Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  “I’m not that kind of girl, Ash, and I don’t want to be - you know, the ones that are crazy and demanding and jealous. I know we started this with zero expectations, but I don’t want to be involved with someone who is involved with someone else. I just want your honesty… please… Were you in a relationship with her? Is she… is that… your baby?”

  My heart stopped and so did my breathing, realizing I could hear every word through the old, thin walls.

  “Danny, Taylor is my sister’s best friend from childhood. That’s all she’s ever been, I promise. I have no idea why she’s here, but I’ve known her for most of my life, and if she came to me because she needs help, I’m won’t turn her away. I can’t. Not after everything. But I can promise you that is not my baby. I’ve never touched her. Not like that.”

  Clutching the counter, I repeated to myself over and over that he wasn’t lying.

  How could he be lying if he didn’t know the truth?

  Still, my breaths labored as my heart cramped listening to his promises.

  I shouldn’t have come.

  Turning on the sink, I let the running water drown out whatever came next; I’d heard enough.

  I knew he didn’t remember that night but learning the truth could ruin the life he’d made for himself here. Oh God.

  I should leave.

  My heart beat back its response defiantly; he has a right to know. He has a right to know what happened…

  Again, my hand went to my belly.

  I was lost. Like a sheep that had wandered away from the flock. I’d been lost for months - since the moment I’d tested myself because my period was a day late, and I’d never been late for anything in my entire life.

  I squeezed my eyes shut.

  This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. It was only one night - only one time...

  Tears collected in the corners of my eyes and I quickly wiped them away when Ash and his girlfriend reappeared, the tension I’d caused between them much less. I pretended not to see when they kissed goodbye, but there was no use pretending I didn’t feel the sting.

  “Taylor.”

  My name rang out in the silence, like a call for truth - a truth I was not willing to part with right now. He stared me down as I walked back to the old, well-worn couch and sank onto it as though my legs had just run a marathon.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  My mouth opened and shut like a fish searching for food, only I was searching for words where there was suddenly none to be found.

  “I’m sorry,” I choked, shaking my head.

  “Shit. I’m sorry, Tay,” he apologized, dragging a hand through his hair. “I just didn’t expect…” I heard his long exhale as he sunk onto the ottoman in front of me, elbows resting on his knees, and his hands clasped between his legs. “Let’s start with the most important. Are you hurt? Are you in some sort of danger?”

  Only my heart. And only from you.

  “No—No, I’m fine.” I took another sip of water, but words still felt like they were trying to slide down a partially-wet water slide, sticking and pulling to the sides of my throat as gravity ripped them past. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a long night of travel and I didn’t sleep well on the plane, plus the time difference.”

  “And the fact that you’re pregnant,” he deadpanned, but neither of us laughed.

  It was the first time the obvious fact had been spoken.

  I was pregnant.

  “I can see that nothing gets by you,” I returned with a tight smile, scooting to the edge of the couch.

  “You’re pregnant,” he repeated, staring at my stomach like it would deflate any second.

  “Yes.” I nodded again, seeing the shock begin to consume him.

  “Pregnant…”

  “Yes, pregnant,” I huffed. “As in with child, knocked-up, expecting, going-to-have-a-baby-in-a-few-months pregnant.” I pulled the sides of my sweater tight so it molded over me and made the small bump clear.

  Hormones.

  I blamed the hormones.

  His attention snapped to my face and I drew a steadying breath, I began where I felt safest, “I’m pregnant, Ash, and I’m here because my parents are moving back to Nashville.”

  It was half of the reason why I’d ended up on his doorstep.

  There were many decisions I’d had to make since I read those two little lines. Is this real? Who do I tell? What do I do? Do I tell Ash? Do I wait until the baby is born? Do I tell him before? Do I tell him right now? Do I wait until the chance of miscarriage has passed?

  And then…

  What if he wants me to have an abortion? What if knowing this prevents him from coming back home? What if he thinks I did this to trap him?

  What if he doesn’t believe me?

  Some were more logical than others. Some more important. All equally unnerving.

  It wasn’t the sheer volume of questions which bothered me as much as how none of the answers, even the ones I chose, seemed right. Everything I picked looked right in one light and wrong in another.

  Because hearts were like funhouse mirrors; they distorted everything.

  Was he okay? Why did he leave? Was he ever planning on coming home? What was he doing with his life?

  But Who was he now? and What if he didn’t want our baby? were the ones which reigned supreme.

  And that was why I’d come to the decision to wait until after the baby was born to tell him; there were just too many unknowns.

  I wanted to have this baby regardless of whether Ash wanted it or didn’t want to be a part of our lives. And when I told him, it would be with the confidence and security that I could do this on my own if walking away was his decision.

  I’d lived a lifetime walking through a minefield, avoiding imperceptible bombs of guilt and judgment – one wrong step liable to set off a chain of explosions; I refused to put that kind of guilt on someone else, and have it affect my child in the process.

  My child.

  I wondered if the phrase would ever seem less earth-shattering.

  “So, if your parents are coming back and you left… I’m assuming you haven’t told them.”

  My chin dipped.

  Barely three months into this unexpected journey, my mother called to tell me she and my father, who’d retired to Florida several years prior, missed their church and social circle in Nashville and decided they’d split the year between Tennessee and Florida.

  As much as I disagreed with my parents on many things, as much as I worried them by working with Blake in an industry ‘littered with lust and hate and falseness,’ they were still my parents. I loved them and they loved me, but in their own, regulated way.

  And unwed and pregnant with the father currently M.I.A… I swallowed over the bitter lump in my throat.

  Twenty-six years with Miriam and Isaiah Hastings had given me enough first-hand evidence to know I wouldn’t have their support, even though it broke my heart to admit it.

  “No, they don’t.”

  I was going to have this baby, but I wouldn’t do it in Nashville with the storm-cloud of their judgment drenching me in shame with each step I took.

  “I couldn’t stay. I mean… because of the baby. You know how they are. I think—I think it would kill them to know…” I trailed off in a whisper, loving God but hating religion for the way its rules destroyed the love founded in faith.

  Without experiencing it firsthand, I knew many saw Catholic guilt as something inconsequential to be shrugged off. But if you lived it, you knew…

  It was like shrugging off a three-hundred-pound cross off your shoulders only to have religion pick it up and nail you to it.

  My confirmation wasn’t met with any surprise. Ash had known my parents for many years while we were growing up. He knew the extent of their kindness and charity just as much as he knew the severity of their stringent adherence to what they believed.

  Of course, there would be a time and place to challenge their bel
iefs and test their love, but it wasn’t right now. Not like this.

  And that was how my choice to wait until the baby was born before telling Ash went out the window.

  “So… you came here?” he choked in disbelief, wincing when I couldn’t hide the hurt from my face. “You know what I mean, Tay. Why did you come to me?”

  “Because!” I cried in frustration. “You’re the only other person left. Blake, your family, the rest of my small group of friends, they’re all in Nashville, and I can’t stay there. I’m pregnant, Ash. I’m pregnant and scared and most importantly, I’m doing this alone. I don’t want to be alone, and you’re the only person I have left who isn’t there.”

  None of that was a lie.

  It wasn’t the whole truth, but it definitely wasn’t a lie.

  “You were the only one I knew enough… felt safe enough… to come to,” I continued thickly, noticing his surprise. I had a feeling ‘brave’ wouldn’t be one of the first words that came to mind if Ash were to describe himself. “I need to be brave now and I didn’t think I could do it completely alone. I need some time to figure out a new plan for my life. For our lives…”

  I meant mine and the baby, but the way he looked at me, a flicker of possessiveness I’d only seen one other time flashed in his beautiful blue eyes as though I meant him and me.

  He rubbed a hand over his bare chest.

  Why hadn’t he put a shirt on yet? I licked my lips, really wanting to lick along his chest muscles that stretched with his deep breaths. He looked like Rodin’s ‘Thinker,’ poised in contemplation, each harsh plane carved with concern.

  This was not the right time to feel this - to want him.

  “Who’s the father?”

  My heart stopped. The question I dreaded most. The question I knew would be inevitable. I was too close to him… to his sister and family… for him to feel too uncomfortable to ask.

  I swore I was going to tell him before he got the chance to ask. I swore I was going to look him in the eye when he opened the door and tell him I was pregnant with a child he didn’t know he had because of a night he didn’t remember.

  But then reality opened his front door instead (And reality was rarely what you expected it to be) with Ash’s girlfriend by his side. And I just… I just couldn’t tell him right now.

  I needed to know who the man in front of me was… I needed to know who the father of my child had become.

  I needed to process before I could progress.

  “Please don’t ask me that right now,” I pleaded firmly, averting my eyes from his. Maybe it was one more wrong choice, but there was too much at stake. “What matters is that I’m here… why I’m here…”

  “Because you couldn’t stay in Tennessee,” he reiterated slowly.

  “Because I came to see if I could stay with you.”

  Ash

  ‘I came to see if I could stay with you.’

  Each word echoed screamed that there were more secrets behind every answer she gave me. But I was in no position to demand she share them. I knew, because I’d been in her position.

  Okay, not fucking pregnant. But I’d been the one to show up here not that long ago, lost and looking for a safe place to collect myself and craft a new beginning.

  I knew what it was like to combat an army of questions inside your own head; the last thing needed was an influx of outside support.

  No. My help wasn’t contingent on her full-disclosure. If she needed me, I would be there. Just like she had done for me.

  “Okay.” I stared down at my locked fingers as I answered her question. As though there were any other answer.

  I knew her parents and the circles they kept. They were the embodiment of my perception of the Catholic church. So much good layered on top of a foundation which could be so unforgiving. And Tay was too lenient in how she framed their assured response; I knew the unique brand of hell she’d have to live in if she stayed home.

  There was this girl in high school, Melanie. She’d been much less interested and less concerned about the church-life her parents, friends of the Hastings and prominent church members tried to impose on her. She’d gotten pregnant my junior year with one of the varsity football players.

  Two months after finding out and telling her parents, Melanie committed suicide. I didn’t know what was done or said – my family didn’t really go to church. But I heard the rumors. I heard they were going to force her to give the child up for adoption. I heard they were going to send her to a nunnery after graduation.

  Maybe they were exaggerated – like rumors usually are. But then again, she had fucking killed herself.

  I didn’t care what the hell religion it was, when the punishment for one sin was so severe it drove you to commit another, it seemed to me someone, somewhere had gotten the real message completely wrong.

  Taylor was too strong to be shaken like that. She was always strong. Unwavering in her beliefs.

  Even in high school, she’d never been teased for being a prude, never mocked for not going to parties or drinking. She was universally liked and unsurpassably popular because people recognize strength, even when they don’t understand or agree with where it comes from.

  Still, it didn’t make me any less relieved that she’d come to me rather than face her parents.

  I didn’t have much to offer, but what I did, sure-as-hell was judgment free.

  “Look,” I said, dragging a hand through my hair. “You’ve had a long night, Tay. Why don’t you lay down and rest for a little bit while I take care of some work I have to get done, and then… we can talk again later.”

  Her head shook side to side, almost frantically. “I can’t sleep. Not right now,” she confessed. “My mind is just… too much… at the moment.” She licked her lips – still the perfect pink arches like I remembered. “I mean, you don’t have to stay with me, but I think I just need to go for a walk or something to clear my head.”

  My mouth thinned. No way in hell I was going to let her go wandering around by herself. Not in her condition. Not after hours of travel. Not on my watch.

  “Alright, then you’re coming with me.” It wasn’t a question.

  And I didn’t leave her time to disagree before I went into the bedroom to change.

  Aside from Larry and the guys, I hadn’t taken anyone out to my restaurant yet. Not even Danny.

  But she’d shared her secret, and now it looked like I was going to share mine.

  Or one of them.

  Taylor trailed behind me out to the construction site which would soon turn into my restaurant. She might have come asking for a place to stay - a sanctuary - but the look in her eyes said she was here for much, much more.

  Not just a sanctuary, but salvation.

  I’d be lying if I didn’t need a walk ‘or something,’ too. She’d just dropped a fuckton of information on me - too much for my tiny shack to handle - and ocean air always seemed to help with processing.

  Maybe some manual fucking labor would make understanding this easier.

  …And give my body something to do besides think about how much it still wanted her.

  “Where are we going?” she asked quietly.

  I was surprised she’d made it this long without asking; I knew how not-knowing ate away at Taylor’s need-to-know mind. The Taylor I knew carried around a planner for her planner, and still had every event or engagement for my sister on her computer and phone. On the tour, if anyone had a question, they went to Taylor. Costumes, staging, lighting, sound, songs, timing… she was the know-it-all.

  “To my restaurant.” That familiar pride bloomed in my chest; this was mine.

  I turned to check on her as I heard her trip behind me. “Y-You have a restaurant?”

  “Almost. It’s still being finished,” I grinned, enjoying my chance to surprise her.

  We emerged from the end of the path down into the clearing, and she didn’t ask any more questions.

  Sitting out on a jutting piece of rock and e
arth stood my future. And as if on cue, the first full rays of sunlight streamed over our backs and onto the building. This moment - the beginning of a new day - was never lost on me; the moment when instead of giving in at the darkest hour, you can still choose to rise again.

  We’d expanded the house’s frame into the modern, single-story structure that sat here now. On the east side, the side that we’d approached from, the exterior still resembled a house with stucco and smaller windows.

  “Wow…”

  I shouldn’t have, but I turned to glance at her. Even though I could still see her exhaustion from traveling, she was still the most beautiful girl… woman… I’d ever seen. My eyes locked on her stomach again.

  Pregnant.

  Taylor was pregnant.

  I knew I wasn’t good with processing change - especially change I didn’t see coming. And this… I huffed. In my mind, Taylor Hastings had always been this mythical creature. Good and enchanting, but not real. Timeless. Untouchable.

  But now she stood beside me with undeniable proof that she was real – and that she had been touched.

  My fist tightened with the inappropriate reaction that someone had touched what belonged to me.

  There were so many things wrong with that thought, it was pointless to delve into each of them. But I still had it. I still felt it.

  I’d looked at Taylor for so long that at some point, it was a natural assumption that no one would ever touch her. And if someone did, that lucky sinner would be me.

  “I bought the house here two-and-a-half months ago. Actually, nine weeks and three days,” I began, the memory etched into my mind as I cleared my throat and I unlocked the door. “So, yeah… it’s come a long way.”

  As soon as the door opened, the magic of the location came to life.

  The coastline and ocean was visible from the left and front sides of the building, so I turned those walls into windows. Huge fucking windows. The right side, more obscured with trees, was an ideal spot for the kitchen.

  I watched as she passed me, wandering right up to the large, thick glass that had been a sonofabitch to install and a downright expensive motherfucker to purchase. And her expression alone was worth all the trouble.