Everything Unexpected

by Caroline Nolan

  “Not yet,” Shane answers slowly. “I thought we’d go up there and tell them together.” He looks over at me in question, seeing if that’s something I’d be up for doing. “Nothing like a grandbaby to make Charlotte happy,” Shane says jokingly.

  My smile falters. “You don’t think they’ll be upset, do you?” I ask, suddenly nervous.

  “Are you kidding?” he scoffs. “Charlotte with a baby? You’ll be walking on water in her books for giving her a grandchild.”

  I ease back into my chair, trying to relax at Shane’s reassurance.

  “This baby will have it made,” Bryan says, his eyes glancing around the bar. “Trust fund, heir to the Carlisle throne. Not a bad clan to be born into Leah.”

  The table jumps and all our glasses wobble, liquid spilling out from the tops.

  “Fuck! What was that for?” Bryan looks at Shane, bending over to rub his shin.

  “Don’t be a dick,” Shane answers quietly.

  “What the fuck did I say?” Bryan looks around the table, confused.

  No one answers him, all too busy wiping up the spilled alcohol.

  I know he most likely didn’t mean it to sound like it did—like I found my way into a family with money—but nonetheless, that’s how it sort of came out. God, I hope that’s not how Shane’s parents will see it. He seems so confident they’ll be happy about this but what if they’re not? What if Bryan’s words are the same ones that go through their heads? That I’ve somehow trapped him—trapped their family for the rest of our lives with this baby.

  Shane sees the mild panic in my eyes. “They love you,” he says leaning in, speaking into my ear. “Don’t listen to him.”

  I nod but can’t shake the anxiety completely. Because really, who am I? I’m not Shane’s girlfriend. I’m not the woman he’s in love with. How will we explain this to them?

  My thoughts are interrupted when Eddy speaks up. “Who needs another round?” he says lifting his empty glass.

  “Me,” Holly raises her empty glass, glaring in Bryan’s direction.

  Bryan lifts his bottle, indicating that his too is nearly empty. When Eddy looks over at Shane, I see him quickly glance my way before shaking his head.

  “I’m good thanks,” he declines.

  “You’ve only had one,” Eddy argues.

  “I know. I just don’t need another.” His eyes shift down to my barely touched ginger ale.

  “You can have another,” I tell him. “Just because I can’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t.”

  He looks at me, unsure. Although I appreciate the gesture, I see no point in him not being able to enjoy a few drinks while we are out with friends. No one else seems to mind pounding them back in front of me.

  “You sure?” he asks.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I say.

  Shane looks up at Eddy then nods. “I’ll come with you,” he says following Eddy to the bar. Bryan also stands, grinning. But he doesn’t follow the guys. His attention is focused elsewhere.

  “I’ll be back,” he says before making his way over to a pretty blonde standing on her own.

  “I thought he was back with Kendall?” Holly says, watching Bryan strike up a conversation with Blondie.

  “That was weeks ago,” I answer, shaking my head. “Today? Who knows?”

  Holly scoots over and sits directly in front of me, a small worried smile tugging on her lips. “You’re nervous about telling Shane’s parents.”

  “A little,” I admit. “What if they think—”

  “Don’t listen to Bryan,” she says. “You know he didn’t mean it like that. He just doesn’t have a filter for his overused mouth.”

  I laugh a little.

  “Shane would never let that happen. His parents love you,” she insists, repeating his earlier words.

  “I hope so.” I turn my head and see Shane standing at the bar, waiting for our drinks with Eddy. “We haven’t talked about it.”

  “What? Telling his parents?”

  I turn back to look at her, shaking my head. “The baby,” I explain. “He asks how I’m feeling, if there is anything I need. But we haven’t talked about what will happen once it’s here. What our plan is. What we want.”

  “What do you want?”

  I shrug. I never had the kind of upbringing Shane did growing up. Both parents living together, happily married. My childhood was filled with arguments until my dad left when I was eight. Then with my mother’s drinking, I was left to pretty much parent myself. I just know I don’t want that for my baby. I want him or her to know they are loved, to feel it every day. How Shane and I will achieve that together, I have no idea.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” I say, not wanting to think about it any longer. “Fill me in on the newest wedding plans.”

  Holly’s eyes light up at the mention of her wedding and she immediately starts reciting plans and forecasts and back-up plans for the wedding. This is a subject she can go on and on about. Explaining every detail and reason for every choice. Nothing pleases her more than organizing and preparing. That’s what makes her such a great paralegal at work. I watch as she pulls out a few cue cards from her purse and shows me a list of pros and cons she’s made about having a cake versus individual sized cupcakes. The list is long and extensive. When it comes time to plan my own wedding, I definitely think I’ll take more of a laid back approach. Ironically, it’s that very thought that causes me to stiffen, my mind now speaking to me more loudly than Holly’s voice.

  Married? How are you even going to date?

  That voice is right. No one is going to want to date a pregnant woman or one with a baby. And even if there was some weirdo out there who didn’t mind, when would I have the time? I’m twenty-six and the next time I’ll be able to go on a date will be in eighteen years! The thought is so depressing I slump down in my chair, causing my jeans to dig further into my stomach. I reach under the table, under my long tank and unbutton my pants. The relief is quickly overshadowed by sadness when I realize no one will want to date a woman who has to undo her pants in public just to be comfortable.

  Eddy comes back to the table with his and Holly’s refills, but Shane isn’t with him. I look back to the bar and see why. He’s busy speaking to a woman. A tall, skinny, beautiful woman who’s drinking wine and has her pant buttons done up. I watch as he says something, leaning in closer to her and she throws her head back, laughing.

  No one wants to date a woman with a baby, but a man with a baby? Might as well just attach a pussy magnet to Shane’s chest now. He’ll have no problems dating. If anything, this baby will likely only help him get laid.

  I swallow back an awful feeling. I stand from my seat, already looking for my purse. This gets Holly’s attention.

  “You okay?” she asks, concerned.

  No. Not even close.

  “Yeah, I just got really tired all of the sudden. I think I’m going to head home.”

  Holly stands, grabbing her own purse. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No, stay. Have fun,” I tell her. “I’m just going to go to bed anyhow.”

  “Are you sure?” Eddy asks, skeptically.

  I nod. “Absolutely.” I turn and see Shane is still talking to the girl, completely oblivious I’m leaving. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I tell Holly.

  She nods and I walk out of the bar. The seaside salty air hits my face, the early spring air still warm but cool enough to feel refreshing. I decide to walk the seven blocks home, needing time to clear my head. Too many realizations about what my future will actually look like coming at me too fast. But one aspect of it was made painfully clear—I’ll be going through it alone.

  My hand rests against my stomach.

  Almost alone.

  I walk past a few other bars on my way, hear the laughing, see the drinking, witness the dancing.

  Enjoy it while it lasts, I want to yell. Before you know it, it’s gone and not about to come back any time soon.

  I make
one stop along the way at the corner store not far from my apartment. I’m so depressed I don’t even feel guilty about the large bag of salt and vinegar chips and four chocolate bars I place on the counter. The young cash attendant stares blankly at me and it only causes me to add to the pile.

  Why not add some licorice? My pants already don’t fit.

  When I get home, I peel off my jeans and quickly throw on a pair of sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt. My boobs feel immediate relief as soon as I take my bra off. I pull my hair up into a knot on top of my head and head to the couch with all my snacks. I turn on the television and start streaming an old Friends episode. I know exactly which one I want to watch.

  I’m roughly ten minutes into the show and well into the bag of chips when there’s a knock at my door. I look down at my shirt, at the grease stains from where I just wiped my hands. I’m not sure what’s worse—how much of a slob I know I look or that I don’t even care. I debate whether I should answer the door when another round of knocking starts, this time followed by a voice.

  “Comb? It’s me,” Shane’s voice carries through the door.

  I put the bag of chips down on the coffee table and pause Ross and Rachel on the screen. I open the door to find Shane and his concerned expression.

  “Holly said you just got up and left. Are you okay?”

  I nod, opening the door further to let him pass. He walks in and turns, his expression unchanging.

  “I was just tired. Kind of hits me out of nowhere these days.” It’s not an untrue statement but in this case, a lie. I make my way back to the couch and sit, hugging a throw pillow to my body. “You didn’t have to come over. I told Holly I was fine.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to go home?”

  I shrug. “You were busy talking to someone. I didn’t want to interrupt,” I say as nonchalant as I can. I look back to the television screen, to my open window, to the half-eaten chocolate bar. Anywhere but him.

  “You wouldn’t have.”

  I bark out a laugh.

  He laughs too, taking a seat beside me. “Really. I worked with her on a shoot before. I was just saying hi.”

  Seeing Shane talking to that girl upset me, but it’s the why that’s bugging me. I’ve never been jealous of any girl, including the ones Shane has given attention to. Hell, I’ve even been his wing woman from time to time. But things are different now and my reactions are obviously not the same. I blame it on the hormones.

  Shane reaches for the bag of chips and starts snacking on them. His eyes squint as he reads the flavor on the package. It might also be because of the extra vinegar I poured directly into the bag. He glances down to the half-eaten chocolate bar but doesn’t say anything. He just sits and continues chewing on the somewhat soggy chips before offering me some with a smile.

  I take the bag from him and grab a handful. “You could have stayed you know. Had some drinks. Hung out,” I say before putting them all in my mouth.

  “Nah,” he says leaning back against the couch, turning his head towards me. “My two favorite people are right here.”

  I swallow the chips, feeling their rough texture scratch their way down my throat, not having chewed them enough. The reference to the two of us blindsiding me—causing my chest to now ache along with my throat. I reach for my bottle of water, chugging large gulps, watching him as he grabs for the remote, unpausing the show. After a few seconds of watching, he grins.

  “We’ve seen this episode a thousand times,” he says.

  I blink twice before turning my attention back to the screen, trying to ignore how his words are still affecting me. The show comes into focus and I smile a little because it’s true. I have made him watch this episode a thousand times.

  “I know.” I hug my pillow tighter, keeping my eyes to the screen. “But it’s the best one. He’s her lobster.”

  AS HE THRUST his overjoyed member into her virginal garden, moans of joy, cries of newly attained womanhood reaching his ears. Never was another going to replace him, his body, or his giving of pleasure to her. She was his forever.

  Who reads this crap?

  Then, as if on autopilot, I turn the page and continue reading about Almonte and Gwendolyn. About their undivided, unabashed and now forever giving of pleasure, love. Am I ashamed to be reading this? Yes. Am I even more ashamed to be reading this at my desk over lunch? I can’t stress how much.

  But at least now I know it’s not my fault. Now I know if I were in my right mind, I wouldn’t be hiding in my office, with my door closed, reading smut. If I were in my right mind, I’d take the hour to go look at shoes at the boutique around the corner, or go to the café with Holly down the street. There’s also a huge possibility I’d be nose deep in the files that are currently piling up on my desk. The ones that have been waiting to be referenced and chronicled for my boss who will be back from court by end of day. But because I now know I’m not in the right mind, I continue to sit with my eyes roaming over the words of this book, turning the pages fervently, needing more.

  Fucking hormones.

  I know so. I’ve researched it.

  Libido Increase. Increased Sex Drive. First Trimester All-time High.

  Google spitting out the same answer over and over. Countless websites all telling me the same thing.

  That I’m knocked up and horny as hell.

  Instead of finding advice on how to diffuse the situation, every website all had the same thing to say.

  “Enjoy it!”

  Enjoy what exactly? Enjoy sitting uncomfortably? Being woken up in the middle of night panting because your body is screaming for sex? Stirring in bed, hitting your pillow over and over, praying for your uterus to calm the fuck down? Knowing that these are prime sex times for me and I’m missing out? Fuck all those websites. Isn’t simply being pregnant enough? We need to add sexual frustration to the mix?

  I pull my hair back and tie it up in a ponytail. Cool air hits the back of my neck and it’s a small relief from how worked up I’ve become. I turn the page and accept the cheap thrill Almonte is giving me.

  Holly walks in without knocking, her hands carrying paper bags full of take out.

  “I brought lunch—” she starts, but halts when she sees me quickly shove my grocery store read in the top drawer of my desk. “What was that?” she asks, her interests piqued, lips forming a sly grin.

  “Nothing,” I say, slamming to drawer shut. “What did you get?” I point to the takeout, my focus switching to the aromas coming from the paper bags. The only thing that seems to get my mind off of sex these days is food.

  Holly walks over to my desk and drops the bags in front of me.

  “Oh just a few of your favorites. Chicken parmesan, Caesar salad, garlic bread.” My tummy grumbles just hearing the words. I go to grab one of the bags when Holly swipes it from me first.

  “Oh you can have it,” she taunts. “But first, let’s see what you’re hiding in there.” Her head tilts to the side, one brow pointed.

  “Nothing important,” I say.

  “Then why are you hiding it?”

  I stare at her, unmoving.

  “Why is your face red?” she continues, her eyes now glaring.

  “It’s not,” I argue.

  She leans in over my desk domineeringly. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” She stands back up straight, unpacking the takeout. “Grab two waters from your fridge, would you.”

  I walk over to the corner of my office to the little bar fridge I have there and grab two water bottles.

  “AH HA!”

  I turn quickly to find Holly holding my book of smut in her hand with a proud grin on her face.

  “Good for you. You found my big dark secret,” I say with sarcasm, walking back to my desk and taking the book from her.

  “I had no idea this was the type of reading required of you here,” she teases.

  “Laugh all you want. Go on, get it out,” I tell her, opening my container of food. If I’m going to be humiliated
and ridiculed, I might as well have a mouth full of garlic bread to help swallow it down with.

  Holly grabs the book off the top of my desk and sits in a chair, flipping through the pages. Unable to watch her scan through the story, I concentrate on the food in front of me, cutting huge pieces of chicken and stuffing it into my mouth.

  “Whoa,” she starts to laugh. “This is…” She reads a few more passages, then snorts. “Thunderous member? Why are you reading this?”

  “Diminished capacity,” I say, my mouth too full.

  “You’ve committed a crime?” Holly raises her brows.

  “I’m reading that, aren’t I?” I answer, my eyes glancing down at the book.

  “No laws broken there. These books do very well for themselves. And wonders for their readers apparently,” she says, mocking me.

  I stuff another large bite into my mouth, busying myself with chewing instead of talking. After a few minutes of her staring at me, waiting for me to explain, I relent.

  “It’s the hormones,” I say, swallowing my bite. “They’re driving me crazy. All I can think about is sex. All I want is sex. Sex, sex, sex. It’s fucking hell!”

  Pregnancy hasn’t put me in tune with my feminine body like Dr. Oz said. Instead, it’s turned me into a fucking man.

  “So go have it.” She shrugs as if it were the simplest answer in the world.

  “Go have it? With whom? In case you’ve forgotten,” I glance outside my office door then point to my midsection.

  I have yet to tell my boss or anyone else at the firm about my pregnancy. Before, I had the excuse of waiting for the first trimester to end, but that milestone is coming up fast. I’m nearly twelve weeks. Luckily my tummy hasn’t grown too much and loose blouses are able to hide any small growth I do have. I know I’m going to have to tell them soon. I’m just waiting for the right time.

  “For starters, how about the guy who got you pregnant,” Holly suggests.