesn’t even make a salary. She’s probably hardly scraping by. I don’t want to cost her any more workdays.
“I’ll just tell Alan that I’m having some health problems,” I add.
“Any plans on telling them about it?”
I hadn’t thought of that either.
“I should.”
“Yeah.”
“I probably won’t, though,” I say. “I need to further distance myself from Oliver, not raise a child with him.”
“Not to play devil’s advocate Cassidy, but he deserves to know if he doesn’t figure it out himself. He may be emotionally stupid, but he’s not dumb. He can put two and two together,” says Noelle.
She’s right, and I hate that she is, but I don’t know if I can look Oliver in the eye, after everything that has happened, and tell him that I’m pregnant with his child. I don’t want a child to be brought up the Windsor way. It creates broken children with questionable morals.
“I can’t think of this right now, Noelle,” I say, taking another sip of my tea.
It’s too much. I have too many decisions I have to make in such a slim amount of time. I need time to process it all. I need to take time for myself.
Her face softens and she nods her head.
“You’re right,” she says sympathetically. “We should take a break from all of this stress. How about we pig out tonight, watch movies and pretend like nothing’s wrong? We can start tackling all of the problems tomorrow.”
I nod.
“I think I can do that.”
My phone is buzzing in my purse, the one that has been forgotten in the kitchen since the minute I walked in the door. I’ve heard it for about an hour now, but I’ve been ignoring it, not wanting to deal with anybody else.
I stand up and head to grab it, searching in my purse for it quickly. I find it, still buzzing. I have missed calls from Oliver, and a series of text messages from him asking if I’m okay. He must know that I called out for the rest of my shift. I send him a quick, one-worded response. ‘Fine.’
I know he’s going to have more questions. I know I’m going to need to come up with better lies for him, but right now, I can’t think of anything except what’s goi
ng on with my body. I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby. His baby.
Underneath all of Oliver’s texts is another, one from Gavin. I hadn’t even thought of Gavin since lunch, realizing I had bigger problems on my hands. I open it, read it, and find myself sighing.
‘I’ve thought about it and decided that nothing can scare me away from you. Even your powerful, weird ex. Let’s get dinner soon and talk about it. I look forward to seeing you again.’
I...I can’t do this.
Noelle spends the night with me, something I’m unbelievably grateful for. I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle the night alone. We don’t talk about it for the rest of the night. We don’t even mention it. We watch movies, eat junk food, and pretend like everything is normal. I turn my phone off, so I don’t feel the need to reply to Gavin or Oliver. I let those worries leave my mind. It feels close to impossible initially, but eventually, it happens.
The next day is a different story. I wake up on my couch in a panic as soon as my alarm goes off. Noelle is curled up in the recliner, jumping up as well. We exchange looks, but don’t speak as we try to make ourselves look presentable for the day. We stop to get coffee on our way to work, otherwise, silence settles between us.
“It’s not my place to tell you what to do,” Noelle says as she parks in the parking garage. “But I really think that you should tell Oliver. Get ahead of the curve because this is going to get so much more complicated the longer you wait.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. I know I hardly look professional today. But I can make something up about still feeling sick if anybody cares.
“You’re right,” I mutter, but the idea of even bringing it up brings me to panic.
Oliver deserves to know, but I don’t know how to tell him.
Is there a right time?
Chapter Four
I try not to think about it over the weekend. I don’t bring it up to Oliver, I don’t reply to Gavin’s texts and Noelle knows better than to mention it. Monday on my lunch break is when my first appointment is scheduled for. I tell myself that I’m not telling Oliver yet because it’s not even confirmed. That could have been a false positive. I realize it’s not likely. I realize false positives are rare...but it’s a hope that I’m holding onto.
Noelle offers to come with me to my appointment, and I consider taking her up on that offer, but this is something I need to face alone. I head to the doctor’s office a little before my lunch break, hoping no one notices.
The office is a few blocks away from Windsor, a leisurely walk. I keep my head down as I walk inside and check-in with the receptionist. The walls in the office are painted a plain, sage green. There are no pictures on the walls, nothing to distract me from what’s going on, aside from a table of magazines.
The waiting room isn’t full. There are only two other women sitting inside, both of them with large, basketball-shaped stomachs. I try not to look at them, try not to imagine myself in their position in just a few short months.
“Miss Hanson?” the nurse pokes her head out the door, calling me back.
I put the home improvement magazine I had been looking through back on the table and stand, stepping through those doors and into my fate.
I go through the motions before the doctor can see me. Vitals, blood work, and peeing in a cup. I sit on the examination table, staring at the pictures on the wall. They’re the usual in a doctor’s office, brightly colored diagrams that outline the human body. The ones on this wall picture a fetus and diagrams how a pregnant mother carries a child. I can’t pretend I don’t know what’s going on any longer. I have to accept it.
When the door swings open, I jump, caught off guard. Dr. Whitney Johnson steps into the room. She’s an older woman with long brown hair in a ponytail. She looks at me with a smile.
“Cassidy? It’s great to meet you,” she says, extending her hand in my direction.
I take it and shake it gently.
“Nice to meet you as well, Dr. Johnson.”
She adjusts the clipboard in her hands, looking over at it.
“So, you took a pregnancy test at home and it came back positive? Any symptoms?”
“Just nausea,” I say, trying to think back on it. “Maybe I’ve been a little extra tired, but I just thought it was because of work...”
“Oh? What do you do?”
“I work in PR,” I say, adjusting myself anxiously on the table.
“You do look familiar...” she trails off, not finishing the sentence as she looks back down at the clipboard. “Well, I can confirm that you are pregnant, Miss Hanson.”
I feel faint. My cheeks are hot, my heart is pounding, my stomach aches. I feel like I’m going to be sick. I don’t know what to say; what am I supposed to say? I’ve been sitting with this information all weekend, knowing it was a possibility, knowing it was likely. But having a doctor confirm it makes it all feel real.
She lets me sit in silence for a moment before stepping forward.
“I have a feeling that’s not the news you were looking for,” she says softly, and I can immediately tell that Dr. Johnson is very good at her job.
I shake my head.
“That’s okay. Do you need a minute? Some water? Would you like to discuss your options before you go any further?”
Maybe I should...but my mind is made up. I’m keeping this child. It’s already a part of me. I shake my head again.
“No, I’m alright.”
She nods.
“Okay. Just know that I’m open to discussing whatever you feel is best for you,” she continues. “Would you like to see how far along you are, Cassidy?”
I can’t speak. I just nod my head. I don’t know what else to say. I’m pregnant.
What am I going to do?
I’m eight weeks pregnant. I have the ultrasound pictures in my purse to prove it. I have a list of things I need to start doing, like taking prenatal vitamins, cutting back on caffeine - and stress at work. I have an appointment in a few weeks, just a follow up. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.
I walk back to Windsor, just as Noelle is getting back from lunch. She sees me, her eyes going wide. She doesn’t have to ask; I walk right over to her and slide behind the counter.
“So?” she asks in a hushed whisper.
I reach into my bag, grab the ultrasound, and pull it out. I hand it to her, and Noelle takes a long look before slowly turning her gaze back to me.
“Got it,” she says, handing it back. “What’s next?”
“I don’t know,” I hate that I don’t have a plan. That’s not who I am. I am very much the type of person who has a plan before she jumps into something like this. But I didn’t plan for this...it just happened.
“How far along?”
“Eight weeks.”
“Okay, so you have time, but...” she sighs. “I know you’re going to get tired of me saying it, but you need to talk to Oliver.”
“I know...I just don’t know how.”
“Just say the words. Let it go from there. You need all the support you can get right now.”
“I haven’t told my mom yet.”
“Tell the future father of your child first, then your mom.”
But what if Oliver reacts weirdly? What if he doesn’t believe me? What if he freaks out on me? I’m sure women have tried this with him or his family before, trying to get the Windsor money...but I don’t have a choice. I don’t want the money.
“Fine,” I mutter under my breath. “I’ll tell him.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.”
I don’t know how, but I know I have to do it. If I don’t, Noelle’s going to keep hounding me about it and I don’t think I’m going to have the emotional stability to handle that for the next few months of my life.
“Alright,” she shrugs, looking like she doesn’t believe me, and I don’t quite blame her. “Just...let me know the plan. I’ll make sure my schedule’s free so if he wants to be an as
s I can a) bring you comfort and b) come kick his ass. It’ll be great. It’ll be cathartic.”
Noelle smiles up at me and I can’t help but return the smile.
I probably wouldn’t have made it through these crazy few days without her support. Just knowing what I have to do next...I’m definitely going to need her.
I go up to my office, sit behind my desk, and pull out my phone. I try to think of exactly what I should say. Instead, I settle for probably the most basic text I can.
‘Hey. Can you stop by tonight? I need to talk to you.’
I watch the three little dots signal that Oliver is typing, then he stops, then he starts typing again.
‘Is everything okay? We can talk now if you need to.’
I sigh. This man. ‘Yes. I just want to talk to you tonight. My place?’
I watch the dots continue and I feel myself starting to panic. He has to say ‘yes’. If he doesn’t agree to do it tonight, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to do it any other night. I’ve made my decision. I’ve determined that it has to be tonight.
Finally, he responds. ‘Yes. Okay. I will see you tonight around six.’
That gives me almost no time to back out after work. I’m surprisingly thankful for that.
I get home and immediately change into something more comfortable, a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. I pull my hair back, clearly not trying to impress him. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea, have him assume that I invited him over for another reason. I pull the papers from my doctor’s appointment out of my purse, along with the ultrasound photo, and place them face down on the coffee table.
There’s no going back from this. I’m just going to talk to him and get it out. Whatever happens from there is out of my hands.
I hear a knock at my door and I instantly feel the panic rising within me again. I take a breath, trying to calm myself before I walk to the door and open it.
Oliver is standing there, leather jacket over a cobalt blue t-shirt that hugs his body in all the right ways.
Fake Love Rich Boss Series Page 19