“I can’t cry.”
“What do you mean you can’t cry?”
“I mean, through all of this, I haven’t shed a single tear.”
“Psh. Consider yourself lucky. I haven’t stopped crying.” She barely makes it through that sentence before the tears start falling. I look at her and she gives me an exasperated look and points to her face. “See what I mean? What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t fucking cry.” I suppress the giggle that threatens to bubble out and pull her into a hug.
“Maybe you should call him?” I suggest cautiously over her sniffles.
“Why bother? He probably hates me. God, why the hell did I get on that plane? I love him, Eva. I know it hasn’t been long, but I know I love him,” she croaks.
“I know, Char.” Boy do I ever know. She takes a second to pull herself together before hopping off the couch and wiping her face. “Fuck this. It’s hotter than the devil’s balls in this trailer. Let’s get off our asses and do something.”
I laugh. “I would love to do something fun, but I have a doctor’s appointment.”
“Well, I’m coming with you,” she declares while shoving her feet into flip flops.
“Okay, but it’s the vagina doctor, so you have to stay in the waiting room unless you want to see my snatch up close and personal.”
“Psh, wouldn’t be the first time.” She laughs. Once I have my purse and shoes on, Char whips the trailer door open and gasps when she sees James on the other side.
I whip my head to her to see tears shimmering in her eyes and her hand covering her mouth. She shakes her head to come out of her stunned state.
“What are you doing here?” she asks James. She’s looking at the floor while trying to pull her ‘country bitches do it better’ shirt down to cover her cutoff jeans. I know she’s embarrassed.
“You’re here,” James answers simply. Both me and Charlotte’s eyes snap back to James. “I love you, Charlotte, and I know you feel the same way. You’re just fucking scared because of the shit in your past. But I ain’t them, baby, and it’s not fair for you to punish both of us for their mistakes. I don’t care where you came from and I don’t care where you go as long as you take me with you. I’m not leaving until you tell me you love me too.”
I look back at Char in anticipation, waiting for her response and ready to stomp her face if it’s anything other than good. I sag with relief when I see the most gorgeous smile spread on Charlotte’s face right before she throws her arms around James’s neck. “I love you too, James.” She cries.
“Thank fuck for that.” He wraps his arms around her waist. After a few moments, James looks up at me over Char’s shoulder. “Hey, Eva.”
“Hi, James.” I smile the best I can. Inside is a little flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, Brantley is with him. My hopes are dashed when James reads what I’m thinking and shakes his head sadly.
My smile never falters. I straighten my spine and squeeze past them out the door. “I’m gonna give you two some alone time.”
It falls on deaf ears because they are already eating each other’s faces off while Char is attempting to undo James’s jeans.
***
Pregnant.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Jones! You’re pregnant.”
The doctor’s words play on repeat as I drive back to the trailer. I’m pregnant. Eight weeks. Which means it had to happen our first time. “Why are there even condoms if the shit don’t work?” I yell in the car like someone is about to answer.
This could not happen at a worse time. The father of my baby hates me and I’m living in a trailer with my friend, who is probably about to up and move back to Alaska any day now, where she’ll live out her happily ever after.
“Oh shit.” I’m pregnant and Pearl was right. All those times she told me I was nothing and was just going to end up barefoot and pregnant living in a trailer park, she was right. “Fuck, that bitch is evil.”
I’m going to be a mom! I rejoice mentally. Oh. Shit. I’m going to be a mom. Fuck Pearl, I’m going to be the best damn mom ever.
What do I do about Brantley? Should I even bother telling him? Of course you have to tell him, Eva. Shit. He thinks he hates me now? Now would be a good time to cry. I grip the steering wheel with both hands and focus really hard, willing the tears to come. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
I temporarily forget I’m driving and throw my head back on the seat. “Why can’t I cry?” I whine. I look back at the road too late. A possum runs out in front of me. I slam on the brakes and swerve, but it’s to no avail. I close my eyes when I hear and feel a thump.
I wait a couple seconds with my eyes clenched shut before I brave a look out of my rearview mirror. My heart hurts when I see the possum lying in the middle of the road, not moving.
I don’t know why, maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I climb out of the car and walk toward the possum. I lay my eyes on the poor, ugly little thing. “I’m sorry, little guy,” I choke out through tears.
Minutes pass of me just standing in the middle of the road, crying over this dead possum, before I realize something. I reach my hands up and feel the wetness on my cheeks. “I’m crying.” I gasp, and of course that make me cry harder.
I eventually come to a decision that I cannot, in good conscience, leave him here in the middle of the road, so I walk back to my car to grab my phone, not thinking about how crazy it’s going to sound when I ask James to bring a shovel so we can bury a possum I just ran over.
I’m standing back by the possum and dialing James’s number when my dead possum decides it doesn’t want to be dead anymore. I jump back when it stands up and hisses. “Holy shit!” I put my fists up, ready for any attack that comes my way, but the ugly thing just waddles back into the forest like nothing ever happened.
Once I’m back in my car, driving home, I turn on the radio and a slow song comes on. No surprise, the tears come again with a vengeance. I cry all the way home. I cry walking up the stairs. I cry as I walk into the trailer. I cry over the sounds of Char and James getting it on. I cry as I walk all the way down to the room I’m staying in.
I cry for the mother and grandpa I never met. I cry for the shitty childhood I had. I cry for the baby I’m carrying. I cry because I’m scared, but mostly I cry for Brantley. I miss him. I love him and I hate him.
I’m not sure how long I lay on that bed, crying, but when it’s dark outside I hear my bedroom door creak open. I sit up and see Charlotte in the doorway. I sniffle.
“You’re crying.” Like I don’t already know.
“I know.” I sniffle again. “It’s like my new thing now.” Char giggles and sits down next to me.
“At least you’re not broken anymore.” She tries to joke, but it misses its mark.
“Nope. Not broken. Crushed.”
“Okay, I’m missing something. I know you’re upset but something else is bothering you. What is it, honey?”
I look up in Char’s concerned eyes. “I’m pregnant,” I whisper.
“You’re pregnant?” she shouts.
“Shhhh.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re pregnant. That’s amazing!” she whispers.
“That is not amazing.” I snort.
“You don’t want it?” Char frowns. My heart squeezes at the thought of not keeping my baby. I rush to reassure her.
“Yes, I want it. I’m probably the only one who will,” I mumble while I run my hand down my flat stomach.
“Oh, Brantley. Come on, Eva, you know he’s going to be thrilled. Just wait,” she encourages.
“I’m not telling him.”
“You have to tell him. He’s the father. He has a right to know.”
“I’ll tell him eventually. Just not right now. I need time to figure out what I’m going to do. Don’t tell James either. I know him. He’d be on the phone in a heartbeat blabbin’ to Brantley.”
“I won’t,” she assures me.
“I’m tired, Char. I think I’m just going to go to be
d.”
“Okay, babe.” I lay down as she heads for the door. Before she opens it, she turns back to me. “For the record, I’ll always be here for you, and I’m fucking geeked to be an aunt.”
I smile the first genuine smile in two weeks.
“I’m pretty geeked to be a mom,” I admit as Char squeals quietly and claps her hands.
“Night, Eva.”
“Night, Char.”
Chapter Nineteen
WAIT UNTIL YOU’RE THIRTY-NINE WEEKS AND ABOUT TO POP!
“Okay, so how ridiculous do I look?” I ask when I walk out into the living room of Char’s trailer. The Saturday night after finding out I’m pregnant, Pearl talked me into accompanying her to some formal event. The only reason I agreed to go was because it’s for charity.
I still haven’t told anyone other than Charlotte about the baby, but I did manage to find a decent apartment downtown to move into, although it won’t be available until next month. I also looked at an empty storefront downtown for a possible photography studio. I’m determined to make the best life for my little bean and me. Without Brantley.
Other than Brantley, I dread most telling Pearl. She is going to flip her lid. So, like with Brantley, I’m going to wait until I basically can’t hide it anymore.
“Eva, you look gorgeous!” Char gasps from her place on the couch, effectively dragging me from my thoughts.
“You really do,” James says.
“Really?” I ask as I glance down at my dress for the hundredth time.
I’m wearing a deep red, mermaid style, floor length dress. It has a sweetheart neckline and the bust is covered in gold diamonds. It’s formfitting all the way to my knees, where it then ruffles out the rest of the way to the floor.
I didn’t really feel like doing too much with my hair, so I just curled it and pinned it to the side, where it falls in waves down my right shoulder. The only jewelry I’m wearing is a pair of diamond studs. I certainly look like the rich princess Brantley pegged me to be. If only he could see me now.
“Of course,” Char says as she comes to stand in front of me.
“I feel like a cow.” I sigh quietly so James doesn’t hear.
“You feel like that now, wait until you’re thirty-nine weeks pregnant and about to pop.” That is not a pretty vision in my head.
“I can’t wait,” I deadpan.
“Me neither.” Char claps.
“Can’t wait for what?” James asks from the couch.
Both Char and I whip our eyes to him and say at the same time, “Nothing.”
James gives us a suspicious look, but eventually shakes his head and turns his attention back to the sport’s channel. He obviously doesn’t think whatever we’re hiding is worth the trouble. Thank God.
I walk to the kitchen to grab my phone when it starts ringing. I groan when I see Pearl’s name on the ID. “Pearl,” I answer, because I refuse to ever refer to her as a mother again.
“Eva, darling, I’m running a tad bit behind so I’m going to have to meet you at the event. I’ve sent a lovely young man named Eric Stovers to pick you up.”
“Pearl, I swear to God. I told you no blind dates,” I growl through the receiver. “If you don’t have time to pick me up, I will sit this event out.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. This is for charity. Can’t you just do this one thing for me? Eric is such a great guy. He’s an investment banker and comes from a wealthy family. I just know you two will hit it off.”
I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath, willing myself not to completely lose it and strangle her. I don’t fancy having my baby being born behind bars. However, if the judge ever met Pearl Jones, I’m sure he would understand.
“This is it, Pearl. After this date, a date that will go nowhere, I’m done. No charity events. No blind dates. I’m done,” I say slowly so she can comprehend what I’m saying in her pea-sized brain.
“Oh, good. I’m glad you agree. He should be arriving at that god-awful trailer anytime now. I see good things in store for you two.” See? It’s like talking to a wall. I don’t even bother to say any more. I just hit end on the phone and shove it into my red clutch.
“Blind date, huh?” Char asks. I nod. “Maybe this is good. I mean, I’m sure the guy is a tool. After all, Pearl picked him, but it might be the shove you need to get out there.”
I look at James and see him roll his eyes. He’s apparently not down for me moving on. I’m currently wondering if I have time to rip this dress off, throw some sweats on, and hide out at a Dunkin’ Donuts when there’s a knock on the door. Looks like time ran out.
I slowly walk to the door, dreading this night more with each step I take. I swing it open to find a handsome man. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Much taller than me, but still shorter than six foot. When he rakes his eyes over my body, my hackles rise.
He likes what he sees, if the annoying smile he gives me when he finally looks in my eyes is any indication. “You must be Eva. I’m Eric Stovers. It is really nice to meet you.” He says that last part while his eyes are glued to my chest. I’m barely holding back the vomit. I finally found another person to tell I’m pregnant too.
“Eyes up here, Eric,” I deadpan. When he looks at me, he at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Nice to meet you too,” I lie. “Are you ready?” He nods.
I say a quick goodbye to Char and James, who both look like they wouldn’t mind saying a few choice words to Eric, and climb into the back of the limo.
As soon as we’re moving, Eric leaps into telling me every boring fact he can about investment banking while I send a silent prayer to God, asking him to make this night go fast.
***
Two. That’s how many hours I’ve had this fake smile plastered on my face. That’s also how long I’ve listened to Eric and Pearl blab about how much money he makes and how important he is in this community.
Five. That’s how many glasses of wine Pearl has handed me that I’ve had to conspicuously throw out without her noticing. I think, in her mind, if she can get me drunk I might be easier to manipulate.
Seven. That’s how many chauvinistic men I’ve turned down for a dance. All of them are the same here. All they want is money, big houses, powerful jobs, and trophy wives. They say they are here for charity, but this is just another way for them to show all their friends how much more they have than them.
Three. That’s how many times Eric has asked me if I wanted to leave and go back to his place. He’s a peach. Truly. But if he puts his hand on my upper thigh under this table one more time, I’m grabbing my fork and stabbing it.
A hundred. That’s how many times I wished for Brantley to be here. I’m torn between wishing I never left Alaska to wishing I never went there in the first place. If tonight has taught me anything, it’s that Brantley Smith has ruined me for all other men.
Through all this, my fake smile never falters. I greet Pearl’s friends and act like she’s the best woman to walk this earth.
I’m currently sitting at one of the tables, listening to an elderly woman tell me how I would be perfect for her grandson, when Pearl walks up. “May I have a word with you, Eva, dear?” she says in her sugary-sweet tone, and I know I’m in trouble. I stand, excuse myself, and follow her out to the foyer.
“Could you be any more embarrassing?” she snaps at me as soon as we’re out of earshot of the other guests.
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
“Oh, don’t give me the ‘Eva is always innocent act.’ That’s boring. You know exactly what I mean. Eric is trying so hard with you, and you continuously blow him off. You need to get your act together, young lady. This is a good opportunity for us, and I won’t let you ruin it again.” I don’t get to say anything in my defense. Pearl storms off and back into the party.
Why am I here? Why am I still letting Pearl have this control over me? She acts like she’s doing me a favor. I’m a meal ticket to her. That’s all I ever was. She doesn’t love m
e, and if I’m being honest, I don’t love her. Not the way a daughter should. If I stay, I give her the power to continue to treat me like this. And then, when my little bean is born, is she going to treat him or her that way? Over my dead fucking body.
After my epiphany in the foyer of this swanky hotel, I storm back to the table with the elderly lady to grab my clutch and get the hell out of there, but as soon as I reach it, the lady picks up the conversation right where she left off.
I plop down in the seat and listen, even though it’s one of the last things I want to do right now. What I really want to be doing is calling a cab and leaving, but this woman is the only decent human being here, so I figure I can wait a couple extra minutes.
She’s currently describing her grandson to me for the third time when I feel a tap on my shoulder. At the same time, her eyes go wide when she gets a look at whoever’s doing the tapping.
When I turn, I lose all oxygen, and my heart comes to a complete stop. Brantley. He’s here, standing in front of me, dressed in a black tuxedo with a red tie, but his hair is still in its bun and his beard still in place. My Brantley is here.
Which begs a question. Why? How did he even know where I was? How in the hell is he even here, in South Carolina? Once again, I find myself wondering if I’m dreaming, but I’ve learned my lesson not to pinch myself. That shit hurts.
I want to cry. I want to throw myself in his arms and tell him I love him. But most of all, what I really, really want to do…is slap the shit out of him. Thankfully—for him—I’m too frozen in shock to do any one of those things.
Brantley gives me a sheepish smirk and sticks out his hand. Then the rat bastard utters four words that make tears well in my eyes. “Sway with me, baby?”
I blame it on the shock. That, and the fact that I missed him so much. Without saying a word, I place my hand in his.
Chapter Twenty
YOU WON’T EVER BE LONELY
We reach the middle of the dance floor just as Andy Griggs’s “You Won’t Ever Be Lonely” begins playing. Brantley pulls me to him right away, leaving his hands wrapped around my waist. It feels like he’s holding me tighter, but I tell myself that it’s my imagination as I lay my head on his shoulders.
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