by S. A. Cook
“It's sad for Paul,” she said. “Not you. We don't have to do the strippers. You could invite Loverboy. He'd probably like to celebrate.”
“I'm sure he would,” she said. “But he's so busy right now, better not to bother him. Why don't you just take me out for drinks, with the girls.”
“Okay, if that's what you want. I'll ask Marta, for sure,” she said.
“Just no big party, okay? Think casual and low key,” Eva said.
“Oh, okay,” Sarah said. “Maybe just a stripper. A fireman...”
“No,” Eva said.
“Whatever. How about the Saturday before you go away for Christmas?”
“Sure,” Eva said. “Don't count on me doing a lot of drinking, though. My stomach's been acting up.”
“You're probably getting ulcers,” Sarah said. “You worry too much.”
“That's exactly what Dylan said. But I thought ulcers burned. This isn't burning, it's just nausea.”
“Does it just come and go, or is it constant?” Sarah asked.
“It just comes on when I'm running, usually. Or before I've had my breakfast,” Eva said.
“Are you joking?” Sarah looked at her, squinting.
“No, why would I be joking?”
“Morning sickness, Dope. You're not pregnant, are you?” Sarah whispered across the table.
“No! Sarah, really. You've got pregnancy on the brain,” she laughed, but in her head she was trying to think when her last period was, and more importantly, when it was due again.
“Well, you better see a doctor,” she said. “Maybe you're allergic to something. Maybe it's gluten.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Eva said. “I'll make an appointment before Christmas.”
They finished their dinner, and Eva told Sarah goodbye. She wanted to get home and look at the calendar.
Chapter Fifty-Two
When Eva got home, the first thing she did after taking off her coat and shoes, was look at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall. Let's see, she thought, the first day of my last period was...the day after Dylan got arrested. That was November. She counted forward 28 days. Her period was due last Tuesday. She was a week late. The only time she might have gotten pregnant was the one time she and Dylan forgot the condom. Which would have been two weeks after her period. And that was three weeks ago.
She sat down at the kitchen table and contemplated what she should do next. Maybe she should make a doctor's appointment. Or maybe she should get a pregnancy test, just to see. She never once had a pregnancy scare with Paul. She'd longed for a baby, but faithfully used birth control because he didn't want one. Even the few times she'd forgotten and missed a pill, nothing. She had come to believe it would be hard for her to get pregnant. Maybe she should call Dylan. He had so much going on right now, though. How could she tell him she might be pregnant, knowing he was about to go on television and be interviewed? Besides, his reviews for the new music had been positive, with a few exceptions, and one of the not-so-great reviews happened to come from a magazine Dylan really respected. He was feeling down about it the last time they had talked. He was under a lot of stress. And suppose she told him, and her period started tomorrow? She decided go to the doctor before she started worrying. Everyone always said she worried too much.
She sat down and began writing, and before she knew it, it was dark outside. She was deliberating what to eat for dinner, when her phone rang. It was Dylan.
“Hey, how did your day go?” she asked.
“Good. I did five radio interviews today. All in L.A.,” he said. “And we did three in San Diego last night. I'm so tired of answering the same questions over and over.”
“You sound tired,” she said. He sounded hoarse and like he was getting a cold, but she didn't want to mention it. He was singing on a morning network show tomorrow.
“Are you taking good care of yourself?”
“I'm trying to. I need you here. You could take care of me,” he said, sounding pitiful. Eva felt bad she wasn't there.
“You need a break,” she said. “I'll be seeing you soon enough. Between me and Grandma, I'm sure we'll get you back to normal in no time.”
“I miss you,” he said. “I never missed anyone so much. Not since my mother left.”
“I'm sorry, Dylan,” she said. “Do you really want me to come out there? The girls are giving me a divorce party next Saturday, but I'll come out if you want me to.”
“A what? Divorce party?” he laughed. “No, I don't want you to miss your party. Is it just for girls, or will there be men there?”
“It's just for girls,” Eva said. “There were supposed to be male strippers, but I nixed that.”
“Oh God,” he said. “You're not going to dump me for a man dressed up like a cowboy, are you?”
“No, because I nixed the strippers,” she laughed.
“Good,” he said. “I've given up strip clubs for you, you know.”
“No, I didn't. But I'm glad to hear it,” she smiled. She wondered for a moment if she should tell him her period was late, and then decided against it.
“I love you, Dylan,” she said. “I hope you take good care of yourself when I'm not around.” She felt teary-eyed. She must have PMS.
“I love you, too,” he said. “How are you? You sound down.”
“I just miss you. I got a lot of writing done,” she said. “And the guy at the Tribune really liked your new music. He says you're growing as an artist. Did you read it?”
“No, really?” he said. “That's awesome. I'll have to look it up online.”
They kept talking until Eva felt her stomach growl.
“I better go, Dylan,” she said. “I need to eat. My stomach's growling. You should rest your voice.”
“Okay, go eat,” he said. “I'll call you first chance I get. By Saturday, at the latest. Tomorrow's going to be a killer.”
“I'm going to watch you tomorrow,” she said.
“You better,” he said.
“I will,” she said.
“Try to cheer up,” he said. “I love you, and we'll be together soon. Promise.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Eva set her alarm so she would be sure to see Dylan on the morning show. She got up and made coffee, grabbed a quick shower while the local news was on, and sat down. She was nervous every time the morning host said “Dylan Moore.” Finally, they said he'd be on after the break, singing the first single from his new CD.
Eva sat nervously through the commercials, and then there was the morning host, standing next to Dylan. He looked handsome and happy. He was wearing a dark coat with dark pants and a red scarf because they were outside. Eva imagined all the prep that had gone into his appearance that morning, with Jason running around, getting him dressed. She felt like an insider.
The host was asking Dylan some questions about the new CD, questions he'd probably already been asked a hundred times, considering all the interviews he'd been doing. He answered them with confidence, like an artist who knew the direction he wanted to go with his music.
“So how will you be spending the holidays?” the host asked.
“Well, I'm going to be spending it like most people--with family and friends,” he said.
“Any special lady friends?” the host asked. Dylan didn't miss a beat.
“My Grandma will be there,” he said. The host laughed.
“Tell us about the new song you're going to sing,” he said. Dylan looked down, thinking.
“Well, it's called 'In Between' and it's about the time you spend when one love ends, and you're waiting for a new one to begin,” he smiled.
“Still waiting?” the host tried to be sly.
“No, I'm ready to sing,” Dylan said, pretending not to get the question.
“Okay!” the host laughed. “Ladies and gentlemen, Dylan Moore.” A thousand girls screamed.
The song was a mid-tempo, upbeat song, with no major dancing, but lots of opportunities for Dylan to show off his ever-maturin
g vocal skills. Eva heard none of the hoarseness from the night before. He had either gotten better, or he was just forcing himself to sing through it. Either way, he sounded great, and Eva was proud of him.
At the end of the song, the host thanked him and Dylan looked at the camera and mouthed the words 'See you soon, Eva.' The name was probably indecipherable by anyone but her and a seasoned lipreader, but she felt sure there would be plenty of speculation. She didn't care. She was happy. Let them wonder who she was.
All day she felt crampy. She expected to get her period every time she went to the bathroom, but it still hadn't come. She decided at 4:00 to call her doctor before his office closed for the weekend. She was put on hold for ten minutes, only to be told they had no openings until January 3. She made one for the 3rd at noon. She'd just have to wait.
That evening Dylan called at 10:00 Chicago time. Eva had finished writing, and was watching a show on tv.
“Hey, how'd I do this morning? You watched, right?” he asked.
“You were great,” she said. “I knew you would be.”
“How do I know you really watched?” he asked.
“Because I saw you say my name in front of millions of people,” she said.
“That's right,” he said. “You did watch.”
“I miss you, Dylan,” she said.
“I miss you, too,” he said. “I miss you so much, Eva. I lay in bed at night thinking about you. It's been too long. I want you so bad.”
“I want you, too,” she said. She could tell where this was going.
“Want to have phone sex with me?” he asked, only half teasing.
“No, I don't,” she laughed.
“Why not?” he said. “Come on, I need you to do this for me.”
“On a wireless phone. There are probably people outside your house with police scanners, trying to pick up your cell phone signal,” she said.
“Paranoid,” he said. “You may be right, though, actually. What are you wearing?”
“Fuzzy pajamas,” she said.
“Mmmm...sexy,” Dylan said.
“You are lonely,” she laughed. She remembered being late, and thought maybe she should mention it to him.
“I want you to go to New York with me. I'm doing the Pop Goes the New Year show, you know,” he said. “And I'm supposed to go on early in the evening. I'd be done by 7 and we could actually be together at midnight. If you come with me.”
“Alright. I'd love to,” she said. “I've never been in New York on New Years Eve.”
“Good,” he said. “I can finish my song, and we'll have a nice hotel suite. We can have dinner, drink champagne, kiss at midnight, and make love until the sun comes up.”
“Wow! You've got it all planned out, don't you?” she said, laughing. “I love a man with big plans.”
“I have a lot of plans,” he said. “You're in all of them.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
The Saturday of her divorce party came, and Eva was actually looking forward to it. The fact that her period still hadn't started was the only damper on the evening. She was now seriously worried about being pregnant. How crazy would that be? One indiscretion, in the heat of the moment, with the love of her life and she may be pregnant. She thought about Dylan, and how he would react. She knew he liked children as much as her, but his career—and their relationship was just starting. He was 21. He had plans, she thought, that involved her. But she was pretty sure he hadn't included a baby in those plans.
Eva decided there was no sense worrying until she knew. She had been under stress from the divorce. That could easily cause her to be late, or even miss a period. May as well enjoy her party. May as well enjoy the holiday. Dylan was coming to get her in three days, and they were driving to Indianapolis to spend Christmas together, and then, New Years. For once, she was going to put her worries on the back burner, and enjoy all the great things that were finally happening in her life.
Sarah was coming to get her around 6, and five of their mutual girlfriends were going to meet them at a restaurant for dinner. After that, Sarah had plans to take them to a popular new club where they could dance. Eva picked out a pair of skinny jeans and a dark red sweater with a low neckline. She put on a pair of black boots with a heel, because there was snow on the sidewalks and it was too cold for any other type of shoe. She finished her hair and put on more make-up than she usually wore. She went into the living room to wait for Sarah, who as always, was late.
The buzzer rang at 6:30. Eva grabbed her coat, purse and phone, and met Sarah downstairs.
“Guess what?” she asked Eva as they drove.
“What?” Eva asked, a little wary it was going to involve strippers.
“I saw Dylan on tv last week. I saw what he said, at the end,” she grinned, teasing Eva.
“Was it obvious what he said?” she asked, surprised Sarah hadn't mentioned it before.
“It was to me,” she said. “I guess this is pretty serious, huh?” She looked over at Eva.
“Yeah, it's pretty serious. I love him, if that's what you mean,” she said. “And he loves me.”
“So he's not a rebound guy?” she asked.
“No, he's definitely not a rebound guy,” Eva said, looking for a parking spot for Sarah. “There's one.” Sarah made two attempts to parallel park, finally getting it. She put her keys in her purse, but didn't make a move to get out of the car.
“So, is he 'the one' as they say?” She turned towards Eva.
“I can't imagine loving anyone more, Sarah,” she said. “And I can't imagine being without him.”
“I'm glad,” Sarah said. “Let's go have some fun. This might be your last night out with the girls. Ever!”
“Don't be crazy,” Eva laughed. “You have Jack, and here you are, going out with the girls.”
“Yeah, but I'm pregnant,” she said. “I can't even get drunk!”
“You're not missing that much,” Eva said.
At dinner, they had a great time, talking about things girlfriends talk about. Much of the conversation was spent planning Sarah's baby shower. Eva avoided drinking any alcohol, passing on the wine that was brought to the table, announcing she might have ulcers and wine seemed to irritate them.
After dinner, they headed for the club. The doorman let them in right away. They all congratulated themselves on how hip they must look to get into such a hot club on a Saturday night so easily. After they got in and looked around, it became apparent why they got in so easily. There had been a Cubs convention next door, and the men outnumbered the women about three to one. They found a table and ordered their drinks. The girls were delighted at their good luck. Eva was in the ladies room when they ordered and came back to the table to find they'd ordered her a gin and tonic. She made her way to the bar and asked the bartender to switch out her drink for a ginger ale.
“Hi,” a man was standing next to her at the bar.
“Hey,” she said, then looked back toward the bartender.
“Were you at the Cubs convention?” he was asking her, not giving up.
“Oh, no,” she said, trying not to draw out a conversation, but also not wanting to be rude.
“Oh, sorry,” he said. “I don't mean to pester you.”
“You're not pestering me,” she looked at him and smiled, trying to be a little nicer. He was tall, in his late twenties she figured, and had soft brown eyes and sandy brown hair. He was dressed simply in a dark blue t-shirt and dark jeans. He had a dark plaid flannel shirt on over the t-shirt. He seemed nice and his eyes were gorgeous.
“I don't know anyone here,” he was saying. “I only got one ticket to the convention from my boss, so I came here alone.”
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“Indianapolis,” he said. She turned her head and smiled to herself.
“What do you do there?” she asked.
“I'm training to be a firefighter,” he said.
“Oh, really?” she said. “Have you done a calendar yet?”
she grinned.
“What kind of calendar?” he smiled, but was clearly puzzled.
“You know, like 'The Men of Firehouse 23' and then they're all in their underwear,” she laughed, feeling just a little ashamed at herself for teasing him.
“No!” he was laughing. “I highly doubt they'd ask me to be in a calendar in my underwear. Not if they wanted to make money.”
“Oh, I think they would,” she grinned. “Pretty sure...”
“Yeah?” he said. “I think you're messing with me.”
“I have to go,” she said. She needed to get back to her seat.
“Really?” he said. “I thought things were going pretty good.”
“I'm sorry,” she said. “It's just that, I came here with my friends. I'm kind of the guest of honor...”
“Oh yeah? What's the occasion?” he asked.
“I got--” she saw a graceful, albeit dishonest way out. “engaged.”
“Now I'm the one who's sorry.” He smiled. “Well, good luck and congratulations. Didn't you get a ring out of the deal?” He pointed at her left hand.
“Oh, it's being sized.” She lied again.
“Well, have a good night,” he said.
“Thank you,” she smiled.
Back at her table, everyone wanted to know who she was talking to.
“A gorgeous firefighter,” she said. “And if any one of you single girls has half a brain, you'll go buy him a drink. He's here all alone.” Three of the girls descended on him. Eva smiled and tried to figure out in her head how many hours it'd be before Dylan came to Chicago to get her.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Eva got home from the club around 1:00 am. Pretty tame, but still much later than she was used to staying out. She checked her phone to see if Dylan had called. Nothing. He was probably busy. Maybe he had interviews. She couldn't keep any of it straight. She didn't know how he managed to wake up in the morning and remember all the things he had going on.
She took off her make-up and got ready for bed, but she wasn't very sleepy. She was a little hungry, so she made herself a bowl of soup, and tried to find something good on television. She was an hour into a movie when her phone rang. It was Dylan.