One Crazy Week

by Claire Kingsley

  “I just got back from the doctor’s office,” I say. “It was fucking Cody, though. That was awesome. And by awesome, I mean mortifying.”

  “Oh my god, you saw Cody?” Nicole says. She puts a hand to her mouth, clearly trying to stifle laughter.

  I glare at her. “It’s not funny.”

  “No, no, it isn’t,” she says, still half laughing. “It’s just … of course you’d go to the doctor and it would be Cody.”

  “I made the appointment to see someone else, but she wasn’t there.”

  “Yeah, at least Cody’s a good guy,” she says. “Okay, so you’re pregnant. Holy shit, Melissa. This is huge.”

  “You think?” I say.

  “Do you know why it happened?” she asks. “What were you using?”

  “Just condoms,” I say. “But we used one every single time. Every time, I swear. We went through a lot of them.”

  “Well, they’re not one hundred percent,” she says. “Nothing is.”

  A memory runs through my mind, hazy with alcohol. “Oh shit.”

  “What?”

  “The limo,” I say.

  “What about the limo?” Nicole asks.

  “We went out to this club and got really drunk, and then he fucked me in the limo. And again in the villa. I have no idea if he used a condom. And—son of a bitch—the time he showed up here in the middle of the night. He might not have then, either. I was half asleep, I didn’t even think about it.”

  “Well, I guess that would do it,” she says. She’s quiet for a long moment. “Have you told him?”

  I stare at my coffee table. When I answer, my voice trembles. “No. I haven’t talked to him at all.”

  “Come here, sweetie,” she says, wrapping her arms around me. I lean into her. “You know you have to tell him, right?”

  I groan.

  “It’s his baby too, Mel,” she says. “He has a right to know.”

  “There’s no way he’s going to want to have anything to do with this,” I say. “I know how he lives. His life is all parties and fancy restaurants and expensive clothes and yelling at people in meetings. There’s no room for a baby in all that. I don’t even think he wants kids.”

  “Do you know that?” she asks. “Did he ever say he doesn’t want kids?”

  “No,” I say. “We never talked about it. Why would we? This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to go off and have this crazy week that didn’t mean anything.”

  Nicole leans her cheek against my head. “But it did mean something, didn’t it?”

  Tears sting my eyes. “Yeah. It did.”

  Nicole makes tea and stays with me for a while. It’s well after dark when she finally leaves. She offers to stay over, but I don’t want to make her do that. It isn’t like it will change anything.

  And there’s a phone call I need to make.

  Dread makes my fingers jittery as I bring up Jackson’s number. I do not want to do this. But I have to. There isn’t any other option. My heart beats hard, and I feel a bit like I might throw up. I figure I should get used to that feeling.

  He answers on the first ring. “Hi, Melissa?”

  The background is so loud, I almost can’t hear him. “Hi, yeah. I can’t hear you very well.”

  “Sorry,” he says. “Hold on.” He pauses and the noise fades. “There, is that better?”

  “Now you sound kind of echoey,” I say.

  “I’m in the stairwell.”

  “Of your building? What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Um, nothing, just, you know, some people,” he says.

  “Oh, right, a party,” I say. “Fuck, it’s Friday night. I didn’t even think of that.”

  “No, it’s okay,” he says. “Don’t apologize. It’s good to hear your voice. Really good.”

  “Listen, Jackson, I need to talk to you about something,” I say.

  “Yeah, me too,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you but—”

  “Jackson,” I say. “Let me talk.”

  “Sure.”

  I take a deep breath. There’s only one way to say this. “I’m pregnant.”

  Jackson is silent. I wait, bile rising in my throat.

  “Jackson?”

  “You … okay … um.”

  The phone disconnects.

  He fucking hung up on me? Anger tears through me and I almost throw my phone at the wall. That fucking bastard. He gets me pregnant and now he can’t even—

  My phone rings. Jackson.

  I press answer, ready to fly off the handle and scream at him.

  “Melissa? Please, I’m sorry. I dropped my phone. I swear, I didn’t mean to hang up.”

  I hold the phone to my ear, breathing hard.

  “Melissa?” he says. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect that. You took me by surprise.”

  “Yeah, it took me by surprise, too.”

  “Holy shit,” he says. “Okay, I’m… Sorry, I’m just not sure what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” I say. “I will. This happened. I’m pregnant. And I’m going to have the baby, so let’s not even talk about that. That’s just how it’s going to be. I’m sure this is something you’ve tried to avoid for a long time. It sucks that it had to be me. But I won’t make a mess of this for you, okay? I’m not going to come after you, or broadcast this to the world or anything. I don’t need anything from you. I felt like you had the right to know about it, but that’s where this ends for you. You don’t need to do anything.”

  “I don’t need to do anything?” he asks. I can hear the anger in his voice. “Melissa, this is my baby, too. Of course I’m going to do something. What the fuck? Do you think I’d just walk away?”

  “Well, look at you,” I say. “You’re probably half drunk at your party right now. This isn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want long-term. You wanted a fun time with me, and you got it.”

  “Is that what you think?” he says. “That’s all it was?”

  “We both know that’s what it was,” I say. My throat feels like it’s going to close up, and tears fill my eyes again.

  “I’m not going to just walk away,” Jackson says.

  “You can’t fix this, Jackson,” I say. “Your money isn’t going to help.”

  “Yes, it is,” he says. “No, that’s not what I mean. I can help with costs, obviously. That’s a given, but that’s not all I can do. I can be there. I want to.”

  “I won’t be a responsibility that will wind up stifling you.” I sniff and take a shuddering breath, trying to hold back the tears. “I called because you needed to know. That’s all.”

  I hang up and toss my phone on the couch.

  Seconds later, my phone buzzes, lighting up with Jackson’s number. I don’t answer. He knows. I did what I had to do. I can’t talk to him anymore.

  25

  Jackson

  I hit send, trying to call Melissa again, but she doesn’t answer. I don’t bother leaving a message. I don’t know what to say. I can’t make her talk to me.

  My chest is tight, like I can’t breathe, and I stare at the wall. Did she just say she’s pregnant? How is that possible? We were careful. I was…

  Oh.

  No, I wasn’t careful. Not every time. After the club, I was too drunk to think straight. I remember hiking up her skirt in the limo, but I do not remember putting on a condom. And I can’t blame the alcohol—that wasn’t the only time. At her house, when I surprised her in the middle of the night. A voice in the back of my mind tried to remind me, but she felt so fucking good. I didn’t stop myself. She didn’t say anything either, but I certainly can’t blame this on her. She was clear with me that she wasn’t using birth control, and I said I’d take care of it.

  Come to think of it, she’s the only woman I’ve ever had unprotected sex with. I always use a condom, even when the woman assures me she’s on birth control. I never take that chance. Too many women have tried to worm their way into my life over the years, w
anting my money. An unplanned pregnancy is eighteen to life. I wasn’t going to let a woman snare me that way.

  I’m not even sure I want kids. I’m a great long-range planner when it comes to business, but as far as my personal life goes, I fly by the seat of my pants. Before meeting Melissa, I had no desire for a relationship, let alone a family. I saw the bullshit my parents went through. They were miserable. My own experiences with women were more or less the same. After a while, all my relationships went downhill, and I ended them. I’m resigned to being the perpetual bachelor. I have other things in my life that fulfill me.

  I go upstairs, leaving the noise of the party behind. I’m not enjoying it anyway. Just a bunch of hangers-on, all wanting a piece of me. I don’t know who half of them are. Maybe more than half. I keep trying to fill the quiet, to dull the pain in my gut, but nothing works. I don’t want those assholes who are clogging up my condo, drinking my booze. I don’t want another bottle of Scotch, or a new car, or a vacation in the fucking Caribbean—all things I would have turned to in the past when life got hard.

  I want Melissa.

  I grab a bottle of water out of my fridge and take a drink, trying to gather my thoughts. She’s pregnant. Melissa is going to have a baby.

  My baby.

  That should terrify me. I should be calling Tammi—having her draw up some sort of agreement to make this go away. I’d agree to pay for everything if I can step out of the picture, and make Melissa sign something so she won’t go to the media. I should be shaking with fear, or with anger, or … something.

  But I’m not. In fact, I can’t stop smiling.

  I imagine my beautiful Melissa, her belly swelling with the baby we made. I can’t even name all the things I’m feeling. I’m worried, and amazed, and more than a little bit scared. But more than anything, I’m overcome with an overwhelming desire to protect her. I want to wrap her in my arms and keep her safe. I want to watch over her while she nurtures our baby. I don’t want her out of my sight.

  It’s late, and I’m in no state to get behind the wheel, so I text my driver. I know Melissa won’t see me tonight, but I’m not going to stay a hundred fifty miles away from her. I’ll go to Jetty Beach, get a hotel, and figure out what to do.

  This is something I can’t fix—but I don’t want to. I have no idea how this happened to me. Tammi and Dennis are right: I’m in love with her. It feels good to admit it, even just to myself. I’ll tell her, as soon as she lets me see her. I’ll tell her I love her, and I want to be there for her, and our baby. I’ll find a way to show her that I’m serious. That I can change. That I’m in this for the long haul, no matter what happens.

  I throw a few things in a bag and text Dennis to tell him I’m leaving. I’ll sneak out the back way, so I don’t get caught up among the people downstairs. They can stay as long as they want. They can all fucking pass out and go home in the morning for all I care. None of them matter.

  The only thing that matters is my woman, and the baby inside her.

  26

  Melissa

  I sit in a booth at the Old Town Cafe, picking at a blueberry muffin. Nicole’s across from me, typing on her laptop, a half-finished cup of coffee on the table next to her. I take a sip of my own coffee. I guess I’m not supposed to drink caffeine while I’m pregnant, and I’ve cut back to one or two a day. But there’s no fucking way I’m giving up coffee entirely. Sorry, kid.

  Nicole agreed to meet me for lunch, although she warned me she had work to do. I don’t mind. Mostly I don’t want to be alone. I visited my dad this morning and told him about the baby. I cried so hard, I barely got the words out. He wrapped me in his strong arms, his flannel shirt itching my skin, and held me.

  To my amazement, he wasn’t angry or disappointed. He wanted to know what he could do—how he could help. He assured me I’ll be all right, and even though the circumstances aren’t ideal, he’s thrilled to be expecting a grandbaby. That only made me cry harder.

  I touch the skin beneath my eyes, wondering if I’m still all red and blotchy. Nicole hasn’t mentioned it, but maybe she’s just being polite. She just hugged me tight and offered to buy my lunch. I’m not very hungry, and she cast a weird glance my direction when all I ordered was coffee and a muffin. I guess she thinks I’m supposed to be eating my weight in food already. At this point, I still don’t feel much of anything. Maybe I’m a little more tired than usual, but other than that, I can’t even tell I’m pregnant.

  I definitely did not take five more pregnancy tests to be sure. Nope.

  “So,” she says, closing her laptop. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” I say. “I guess that’s weird? But I feel pretty normal.”

  She shrugs. “I supposed it’s different for everyone. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. Although that’s stupid of me to say. I can only imagine how it must be for you.”

  “Yeah, it’s very surreal,” I say. “I look at myself in the mirror and I can’t see it, you know? I look the same, and I feel the same.”

  “You don’t look the same, though,” she says.

  “I don’t?” I touch the skin under my eyes again. “I look like shit, don’t I?”

  “No,” she says. “You look really good, actually. Your skin looks amazing. I think pregnancy suits you.”

  “Shut it, Jacobsen.”

  Nicole giggles. “I’m not a Jacobsen yet. Come to think of it, you’ll have the baby by the wedding, won’t you? Wow.”

  I blow out a breath. I’ve been thinking about those things. By this date, I’ll be really pregnant. By this date, I’ll have a three month old. “It’s so weird. None of it feels real.”

  “So, you never told me what Jackson said when you told him,” she says, lowering her voice. “You told him, right?”

  “Yeah, I told him.”

  “And?”

  I take another sip of my coffee. “I don’t know. He was shocked. He dropped the phone and I thought he hung up on me. He said a bunch of stuff about wanting to be there and shit.”

  “He did? Melissa, that’s great.”

  I draw my eyebrows together. “Is it? Why is that great?”

  “Are you serious?” she asks.

  “Yes. He’s Jackson Bennett. He’s a player, not a father.”

  “Why aren’t you giving him any credit?” she asks.

  “Credit for what? Knocking me up? He can have all the credit for that.”

  “Did he say he doesn’t want anything to do with you?” she asks.

  “No.”

  “Did he say he’d pay you a bunch of money if you’d go away?”

  “No.”

  “Did he say he wanted to help?”

  “Well, yeah, he kind of did.”

  “And what did you say?”

  I stare at the table, not answering.

  “Mel, what did you tell him?” Nicole says.

  “I told him he didn’t need to do anything, and I only called him so he’d know what was going on. And then I hung up.”

  “Really? And you don’t think you’re being the slightest bit unfair to the guy?”

  “Why are you on his side all of a sudden?” I ask, prickling with anger.

  “Do there have to be sides?” she asks. “I’m just telling you what I see. I’m sure he’s as shocked as you are. Why don’t you at least give him a chance to do the right thing?”

  “What does that even mean?” I ask. “Do the right thing. Should I expect him to give up his lifestyle for this? If I do that, I know what will happen. He’ll get bored. He’ll suffocate under the responsibility. And he’ll leave.”

  “Why are you so sure of that?” Nicole asks.

  “Why are you so sure he won’t?”

  “I’m not,” she says. “Maybe you’re right about him. You know him better than I do. But you aren’t being honest with yourself about him either.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You fell for him, hard. And somehow I don’t see you fall
ing for a guy who would abandon you like that. Yeah, he’s been a player or whatever, but he wasn’t with you. You guys said a week, but neither of you wanted it to end there. And it was you who pushed him away, not the other way around. He’s been trying to be in your life since you guys got back. That doesn’t seem like a man who sees you as nothing but a meaningless fling.”

  Damn it. I hate it when she’s right. “How am I supposed to deal with his life? I had to abandon my house and hole up in a hotel room with a fucking security guard. What the hell is that?”

  “Yeah, that was nuts,” she says. “I don’t know, Mel. I don’t know how you make that work, or even if you can. But you’re having his baby, and nothing’s going to change that now. You should give him a fair chance to be that baby’s father.”

  I don’t answer, picking at my muffin in silence. Nicole opens her laptop again and starts typing.

  We sit quietly for a while. Maybe Nicole has a point. Jackson’s reaction could have been a hell of a lot worse. How could he not be surprised? It isn’t like I squealed with joy when I found out. Did I expect him to be happy? He immediately said he wanted to help—that he wasn’t going to walk away.

  The truth is, I’m afraid to let him in. He’s a man with two assistants, who has an entire floor of his building just for throwing parties, who’s invited to posh banquets with celebrities, and has to think about photographers and private security. I’m just his mysterious sassy girl, a bit of fun he could brag about on social media.

  Aren’t I?

  I’m not giving him enough credit, but I’m not sure I can face him either.

  I glance up to find Nicole looking past me, her eyes wide.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t look, he’s here,” she says, the words tumbling out quickly.

  My back clenches. Oh fuck. “Jackson?” I ask, whispering.

  Her eyes are locked on something, or someone, behind me. She nods and mouths He’s coming.

  Jackson stands next to our table, close enough that I could touch him. My traitor body reacts immediately, the first whiff of his fresh cologne sending a tingle up my spine. He looks perfect, as usual, in an aqua button-down shirt with the sleeves cuffed, and gray slacks.