I stare at the video camera outline in the chat, my finger trembling as I press on it. I stare at it with wide eyes and hang up immediately. I can’t tell him like this. I run a hand through my knotted hair, shaking my fingers in between the strands.
My fingers begin typing as I chicken out, but a written message is still better than not telling him at all, right?
@AllyinSpain: Hey…what’s up? Listen I need to talk to you about something
I focus on my breathing while I wait for him to respond, curious if he’s aware of his phone or not. When the word, Seen, shows under my message, my breathing becomes erratic, and tears sting my eyes. This is it.
@CamSteeleIT: What’s going on? Did u just call me?
@AllyinSpain: Ignore that. Okay, so…I don’t know hwo to say this but I’m pregnant
I hit send without re-reading or thinking twice because I know I’ll delete it and completely chicken out. I groan when I spot the typo but figure it’s acceptable considering the bomb I just dropped on him.
I wait for Camden to reply, seeing as he read the message, but instead of typing bubbles, I get silence on the receiving end. My stomach drops, and hot tears roll down my face. I wasn’t expecting a ton of exclamations and happiness, but I was expecting a response, anything that would make this less heavy, less scary and lonely. Tying my hair in a knot, I sink into the couch and drop my head back, closing my eyes.
I trap the tears, but some manage to escape from between my lashes. Camden isn’t my happily ever after, but the silly girl in me was hoping I’d have the father to help ease the fear and worry that are twisting my stomach like a tight-rung towel.
When I continue to receive silence from Camden, I get up to work on the brownies I planned on making today. Today’s secret ingredient—salty tears.
I can’t believe he didn’t respond at all. I slam the spatula into the bottom of the bowl and furiously mix the ingredients as my frustration increases. He could’ve at least acknowledged it, said something like, Hey, good for you, but I’m not taking care of it. Anything would’ve been better than ghosting me. I’m here, scared shitless and alone, and he’s got the balls to ignore me. Typical Camden, never taking responsibility for his damn actions so he can continue to live his carefree life.
After I’ve placed the brownies in the oven, I pace around the kitchen. When my legs give out, and my anger turns into sadness, I sink onto the floor, hugging my legs and burying my head between the nook of my knees and thighs. In this moment, it all crashes down on me, and I sob into my pajama pants, soaking them.
Every bit of denial I had is stripped from me, and I’m left with the cruel reality that I’m going to be a single mom. But I can’t abort. I refuse to. Maybe I can look into adoption, give a couple that’s been hoping for a baby their answered prayer. I could be the light in their life. The only thing I’m unsure about is if I’ll be willing to let the baby go after having him or her growing inside of me for nine months.
I rub a hand over my stomach, sucking in a breath as I attempt to stop the tears. My chest trembles as I bite my bottom lip, inhaling the sweet chocolate scent that wafts through the kitchen. It calms me just enough to stand and check on the brownies before grabbing my phone and video calling my mom.
“Hi, sweetie.” As soon as I hear my mom’s voice, my lips tremble, and my face contorts as I begin crying. “What’s wrong?” My mom’s worried voice hits me in the chest, and I shake my head, covering my mouth with my hand as tears fill my eyes.
“Allyson, talk to me.” I see my mom lean forward, her face closer to the screen.
“Mom…” I cry out. “I-I-I’m pregnant.” I suck in a breath, hiding my face with my hands. I can’t stand to see the shock on her face, so I rather hide.
“What?” my mom whispers. “Allyson, look at me.” I peek up at her, my palms wet with tears. “Tell me what’s going on.” Her soft voice calms me enough to take a deep breath.
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” I shake my head, feeling as if I’m five again after I broke her favorite vase full of flowers because I took a corner too sharply.
“Don’t apologize. Start from the beginning.” She talks to me slowly, patience oozing from her, and I wish she were here or me there. I wish we were having this conversation in person instead of calling her in a bout of sorrow and spilling this news like this.
I tell her what happened at the wedding, as embarrassing as it is to tell my mom I had sex. By the time I get to the part about Camden’s silence, her eyes are filled with tears. I remove the brownies from the oven as I watch a mixture of emotions flicker through her face, her salt and pepper hair pulled back in a bun giving me a clear view of them.
“Camden is a good person, and he’ll do right by you.” I open my mouth to argue, but she keeps talking. “That doesn’t always mean an engagement, but I’m sure he’ll help with the baby.”
“I always thought when I got pregnant, I would be married, in love, and ready for it.” I shake my head, tucking my lower lip between my teeth.
“You can still have that in life. This one situation doesn’t mean your life is ruined. It’s a blessing. Look at it that way. And heck, you’re gonna make me a grandma,” my mom’s voice wavers. Then, she chuckles to herself.
“What’s so funny?” I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hands.
“I was just telling Camden the other day that he should consider settling down. Oh, the irony of life.” She shakes her head as if this were the most amusing thing in the entire world.
Once I get her to focus again, I tell her all my worries and how I have no idea what will happen with my job. Then, I mention that I don’t know how to tell Easton, nor do I want to ruin his friendship with Camden because of this.
Although my mom assures me everything will work out as it should, and my brother will not be upset, I can’t help but feel angry butterflies in my stomach attempting to break through and cause havoc. I’m not as confident as she is.
- - - - -
It was a quiet weekend after my meltdown, my talk with my mom, and getting over the fact that Camden never replied to my message. Instead of quiet, it was actually a rough weekend, but quiet sounds better, more fulfilling. I did, however, have to dodge text messages from Rubén and Dawn, asking why I was staying in on a Saturday night.
If they only knew.
I want to keep this to myself, especially with co-workers, until I have a solid grasp on what’s going on and move through the early weeks of this pregnancy. That means I’ll have to play the sick or tired card a few times to avoid going out and being asked why I’m not drinking. I can only fool my friends for so long.
Speaking of, Dawn peeks into my office as I’m settling in.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” She smiles genuinely.
“Better, thanks.” I called in sick on Friday with no details of what exactly I was feeling. Although my pale face and sour expression are enough to prove I feel ill.
“I’m happy to hear that. Have a good day.” I sigh when she leaves my office. My head drops onto my hands. It’s going to be a long day.
The best way to make the hours pass is work, so I check on what I missed or left pending for Friday and start catching up on what needs to be done first. Thankfully, that keeps my mind busy as the morning passes in between paperwork, curriculums I’ve received, meeting with employees, and a call with my boss in Richmond. Before I know it, it’s time to head home for lunch, and I’m looking forward to getting some fresh air as I walk home.
Madrid has shifted from crowded tourists to a routine as kids go back to school. I see different children dressed in their uniforms, talking a mile a minute to their mothers as they also head home for lunch. A pang hits me in the pit of my stomach as I watch them, wondering if I’ll raise my own child here or in the States.
As I approach my apartment building, I squint my eyes and then shake my head to remove the tricks my mind is playing. Ever since I got back from Everton, I’ve bee
n seeing doubles—men who look like Camden and remind me of him. It’s annoying as hell, more so today when I just want to forget about him and move on.
The man I thought was Camden stands as I reach my door, smiling sheepishly. My eyebrows furrow, blinking rapidly.
“Hey.”
My heart jumps to my throat, pulsing against the base of it like a techno beat. This is the last thing I expected when I got home. He looks tired, his eyes rimmed in red, and his hair sticking up all over the place from running his hand through it. His worn jeans have a relaxed fit, and I’m so damn happy to see a guy in jeans that are not skintight.
“What are you doing here?” So much for my mind playing tricks on me. No confusion here; Camden is standing outside my apartment building with a small suitcase. I cross my arms so he doesn’t notice that they are trembling.
“Can we talk?” He points to the door.
I’m so mad at him that I want to send him back home and never speak to him again, but I know that’s not the right thing to do. We do need to talk because, like it or not, I’ll have a tie to Camden forever. Even if he decides he wants nothing to do with this baby, every time I look at him or her, I’ll remember Camden.
“Yeah.” I unlock the building door and walk in, holding the door open. Camden walks in behind me, both of us waiting for the elevator in silence.
I fidget with my keys as it dings open and step inside, every drop of nerves hitting me at once until I’m fighting against them in a losing battle. As if I were swimming upstream against a violent current.
The entire ride up to the fourth floor is filled with more silence, only amping up my anxiety. I can’t even think about what he’s going to say, but I’ll let him speak first. I already told him what I needed to, but I won’t force him to play Dad if that’s not what he wants. I’m not looking for someone to pity me. If he wants to be in this baby’s life, we’ll make it work.
“The place is a mess, and I’m not just saying that to fish for compliments about how non-messy it is. You won’t walk into a spotless apartment, especially after this weekend.” I open the door and walk in, allowing Camden to enter behind me. He places his small suitcase by the entrance and sticks his hands in his pockets.
He must catch me eyeing his bag because he says, “Don’t worry, I booked a hotel.”
I swallow thickly and nod. “Good, because I only have one bedroom, and I’m not giving up my bed,” I shrug.
“I would never ask that. Jesus…” He mumbles the last part as he runs a hand through his hair.
“So, what can I do for you?” I cross my arms over my chest and arch an eyebrow. Camden gives me a dubious stare, something mixed with insanity, too, as he furrows his eyebrows.
“Uh… You kinda dropped a bomb on me, and I wanted to talk in person.” I can’t believe he’s here.
“And you dropped a bomb in me,” I grit out, pointing to my stomach.
Camden snorts, trying to hold back his laughter and failing, which only causes me to glare harder. “Sorry, Kiwi, but that’s kinda funny. I guess my sperm is uber-fast and determined.”
“Camden!” I rake my hands through my hair and turn around, blinking to dry up my tears.
“Hey,” his voice is soft, and I tense upon feeling his hand on my shoulder. “I was just joking, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Trust me, I’m as scared as you are.”
I shake my head and turn around. “No, don’t come at me with that. You aren’t the one carrying this baby. You aren’t the one living in a foreign country, questioning how the hell you’re going to overcome this. You’re the one that gets to choose to walk away and wipe your hands from this…this…this thing,” I’m at a loss for words as my emotions spike.
“I flew over here to talk, to work this out. I’m not going to leave you alone and abandon you to deal with this.” His jaw ticks.
“Fine,” I surrender because he’s right. He flew all the way over here, and he doesn’t deserve my attitude of doubts.
“Are you hungry? Let’s go eat since I know you have to get back to work, and we can talk. We can meet once you’re done to discuss more if you want to.
“Wait… How did you find out where I live?” My eyebrows pull together as it dawns on me that I never told him.
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye with a lifted brow. “I’m a computer whiz. I know how to hack into systems and get the info I want.”
“You hacked a computer to get my address? That’s creepy, Camden.” I cross my arms. Goodness, this is the father of my child.
“What you call creepy, I call efficient.” He gives me a boyish smile, and my tension begins to melt away as I laugh. I hold my middle, manic cackles taking over at what my life has become.
“Uhh… Are you okay?” Camden’s wide eyes stare at me, which causes me to laugh harder. I nod before throwing my head back, tears prickling the edges of my eyes.
“Oh my God…” I try to catch my breath. “Be right back!” I race to the bathroom before I pee my pants, still laughing as I sit on the toilet.
Camden flew all the way from Richmond after ignoring my message, so we could talk in person. Then, he hacks a system to get my address instead of being a rational adult and telling me he’s coming and wants to talk. This poor kid is in trouble with parents like us.
My hand lands on my stomach, my giggles turning into cries that clutch my stomach. I swallow them back, but it’s no use. My vision clouds as I stand in front of the sink to wash my hands. I look at my disheveled reflection, which only makes me cry more. I try to control my emotions and wash my face. I guess mood swings are very real in pregnancy.
When I walk back to the living room, Camden is looking around the space. Turning around, his face instantly scrunches up, worry lines forming around his eyes and forehead.
“What happened?” He strides toward me.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “This is just a ridiculous situation.”
“Were you crying?”
“Mood swings,” I shrug as if it’s no big deal.
“Ally…” He reaches for me, wrapping his arms around me in the most comforting hug I’ve ever experienced. “We’re gonna be okay,” he promises. I nod against his chest, finally wrapping my arms around his waist.
When his fingers comb the long strands of hair that cascade down my back, I sink into him, grasping as much of the comfort as I can. For the first time in days, I feel relaxed. And if I’m being honest, it’s the first time in weeks. Sleeping with Camden not only left a physical reminder but an emotional impact. I haven’t been myself ever since.
“Let’s eat.” He gives me one more squeeze before I step back and nod. “There’s a deli around the corner.”
“Perfect. Can I leave my bag here until we finish? I need to check into my hotel, but I came here first, so I wouldn’t miss your lunch break.”
“I’m not even going to ask how you got a hold of my schedule.” I shake my head, grabbing my purse, and heading out of my apartment.
“That was easy. Your company website has it listed.”
“Well, that does bring down your stalker status by half a point,” I deadpan, which causes him to laugh.
chapter 13
Camden
I’m pregnant. Those words will forever stay in my mind. When I saw the notification for Allyson’s message a few days ago, I remember grinning to myself, thinking she’d contacted me instead of the other way around. I gave her space and stopped writing, not wanting to come off like a douche by continuing to bring up the night we spent together.
The last thing I expected was for that night to change everything in our lives.
I sat and stared at the message for well over thirty minutes. I couldn’t process it or understand until it hit me—caught up in the moment, we never used a condom. Then, I did the one thing I could think of and book a flight over here to talk in person. After an overnight flight with two layovers, I’m exhausted, but seeing Allyson in the flesh after all these weeks thinking ab
out her is worth it.
She looks beautiful, even with bags under her eyes and fear written all over her face. Never in my wildest dreams did I think life would take the two of us to this moment or that I’d one day crave her more than I do my evening scotch. But I do.
“This way,” Ally finally speaks as we walk toward the deli she mentioned. I open the door for her, allowing her to walk in before me. Her sweet perfume hits me, and I inhale like a starving man. Forget the hunger in my stomach; around Allyson, I’ve got a hunger for things I’ve never wanted in my life.
“What do you recommend?” I ask, unsure what half of the ingredients are on the overhead board.
“I’ve got it.” She finally gives me a smile, albeit a weak one but a smile nonetheless.
“I’m in your hands.” I rock back on my heels, placing my hands in my pocket as I smile.
Her chest rises and falls with each deep breath she takes until it’s our turn to order. I’m impressed by her Spanish, lifting my eyebrows as she is in total control of the conversation with the attendant at the counter.
Once our food is ready, I grab the tray and follow her to an empty table. The place is full of people waiting in line to order while others sit at tables, engaged in conversations—such a change from back home. Since I got off the plane, I’ve been noticing the differences between both countries.
“I have to be back at work at four, although you probably already knew that.” Allyson takes a sip of water before unwrapping her sandwich, which is made with French bread, and instead of cold cuts, it has grilled chicken.
“Yeah,” I nod. “So… Anyway,” I pause, trying to collect my thoughts.
“Honestly, Camden, you don’t have to take on this responsibility. Don’t feel like you need to step into a Dad role just because I’m pregnant. I didn’t tell you because I expected something from you, but I did think you had a right to know, even when I’d rather have kept this to myself.” She leans forward on her elbows, her face serious as her eyes stare into mine to emphasize her point.
The Right Kind of Wrong: A Brother's Best Friend Romance Page 8