Holy mother fu–
A string of every expletive I’ve ever heard, and a few I’m sure I made up, whipped through my brain while I stared at the test in front of me. I closed my eyes briefly and looked again, just to make sure I wasn’t seeing something that wasn’t there.
It was positive.
Two dark pink lines stared up at me as my stomach twisted into knots and my lungs contracted in my chest.
I couldn’t breathe.
With trembling hands, I picked up the test and brought it closer to my face, sure I must be seeing things. I twisted the test from side to side, but from every angle, it was positive.
A watery laugh fell from my lips while a few stray tears escaped the corners of my eyes.
It’s positive.
I’m pregnant.
Holy shit, I’m pregnant.
My phone chimed with an incoming message and I wiped my face with the back of my hand while I slid the home screen open.
Josie: What’s the verdict?
I began typing out a message when it struck me that Bryson should be the first to know. He’d been with me every step of the way and he deserved to share this with me before anyone else.
With another swipe at my eyes, I dialed his cell number, too excited to waste time searching for his contact in my phone. I snuck a look at the woman in the mirror and saw her previously pale face was rosy and wet with tears. Her eyes were wide and glassy, and her lips looked like they couldn’t have been pulled out of the smile they were in if you tried.
The phone rang only a few times before Bryson’s gruff voice answered.
“Mackenzie. What’s up?”
The woman in the mirror frowned at his brusque greeting, but it was brief. Nothing could permanently dull the high I was on right now. I took another glance at the test and my smile spread across my face, pulling muscles that hadn’t been used in so long, they had almost atrophied.
I opened my mouth to tell Bryson the good news but paused. Did I really want to tell him this over the phone? Wouldn’t it be a hundred times better to do this face to face? Didn’t we both deserve to celebrate this news together?
“Mackenzie? Are you there?”
I shook my head and a small laugh fell from my lips. “Sorry. I’m here.”
“What is it? I’m at work.”
This time the frown on my face lasted a lot longer. I knew he was at work, but did he have to be a jerk about it? I never called and bothered him at work and the one time I do, he has an attitude?
I took a deep breath and tried to think past my frustration. Things hadn’t been great between the two of us. Neither one had been treating the other with much love or respect and I couldn’t expect him to just start now. After weeks of the silent treatment, he must be confused about my sudden call.
And besides, I knew he was at work, he might even be with a client. There was no way for me to know what my call had interrupted, and I needed to remember all that.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I wouldn’t let his tone get to me. Wouldn’t let anything dampen this moment.
“Mackenzie, seriously. I’m busy right now, can it wait until later?”
A gust of air emptied out my lungs. “Of course. That’s why I was calling.” I bit my lip and watched the dark-haired woman in the mirror. “I have some news.” Which was the understatement of this decade. “I wanted to know what time you’ll be home.”
Bryson sighed through the phone and I heard papers shuffling in the background. “I’m not sure. I’m busy.”
I bit my lip again and did my best to smooth the frown off my face.
Things are tense.
He doesn’t mean it.
Don’t take it personally.
I repeated these phrases over and over until I halfway believed them.
“It’s important, Brys. Can you get home early tonight?”
“I can try my best.”
“Is seven reasonable? I’ll make dinner.”
“Sure. Listen, I really gotta’ go, I have an important client coming in soon and I need to finish preparing for it.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Sure, Brys. I’ll see you later. I’ll make your favorite.”
“Sounds good. Bye.”
The click of Bryson disconnecting the call sounded like a gunshot through the phone. I lowered it slowly and set it beside the pregnancy test on the counter.
Things are tense.
He doesn’t mean it.
Don’t take it personally.
I repeated those phrases another dozen times while I got myself under control. A small lump settled in the pit of my stomach and it took me a moment before I realized it was a tiny bit of hurt.
I hadn’t asked anything of Bryson in so long, and the first time I make an effort to see him, to coordinate something between us, he brushed me off. Sure, I knew he said he had an important meeting, but shouldn’t this out-of-the-blue call mean something to him? Shouldn’t he be taking the chance to try to rectify things between us? Doesn’t the state of our marriage bother him like it bothers me?
With those heavy thoughts, I swiped the positive (holy shit) test and my phone off the counter and went downstairs to begin dinner. I tucked the test into a drawer in the kitchen, one that I could access easily when it came time to break the news to Bryson.
I thought about texting Josie back, but knew in my heart that I needed to tell Bryson before anyone else. He deserved nothing less.
With all that weighing on my mind, I set about making Bryson’s favorite dinner, turkey meatloaf and mashed potatoes. The meal took little prep and soon the meatloaf was baking in the oven while the potatoes boiled on the stove.
My eyes wandered over to the drawer I’d tucked the test into and I couldn’t stop myself from strolling over and taking a peek inside. Even though I knew what I’d see, those two pink lines sent a thrill coursing through my veins, making my stomach flip and my heart pound in my chest.
I still couldn’t believe I was pregnant. Couldn’t believe that after all this time and all the tests, procedures, and effort we put in, that one drunken night after a holiday party was all it took to finally make my dreams come true.
My mind wandered to Bryson. I wondered how he’d react and what he’d say. Would he be surprised at first? Demand to see the test itself before he believed me? Would he be happy? Would that smile I loved so much and hadn’t seen enough lately spread across his handsome face before he pulled me into his arms and spun me around the kitchen?
Would this fix us?
Could this pregnancy be the bridge that spanned the distance in our marriage? Could this baby bring us back to where we used to be? Could our marriage be resurrected by this little life?
These questions and more swirled through my head while I drained and mashed the potatoes just the way Bryson liked them. I checked my phone and saw it was just a few minutes until seven. Anticipation zipped through my veins and I fought off the smile on my face that probably looked a little manic at this point.
I covered the potatoes to keep them warm and pulled the meatloaf from the oven. The green beans I’d been steaming were done too, and the gravy wasn’t far behind. Another quick check on the time showed it was about ten minutes past seven.
I felt the frown pull at my brows as I walked to the front window and checked the driveway. It was empty.
I sighed and went back into the kitchen to cover the meatloaf with foil, so it wouldn’t get cold while I waited for Bryson.
As the minutes ticked by, I began to pace the kitchen.
Where was he? He said he’d be home by seven and it was now forty-five minutes past. Certainly, he wasn’t with the same client as when I called him. He was an accountant, how long could those meetings possibly last?
By eight, I decided to call him.
The phone rang and rang and rang until Bryson’s voicemail picked up.
“You’ve reached Bryson Thompson, I’m unavailable now but will return your c
all as soon as possible.”
The beep sounded for me to begin recording my message, but I hung up.
Maybe he was still in a meeting and couldn’t answer.
Me: Hey, are you leaving soon? Dinner’s getting cold.
I sent the text to Bryson and waited.
And waited some more.
I decided to set the table while I waited. We didn’t usually eat like this, opting to pick up our plates and fill them at the stove before taking our seats, but I needed something to do.
When I was done with that, I turned to the sink full of dishes and tackled them with gusto, scraping at pans with more force than was necessary. After finishing the dishes, I took another look at my phone to see not only had I not received a text or call, but it was now eight-thirty.
He was an hour and a half late and hadn’t even bothered to call or text.
I angrily swiped through my phone until I came to his cell number. I pressed call and waited as the phone rang and rang. When his voicemail began, I hung up and pressed call again. I did this over and over, calling and hanging up without leaving a message.
When it was clear he wasn’t going to answer his cell, I scrolled through my contacts until I found his office number. I’d never called it before, never needed to get in touch with him so bad and not been able to reach him on his cell. I knew it was crossing a bit of a line to bother him at work like this, but honestly, it was a quarter to nine at this point, what could he possibly still be doing there?
His office phone rang only a few times before he picked up.
“Bryson Thompson.”
“Brys, it’s me.”
“Mackenzie?” His voice lowered. “What is it?”
He sounded mad. I gulped and straightened my spine. “I’ve been calling you.”
His aggravated sigh sped through the phone line. “I know, and I haven’t been answering because I’m busy. What do you want?”
“You’re late.”
“What are you talking about?”
My brow pulled into a frown. Was he kidding me? “You said you’d be home at seven. It’s almost nine.”
He sighed again. “Mackenzie, I’m working.”
I sighed back. “I know, but since when do accountants need to work until nine at night?”
“Since when does it matter?”
His quick response was like a slap to my face. “I told you I had something to tell you.”
“Can’t it wait? I’m busy.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep, fortifying breath. “I’ve been waiting, Bryson. I made you dinner. You said you’d be home by seven.” I laid all these facts out before him, hoping he’d see how unreasonable he was being and apologize.
I was hoping for nothing.
“Okay, make me a plate and I’ll eat it when I get home.”
“I wanted to eat with you.”
“Since when?”
Another slap.
“Since now. I told you I have something to tell you.”
“Well, it’s going to have to wait. I’m busy.”
“Bryson are you almost finished?” said a faraway, distinctly female voice.
My blood ran cold.
“Who was that?” I asked, my voice slow and quiet.
He sighed. “It’s a client, Mackenzie. I really need to go.”
I laughed humorlessly. “So, it’s a female client that has you there until nine at night in what I’m assuming is a completely empty office building. Is that right?”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“You don’t have time for me, but you have time for some random woman at nine at night?” I yelled into the phone. It wasn’t even against my ear anymore, I had it pulled in front of my face, so I could scream at it easier.
“Mackenzie don’t be ridiculous. I’m working.”
“You’re always fucking working, Bryson. I asked you for one night. Just once for you to come home at a decent time and I find out you’re staying late with a female client?” My thoughts ran wild. “Is she the reason you’re always so late?” My breaths were pants. “Is she even a client?”
Bryson scoffed. “You’re being ridiculous. I have to go.”
He hung up on me. For the second time today. And as angry as that made me, the one thought that kept spinning around my head was: he hadn’t denied it.
Chapter 19
I stood there staring at my phone for so long the screen went black. And still I couldn’t wrap my brain around what was happening.
Who was that woman in his office? Why was he there so late? Why was he always there so late?
These questions sped through my brain like Indy cars around a racetrack. Though those and a dozen more continued to race, one sat in the center, larger and more imposing than the rest. Impossible to ignore and increasing in size.
Was Bryson having an affair?
A large part of me denied the claim immediately. Bryson had been a faithful partner to me for years and never given any indication that he wanted to stray. We had a loving and respectful relationship that was too strong to allow infidelity.
At least that’s how things used to be.
If I were to give us a progress report on our marriage this past year, I knew I wouldn’t have so many great things to say about it.
We were distant. Cold. Unemotional. We’d grown apart. We’d let the fierce love we felt for each other wither, and as a result, our marriage was basically in name alone. We weren’t a couple, we weren’t partners, we were roommates. With a heavy heart, I realized we weren’t even friends anymore.
I think that one hurt the most.
Bryson’s love and friendship had been the cornerstone of my life for almost a decade and looking back on the past year, I can’t believe how long I’d gone without it.
How had things gotten this bad? How had either of us let our marriage get to this place?
I closed my eyes and shook my head. There wasn’t much I could do about what was happening between us if there was only me here to worry about it. Bryson hadn’t made any effort thus far, and I couldn’t fix us without him.
I walked back into the kitchen and began packing the food away, my appetite suddenly gone. When I was done in there, I went into the living room to watch some tv but found nothing could keep my attention.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman’s voice I’d heard and what it could mean. Sure, she could be a legitimate client, but who met with their accountants this late at night? I wanted to believe Bryson, but I also didn’t want to be idealistic.
I tried to look at the situation from an outsider’s perspective and tell myself what I would tell someone else. But, when I looked at the facts, they were bleak at best.
He’d lost interest in me.
He’d pulled away emotionally and physically.
He’d started to work late and on weekends when that never used to be the case.
And I’d heard another woman with him.
None of it looked good.
My teeth began to grind as the facts spun through my brain like a tornado, slapping against the siding of my mind and demanding I see them for what they are.
Something was wrong. It had to be. It all added up, and here I was, the idiot making him his favorite dinner and waiting up for him.
My stomach churned with acid as I sat staring at the television, no longer aware of what was even playing.
Was this how things were going to end between us? After everything we’d been through, I can’t believe he’d do this to me. I can’t believe he’d cheat on me.
The storm in my head turned fiery as my stomach acid solidified into a calcified block of dread.
I need to go.
I need to leave.
I can’t share a house or a bed with him.
I can’t even imagine sharing the same oxygen with him right now.
I turned off the television and jumped up from my seat on the couch. Anger coursed through my veins as I stomped upstairs and into our bedro
om to pack a bag.
I refused to sit here and let him make a fool out of me.
I refused to wait on a man who had no interest in fixing things.
With my suitcase unearthed, I began tossing clothes and toiletries in. I wasn’t sure where I was going or for how long, only that I needed to leave.
When I was done packing, I raced down the stairs and over to the kitchen drawer I’d hidden the pregnancy test in. Those two pink lines stared up at me almost mockingly.
This was supposed to be an exciting time. I was supposed to be elated and celebrating with my husband. Instead, he was with some woman, and I was leaving our home for who knows how long.
I pocketed the test and dragged my suitcase from the house to my car where I sat for a moment. With the car off, the interior was dark and quiet, and I willed my mind to mimic it. I needed a plan of action before I went tearing off into the night.
My mind flipped through the possibilities of where I could go–of who would take me in at the last moment like this.
First, I thought of my family. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that they’d take me in, but there’d be dozens of questions that I was in no mood to answer tonight. Besides, they were too far away from my office and I had to work tomorrow.
My mind flipped to Mason next, knowing he was someone I could count on no matter what. If I called him right now, he’d welcome me into his house with open arms.
My insides twisted with that idea and I knew instinctively that it wasn’t a good one. Things were messed up enough as they were, I didn’t need to drag Mason into it. I didn’t need to give him the wrong impression by running away from Bryson and right into his arms.
I sat there for another few minutes before I started the car with a nod and headed across town to the only person I knew I could trust in this situation.
A few minutes later, I was lugging my suitcase up to the second floor of apartments and knocking on the first door in the hall. I pressed a hand against my stomach, wondering what the hell I was going to do with the mess I was in, when the door flew open. I was met with a confused face and a raised strawberry-blonde eyebrow.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Josie asked.
Her question brought everything I was feeling to the forefront, and I sniffed pitifully as a rogue tear escaped the corner of my eye. I dug in my pocket and fished out the pregnancy test, holding it out for her inspection.
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