I’ve learned to deal with the sadness, but the loneliness still gets to me. I stroke my belly in long, slow strokes, feeling my baby as it lays inside me.
“You’re tired, aren’t you,” I say to my stomach. “We had a big day today. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be out in the world soon and you’ll be seeing new things every second of every day. I’ll protect you. I promise.”
My eyes well up with tears and I whisper it again. I promise. A fierceness grows inside me as I think about my baby being born. Of course we’ll be okay, and of course I can do this, even if I’m on my own. I’ll take care of this baby and help it grow into a healthy, happy child. I’ll do anything for it. I know that already.
It kicks and I smile, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I love you too, baby. It’s just you and me now.”
39
Lucas
“The album launch looks good, and we just tweaked a couple things for the tour branding,” Jake says. I look at the report he’s given me, scanning the pages and half-listening to what he says. Ever since we hired the Lockwood firm, our sales on the east coast have skyrocketed. Rosie is talented, and even if I wanted to find another firm, no one would let me. It’s not like I have to deal with her anyway.
“So yeah, all systems go,” Jake continues. “It’ll be interesting to see how the next few weeks go without Rosie leading it all, she was basically the motor for the whole project.”
My head snaps up and I stare at Jake. “She’s not working there anymore?”
“Maternity leave. Didn’t I tell you she was pregnant? She looked massive a month ago, can’t imagine what she looks like now. Ready to pop.”
My whole body is frozen with shock and I can’t even tell Jake to stop speaking about her that way.
Pregnant? Since when?
I mean, I know since when. Since approximately nine months ago from now. But I’ve seen her since then, I had sex with her since then! Did she know she was pregnant when she saw me when we signed the contract with Lockwood?
“Lucas. Lucas?” My head snaps up and Jake is staring at me, frowning. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. That’s all for now, Jake. Thanks.”
Jake looks at me curiously and opens his mouth as if he’s about to protest and then changes his mind. He gathers his papers, nods, and slips out of my office quietly. He closes the door behind him and I let out all the air from my lungs. I bring my hands up to my face and rub it, making circles around my temples and rubbing my eyes.
She’s pregnant.
Nine months ago… Nine months ago was going into summer. Nine months ago was June. I frown. I met her in June—that was the wild night we had together when I came back and thought she ignored me. When she ‘lost my number’, if I even believe that.
Nine months ago we had one night together.
No. Obviously not. It couldn’t be.
My stomach churns. My head shakes from side to side and all I can say is no, no, no. Not possible. We used protection. I had a condom. I reach back into my mind and try to remember what happened that night. I’ve replayed it so many times in my mind it comes back easily. I used a condom, I’m sure of it.
We were on the couch, and we fell asleep. I had one of the best orgasms I’ve had in years.
I stand up and shake my whole body to try to relax. Pregnant? Could it… could it be mine?
No. Definitely not. No chance. Right?
But what if it was mine?
I sit back down at my computer and pull up a search engine, heart pounding as I remember the sex education classes from years ago. My fingers tap quickly:
Condom effectiveness
I press enter and in a couple milliseconds there are thousands of results. I don’t even need to click any of them—it says it right there in the preview. When used correctly, they’re 98% effective.
My heart is thumping. Ninety-eight percent isn’t one hundred percent. What if…
I can’t even bring myself to think it anymore. I shake my head. We were careful, we used protection. It was one night. Sure, we had sex multiple times, but it was one night. She didn’t even call me afterward. She never mentioned it when I saw her again.
It isn’t mine. It can’t be mine. I’m already a single dad, I’ve already had one kid, I can’t have another.
My eyes flick to the picture of Allie that I keep on my desk. She was the best thing to ever happen to me, but another baby?
“Ah!” I yell out to myself. I’m going crazy. It probably isn’t even mine! She never called me, and she never said anything. If it was mine, she would have said something. I stand up and grab the papers on my desk, ripping them apart in both my hands. I throw the scraps of paper and they flutter down harmlessly around me.
Like a movie montage, I think of every single interaction I’ve had with her. Refusing coffee, barely sipping her wine, clutching her stomach. Throwing up before I left for the airport. She wasn’t sick. She was pregnant. She knew, and she didn’t tell me.
I remember at the coffee shop, when she said she wanted to talk about something. Or our last dinner together, at that Italian place. The candlelight was flickering all over her face and she looked like she was tortured, like she wanted to tell me something and couldn’t.
And then she ran away.
I slump back down in my chair, holding my head in my hand.
She ran away because I told her I wouldn’t see her again, that I’d accepted a promotion and I wouldn’t be back in New York. She ran away because I told her I was unavailable, that she wasn’t important enough to me. She ran away because she couldn’t bring herself to tell me that she was pregnant with my child, and then she tried to reach out to me and I left her out in the cold and didn’t speak to her for six months.
I open my eyes and the weight of the world falls on my shoulders. That baby is mine, I know it is. That night she told me she hadn’t been with anyone in months.
She was lying, they all say that. The angry voice in my head whispers in my ear. I push it away. I’ve listened to that voice long enough. Rosie wasn’t ignoring me, or acting distant. She was terrified of telling me about the baby, terrified of my reaction. I reacted in the worst possible way without even knowing about it and she just protected herself.
Somewhere in New York, on the other side of the country, my second child is about to be born.
40
Rosie
I’m in a weird limbo. I’m on maternity leave but the baby isn’t born yet and all I have to do is sit around and wait. I rub my belly in big, circular motions and walk around my apartment, back and forth down the hallway. The doctor said being up and active helps induce labor.
There’s a pile of presents in the corner of the living room, and an overnight bag packed for when I need to go to the hospital. Zach and Harper came over to help me build a crib and set up the bedroom, and the apartment is starting to look like it’s ready for a baby. I have diapers of all different sizes, little onesies with funny sayings on them, wet wipes, baby formula in case my milk doesn’t come in, tiny socks and little hats. I have Harper’s old stroller and a thousand and one of her baby toys.
“We’ll have to share a bedroom for now, little baby. I’ll get you your own room eventually, I promise.”
I’ve been promising the baby lots of things, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep them. I’ve promised to keep it safe, to raise it properly, to do my best. I’ve promised to get it its own room and to make sure it never wanted for anything.
In truth, I don’t know if I can provide for it. I’m completely, utterly terrified. In a matter of days, or hours, I’m going to be a mother.
I keep rubbing my belly and walking, breathing in and out and trying to ignore the thumping of my heart when I think about what’s going to happen. My fingers reach the edge of my lowest scar, just on the bottom of my ribs. I touch the length of the scar and shiver as my fingers pass over the smooth skin.
Like a flash, I remember being on my couch—the
one just in front of me here—with Lucas lifting my dress up and worshipping my body. He kissed me like I’ve never been kissed, he touched me like I would break if he grabbed me too hard. He traced every scar with his fingertips, and then his lips.
I sit down exactly where I was that night. I close my eyes and imagine him here, touching me like that. My fingers trace my scars one by one and I remember how vulnerable I felt with him, but how good it felt to be touched that way and to feel safe.
“That’s the night you were created,” I whisper to my belly. The baby squirms and I smile. “Yep, you might not want to hear that but it was that night. Right here where I’m sitting.”
I keep tracing my scars one by one, laying back on the sofa until my eyelids get heavy and I fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.
The contractions wake me up. I touch my belly and feel it completely hard and I panic for a moment before I remember the doctor describing exactly this. It feels like I’m being squeezed around the middle. It intensifies, and then goes back down. I look at the clock. 1:17 am. The contraction subsides and my stomach goes back to normal.
“You just couldn’t let me have one last night of sleep, could you?” I sigh, and then smile. “I’m looking forward to meeting you.”
The clock ticks onward slowly and I wait for the next contraction. It doesn’t come for almost twenty minutes, but this time it’s more intense. The pain grows until my face contorts and I cry out.
My breath comes in short gasps. 1:34 am.
When it passes, I grab my notebook from my purse and look over the scribbles I took at the doctor’s office. When the contractions last 30-60 seconds and are 5 minutes apart I should head to the hospital.
1:44 am.
This time the squeezing is more intense, and the pain radiates through my whole abdomen. My back starts to ache and I groan, wincing as I wait for the pain to pass.
The night drags on like this, with me watching the clock like a hawk. The contractions are getting worse and worse and they are lasting longer and longer. There’s a thin film of sweat all over me even though my apartment is cold.
I glance at the clock again. Six minutes. Close enough. I grab my phone and call a cab, sliding my jacket on and picking up the bag I’ve prepared earlier.
Harper demanded to know when I go to the hospital, but it’s just before four AM. I’ll hold off for an hour before I text her. I don’t want her to rush over to me, it could be hours before I give birth. My fingers hover over my phone and I think of Lucas. My heart squeezes in its own type of contraction when I realize that I’m really doing this alone. I’m giving birth to our child and he doesn’t even know it exists.
I find his number and my thumb hovers over it. If I just move it a quarter of an inch, I’ll tap the message icon and I can tell him what’s going on. Then the ball will be in his court, and he can choose to be part of the baby’s life or not.
My heart thumps in my chest, beating harder and harder as my thumb trembles over the button.
I almost jump out of my skin when the phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer, my voice low and scratchy.
“You called a cab?”
“I’ll be right down.” I hang up the phone and slip it into my pocket. Maybe I’ll text him later, when I tell Harper and Jess. For now, I need to make it to this cab before the next contraction hits.
41
Lucas
I haven’t slept a wink tonight. I’ve been staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning. My mind is jumping all over the place and I can’t get her out of my head. Rosie, pregnant with my child. I know it’s mine. I’m sure of it.
I have to go to New York.
I don’t care what it costs, or what Linda says, or how crazy it is to go over on a gut feeling, but I have to go. I have to see Rosie.
I’m sure that once I see her, I’ll know if the baby is mine. Who am I kidding? I already know. I sit up in bed and run my fingers through my hair.
“I know it’s mine,” I whisper to the darkness. “I already know, I don’t need to see it to know.”
I throw the covers off and pace back and forth in my bedroom. If I’m much louder, I’ll wake up Allie and I don’t want to do that. I just pace back and forth, back and forth until the black night turns grey and the first hints of sunlight start appearing.
Pulling my bedroom door open, I head down to the kitchen and put on some coffee. My laptop takes a few minutes to boot up and I hop from foot to foot.
“Come on, come on, come on!”
As soon as it’s running, I start looking up flights. I could leave in three hours and be there in nine. I’d be there at 1 pm.
Just as the mouse is hovering over ‘book’, I take a deep breath. I don’t even know if she’s still home, let alone what hospital she’d be at. I don’t even know if she’s in labor yet. I didn’t even know she was pregnant until a few hours ago!
“Dad?” Allie’s voice makes me jump. I spin around.
“Hey, chicken. What’s up?”
She frowns as she looks at me. “You look terrible.”
I turn toward the big kitchen window and see my reflection for the first time. She’s not wrong. My hair is sticking up in all directions and my face has lines in it I didn’t know existed. I look old and haggard and like I haven’t slept in a year.
“Couldn’t sleep?” She says as she takes the coffee and pours me a mug. I take it from her and ruffle her hair.
“Thanks. Isn’t it a bit early for you to be up?”
“I could hear you down here. Are you okay?” She tilts her head to the side and I see her mother in her. I sit down at the kitchen table and Allie comes up to me, placing both hands on either side of my face.
“I’m okay, Allie. Just lots on my mind.”
“Is it Rosie?”
I pull back. “What?”
“Rosie, is that why you can’t sleep?”
“How do you know about Rosie?”
Allie rolls her eyes in the way that only preteens can. “Dad,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “You were texting her nonstop for like, ever, before. And then you stopped and got all sad. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”
“No, I guess you weren’t,” I answer, amazed. Somehow my twelve year old daughter manages to surprise me almost every day. I take a sip of coffee to delay the inevitable barrage of questions. She doesn’t let up.
“So is it Rosie?”
I chuckle. “You’re just like your mother, you know that, Allie?” She lifts an eyebrow up and I can’t help but grin a little bit wider. “Fine, yes, it’s Rosie. I haven’t spoken to her in a while but I think… I think…”
I can’t say it. How can I tell my daughter that? How can I tell my daughter that I think I had casual sex with a woman and knocked her up and she might be a big sister? I don’t even know for sure.
Allie tilts her head to the side and climbs onto the chair beside me. “What do you think? Is she in trouble?”
“No, not exactly,” I respond.
“Does she miss you?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Yes.” It’s the first time I say it out loud and I can’t even look at Allie when I do.
“Why won’t you talk to her?”
“It’s complicated, Allie. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
Allie sighs. I finally look at her and her bright eyes are trained on me. “Dad,” she starts. “What is it you always tell me?”
“That I love you and I’m proud of you?” I answer hopefully. I’m not feeling like the parent in this situation and I don’t like it. Allie shakes her head.
“You tell me to be true to myself.” She gets off the chair and pokes my chest. “What does it feel like in here?”
My throat tightens up and my eyes start misting. “She’s having a baby,” I finally say. I wipe my eyes and see Allie’s face staring at me, wide-eyed and smiling.
“I’m a big sister?” She
almost yells.
“No,” I blurt out. Her face falls. “I mean, yes, I don’t know Allie. It’s complicated. You shouldn’t be listening to me at all. I shouldn’t be telling you this. You’re too young.”
My daughter narrows her eyes at me and brings her nose closer to mine. She studies my face for one, two, three seconds and then finally pulls her head away and nods.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To New York. I want to meet my little brother.”
“What? Allie, stop.” She’s walking toward the computer and I wonder when my little girl became so headstrong. “How do you know it’s a boy? You can’t come.”
“Why not? And I just know. Now come on, let’s go.”
She turns toward me, sticking her chin up and looking at me. She balls her fists up and plants them on her hips. I see my stubbornness and her mother’s determination written all over her.
The laughter starts in my stomach and bubbles up through my throat until my head is thrown back and I’m laughing with my mouth wide open. I wipe the tears streaming from my eyes and see Allie grinning up at me.
“Let’s go,” she says a bit more softly.
“I don’t know how this has happened, but okay. Just this once, okay, Allie? We’re not doing this again.”
“Fine,” Allie responds, but I see the glimmer in her eye that tells me she doesn’t believe me. I don’t know if I’m being a good parent or a bad one right now, but I can’t say no to her.
Either way, even if it’s crazy to pull her out of school and fly across the country with her, it feels right. She can meet Rosie and her new sibling—brother, according to her—and I can make up for lost time. I might not have been there for the pregnancy but I sure as hell will be there for the baby.
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Unexpected (Complete Accidental Pregnancy Box Set) Page 28