by Lili Valente
Think on that, okay?
Addie: I don’t need to. I’m not going to change my mind.
Nate is a good guy.
It’s not his fault that I told him I was cool with spending the summer before we left for college having wild, crazy, casual sex and then going our separate ways but ended up wanting more.
He told me up front that he wasn’t in a place to start a relationship.
Shane: Oh my…
I’m sorry, Addie. That’s hard.
But I’m glad that you had a summer of wild and crazy sex with a delicious man.
You should do that again sometime. I’ve recently been reminded how fun sexy times can be. No one should go without them for too long.
Addie: Maybe.
Shane: Definitely! Sex is the best.
Addie: Until you find out you’re accidentally pregnant…
Shane: I’m NOT pregnant. Gah. Lol.
Seriously, I’m actually laughing out loud right now because that is so absurd.
So stop fretting. I can feel you fretting through the phone.
I’m fine, just a little sick. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal soon.
Addie: Okay. Talk later.
Shane: Later, mama. Good luck on your prune hunt.
TWO HOURS LATER
Shane: Adeline.
I need you to come over.
Right now.
Maybe five minutes ago.
Adeline?
Are you there?
Addie: Yes, I’m coming out of the subway now. I just need to drop off the prunes and I’ll be right there.
Are you sick again?
Shane: No, I’m not sick.
I’m not sick at all.
I’m fucking pregnant.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Shane
Pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
I am not pretend pregnant. I am actually, one hundred percent, totally and completely, actually for real knocked up. With Jake’s baby.
It is terrifying and insane and overwhelming…and just the tiniest bit exciting.
But only the tiniest bit, because that voice in my head saying that our baby will be beautiful and adorable and Jake will make a wonderful father isn’t a based-in-reality voice. The reality is that I’ve known Jake less than a month. No matter how close I feel to him, or how much I love making love to him, or how much fun we have together, this relationship is very, very new.
So new that my first instinct upon seeing those two pink lines isn’t to call the father of my baby and share the happy news. My first instinct is to sit down on the bathroom floor and hyperventilate while frantically texting Addie because she’s the only person I can trust not to let this get back to Jake before I’m ready for it to get back to Jake.
Cat might say something to Aidan who might say something to Bash, and there’s no way Penny would be able to keep something like this from her fiancé. And then Bash’s head would explode, and there would be pieces of Magnificent Bastard brain all over the wall. And the next time Jake tried to check in about his case, he’d reach a sobbing Penny who would blame Jake and me and our inability to have sex responsibly for the death of her true love.
“No,” I say, pointing a stern finger at the toilet. “We did have sex responsibly. That IUD was supposed to be good for years.”
And when’s the last time you checked to make sure you could feel the strings, genius? the toilet asks in a voice that sounds like the cranky supervisor in that cartoon about the monsters who scare kids to get energy from screams. For all you know your birth control fell out months ago.
“I checked last month.” I glare at the commode, putting on a tough front even as I mentally tick back through my autumn timeline. “Or maybe a couple of months ago,” I admit. “But I know for sure I felt them sometime around the fourth of July because I was sort of considering trying to pick up that cute guy with the moustache at the charity rooftop party.”
Three months ago, the toilet croaks. Guess that means by next July you’ll be as big as a house. Good work arranging to be obscenely pregnant during the hottest part of the year.
“I didn’t arrange anything,” I snap.
Exactly, the can says smugly, just as Addie calls out—
“Shane? Are you here?”
“I’m in the bathroom!” I sniff hard, blinking away the pressure at the back of my eyes. I’m not going to cry about this, especially not in front of that nasty, know-it-all toilet.
“Hey, I came as fast as I could.” A breathless Addie appears in the doorway, concern knitting her forehead. “How are you?”
“Pregnant.” I point to the row of sticks on the counter, all of them with two pink lines.
Addie’s eyebrows lift. “You took seven tests.”
“I took seven tests,” I echo. “It’s amazing how much pee you can squeeze out when you’re really motivated.”
Addie laughs softly, shaking her head as she continues to scan the evidence of my brush with insanity. “Those lines are really pink.”
“Your statement of the obvious is comforting, Addie,” I say, the first smile of the afternoon curving my lips.
“Sorry.” She turns back to me. “I’m not sure what to say. The last time this happened to a friend, we were both sixteen and it was a clear, need to head to a clinic kind of situation. Do you have any idea where you want to go from here?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t had a chance to think that far. I’m still trying to figure out when it happened.”
“Probably a few weeks ago,” Addie says, settling onto the tile beside me, leaning back against the tub. “The lines wouldn’t be that pink if it had happened recently.”
“So probably our first time.” I bury my head in my hands. “God, I’m such an idiot. Why didn’t I check to make sure my IUD was there? Jake wanted to get a condom, but I promised him we were fine.”
Addie rubs a hand back and forth across my shoulders. “We all make mistakes. Especially in the heat of the moment. It can be hard to think straight when you’re in a situation like that.”
“What if he’s angry?” I lift my head as a cold flash of fear cuts through my panic. “What if he wants me to get an abortion? I don’t think I could do it. I’m already a little in love, you know? Even though I’m scared.”
“He can be angry, he has that right, but the choice whether or not to have this baby is yours,” Addie says, steel creeping into her tone. “No one gets to make that choice for you. It’s your body, and your decision.”
I swallow, nodding as the tightness in my chest loosens a little. “Right. And if he doesn’t want the baby, it’s not like I’ll need child support. I can raise her by myself, and promise not to bother him for anything. I’ll just love her enough for two parents and she’ll be fine, right?”
“Right,” Addie assures me. “She’ll be better than fine.”
My face crumples, but I press my lips together and bite down, regaining control. I’m a grown-ass woman and I got myself into this. No sense crying about it, especially when things could be so much worse. At least I’m in a place financially to afford to raise a child alone. So many single moms have to struggle just to feed their kids, or, like Jake’s mom, get them the medicine they need. And I won’t be alone. I have my friends, and Hillary, who will be the best surrogate grandmother ever.
“…in the grand scheme of things. So just wait and see, okay?” Addie says, leaning down to catch my gaze.
I blink. “Sorry. I think I missed most of what you said. I was lost in a thought tangle.”
Addie smiles. “Understandable. I figured you were a little distracted when I came out of the elevator and saw your door wide open.”
“Really?” I say, cussing beneath my breath when she nods. “I must have forgotten to close the door when I got back from the drugstore. This does not bode well for my future as a responsible parent, does it? Am I going to be one of those moms who forgets soccer practice was cancelled and leaves her kid alone i
n the rain without an umbrella? I always forget umbrellas. That’s why I have a hundred freaking umbrellas in my closet. I have to buy a new one every time I’m out and it starts to rain. And now I have to remember umbrellas for two people, when I already suck at doing it for one.”
“No need to think that far ahead right now,” Addie says gently. “And no need to worry about umbrellas. It’s a beautiful day outside. So, why don’t I get you some tea and we can go talk in the sunny spot in the kitchen? Or maybe take a walk if you feel like it. Walks always make problems seem more manageable, don’t you think?”
“Maybe tea and a walk?” I ask in a small voice.
“Done!” Addie announces. “I’ll go start the water.”
I reach out to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she says with a smile. “You’ve got this, Shane. And I’ll help you any way I can.”
“Thanks.” I sniff away the fresh wave of mistiness pressing behind my eyes. “Just let me wash my face and dispose of the evidence, then I’ll come dig out the travel mugs.”
Addie stands, brushing her hands on her black linen pants. “Sounds good. I’ll get the kettle on, and then check in with Eloise to let her know I’m staying for a while. I told her you weren’t feeling well, but no specifics.”
“Bless you,” I say, coming to my feet with a sigh. “I want to keep this contained until I figure out how to tell Jake.”
“He’s still out of town, right?” Addie asks, pausing in the doorway. “Since the Rangers played the Red Wings in Detroit last night?”
“Yes, but he’ll be back tomorrow morning, and he’s coming straight here. So I’ll be able to tell him in person instead of trying to get the words out over the phone.”
Addie hums, nodding thoughtfully to herself. “He’s coming straight here, because he’s missed you so much.”
“Yes,” I say, thoughts of Jake’s steady stream of “I can’t wait to be with you” texts making me smile.
“Not to make light of this, because I know it’s a big deal, and a big change, and a lot to handle so early in a relationship,” Addie says. “But my gut says everything will work out. You and Jake have something. I thought sparks flying was just a phrase until I saw you two together. And it sounds like the connection isn’t just physical.”
“It’s not,” I say, biting my lip. “But we’re still so new. It’s hard to imagine how he’ll take news like this, and until I know I just… I don’t want to get my hopes up, you know? Or get to hoping at all.”
Addie nods. “I understand. I’ll go see what you have in the way of caffeine free tea.”
I pull a face. “Yuck. No. I need the good stuff if we’re going walking.”
“Too much caffeine isn’t good for the baby,” Addie calls over her shoulder as she moves into the kitchen. “You’re going to have to give up sushi and oysters, too. And hot baths.”
“Well, this just keeps getting better and better,” I grumble, tossing the pregnancy tests in the trash before turning on the faucet.
But I’m not worried about giving up a few things. Not really. All I want is for the baby to be healthy and happy. In the space of a few minutes, this pregnancy has gone from something I can’t quite believe is happening to a reality involving a precious, innocent person-in-the-making. A person who will be my son or daughter, and to whom I want to give the world. I want Baby Willoughby to have everything I didn’t have growing up, including a father.
And Jake would be such a good father. I know it. Just hearing him talk about the kids he meets through his charity was enough to make me suspect he was great with small people, but seeing him sit cross-legged on the sidewalk to swap candy with those kids at the Halloween party confirmed it.
Deep down I know, even if Jake’s angry with me for assuring him I couldn’t get pregnant and then proceeding to get knocked up the first time we slept together, he’ll come around to the idea of being a dad. He’ll step up and be there for his child, and that’s something to be grateful for.
But as I wash my face, slip into a fleece for an extra layer of warmth for the walk, and pull my messy hair back into a ponytail, I can’t help daydreaming about something more.
About Jake and I clearing out one of the guest bedrooms and painting it nursery yellow. About Jake being there for my first ultrasound, and our daughter’s first birthday, and every memory in between. About the three of us making a life together without having to worry about who gets which holiday, or how to work out custody during hockey season.
I’m so lost in my yearning, wistful thoughts that I don’t notice how strangely quiet it is in the kitchen until I step out of the bedroom to see Addie lying face down on the floor by the couch and Keri standing over her with a gun.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jake
I’m not a spontaneous person. I don’t do things on the spur of the moment. I’ve never woken up and decided it’s a good day for an unplanned road trip, or jumped in a cab and gone to the airport on a whim.
But when I wake up in Detroit the morning after the game, faced with twenty-four hours of nothing but killing time in the gym and the bar and another endless night without Shane—the team charter plane was double booked so we’re staying over again in Motor City—I throw my shit in my bag, tell coach I’ll see him at practice on Monday, and head down to the lobby to grab a cab to the airport.
It takes a little finesse and a lot of patience, but finally I score a standby ticket on a direct flight to New York. When the Talbot party fails to show up for final call, I snag Mr. Talbot’s window seat and a three o’clock arrival into JFK.
In the moments before the stewardess closes the doors, I consider texting Shane to let her know I’ll be back early, but turn my phone off instead. I’m making a spontaneous change of plans, doing something I’ve never done before. Might as well try surprising my girlfriend while I’m at it.
My beautiful, sexy, amazing girlfriend who I will be making love to tonight instead of jerking off alone in a Detroit hotel room and feeling miserable because I’m not breathing the same air as my woman. I’m so gone on her—so gone I know it’s more than lust, or the excitement of something new. I’ve never fallen this far or this fast, but I’ve been close enough to love that I know this is it—the real deal—and I’m going to tell Shane tonight.
I don’t give a shit that it’s only been two weeks. A part of me loved her the moment I laid eyes on her, and that feeling isn’t going away. It’s only getting stronger. I may be acting out of character, but I’m still the same man I’ve always been, the kind who finishes what he starts.
I’m not going to be finished with Shane until we’ve had at least a few years together. Maybe fifty or sixty, if I’m lucky.
The thought keeps me smiling through the flight and into the cab at JFK.
I have the cabbie let me off on Madison Avenue, and I swing into a gourmet grocery store for flowers and a tin of fancy dog biscuits before heading west toward Shane’s place. I can’t remember if Shane was returning Fifi to her friend today or tomorrow, but I figure I should come bearing gifts for both of them, just in case. I drag my roller bag behind me, enjoying the sun on my face and the unusually warm early November afternoon, and arrive at Shane’s building just as rush hour traffic is starting to get hairy.
Aaron, the day doorman, waves me through without bothering to call up first. I’m on Shane’s list and I’ve got a key to her apartment. Hopefully someday soon, I’ll be coming home to our place, preferably in a building where Shane can have the dog she wants without having to hide it from the HOA.
On the way up in the elevator, I’m thinking about small dogs and how much shit my brothers are going to give me if I end up the proud co-owner of an animal that can be carried in a purse. I’m not worrying about whether Shane is going to be home, or happy about the surprise.
If she’s not home, I’ll wait for her until she gets back, and I know she’ll be glad to see me. Being apart has bee
n hard for her, too. I could see it in the smile she forced every time we said good-bye over Skype and hear it in her voice when she told me she’d cleared her schedule so she could come with me to most of the away games between now and February.
No, my thoughts are all happy thoughts.
Smug, head-up-my-ass, thinking-I-have-everything-under-control thoughts. Right up until the moment I let myself into the apartment and see the woman lying on the floor, and the blood on the pale, cream rug.
For a split second, I think it’s Shane, even though the hair color is wrong, and my stomach contracts like I’ve taken the world’s hardest elbow to the gut. Even when I realize the woman can’t be my girl, it doesn’t stem the flood of fear and adrenaline dumping into my bloodstream.
There’s a woman bleeding on Shane’s floor, and Shane is nowhere to be seen, and I know something terrible has happened. I know it.
I drop the flowers and my bag and reach for the Buddha statue by the door to use as a weapon, moving quietly into the apartment, just in case whoever did this is still here. In just a few moments I reach the slim form lying on her side by the couch and get my first look at the woman’s face.
It’s Adeline, the sweet, shy hockey fan I met the first day in the garden. She’s even paler than I remember, and bleeding from a gash on her forehead that clearly wasn’t caused by her fall. But now that I’m closer, I can see her chest rising and falling, and her eyelids twitching as if she’s in the middle of a bad dream.
Thank God. She’s alive, and I’ll be able to get her help.
With a silent promise to be back for her as fast as I fucking can, I move deeper into the apartment, doing a quick search of the bedrooms and bathrooms, but there’s no sign of Shane or whoever hurt her friend. Setting the Buddha statue on the coffee table, I return to Adeline’s side. I’m pulling my cell from my coat to call 911 when she moans. A second later her lashes flutter and her eyes open.