by Nikki Ash
I tear the blanket off me and jog inside, hoping she’s still here. When I open the door, I find her in the kitchen, cooking at the stove. Her back is to me, her hair up in a messy bun. She’s wearing a tiny tank top and shorts, and she’s dancing to the silent beat in her earbuds. I inhale a sigh of relief. She’s still here. I’m not too late.
As if feeling my stare, she twirls around with the most beautiful smile on her face. “Morning,” she says, plucking her earbuds from her ears. “I made us breakfast.” She practically bounces over to me, setting a plate of food on the table for me.
“I woke up this morning and didn’t want to wake you,” she says, sitting in her seat in front of her own food. “Look what I did.” She grabs a piece of paper from the other side of the table and hands it to me. I sit across from her and read it:
Enroll back at ULV
Apply to USD
Apply to internship at Scripps
Ask Mom about job at rec center
The list goes on, detailing every step of her new plan.
My eyes meet hers, and I swallow my emotions. She came here to heal, to move forward, and she did exactly that. We both got what we came here for, and now we have to walk away. It doesn’t matter that I’ve fallen in love with this woman. I can’t ask her to wait for me, to put her life on hold. She’s young and happy and carefree, and she deserves to have this fresh start, to look forward to her future again. I would only hold her back, and I won’t do that to her.
Micaela
I finish packing the last of my stuff and glance around my room, double-checking to make sure I’m not leaving anything before I turn the light off. In the dark, I take a deep breath, willing myself to smile, to be happy. In a few minutes, we’ll part ways and then I can have a good cry. But right now I need to be strong. I promised him nothing more, and even though I’ve fallen completely in love with him, I won’t put Ryan in that position. It’s not fair to him, to me. He helped me heal, move forward, and when I get home I’m going to do just that. I will focus on my future. I can’t be with him. He’s not the man for me. I just barely moved past the death of my husband. It would be idiotic to even consider being with another man whose job involves risking his life. No, Ryan is not the one for me. He will always hold a special spot in my heart for what he did for me this week, but he’s not my future.
I roll my luggage down the hall and find Ryan in the foyer with his. He grants me a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and I wonder if he’s already missing me the way I am him. If he is, though, he doesn’t say anything.
We step outside and he locks the door. I want to push it back open, beg him to give us a few more days. I’m not ready to go home yet, ready to leave him.
But I don’t. I plaster on a fake smile and wrap my arms around him for a hug, breathing him in, trying to memorize everything about him before we part ways.
“Thank you for everything,” I choke out.
Ryan holds me tight against him, and I sink into his touch. “Thank you,” he murmurs into my ear. “You got this, Micaela. Promise you’ll invite me to your college graduation.” He laughs, and I join in.
“I will,” I vow.
Reluctantly, we separate. He looks at me like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. He bends slightly and kisses the corner of my mouth. “You’re going to do amazing things.”
“While you’re off saving the world,” I half-joke.
“Something like that.”
I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek, needing to touch him one last time. “I will never forget this week,” I tell him.
“You and me both.”
Four hours later, I get home and my family is waiting for me. My mom pulls me into a hug and tells me I look great. My dad says he’s missed me and is glad I’m home. My brother and sister both hug me and tell me they’ve missed me.
The following days I keep myself busy. I do exactly what I said I was going to do. I enroll in ULV for the fall semester. I only have one semester left, so I also apply to San Diego for spring semester. I submit my application for the internship at Scripps. I also get my job back at the rec center. It’ll not only keep me busy until I start school in August, but will help me put money away for when I make the move to San Diego.
I don’t see Ryan again, but my dad mentions he left. Two months in Texas at Fort Bliss for training and then he’ll be in Afghanistan for the next year. I send a prayer to God to keep him safe, and then I visit Ian’s grave, and for the first time since he died, I talk to him without crying. I read him my letter, and when I’m done, I rip it into pieces and let it go into the wind.
The days turn into weeks. I stay busy with work, my friends, my family. I think about Ryan often, but I don’t allow myself to go there. I can’t. I’m finally back to my old self. My heart is finally healing. My future is mapped out. And then one day my phone rings with a number I don’t recognize, shocking the hell out of me.
Ryan
“Hello.” Her voice is so sweet over the phone. I want to record it and listen to it over and over again. It’s been two months since I’ve seen her, heard her, touched her, and I miss her so goddamn much.
“Hey,” I say dumbly.
“Ryan,” she says back, curiosity and maybe hope in her tone.
“I got your number from the receptionist at the Fight Club.” I take a deep breath. “I’m in Texas…”
“Fort Bliss.” She knows where I am. Does that mean she asked about me? Does she miss me the same way I miss her?
“Yeah. We have a weekend before we leave, and I was wondering…” I clear my throat. “I thought maybe I could get you a ticket and fly you down here for a few days.”
“Ryan.” This time, the way she says my name has my heart plummeting. I already know what she’s going to say, and I don’t blame her. This was a bad idea. We said goodbye, went our separate ways.
“I know,” I tell her, not needing her to explain. I shouldn’t have called, shouldn’t have put her in this position. “Everything’s okay with you?” I ask, steering the conversation away from rough waters.
“Yeah,” she says softly. “You?”
“Yeah.” We’re both silent for a moment, and I mentally kick myself for calling her. I already know she’s doing good. I’ve asked around, stalked her social media. She’s happy, moving forward. “I better go,” I finally say. “I just want you to know I’m so proud of you.” And before she can say anything back, I hang up.
“Cruz,” Antwon Stark, my friend and squad mate says, walking over. “The guys and I are going to head to Trolley’s. You down?” Trolley’s is a bar near the base where everyone goes to have a drink, get dinner, chill out when we have downtime.
I stare at my phone, wondering if maybe I should’ve tried harder. Told her how I feel. Begged her to come visit me. As I’m contemplating calling her back, a text comes through from her.
Two words: I’m sorry
“Yeah,” I say to Stark, “let’s go.”
Ryan
Seven Months Later
“Oh my God, you’re here!” My mom runs across the room and throws her arms around me for a hug. “Let me see you.” She backs up, wiping her happy tears from her eyes, and assesses me from head to toe like she does every time I come home. I’m seven months into my tour in Afghanistan and was able to put in for my leave for the last two weeks of December. As soon as I arrived on U.S. soil, I drove home to see my parents. I had assumed they would be in Breckenridge for the holidays, but luckily, instead of surprising both my parents, I told my dad to give him a heads-up, and learned they were staying home this year.
“Welcome home, Son.” My dad pulls me into a tight hug.
“Thanks.” I glance around the house. “Where are Faith and Chloe?”
“They’re at the boutique,” Mom says. “It’s crazy busy with the holidays. They’ll be over later with Cameron and Brad and the kids.” Mom hugs me again.
“Is that why you guys aren’t in Breckenridge th
is year?” I ask, bummed they’re here while everyone else is there. It’s been seven months since I’ve heard Micaela’s voice, almost nine since I’ve seen her. I considered calling her a million times, but didn’t think a satellite call from overseas was the best way to talk about us. I typed up a dozen emails, but nothing I wrote seemed to convey my thoughts correctly. I checked her social media a couple times, but she hasn’t posted a single thing. To say I was looking forward to finally seeing her would be an understatement, but it’s not like I could go to Breckenridge when my family is here.
“Everybody stayed home this year,” Mom says, shaking me from my thoughts.
“What do you mean?” Everybody always goes to Breckenridge for the holidays, every year since I was brought into this family. Except last year when Micaela’s family stayed home because she was mourning the death of her husband…
Mom frowns. “It’s been a weird year. Micaela left for a couple weeks and when she came back…” She clears her throat.
“When she came back, what?” I prompt, starting to freak the hell out. My dad gives me a weird look, but I ignore it, focusing on my mom.
“She found out she was pregnant.” All the blood drains downward. “She’s due soon and can’t travel, so everybody is staying home for the holidays. We’re planning to still go up for a couple weeks after the New Year.”
“She’s pregnant?” I choke out. “How far along?”
“Nine months. She’s due in a couple weeks,” Dad says, eyeing me curiously. “You okay?”
“Who’s the dad?”
Mom shakes her head. “We’re not sure. After she found out, Marco and Bella kind of stepped back from everyone. I think they’re just trying to be there for their daughter.”
“I need to go,” I say, already halfway out the door.
“What? Why?” Mom calls out.
“I’ll be back!” I yell, slamming the door behind me and jogging to my truck.
The drive to Micaela’s house isn’t far since they live in the next neighborhood over. I could’ve walked, but I’m too worked up. There’s no way… She can’t be… I’m not… I can’t even finish a single fucking thought. My fists are clenched around the steering wheel, and I’m dripping in sweat from the adrenaline coursing through my body. There has to be an explanation. Maybe she got home and slept with someone else. The thought of another man inside her only pisses me off further.
I press the code into the call box at their gate, knowing it since I’ve been here several times over the years, then pull through, stopping behind Micaela’s vehicle. I slam the truck into park, turn the ignition off, and jump out. I bang on the door, and several seconds later, it swings open.
Bella. Her eyes widen knowingly, but I don’t ask her shit. I don’t want to hear it from her. I want to hear it from Micaela herself.
“I’d like to speak to Micaela, please,” I grit out, trying to remain polite.
She nods once. “Come in.” I step inside, but before she can call for Micaela, she comes waddling out of the kitchen, her eyes on the slice of pizza she’s consuming and her phone in her other hand. She doesn’t spot me at first, and I use the moment to take her in. She’s strikingly beautiful. Her hair is up in her signature messy bun, exposing her slim neck, the same neck I kissed and sucked on. She’s wearing a shirt that says Mama in the making and tight leggings that cover her legs. Her feet are bare—the same feet I trailed kisses across.
My eyes go back to the shirt, to what’s under the shirt. The reason for the saying on the shirt, the reason why she’s waddling. There’s a large bump—a bump that only comes from a woman being pregnant.
“Is it mine?” I blurt out.
Micaela’s gaze shoots up, her eyes turning into saucers. The pizza is hanging out of her mouth, and in shock, she drops her phone. She scrambles to pick it up, but her belly is big and she can’t bend easily. Her mom rushes over and picks it up, then takes the pizza and plate from her, setting it on the counter.
“Ryan,” Micaela breathes, stunned frozen in place. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
Her question rubs me the wrong way. “I asked you a fucking question.” I step toward her. “Is the baby mine?”
Her eyes dart from her mom to me, and then she nods. “Yes,” she whispers, at least having the decency to look ashamed.
“Do my parents know?” There’s no way they would know she was carrying my baby and keep that from me.
“No,” she says, confirming my thoughts. “They just know I’m pregnant.”
“Did you know?” I ask Marco, who has just stepped into the room, joining his wife and daughter. “Did you?” I glance at Bella. “Did you guys know your daughter was pregnant with my fucking baby?”
“You need to calm down,” Marco says, stepping toward me. Judging by how calm he is, he either knew, or he’s putting on a damn good front pretending not to be shocked.
“Fuck calming down,” I boom. “She’s pregnant with my fucking kid.” I look over at Micaela. “Why don’t my parents know?”
Micaela swallows thickly. “Nobody, besides my parents, Lexi, and Georgia, knows you’re the dad.”
“Were you going to ever tell me?” I ask, my fists clenching at my sides.
“I—” Tears prick her eyes, and normally that would have me trying to comfort her. While we spent time together, I would’ve done anything to make sure she didn’t shed a single tear. But I’m too pissed right now.
“Don’t you fucking cry,” I bark, stalking up to her.
Marco steps between us. “You need to calm down,” he repeats.
I get in his face, towering a good four inches over him. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. I just found out the woman I slept with is pregnant and didn’t even have the decency to tell me.”
I step around Marco, so I’m face-to-face with the woman who’s been keeping secrets. “Were you going to keep my baby from me?” I don’t give her a chance to answer. “Tell him he has no father? Or that his didn’t want him?”
She shakes her head, tears coursing down her cheeks.
“Fuck, Micaela. I came from a home where my parents didn’t want me. I was adopted because they chose drugs over me. How the fuck could you do this?”
I point my finger at Marco. “You of all people should understand. She”—I jab my finger toward Bella—“kept her”—I point at Micaela—“from you.”
“That’s enough!” Marco barks. “One, you need to keep my wife the hell out of this. And two, nobody was keeping the baby from you.”
“No? Then explain to me why she’s standing there nine fucking months pregnant and I’m only just finding out about it. And only because my mom told me!”
There’s a gasp from behind me, and when I turn around, my parents are standing in the doorway. My mom’s covering her mouth with her hands, and my dad is glaring at Marco.
“The baby is yours?” Mom asks, walking farther into the room. She directs her next question at Micaela. “That baby is my son’s and you weren’t going to tell him?” She looks at Bella, confusion and anger in her eyes. “How could you?”
“You knew?” my dad asks, his question directed at Marco.
“It wasn’t our place to say,” Marco says. “It was Micaela’s decision and whether we agreed with it or not, we had to respect it.”
“Please,” Micaela says softly, her eyes bloodshot, and her cheeks tearstained. “Let me explain.”
Micaela
Seven Months Ago
“Yep, you’re pregnant,” Lexi says as I flush the toilet after throwing up for the third time. She turns her phone around so I can view the screen. “Throwing up, sore breasts, no period. All signs point to you being knocked up.”
I rinse my mouth out with mouthwash then wash my hands. “It could be food poisoning,” I say, completely in denial.
“Or the flu,” Georgia adds.
Lexi scoffs. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” Lexi swipes her keys off the dresser.
“Where to?” I ask.
“The store to get a test,” she says over her shoulder, already walking out the door.
The three of us jump into her jeep and she heads to the store. The entire way my heart thumps against my ribcage as I continue to pretend Lexi is crazy. There’s no way I’m pregnant. We only had sex a couple times. Mentally, I roll my eyes, knowing that’s all it takes.
“You coming in?” she asks when she pulls into the parking spot in front of the drug store.
“No, you go.” I pull my credit card out of my back pocket, but she waves me off.
“Save it, you’ll need all the money you can get when you have this baby.”
“Lex,” Georgia groans.
“What? It’s the truth.” She shrugs. “And I call dibs on throwing the baby shower.”
A few minutes later she gets back in the car and drops the bag into my lap. “I bought a few just in case. Did you know the tests are on the same aisle as the condoms and tampons?” She cackles, and Georgia smacks her arm, glaring. “What?” she says, exasperated. “It’s pretty damn ironic. You’re going to that aisle for something. If not to get condoms, then to get a pregnancy test. It’s like a reminder every time you go to grab condoms. If you don’t use these, you’ll end up buying those.”
If what she was saying wasn’t so damn true, I would be laughing right along with her. But the fact is, Ryan and I didn’t use protection. He pulled out every time, but everyone knows that isn’t foolproof.
We get back to her house and I take all three tests. All of them saying the same damn thing: PREGNANT
I’m freaking pregnant.
Lexi was right. All the signs pointed to my being pregnant, but I didn’t want to admit it. Now, I have no choice.