Wanted By You

by Steph Nuss

  I hadn't realized I missed my period until last night. Paige and Tessa came over to my place for a girls’ night of chick flicks, girl talk, and margaritas. When Paige told us about her celebrity client's recent pregnancy scare, the story got me thinking about my own period, and that's when I realized I'd missed mine this month. After the girls left, I crawled into bed alone and lay wide awake most of the night thinking about the possibility of being pregnant and trying to rationalize what else could throw my cycle off. I was working out a lot more, training for the marathon with Paige; it could be that. Maybe I wasn't eating enough, or maybe my hormones went ballistic from the amount of sex Carter and I were having. In the past, I rarely missed a period and, if I did, it wasn't a big deal because I wasn't sleeping with anybody at the time, but now, with him in the picture, I was worried. Would he be excited? Would he freak out? I thought about calling him last night and talking to him about it, but I didn't want to freak him out or get his hopes up when I wasn't even sure yet.

  I will only tell him if the test comes back positive.

  Turning my attention back to the daunting variety of tests, I heard someone clear their throat and turned to find a young girl in a green smock stocking the vitamins a few feet away from me.

  "Can't choose one?" she asked, smiling over at me.

  "Yeah, I wish you had more of a variety," I said sarcastically, silently wishing my hormones could talk and tell me something like: You're not pregnant. Just take it easy on that marathon training next month.

  "I know, right?" she said, laughing. "Most people buy the more expensive ones, but I know from experience that the cheaper ones work just as well."

  "Thanks." Maybe I should buy two, just for confirmation. I grabbed one of each—an expensive brand I'd seen advertised on TV and a cheap brand I'd never heard of before—and I walked to the registers.

  The girl rang up my order, and pointed to her left as she handed me my bag of tests. "If you want to use our restrooms, they're toward the back of the store."

  "Thanks," I said again, wondering just how many times a week she had this same conversation with other freaked out women.

  Men endure nothing.

  I headed toward the back of the store and anxiety rushed through me with each step toward the bathroom. I couldn't do the tests at home. Carter could come over while I was doing them, and I didn't want to risk having to deal with his reaction on top of whatever the tests said. The drug store bathroom would suffice. I walked into an empty stall, hung my purse on the door, and placed the two boxes of tests on the mini trashcan next to the toilet paper. I read the instructions and all the fine print before ripping the boxes open and pulling out the plastic sticks. I was just about to pee on the brand name stick when my phone chirped in my jacket pocket.

  Carter: Morning, babe. On my way over and bringing donuts.

  Me: Sounds good!

  I sighed and slipped my phone back into my jacket. I could make it home in time and get rid of the tests before he came over, but my bladder felt like it was going to explode. I hadn't peed all morning and had finished off the gallon jug of apple juice in my fridge just to prepare for this. So I continued with the first test, peeing the recommended five seconds, and then laid it down flat on top of its box. I grabbed the cheap test and continued emptying my bladder. When I was finished, I stood in the stall, anxiously staring at the tests lying in front of me.

  I waited a bit longer than the recommended three minutes, extending it to five minutes just to be on the safe side. I took a deep breath, leaned my head back against the stall, and tried to prepare myself for "Pregnant." Everything would be fine. Carter and I would be fine. I could be a good mom. I'd have to read a bunch of baby books and stuff, but I could do it. And Carter would be an awesome dad—and he'd look even hotter carrying our little baby around in his big, strong arms.

  Everything was going to be fine.

  Oh, what a load of crap, Elly! We weren't ready for a baby! We just started dating a month ago. He just came back into my life, and here I was, waiting to find out whether or not I was going to be having his child.

  Everything was not fine.

  I took another deep breath and exhaled before opening my eyes and reading the results.

  Both tests showed a minus sign.

  Not pregnant. Not pregnant.

  Relief flooded through me and washed away all the anxiety I had built up in the last twelve hours. I grabbed my belongings and exited the stall. I threw away the tests and washed my hands, smiling at myself in the mirror. I wished I could give all my lady parts a high-five. We did it, girls! My initiation into the pregnancy scare club was officially over. Maybe it really was the marathon training or my eating habits affecting my cycle, so I made a mental note to eat a little more and maybe take it down a notch during training.

  Walking toward the front of the store to leave, I saw the girl again and she smiled.

  "Well, you're not carrying a stick of pee like it's a trophy. Is that good or bad?" she asked, leaning over the register.

  "Good!" I cheered, pushing the door open with a smile on my face.

  When I arrived back at my apartment, Stag greeted me, and I showered him with sweet nothings and a good ear rub as he wagged his tail in delight. Having him around was almost like having a kid. He was definitely a lot easier than a baby would be, but for now he was enough.

  I removed my jacket and kicked off my shoes before making my way into the kitchen. Stag waited impatiently as I slid the pantry door open, grabbed a cupful of his food, and filled his bowl. While he attacked his meal, I got the orange juice and champagne out and started making mimosas. I needed the alcohol to detox from this morning's anxiety and thought I deserved a celebratory, I'm-not-pregnant-and-don't-have-to-give-up-alcohol drink.

  But as I stood there mixing up a drink, the anxiety over my health continued to eat at me. I ran to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, looking at myself. It never failed. Whenever I had the slightest change in my health, I turned into a hypochondriac, scared it could be something bad, something cancerous. I took my shirt off and studied all of my moles to check for discoloration. They all looked fine. I removed my bra and checked for lumps, because there was no such thing as checking too often. There were no lumps. I even felt around my neck and groin for lumps and also came up with nothing.

  The only thing I felt was a stomach cramp on my lower left side that I chalked up to my lack of breakfast.

  I threw my clothes back on and stared back at the crazy person shaking her head at me in the mirror. You're fine, Elly. There's nothing wrong with you.

  Carter walked in just as I was walking back into the kitchen, and he greeted Stag with the same amount of attention as I had. In the last month, he had become Stag's new favorite person next to Mrs. J. He spoiled him just like she did, giving him people food whenever he begged. Would that be the way we parented humans, too? Would I be the hard, strict parent and he the fun, cool parent?

  You're not pregnant. Stop worrying about it.

  I shook away all thoughts of babies, parenting, and my health, and handed Carter his mimosa. "Good morning," I said, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

  He took a sip of the juice and cocked a brow, obviously not expecting the champagne. "Mimosas? What's the special occasion?"

  I shrugged and shook my head. I promised I'd only tell him if the tests came back positive. If I told him about the pregnancy scare, he could potentially get baby fever and actually want one now. "Nothing. I just felt like spiking the orange juice this morning."

  He laughed and held up a box of a dozen chocolate-glazed donuts. "Well, I brought your favorite: chocolate-glazed."

  "Best boyfriend ever!" I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands found the small of my back, and he pulled me close and his lips formed my favorite, sexy grin. That smile had a way of waking up the ache between my legs and opening the butterfly cage in my belly every time. His lips hit mine and we moved over one another like the cool, fall br
eeze drifting around outside, nice and slow, savoring the familiar, smooth warmth of each other. I missed these lips last night—and the man attached to them.

  I broke away and took the box of donuts into the living room with me. My favorite donuts. Mimosas. Not pregnant. Today was looking up.

  He grabbed us each a paper towel and joined me on the couch, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Did you have a good night with the girls?"

  I took a sip from my drink and nodded. "Yeah, we had fun. We watched chick flicks, talked about girl stuff, and made margaritas. Did you get all your papers graded?"

  "Yeah," he said, swallowing some of his donut. "Then Justin and I went to Judge's and watched the games over some beers."

  I nodded and turned the channel to ESPN to catch Dad's coverage of yesterday's games. I always tuned in whenever I knew he'd be on.

  "Speaking of family," Carter said, taking another sip, "my sister—the one who lives here in New York—called this morning and invited us over for dinner tonight. She's excited about meeting you."

  What? Dinner? Meet his sister? What!?

  I smiled, but my fight-or-flight response kicked in immediately. My heart started racing like a cheetah was chasing after me and I tensed up. I already had dinner plans with my dad tonight and I had no intention of bringing Carter with me. I stood from the couch, avoiding eye contact with him, and walked into the kitchen. I looked at the door to my apartment, and for a moment, I contemplated bailing on him and this topic and running imaginary errands instead.

  No, just tell him about your plans.

  "My dad called last night and asked if I wanted to come over for dinner tonight, too," I said with a fake smile, throwing away my paper towel. When Dad called last night, I never said a thing to him about Carter, and I didn't think it was a big deal until now. Until I found out he wanted this. He wanted us to meet each other’s family.

  "Okay, well I'll just call Harper and tell her we can reschedule," he said, grabbing his phone.

  "No." What? Did you just say no? His brows creased and I tried saving my ass. "I mean, you don't have to reschedule. You can go to dinner at her place and I'll go to my dad's." What?! What are you doing?! The truth was that I wasn't ready for any of this, especially not today. It was bad enough worrying about being pregnant, but now he wanted me to meet some of his family and introduce him to the only person I had left in mine.

  "What's going on, Elly?" he asked in a suspicious voice that teetered on the edge of anger.

  "Nothing," I lied, opening the dishwasher to unload it. I'd rather be back in the drug store staring at pregnancy tests than here, in my kitchen, on the verge of fighting with him. "You just haven't really talked about your sister that much since moving back. You should go over and hang out with her tonight."

  "She's been busy with work," he retorted. I heard him get up from the couch and walk into the kitchen, and a lump rose in the back of my throat with his movement. His eyes burned holes through me, watching my every move. "Could you stop with the dishes for a second?"

  I sighed and slowly turned around to face him. I bit the inside of my cheek and his dark, irritated eyes searched my face. I usually loved it when his eyes were all over me, but not right now; not when he was pissed off.

  He sat down on one of the barstools, scrubbed his hands over his face, and stared back at me with a scowl. "You don't want me to come with you?"

  "I just—" I didn't know how to tell him that I wasn't ready. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like my lungs were paralyzed by the offended look on his face. My stomach felt like it had a noose around it, and the apartment had somehow turned into a sauna. I looked down at my granite counter tops and said softly, "We just started dating, Carter."

  "I'm not just some guy you met last month and started dating. You know me."

  "I know," I said, looking back at him. We'd known each other for years, but there were things I still didn't know about him. Like, if he wanted kids or not. This morning proved we were nowhere near ready for any of this.

  How much shit was going to hit the fan today?

  "I thought this is what you wanted," he said, waving a hand between us. "I thought we were on the same page."

  "We are—"

  "Obviously, we're not," he said, completely confused.

  "I'm just not ready!" I snapped, running a hand through my hair. "I mean, one day we're dating and the next you're practically living with me, and now you want to meet my dad and introduce me to your sister. When's our wedding, Carter, or are you just gonna spring that on me, too? We don't talk about anything! You don't talk to me about anything! You just assume I'm ready for it all, and I'm not! I haven't even told my dad we're dating!"

  He looked taken back, utterly baffled by my behavior, and I had to admit, I was a little baffled myself. It was as if he pulled the pin on my grenade and made me explode. The words that flew from my mouth were ones I didn't even mean; the snide comments slipped right off my tongue. Why didn't I just tell him I wasn’t ready and leave it at that? I had never snapped at anybody in my entire life; I didn't even know I could snap.

  He stood up slowly and pushed the barstool back under the island, and then he walked over to me and cupped my face with his hands. "Look," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know what's gotten into you or what changed over the weekend, but I want this. You and me." Tears slipped from my eyes with his sincere words and he brushed them away with his thumbs. "I love you, Ellyson. I have always loved you."

  He let me go and turned to leave. He started walking toward the door and I scurried after him. I grabbed his arm, desperately begging him to stay. He loves you. "Carter …"

  He studied the floor for a moment before he turned and looked at me with hurt in his eyes. "You need to figure out what you want before we talk about anything else," he said before walking out of the apartment and closing the door.

  I leaned back against the wooden frame and slid down to the floor. With my knees curled up into my chest, I buried my face in my hands and started sobbing. I trembled as I replayed my entire morning of misery, from the pregnancy scare to my thoughts of having cancer, and then watching Carter look at me like I was some crazy person. I knew I was just trying to mask my anxiety. I blamed him for rushing us, but right now, going over everything again and again, I knew who the real culprit was.

  Me.

  For so many years, I kept myself in the dark. I never let anyone in, never really dated or introduced anyone to my dad. I never pictured myself getting married or becoming a mother or a grandmother. I never made love to anyone or imagined being in love. For so many years, I let the fear of ending up like my mom blind me to everything love had to offer. And then I met Carter. He changed everything. He pulled me out of the dark and shined a light on all the joys I never thought I would want, and he made me want a life with him.

  But did I really need it? Did I need to start a life with him when I knew damn good and well that happily ever after didn't exist because eventually we all die? I watched my dad watch the love of his life die, and I promised myself I'd never put Carter or any other guy through such an unforgettable experience.

  "Dad, why is she making that noise?" I asked, staring down at Mom. She looked like she was asleep, but I couldn't really tell if she was or not. I just knew she couldn't keep her eyes open. She didn't look like the mom I knew. She was too skinny because she couldn't eat or drink anything anymore; her skin was so cold and blotchy, and her breathing had started this awful rattling noise a few days ago. Each time she breathed in and out, I wanted to cover my ears so I couldn’t hear it.

  I turned around toward Dad and moved onto his lap. "I don't like it. It sounds like she's hurting."

  "I know, sweetie," he said, placing a kiss on my forehead. "But she's not, I promise. Mom's going to a place where nothing can hurt her, remember?"

  "Yeah, I just hate that sound," I said, laying my head on his shoulder.

  He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a tight hug. "Me too," he whis
pered.

  I wiggled out of his arms and gave Mom a kiss on her cheek and told her I loved her like I'd been doing every day since they moved her hospital bed into her and Dad's room. I walked out of their room and when I turned into the hallway, the rattling stopped.

  It just stopped.

  I turned around and peeked into their bedroom, and Dad was leaned over her, bawling. I knew she was really gone right then and there because I'd never seen Dad cry so hard before. And then I slid to the floor and started bawling, too.

  My mom was only a few years older than I was now when she died. That could easily be me in a few years, and meeting Carter's family would just up the number of people I could end up hurting.

  If I loved him, I'd set him free. The problem was, I already set him free five years ago, and he came back, which meant he was mine—if that saying's true, anyway. Could I let him go again?

  When I finally came back to myself, I heard Stag's paws against the hardwood floor and looked up. He pranced faster toward me after grabbing my attention, and when he got to me, he lifted his paw and laid it against my arm. It was as if he was consoling me, letting me know everything was going to be okay, and I knew it would be once I figured out what I wanted.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Carter

  It was noon when I arrived at Justin's to watch football with him, Maverick, and Cash. After leaving Elly's earlier, I hit up the gym for a couple of hours, trying to relieve some of the frustration she caused. I ran. I took it out on the punching bag. I ran some more. None of it seemed to help. I could still hear her words playing in my head. She wasn't ready to commit. She wasn't ready to tell me she loved me back. I got it, but the excuses she gave were a load of crap. None of that shit she said was true and we both knew it. I could handle her not being ready. I would wait as long as I had to until she was ready, but I couldn't handle not knowing if she'd ever be ready. I wanted a life with her, and today just proved she wasn't even thinking about a life with me. After everything we'd been through, how could she not be thinking about us and our future? I thought that's what women specialized in: planning their damn weddings and naming their unborn children. Not Elly. She freaked out over planning dinner.