One Chance

by Best, Victoria J.

  Pregnancy hormones were no joke.

  “I’m fine. Sort of, but I have to tell you something and I don’t want Jackson to find out just yet.”

  Liza gave a soft gasp. “Is something wrong with Henry?”

  I shook my head though she couldn’t see me. “No. It’s me,” I said quietly.

  I heard a lot of background noise, as if she were moving things around, then heard the sound of a door closing.

  “I’m in the walk-in closet. What’s up?”

  I chuckled, my emotions flip-flopping quickly. “You didn’t have to hide in the closet.”

  Liza laughed. “It was either that or go out on the balcony, but it’s too damn cold for that. Jax is in our bathroom, so he was in ear shot.”

  “Okay . . .” I let the word hang between us for a beat because I wasn’t ready to say anything.

  “What’s going on, Nic? You’re scaring me. Are you sick? Did something happen to you?” Her voice was high with panic.

  “Well, not exactly. I mean, well, I’m pregnant. And it’s Henry’s. And I’m freaking out because I don’t want to tell him and ruin his sobriety.” I blurted everything out in one breath.

  Silence on the other line made me hold my breath.

  “Liza?”

  “I’m here, I’m just . . . processing,” she said in a loud whisper.

  “Oh, take your time. I’ve been processing for three days.”

  “Three days!” Her voice rose several octaves and I heard Jackson’s muffled voice in the background.

  I held my breath again, waiting for her to return to the line. It felt like everything was unraveling.

  “Nicolette? Are you still there?”

  “Yes. Is Jackson still there?”

  “No, I told him it was a work emergency and I needed some privacy. I’m in the office,” she said. A loud sigh echoed through the phone before she spoke again. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

  “Because you were away. What were you going to do from Italy?”

  “I guess you’re right. I feel so bad that you’ve been dealing with this alone for the last three days,” she said, her voice contrite.

  “It’s okay. I’ve had time to think. To let it settle in. All things considered, I’m actually pretty happy about it. I’ve always wanted children, and though it’s way sooner than I ever thought I’d have one, I’m okay with it. I’m mostly worried about Henry and how he’ll take the news.”

  “You don’t think he’ll be happy?” There was a hint of something I couldn’t identify in her voice.

  I sighed. “I’m not sure. He only just got out of rehab, Liza. He’s got a new job. He’s getting his life together. I don’t want to be the thing that derails everything.” My throat clogged with tears as I spoke, and I tried to clear it.

  “That’s a valid point. Maybe you should wait a bit to tell him?” she suggested. “Have you told your dad yet?”

  “No, not yet. I’m going to call him when I’m done talking to you,” I said as I moved from the couch into the kitchen and turned the kettle on for a cup of tea.

  “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. Your dad loves babies,” Liza said. From the tone of her voice, I could tell she was smiling.

  I chuckled. “He really does.”

  The kettle whistled, and I took it off the burner, pouring the hot water over my tea bag. I set the kettle back down on the stove top, picked up my mug, and shuffled back over to the couch to sit down.

  “Don’t tell Jax yet, okay?” I said after I had settled in.

  “Okay . . .” I could hear the hesitation in her voice. “After what happened with Natalie, I don’t like having secrets between us.”

  I let out a deep breath. “I know. I’m really sorry for putting you in this position but”—I sighed again, taking a tentative sip of my hot tea—“I don’t want Henry to find out from someone other than me. And I have a feeling Jackson would tell him if he knew.”

  Liza was quiet for a moment. I needed her on my side and knew she needed a moment to think.

  “Okay, Nic. I’ll keep it to myself for as long as I can, but if he asks, I won’t be able to lie,” she said with resignation.

  “Thank you, Liza. Thank you.” I breathed easier with relief. “Tell me about Italy.”

  We talked for another fifteen minutes. Liza told me of all the places they’d visited, the beaches they’d seem, and the beautiful places they’d stayed at.

  “I hate to admit this to anyone, but I was really hoping he would propose,” she said, just before we finished the call.

  “I think he will, and soon,” I assured her. Though with their history, I wasn’t even sure Jackson wanted to get married again.

  “I hope you’re right. I know we haven’t been together that long, but I don’t want to be with anyone else. Jackson is it for me.” She sounded disappointed, dejected.

  “It will happen, Liza. I know it. I have a feeling,” I said to make her feel better. I wasn’t lying. I did have a feeling.

  Before we ended the call, we made plans to have lunch that weekend.

  I had one more phone call to make, and I hoped Liza was right. I hoped my dad would be as happy about my situation as I was.

  Before I called him, I finished my tea, did the dishes, and straightened the kitchen. I was stalling, and though I knew my dad loved me, I also knew there was a small part of me that would always want to please him. We may have had a breakthrough the previous week, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be disappointed in me.

  Taking a deep breath, I picked up my phone, clicked my dad’s name from my recent call log, and held the phone to my ear. He answered on the third ring.

  “Hello, darling,” he said.

  Just as with Liza, my eyes teared up at the sound of his voice.

  “Hey, Dad. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, I’m headed to a meeting in Queens. The company is looking to buy this area of abandon factories to turn into luxury apartments. What’s up?”

  “I have something to tell you. Nothing bad, just surprising.” I chose my words carefully so as not to make him panic.

  “Okay. I’m all ears,” he said.

  “I, uh, well, I’m pregnant. Surprise!” I said weakly.

  As with my previous phone call, silence followed my declaration.

  “Wow. Wow,” he finally said. I couldn’t read anything in his voice beyond shock.

  “I know. It was quite the shock to me, too.” My stomach was in knots.

  “I’m guessing Henry Radcliffe-Rogers is the father?” he asked, his voice even.

  “Yeah. But I haven’t told him yet,” I added quickly.

  “Why not?” It wasn’t a reproach.

  “I’m worried,” I admitted.

  “About?”

  “How he’ll take it. I was shocked when I found out, because, well, because I was on birth control, but he, um, he’s a recovering . . .” I didn’t finish my sentence, more afraid to tell my dad that Henry was a recovering alcoholic than that I was unexpectedly pregnant.

  “Alcoholic?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I told you before, Nikki, I’ve heard things about that boy. I also heard that he went away to France on a whim for about four weeks last month. In this town, an unexpected trip out of the country is code for rehab.”

  “Oh,” I said with chagrin.

  “Is that really why you’re afraid to tell him? Shouldn’t you have been more afraid to tell your old man?” It was said on a laugh.

  “I wasn’t afraid to tell you because you love babies. But Henry . . .” I paused, weighing my words. “I’m afraid he’ll relapse.”

  My dad sighed. “I can’t speak for Henry, but your mother and I had some trying times before you were born and finding out we were about to have you was the greatest thing to ever happen to me. And you’re right, I do love babies. I’m happy for you, sweetheart, as long as this is what you want.”

  “It is. I didn’t know it before it happened,
but now that it has, I can’t imagine not having this baby.”

  “Then you’ll be just fine, and I’ll support you in any way that I can.”

  Some of the dread I had been feeling in my gut the past three days began to dissipate. But the heavy pit in the very center would remain until after I told Henry, and I couldn’t do that just yet. Not until I was certain he would be okay.

  “Thanks, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Bye, baby girl. See you Saturday.”

  I hung up, put my phone down and stood. Some of the funk I had sank into the last two days because I’d been dreading telling my family about the pregnancy began to slip away.

  I placed a hand on my belly.

  It was time to start planning for our future.

  Chapter 31

  Henry

  My phone rang as I stepped out of my cubicle on Friday afternoon. I secretly hoped it was Nicolette, and my mood dropped a bit when I saw that it was only Jackson.

  “What’s up, cousin?” I barked into the phone as I stepped onto the elevator.

  “Harry, I think something is up with our women,” Jax said matter-of-factly.

  “Oh? Why do you say that?”

  I exited the building, lifting a hand to signal a cab. Seconds later, a cab pulled to the curb and I got in.

  “I caught Liza huddled in the closet yesterday afternoon on her cell phone. She claimed it was a work call, but I think it was Nicolette.”

  “Maybe it was a work call?” I said, covering the mouthpiece of the phone to tell the cab driver where I was headed.

  “I doubt it. Liza was all flustered, and . . .” He paused as if deciding whether to tell me the rest or not. “I checked her phone afterwards. It was Nicolette.”

  “Oh? What do you suppose they’re up to? Planning something perhaps?”

  “It seemed urgent. Liza was withdrawn yesterday afternoon when she got off the phone. Barely spoke to me. I’m wondering what would make her so shaken up.” Jax sounded irritated. He wasn’t used to people keeping him out of the loop.

  “It’s probably nothing. Girl stuff. I’m heading over to Nicolette’s now. I’m going to surprise her with dinner. I can see if she knows anything,” I said, though I wasn’t half as concerned as Jax was. Women’s matters didn’t concern me too much. If Nicolette had something to tell me, I trusted that she would.

  “All right. Let me know,” Jax ordered.

  I rolled my eyes. How Liza dealt with his heavy-handedness I would never understand.

  “Sure thing, cuz.”

  I disconnected the call just as the cab pulled up to the restaurant where I was picking up take-out for dinner.

  “I’ll just be a moment,” I said, handing him a fifty before getting out of the car.

  I hadn’t spoken to Nicolette all week. We texted back and forth, but she hadn’t been taking my calls. Concern made me resort to calling my mother to see if she was all right. Angela informed me that Nicolette hadn’t been at work all week. She was taking a few sick days and working from home. I thought about the headache she’d had last week when we’d had lunch. Worry nagged at me. I had to see her, so I was surprising her with dinner.

  I only hoped she didn’t slam the door in my face for being too presumptuous.

  Within five minutes, I was back in the cab and heading uptown to her apartment. The cab pulled to the curb and I tipped the guy extra for waiting for me to pick the food up. I got out, take-out bags in hand. The doorman greeted me, not bothering to ask who I was there to see. Without buzzing her apartment, I took the elevator up, made my way down the hall as trepidation pooled in my gut, and knocked on the door.

  I wasn’t used to being so wrapped up in a woman that I was nervous about seeing her, but that was what Nicolette did to me. This wasn’t a fling, a passing affair. It was something real, something I wanted to see through. I was falling for her, hard and fast, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it.

  Nicolette answered the door, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, wearing an oversized Columbia sweatshirt and black leggings. Her eyes were wide as she spoke, her voice higher than normal. “Henry! What are you doing here?”

  “I brought dinner,” I said lamely, holding the bags up.

  “Oh.” Something unreadable entered her eyes.

  “My mother’s assistant told me you were out sick. How come you didn’t tell me when we were texting?”

  “Oh, uh, I just had a migraine again. I had to see the doctor.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “He said it was nothing. I needed some rest is all.”

  “Are you sure?” I wanted to tell her I was worried, but I wasn’t sure how she would take it.

  “Yes,” she said, stepping back so I could enter the apartment. For a moment, I hadn’t been sure she would let me in.

  Something had changed between us, again. I could feel it. See it. There was a shift. She was backing away from me, literally and figuratively.

  “I brought chicken soup, salad, and rolls. Seemed like something that would help if you were sick.” I felt awkward, unbalanced. I wasn’t used to this.

  “Thank you, Henry. I appreciate this. Really. I feel bad that you went to so much trouble.” She wouldn’t look at me, instead busying herself in the kitchen with plates and cups, and setting them up on the island before walking away to the fridge. “What would you like to drink?”

  I decided to stop dancing around her. Following her to the fridge, I went up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist to pull her against my chest. She stiffened and let out a slight gasp, but I didn’t let go. Less than a week ago we had been intimate, together in a way I thought had changed our relationship to something else. Today, she was acting as if we were only friends again. I wasn’t sure why she was running so hot and cold on me. If she wanted to take it slow, I would take it slow, but I wasn’t going to pretend that nothing had happened.

  “Henry, I—” she began to rebuke me, but made no move to push me away or get out of my embrace.

  “I haven’t seen you in a few days. I needed to feel you in my arms for a moment.”

  She spun around to face me, her eyes cloudy with something I couldn’t decipher. She wasn’t stiff any longer, leaning into me ever so slightly, but she hadn’t touched me.

  What was making her hold back when I could see that she wanted to be near me?

  “I know. I’ve been in a weird place,” she said quietly, so much so that I almost didn’t understand what she said at first.

  “What’s going on, Nic?” I asked, looking directly into the depths of her sky-blue eyes.

  “I’m—” She stopped, shook her head and looked down, before meeting my eyes again. “I mean, my dad just told me he’s gay. I’m still processing it all. It feels like everything I knew about him and my mom is a lie, but he swears it’s not.”

  Her father was gay? That’s what this was about?

  “I’m sorry. Did he explain why he never told you?” I didn’t let go of her and she relaxed against me, resting her head on my chest. Something cracked open in my chest, but I suppressed it, denying my feelings so I could protect myself from this tiny woman in my arms.

  Nicolette nodded. “He said he was worried of what I would think about his and my mom’s relationship. He explained that they had an arrangement. Mom knew about him. They were very open with each other. I was worried that his secret was the reason she took her own life.” A quiet sob shook her shoulders, and I realized she had begun to cry. “But he assured me that my mother had mental-health issues all through her life. I guess it’s just hard to think about—not because he’s gay, I love him no matter what—but because I had a different picture of what our life used to be. Before Mom died.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. My relationship with my parents was so different from the one she had with her dad and used to have with her mom. I sometimes wished I was close enough with either of my parents to feel something other than scorn or embarrassment from them, but I knew o
ur relationship wasn’t likely to change at this point. Nicolette valued her relationship with her father, that much was evident. I hoped she’d be able to get past this. I hoped she would let me help her.

  “What do you need?” I asked her, searching her eyes again as they met mine. Tears shimmered in them, and before I could stop myself, I swiped them away with my thumb. She closed her eyes for a beat before meeting mine again.

  Suddenly her stomach growled. It caught us both off guard, interrupting the intimate, tearful moment. We laughed, and Nicolette covered her face.

  “I guess I need food right now,” she said with a giggle, wiping the rest of the tears from her eyes.

  “That I can do,” I said. I started to unpack the food, setting things out on the island, opening containers, and pouring soup into bowls.

  After everything was out and ready, we sat down at the island, side by side, and ate in silence. At first, Nicolette picked at her food, but then she devoured the bowl of soup, two rolls, and a plate of salad. I watched her eat, feeling like I’d done something to help her, even if it was as minimal as buying some food.

  “What?” she asked when she noticed me staring. “Do I have something on my face?”

  I shook my head. “Nope, just looking at you. I’m not allowed to look at you?”

  She shook her head this time. “Not like that. Not when I’m feeling this vulnerable.”

  “Why? Afraid you’ll do something you regret?” I asked the question as a joke, but her expression grew serious, and I wondered if she regretted having sex with me.

  “No. I’m worried I’ll do something that will make it harder for me to take this slowly.”

  Food forgotten, I stood up, turning her stool so she faced me. I got as close to her as I could, pushing my thighs between hers, leaning down over her with my hands resting on the seat back. The energy in the room changed as I towered over her, her chest rising and falling, my body very aware of how close we were and the position we were in. Suddenly everything slowed down and disappeared into the background as if only she and I were the center of the universe and everything swirled around us.