It doesn’t matter.
This is my life now. I will embrace it.
I will love it.
Blocking all other comparisons from ruining this moment, I walk us to the bed. We don’t rush anything, like there’s a need to get reacquainted, a need to let our bodies find their old rhythm. Our arms and legs tangle together on the bed as we continue this slow kiss. I remove her shirt and bra.
Julie sucks in a deep breath and holds it, eyes filled with apprehension and regret as I stare at her new body. She doesn’t say it, but I know she’s feeling a certain amount of shame for not loving herself the way I always loved her. For thinking something about her was less than perfect. But perfection changes and so does how we view ourselves. And that’s … okay.
Just as I get ready to say something comforting, we turn our heads toward the door and the sleepy-eyed boy with vomit down the front of his jammies.
“Oh, buddy!” I climb off the bed as Julie quickly covers her chest.
“My tummy …”
“Yeah, let’s get you cleaned up,” I say.
He cries a little then heaves, but I don’t get out of his way quick enough to keep the vomit from landing on me. Without giving a second thought to what was about to happen before Roman got sick, we clean up the mess and tuck him into bed between us with a big bowl for any more messes.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Oops …
Dorothy
“What are you doing?”
“Jesus!” I jump at the sound of Dr. Warren’s voice. “Don’t scare me like that.”
He tosses his lunch wrappers in the garbage. “I ate my lunch, watching you pace a six-foot strip for the past fifteen minutes. What’s up?”
“Nothing is up.” I force myself to stand still, shoving my hands into the pockets of my scrub top.
Fifteen minutes. Fuck … my break is up.
No. This is a good thing. I need to work. Work is good. I should think about work.
“Haven’t seen you lurking around the lab as much. Does this have anything to do with the reconciled Hawkins-Hathaway duo?” Warren tips his chin up, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Oh. So the rumors are true? They’re back together?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah …” he says slowly.
“Good. That’s great. Just as it should be.”
Then the breakup and subsequent thirty-two journals used to sort out my thoughts weren’t all for nothing. It’s a silver lining. Silver linings are good.
Roman has his parents back together. That is all that matters to me.
Sort of …
“How many cups of coffee have you had today, Mayhem?”
“One. Why?” I stop myself from pacing again. When did I even start pacing again?
He chuckles, pressing the button to the elevator. “No reason.”
“He’s happy. Right?”
Dr. Warren pauses, holding open the elevator doors. “Sure. I mean. They’ve all had gastrointestinal issues or food poisoning, vomiting-diarrhea shit stuff going on over the past three weeks. But I think everyone has recovered.”
“That’s good. Just in time for the holidays!”
He laughs again before stepping onto the elevator. “Sure.”
“Wait!”
The doors close before I can stop them. I need to get back to work. My shaky finger pushes the button.
“Hi.”
I look over my shoulder. “Hi.” I practically choke on that one word as Dr. Hathaway gives me a polite smile.
The elevator doors open again, and I rush onto it, which is stupid since she’s getting on as well. It’s not like I can really run from her.
She presses the button to the sixth floor. Fantastic. That’s where I’m going as well.
“How have you been?” she asks, and it feels real and kind. Not like she found out I had sex with Eli in the on-call room five weeks ago.
Not that I’m counting.
“Fine. I heard you’ve all been sick. Sorry. Hope it’s all good now.”
“Yeah.” She shakes her head with a bit of relief. “That wasn’t a lot of fun.”
“I’m sure not.” I reach into my pocket as my phone vibrates. When I pull it out, the other things in my pocket come out as well, dropping to the floor. “Crap.” I bend down at the same time Julie does.
My hand goes for the wad of tissue (because I don’t want her to touch my dirty tissues). She grabs a folded up ten-dollar bill and the one thing I really should have snatched up before her—but I didn’t.
We stand at the same time, both of our gazes affixed to the pregnancy test in her hand. My pregnancy test. The one I took in the cafeteria bathroom twenty-five minutes ago.
The doors open and she slips the test into the pocket of her lab coat. Like … what the fuck? That’s my test!
“A word, Dorothy.” She steps off the elevator, shoulders back, chin up like the boss bitch she is, making a straight line to her office with my pregnancy test.
What is it with the Hawkins-Hathaway duo and their constant need to have a word with me?
I was never sent to the principal’s office in school. So this is new for me. And it sucks because I’m not prepared for this. If she can give me a day, I’ll be ready. Something tells me she’s not likely going to grant my request.
“Close the door please.”
I close the door.
She stands behind her desk, as any authoritative boss bitch would do, and pulls the test out of the pocket of her lab coat. After wordlessly staring at it for an eternity, she lifts her gaze to mine. “Please tell me you have a boyfriend.”
I shake my head.
Her brow wrinkles as she returns her attention to the pregnancy test.
“When is the last time you spoke with Elijah?”
“Um … on Halloween he sent me a photo of Roman, but I didn’t respond. But not because I didn’t think it was a cute picture. Roman is the most adorable little boy I’ve ever seen.”
Dr. Hathaway grunts a laugh and nods several times. “And when is the last time you had sex with Elijah?”
It’s not her business. I mean … I don’t think it’s her business. I honestly don’t know whose business is whose right now.
“Five weeks ago,” I say because I can’t lie to her.
Her head resumes its slow nod. She would have been a good principal or maybe even a prosecutor.
“What are your plans?” She pins me with a neutral look that makes me squirm.
“I peed on that stick less than thirty minutes ago. I don’t have a plan yet.”
“Are you planning on keeping it? Are you planning on telling him?”
“I …” I shake my head. “Of course I’m keeping it.”
She cringes. “I didn’t mean to imply that you shouldn’t. I simply respect a woman’s right to choose.”
If only she respected my right to my pregnancy test.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Her head cants to the side.
Damn she’s good. Solid. Unyielding. Formidable in her own way.
“Did you rape Elijah?”
“What?” My head jerks backward. “No!”
“Then why would you apologize for having consensual sex with him?”
“Because I gave him back to you so Roman can have a home with two parents who get to see him every day because that’s the dream. And Roman is too young to live anything short of a dream if it’s even a remote possibility.”
I sigh, hoping my heart will settle down, hoping she’ll let me leave so I can deal with this in some way that doesn’t involve her giving me the third degree, demanding I make life-changing decisions right this second.
“You’re right. Roman does deserve that. And I love Eli. And there’s nothing I want more than this second chance with him.”
I work my teeth into my bottom lip so hard I can taste blood. “I’m not taking him away from you, but I have to tell him. You know this, right? And we’ll figure something out. Bu
t I’m not ready to tell him yet. If you want me to let you know when I’m ready to tell him, I can do that.”
She turns her back on me and drops her head, cupping a hand on the back of her neck. “You can go now.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
Elijah
“I need to go.” I unfold from the chair as my mom stands and makes her usual Friday trip around her desk to give me a hug and kiss.
“Thanks for lunch. We’ll pick Roman up around five. I’m proud of you for giving Julie another chance. You are a kind man and an incredible father. So just enjoy your weekend alone with Julie. You both need this, especially after a solid three weeks of someone being sick in your house. Everyone will be well-rested and in a good mood for Thanksgiving next week.”
I nod. “Yeah. Okay, then I’ll see you later.”
I head back to work. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the universe is conspiring to keep me from having sex with Julie. And while I still can’t get Dorothy out of my mind, I need to make an effort to move forward and show Julie my intentions are real.
So now that everyone is finally well, I’m sending Roman to spend the weekend with my parents while I work on my relationship with Julie—while I reconnect with her.
God … I hope it falls into place. I hope all the old feelings come rushing back because I can’t live a life with her if every damn day my heart beats for another woman.
I get home a few minutes before five, a little surprised that my mom and dad aren’t here yet. “Hey.” I smile at Julie when I walk into the kitchen.
“Hey.” She returns my smile, but it’s not quite as big as mine.
“Rough day?” I ask, looking over my shoulder as I wash my hands.
She sips a glass of red wine and shrugs. “You could say that.”
My gaze makes a quick sweep of her body covered by the same clothes she wore to work—fitted black pants and a soft pink blouse showing a bit of cleavage. Her hair is down. And her lips are covered in red.
“You look like a million bucks.” I mean it, and I feel a sense of accomplishment for saying it without tripping over any guilt.
“Thank you.” Julie stares at her wine glass, swirling it a bit while I pour myself a glass of it. “I love you, Elijah.” She keeps her chin tipped to her chest.
“I know.” I lean against the counter next to her, brushing a strand of hair away from her eye, coaxing her to look at me again. Over the past few weeks, while muddling through a mess of sickness, I felt every breath of her love. The way she cared for me and Roman when she wasn’t feeling well herself. I witnessed the woman I fell in love with so many years ago.
A world of vulnerability resides in her eyes and the deep lines along her forehead as she forces a smile. “I’m in. Even if it’s a long shot at best … I’m in.”
I brush my hand down her arm. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I want a life with you. The one I took away. I want it back. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want it. You. Me. Roman. There’s nothing I want more. So I’ll fight for us until I get my family back. Or…” she blinks, averting her gaze to the side “…until you tell me the fight is over.”
“Jules …” I brush my knuckles along her cheek, and she leans into my touch. “The fight is over. We’re fine.”
Fine …
I inwardly scold myself for saying it. Even if it means nothing to her, it still means something to me. It means we’re not okay yet. But I want to get there. I do.
“It’s not. It’s only just begun.” She takes a step back and holds out her other hand.
It’s a pregnancy test.
And it’s positive.
She’s pregnant. And we both know it’s not mine. So it’s his … the man who left her to go back to his family. A million thoughts race through my mind.
Does he know?
Will he come back to her?
But she still wants me. She still wants me and Roman.
Tears fill her eyes.
“Jules … everything will be fine. We’ll figure this out.” I take her glass of wine. She shouldn’t be drinking wine.
She wipes her eyes before the tears escape, shaking her head slowly. “You don’t even sound surprised. You knew … she told you.”
I squint. “How could I have possibly known you’re pregnant with another man’s baby? And who is ‘she?’ What are you talking about?”
“Oh my god …” Julie whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. The tears win over and break free in a blink. “You … you thought I …” She shakes her head. “I … was pregnant with his baby … and you … you were just fine with it?” Julie laughs. The crazy kind. The painful kind. The kind of laugh that scares me.
I reach for her, my natural instinct to comfort her and protect her, but she takes another step away.
“Only you, Eli … only you love like that.”
“Like what?”
“So completely,” she whispers on a sob, “so unconditionally. You always do the right thing, even if it kills you.”
“Jules, there’s no right or wrong here. I’m just saying I support you no matter what you decide. But I don’t think you should decide this without him. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t want that.”
“Jesus Christ …” She puts her hand on her head and fists her hair, continuing to shake it like this is a reality she’s not ready to face. After a few seconds of her doing something between a sob and that crazy woman’s laugh, she grabs my hand, places the pregnancy test in it, and closes my fingers around it. Her painful smile fades into an expressionless face, drenched in tears, makeup smeared around her eyes. “It’s not my pregnancy test. I’m not the one who’s pregnant.” She lifts onto her toes and presses a kiss to my cheek before grabbing her purse, slipping her feet into her shoes, and walking out the front door.
I open my hand and stare at the positive test. What just happened? It feels like someone just rammed a truck into my brain. Her words are there, echoing over and over. I hear them.
Julie’s not pregnant.
It’s not her test.
Dorothy … no. Julie wouldn’t have her test. It makes no sense, yet it’s the only explanation that makes any sense at this point.
“Dorothy’s pregnant with my baby …”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Guacamole for the Win
Dorothy
“Orville got stuck in Gemma’s dog door again,” Dad says, rolling his eyes after the waitress takes our order.
I convinced them to meet me for late night Mexican. Guacamole and chips makes everything better, even positive pregnancy tests.
“So what’s up? You have exciting news for us?” Mom takes a sip of her huge margarita. “Early job offer? New boyfriend? Promotion at work?”
“Nope.” I take a sip of my water. “Just pregnant.”
Mom chokes on her drink. Dad doesn’t move. Not a single blink.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. There’s not much to say.”
Mom clears the rest of her drink from her throat. “Not much to say? Dorothy, you’re … pregnant? Well … um … do you not get what that means?”
The waitress brings our guacamole and chips. I dig right in. “Yes, Mom. I’m well aware of how babies are made. The developmental process. And the eighteen-plus-year commitment. But I already took the test. I already had my initial meltdown, followed by Dr. Hathaway stealing my pregnancy test and nine hours of denial.”
“Wait … what?” Mom reaches across the table to grab my hand, stopping me from taking a bite of my chip.
So I retell the whole saga.
Then we eat in silence because I know they have no idea what to say or do at the moment. That makes three of us. But I have roughly thirty-five weeks to plan everything out. It’s no secret that I had no intentions of ever having children. Adopting, maybe. But not this.
And yet … here I am. Knocked up by Dr. Hawkins.
“Don’t wait to tell him,” Mom finally spea
ks as Dad pays the bill. “If Julie hasn’t already told him.”
“No. Trust me. She didn’t tell him. I honestly think she’s hoping I don’t tell him. I mean … she has him back. Now here I am threatening to disrupt all of that, but not really. He can be as involved as he wants to be or not at all. I don’t need him financially. And I’ll figure it out. Right?”
And by right, I one hundred percent mean, “You guys have my back, right?”
“Of course.” Mom scoots out of the booth after Dad. “But tell him, Dorothy. And tell him soon.”
“I will. I just found out today. I haven’t even confirmed it with a doctor. And I could sneeze and miscarry. Disrupting everyone with a 9-1-1 pregnancy alert isn’t called for at almost ten o’clock on a Friday. But …” My nose wrinkles. “I’m pregnant. I’m … pregnant.”
My parents nod slowly, showing a bit of relief in the face of my flash of panic—my real acknowledgment.
“This kid will get my genes. It’s doomed. Eli will realize this too. He’s smart. He studies things, like terrible things we genetically pass along to the next generation. He’s not going to want this. And that’s fine, right? I’ve got this. I mean … we’ve got this. Right?”
“Yes. Of course, baby girl. We’ve got this.” Mom hugs me right after we exit the restaurant. “But soon. You need to tell him soon.”
“Yes. Soon …” I sigh. Soon as in January if I can keep my mouth shut that long. Thanksgiving is this coming week. Christmas next month. I’m not disrupting families over the holidays. Besides, that gives this little fetus inside of me time to decide if he or she is going to stick.
I get stuck at all stoplights getting out of Portland, so my parents beat me home.
“Oh shit …” I whisper when I see a blue Tesla and the outline of a man—the man—sitting on the steps to the front porch. I gun it to get pulled into the garage before Mom and Dad drag their asses out of their car. “Go in the back door. Go now!” I demand before I even get my seatbelt unfastened.
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