Now And Always (Crown Creek)

by Theresa Leigh

  My hand strayed to my belly, hovering over it for a moment.

  Guess that wasn't so true anymore.

  “Come into my office and shut the door,” I ordered. “Let's talk about it.”

  She followed me meekly, shutting the door behind her and sinking into the chair on the other side of my desk. “I’m sorry.” Another sob lodged in her throat.

  “Take your time," I told her, sitting up straighter. "When you're ready.” As her boss, it was a little cruel of me to drag her in here before she'd composed herself. But as a person desperate for a distraction from her own misery, Kelly's over-the-top anguish couldn't come at a better time.

  I handed her a tissue. “So tell me what happened,” I urged, a little too eagerly.

  “My boyfriend—I mean, my ex-boyfriend….” She twisted the hem of her sleeve, and I silently handed her another tissue. She dabbed at her nose and sniffled. "Yes. He's my ex-boyfriend. We're over. I know we're over, and I'm happy about it. But apparently he was really happy about it too." She twisted the tissue around and around until it was a damp rope. "He's already dating someone else.”

  I nodded sympathetically. “Ouch.”

  She pulled off her sunglasses and used the frayed tissue to dab at her mascara-streaked eyes. She looked like an adorable baby panda. “I shouldn't care. I know I shouldn't care. But he and I have been broken up for the exact same length of time, right? So why was he able to find someone so quickly?"

  I shrugged. “That's a very good question. And if I had an answer for you, I'd give it. But I've had no luck on the dating scene either." I willed my hands not to go to my belly again.

  She nodded, screwing her mouth down into a frown as she studied the mess she was making of the tissue. Then she jerked her head up. “Wait! Didn't you say you had a guy? Like your friend? Ian, was that his name?” Her voice wobbled with pleading. “Yes, you did. And not Ian, Ethan! Sorry. You told me what a good guy he was and how he was single. Wait, is he still single?”

  For one terrible moment, I wanted to slap her. Backhand her right across her plump, adorable cheek. Ethan? My Ethan? What was she thinking?

  Then I remembered. She was thinking about how, two months ago, I’d been hell-bent on getting Ethan a girlfriend. It was so much better for me, so much safer, to have him coupled up and out of commission. So when Kelly had started having trouble with her dumb boyfriend, I dropped hints about Ethan’s availability left and right.

  I flexed my fingers and deliberately set my hands down on my desk. "Right," I said, proud of how steady my voice sounded. “Ethan. I guess I forgot that you were looking.”

  “Well, I wasn’t but…” A blush crawled up her cheeks. “But now?”

  “I can give you his number?” I said, as unenthusiastically as I could.

  She nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. Is he cute? You said he was cute, right?"

  He was more than cute. “See for yourself,” I said, holding out my phone once I'd scrolled to a picture from Halloween.

  Kelly leaned in and squealed. “Oh, my God! He is so hot! And you said he was a carpenter?”

  “Woodworker. Yeah.”

  Her mouth twisted devilishly. “Then he must be really good with his hands, huh?”

  I was going to slap her, I really, really was.

  “I wouldn't know,” I snapped. “He and I are just friends.” I dropped my phone into my purse moodily. “I have an appointment," I told her. I checked my phone again. It was still way too early to head out, but if she was going to call Ethan, I couldn't be in the same building when she did it. "Email me your research by two."

  "Of course. And thanks Claire! For everything!"

  She left my office smiling. And somehow, uninjured.

  Maybe I was maternal after all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Claire

  The automatic doors swished shut behind me. My heels clicked loudly on the tiled floor.

  Reckless Falls Hospital was jarringly quiet, which only added to how alone I felt as I approached the elevators. But, I couldn’t feel completely abandoned. Not with the text alert on my phone going off every five seconds.

  My friends would be here for me if I asked them, I rationalized as I entered the empty elevator. But the only thing worse than this appointment was the thought of Willa’s face crumpling in sympathy, or Sadie’s head cocking to the side in confusion. They wouldn’t say it aloud, but they all would be thinking it. “When did this happen? And more importantly…how? How did you, Claire, get pregnant by accident?”

  As the doors swished open to the fifth floor, I reached into my purse and clicked my phone to silent. The last thing I needed in my already spinning head was the thought of my friends’ reactions.

  Thank God my OB’s practice was in Reckless Falls, I thought as I entered her office. I scanned the waiting room for familiar faces and was relieved when I didn’t see anyone I knew. But just in case, I kept my sunglasses on.

  “We’ll be with you in just a minute,” the receptionist said. “Have a seat.”

  I walked to the farthest end of the waiting room and sat down. Crossing my legs and tucking them under the seat, I sat up as straight and dignified as the uncomfortable chair would allow. There, I challenged anyone who might look my way, do I look like the kind of girl who’d get pregnant from a one-night stand? No, I do not, so stop thinking it.

  Aware that I was being stupid, but unable to stop myself, I swept another imperious glance across the waiting room as if sizing up my competitors before a track meet. Did I look more put together than the fifty-ish-looking woman sitting close to the door? Maybe. Her bag was expensive-looking but that lipstick shade was all wrong for her complexion. Did I look less frightened than the girl in sweats by the window? For sure. But she held hands with a guy her age, and he rubbed circles over the top of her hand in a way that made me look away quickly.

  Why hadn’t Ethan come with me?

  Right. Because I hadn’t asked him to. He’d offered. But I am a strong, badass lady, and I can handle this myself.

  Besides, I might not even keep it.

  That was the first time I’d allowed myself to think those words. I swallowed hard. Sweat prickled along my hairline, but I refused to let the tendrils of panic creeping through my veins reach my heart.

  I am a strong, badass lady, and whatever I want to do, it’s my choice.

  It’s my choice.

  “Claire?” The nurse looked at her clipboard, then smiled at me when I stood up on shaky legs. “Come on in.”

  I followed her into a chilly room and stared at the monitor next to the examination table with mute confusion.

  “You can take this,” she handed me a plastic cup with a bright orange lid, “into there.” She raised her chin at the attached restroom. “When you’ve filled the cup, put it in the cabinet to the right of the toilet and then come out here and lie down.”

  “Do I have to get naked or anything?”

  She looked amused. “Only if you’re trying to save that nice blouse of yours. Sometimes the goo gets everywhere.”

  “Goo?”

  “For the ultrasound,” she explained patiently. “To see how far along you are.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed, but there was nothing to swallow. My mouth was dry except for the taste of pennies in the back of my throat.

  I went through the motions of peeing in the cup, then settled myself on the table and stared at the ceiling. Someone had taped a photograph of a tropical island right above my head. I wanted to kiss whoever it was that gave me that to stare at instead of the ultrasound machine.

  A soft knock on the door made me jerk. “Yeah?”

  “Claire?” A girl who looked younger than me walked in, dressed head to toe in bright pink scrubs. She grinned at me, then perched on her stool. “I'm Serena, one of the techs. Shall we take a look?”

  “Is that the goo?” I asked as she squirted warm gel on my belly.

  “Yep. Makes things nice and slippery. Just gotta get the lay
of the land here and…,” she paused as she pressed the wand to my stomach, “there we go!”

  I looked at her hands. And then looked at the monitor. She seemed to be waiting for me to say something, but all I saw was a flickering dot of static. “What is it? I don’t see anything. Am I not pregnant?”

  “No, you are,” she said softly, reaching over to the side of the machine and flicking a switch. “That’s the heartbeat.”

  My ears filled with a rhythmic whooshing. Fast and regular, like the metronomes my brothers used to keep time when they practiced. Tucka tucka tucka tucka. “That’s its heart?” I squeaked. “I can hear its heart?” I looked down at my belly, transfixed. As far as I could see, nothing had changed. I still had my same body, my same skin, but underneath it, a little heart beat like hummingbird wings. To hear it felt…invasive. Like we'd barged in on something secret and sacred. I pressed my hand next to her wand. “Holy hell,” I breathed.

  “Do you want to see if we can see him or her?” Serena asked.

  “What? See?”

  She tilted her head. “They don’t always cooperate with us this early, but…” She angled her wand and pressed in.

  The screen changed. Flickers of static and veils of gray passed across the monitor.

  Then everything shifted and suddenly, there was my baby. A tiny, perfectly formed miniature. "Is that?"

  "There it is." She smiled happily. "They're so cute at this stage. I think they look just like a gummie bear, don't you?"

  The blob on the screen looked exactly like a gummie bear. “Is it waving at me?” I asked.

  “They can move their arms and legs now.” She pointed. “There’s the head.”

  “It’s upside down?” I gasped and then started giggling. “Oh my God, kid, what are you doing? Compose yourself. You have company.”

  Serena laughed and adopted a squeaky little voice. “I’m just playing, Mom.” She paused and pointed as the little nubbin fluttered again. “Now they’re saying ‘watch me, Mom! Over here!”

  “Oh God.” It really did look like that. The tiny, floating gummie bear was waving at me.

  My baby was waving at me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ethan

  I set my phone down, walked away three steps, then turned back and checked it again.

  This was how I’d spent my day. I was trying to finish up the sanding on a custom piece, but it’s hard to get work done when you’re willing your phone to ring.

  Claire’s appointment should be over by now. Right? Oh God, unless there was something wrong. A picture of Claire being wheeled into an operating room suddenly filled my brain, and I broke out in a cold sweat.

  Then I grabbed my phone, because against all odds, it was finally, finally ringing.

  The number was unfamiliar, but the first three digits marked it as coming from Reckless Falls. Figuring she was calling me from her doctor’s office, I answered with a hasty, “Claire?”

  There was a scrabbling sound on the other end. Then a hesitant hiccup of breath that sent my whole body into a shudder of, that’s not Claire.

  “Is this Ethan? My name is Kelly. I’m Claire’s assistant?”

  Oh God, why would her assistant call me? "Is she okay?"

  I’d already cycled through the full loop of disasters—an allergic reaction, a car wreck, an improbable hostage situation at the five-star restaurant by the waterfront—by the time Kelly laughed. “She’s fine? I mean, I think she is anyway. She was when she left for her doctor’s appointment.”

  “Okay.” Some of my composure returned, along with my manners. “Well, that’s good then. Um, what can I do for you, Kelly?”

  Another hesitant breath. I paced in a tight circle in my kitchen, feeling like I was trapped in a cage but had to act happy about it. I couldn’t scream at this shy girl for wasting my time.

  It wasn’t her fault she wasn’t the one I was waiting for.

  “Claire gave me your number. Uh. Oh God, I’m not good at this, but she’s told me a lot about you and I was wondering if you were free to get dinner sometime?”

  I stopped midstride. My feet tangled and I lost my balance, banging my hip into my counter. I hissed in pain and bit off the string of swear words that wanted to pour from my lips. “Claire gave you my number?” I repeated. Low and level. Calm. I didn’t sound upset at all, not to my ears anyway.

  But I’d never been so furious in my life.

  “Yeah, she, well actually she told me about you a while ago, but like, the timing wasn’t right, and maybe it’s not the greatest time for you—.” She trailed off, sounding worried, and I wondered how successful I’d been in hiding my anger. Could she tell I was ready to rip my house down with my bare hands?

  “It’s fine,” I said shortly.

  “Great! Uh, so is it a date then? I can make reservations somewhere and then text you?”

  I gripped the phone.

  And just as quick as it had overwhelmed me, my anger drained away, leaving only clarity in its wake.

  I’d hoped…well, I didn’t dare admit exactly what I’d hoped for. But it wasn’t this. Knowing that Claire still thought of me as single, was still trying to fix me up with girls even after all we’d been through together these past few weeks...

  Well, it couldn’t be clearer how she felt about me. She didn’t feel the way I felt.

  And that. Was that.

  At least I knew now. I could stop hoping for the thing I didn’t dare ask for. Because now I knew I’d had no business wanting it.

  Claire didn’t want me.

  And I was free to move on.

  “Sure.” My voice caught, and I cleared my throat. “Sure,” I tried again, but I still sounded strange. Like my voice was coming from very far away. “That sounds good.”

  “Great! Um, thank you, um.” She giggled. She sounded like a happy, fun girl. Going out on a date with her would probably be a nice way to spend an evening. If it was nothing more than enjoying the simple pleasure of watching a cute girl devour a steak, then so be it. I’d done casual before. I could do it again. “By the way?” she said in a breathless rush. “Claire showed me a picture of you and you’re super hot.”

  “I appreciate you saying so,” I replied, feeling nothing at all. Not pride. Not self-deprecation. Just a strange melancholy. I wish you weren’t the one telling me that. “Text me when you have it all figured out, okay? My schedule is wide open.”

  I hung up. I looked at the screen, then swiped to my missed calls. Just to check.

  She hadn’t called me.

  But she had given my number to someone else. Trying to pawn me off. Get me out of the way. Put me back in my box and stick me up on the shelf of her mind.

  Another rush of anger surged through me, and with a growl, I did something I never, ever did.

  I turned off my phone.

  Fuck her.

  Just thinking the words felt heretical. And freeing. “Fuck you, Claire,” I said aloud. It sounded like a foreign language, just a string of nonsense syllables that made no sense, so I walked into my bedroom where she had slept last night and plucked one of the golden blond hairs that clung to my pillow. I held it up to the light and tried it again. Slowly. Carefully. Making sure to mean what I was saying.

  “Fuck. You. Claire.”

  I pinched the strand tighter and stalked over to the bathroom. Opening the lid of the toilet, I held it over the bowl, intending to flush it away. I willed my fingers to release it, but they only gripped it so tight my fingertips went bone-white.

  I licked my lips. “Fuck.” I dropped it into the trash can instead. It floated down gently, coming to rest atop a piece of discarded tissue, where it curled into the shape of a question mark. Like it was asking what the fuck I was doing.

  I had no idea. This was stupid. Suddenly disgusted with myself, I turned on my heels and stomped into the living room. I’d left my mom’s paperback on the arm of my favorite reading chair. I opened it up, smoothed my fingers down the spine, and sat down
.

  I closed the finished book and rested it on my knee. Outside, the sun had slipped low enough that it shone brilliantly on the horizon, illuminating the underbellies of the heavy clouds that hung fat with the promise of snow. I’d spent the whole afternoon reading instead of working on my commission. It wasn’t like me at all to put off work like that.

  It felt rebellious. And damn good. Like I’d taught someone a lesson, though I had no idea who.

  Maybe myself?

  These kinds of broody, self-pitying thoughts were the whole reason I’d started reading in the first place. Now that I was done, there was nothing else in this house that could distract me enough that I wouldn’t think them.

  So the solution was to leave the house.

  Book in hand, I grabbed my keys, and then after briefly leafing through my work calendar for the next week, I grabbed the pyrography pen I’d borrowed from my dad. My mom would be happy to see the book. My dad would have forgotten I borrowed the pen, but he’d pretend he hadn’t and that he really, really needed it, so he’d be happy too.

  And maybe they’d both be happy enough to ask me to stay for dinner so I didn’t have to sit here in my empty kitchen alone with my anger.

  Seriously. Fuck you, Claire.

  I drove way too fast, and that felt like I was proving something as well. But again, I had no idea who I was trying to show, nor what I was trying to show them. See? I can be reckless. I don’t always do the right thing. I don’t always follow the rules.

  I’m dependable. But fuck you if you think I’m predictable.

  “Oh, Ethan, I knew you’d drop by,” my mother said once she’d opened the door.

  I pressed my lips together. “Why?”

  “Because my book is due tomorrow.” She plucked it from my hands. “You always make sure to have it back before the due date.”

  “I do?”

  “And you always ask me what I thought.” She gave me an expectant smile.

  I had just opened my mouth to ask that very question. I snapped it shut again.