Don't Forget About Me: A Second Chance Amnesia Romance

by Eva Luxe

  By Monday, after my temporary state of lunacy over the weekend, I’ve set up the nursery and managed to make it through another week. This will be the last week at work before my self-imposed pre maternity leave, and if not for the fact that I actually hate the other “traditional” mothers glaring at my “lack of showing” and “you look so good for six months” belly, the sheer madness of my life was likely to get me sent home anyway. So, the timing is perfect.

  I had still been incessantly debating about Garrett. He needed to know.

  One constant thought loomed in my mind: Who did I think I was to keep this a secret from the father of the child?

  After feeling sorry for myself for several months, it suddenly occurs to me that he had been cheated out of all these months of knowing he is going to be a father, and this is all my fault.

  How will I even explain it? Sure, he might be panicked, but I’m not asking anything of him. I certainly don’t need him financially. Work is going well and I feel my job with Karen is secure. Besides, he’d done more than enough by securing the new job for me.

  There would be no stalking or begging to be betrothed. What was I so afraid of?

  And then it hits me. Am I afraid he might actually want to be in my life? Might I have secretly longed for that?

  Maybe the real conflict is that I was ready to be with him when I put on the air of someone so independent and not seeking the protection of a man. Nonetheless, the internal battle of should I, or shouldn’t I? had me hanging on by a thread at this point. Still, the actual decision of whether to tell Garrett was changing minute to minute.

  The week came and went. Just days until my maternity leave, two p.m. on Thursday, to be exact, my boss stops into my office.

  “Dear, can you drop this at the office of Marks, Sanchez, Reed and Mack?” Karen asks. As if as an afterthought— which to her, it probably was— she adds, “Oh yeah, your reference. You used to work there. So, you know where it is.”

  She shrugs and smiles, as if that is that. And how convenient to boot.

  My stomach drops, and it isn’t from the tacos I ate for lunch. How will I walk back in there at six months pregnant, my belly round and protruding, without a comment?

  Of course, some people say I’m barely showing for someone so far along. And Erin and I are still close, so I know she hadn’t revealed anything to Garrett. She would never.

  Besides, by now she is so in love, it matters very little what I’m doing. She’d finally found someone who finds her frizzy hair, crooked teeth, and smart mouth endearing rather than off-putting. Who would have guessed?

  Me. I would have guessed.

  Now, I answer Karen without letting myself over think anything further.

  “Sure. Sure, of course.”

  What else was I going to answer? No, because the father of my secret baby might find out?

  “Would it be okay if I head out a little early then?” I ask her. “So I can drop this off on my way home?”

  “Yes, indeed. Thanks. It should go to directly to Garrett, or have Erin please hand deliver it.”

  I gulp and reply, “Um, yes. Yes.”

  “You okay to do that? I mean, you aren’t in pain or anything? You seem pretty good still. Look, if I’m being honest, your belly is smaller than most of the ladies here— hah.”

  Was that supposed to be an attempt at humor? I enjoy working for Karen, but she’s certainly an odd character. I’m not sure if she’s laughing or hacking up a hairball.

  My new boss is the no-nonsense, all-business type, which was a welcome change from what I was used to with Garrett. I suppose she was starting to warm up to me a little now and try out a joke.

  So, even though she had just given me an out— I could say I don’t feel well; pregnancy sickness, or some other such excuse— I would feel bad taking it. I decide to grow up and do what she asks.

  “Yeah, I mean I’m not bedbound, hah. I can walk. You’re not asking me to do a marathon. It only requires getting out of my car, hopping on an elevator, and handing over a package. I think I can handle that.”

  I realize I’m becoming a bit snarky, so I smile to compensate. She nods, and there it is. My fate is sealed.

  I have to text Erin immediately. This is going to be the scandal of all scandals. The partners will definitely talk amongst themselves when they see me. Even though I miss Erin, and Claude, and Madilyn, and Ruby and Katie, I had avoided going into the office. Obviously I had been afraid of running into Garrett and having an awkward encounter. But I also didn’t want to give away my secret by having them see me. Since some of them had been pregnant themselves recently, they’d pick up on my trail like sharks to blood.

  I mean, I think I look like a blimp. Even though everyone including Karen says I’m barely showing, I just chalk that up to “the things you tell an obviously pregnant woman to keep her from strangling you with her bare hands.”

  Suddenly, I can feel the beads of sweat forming on my brow.

  Then, as if courage is a bottled drink, I feel this warm rush of strength. No, I will not cower. I will face this proudly and make this the opportunity to share the news with Garrett. After all, he really is a great guy.

  He deserves to know that I’m about to have his baby, that he’s about to be a father.

  So what the hell have I been so afraid of?

  Chapter 31 – Carolina

  The double doors open into the reception area. Erin can’t look up at me. I can see hives forming on her neck from anxiety. If I weren’t the one putting her in this situation, she would ask me for a massage, to help her deal with it.

  She is trying to be inconspicuous but she is very ready for major drama to ensue. She answers a call.

  “Marks, Sanchez, Reed and Mack, how can I help? Of course, one moment please.” Then she presses a button and warbles, “Mr. Mack. Uh. Sorry… Mr. Mack, uh Garrett… uh someone, uh. You have a package. Um, someone is here to drop off… uh, hand deliver to you a package.”

  I mutter, “Smooth.”

  Erin hangs up, rolling her eyes at me, and says under her breath, “and she brought company.” I ignore her. It was funny, but this is no time for levity, especially not the Erin shit-stirring kind of levity.

  Phlegm threatens to come up as bile forces me to very loudly clear my throat. A belch slips out in the process. Oh, the genius timing of pregnancy.

  Katie laughs. I say nothing.

  I clear my throat again and ready myself. Vomit, or Garrett Mack, is about to emerge. Which will come first, I have no clue. So, I just wait. Whichever one makes it to the finish line ahead of the other, that’s what I’m going to go with, I decide instantaneously.

  Pick and choose your battles, Carolina, pick and choose.

  Then, just as I go in close to the desk to whisper something to Erin, I see him coming out. It’s Garrett, all right. I can tell by his broad shoulders and confident swagger, even when I first spot him all the way down the hall.

  I pretend this is all business. I can see he seems nervous, not that he would ever show it. I realize that the desk is in front of my belly, so I stay sort of covered. He walks to my side of the desk and smiles professionally. I can tell he feels shaken but that he’s trying not to show it. As he is just about to ask for the package, Erin, being the busybody that she is, interrupts.

  “Not out in the open area guys. I have strict instructions from the firm that this is to remain confidential, thanks. Please don’t involve me. Carolina, was it not explained that way to you by Karen?”

  “Um, yes. Yeah,” I answer her. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  I smile at Garrett. I’m still hiding my belly. He has no clue. At least, I don’t think he does. Men are usually slow to grasp these things.

  He nods and replies, “Oh, okay. Not a problem. Carolina, why don’t you follow me back and I’ll take it back there?”

  Erin mutters, “You sure will.”

  She is very lucky that Garrett did not hear that or I would have cold-cocked her ri
ght there. Garrett pivots on his heels and walks back towards his office. I follow him.

  As we walk, he says, “Uh, it’s nice to see you. Quite unexpected, but lovely to see that you are well.”

  I wait until he is somewhat out of range, following a good distance behind him. I realize he has no clue about my pregnancy and I’m suddenly afraid of his reaction should he find out right here and now by seeing my baby bump.

  Mid-walk, he turns around as if I had said something. Well, I hadn’t obviously, and you could have heard a pin drop in the silence of his full recognition of me.

  I almost drop, myself. He doesn’t say anything. Nothing. He says nothing. His reaction, while in some ways a giant relief, also leaves me at a complete loss.

  I hand off the item quickly and make my way back to the front. Just as I turn, I catch hot-bod Gina out of the corner of my eye approaching his office. She had been the new hot chick who had started as a clerk that final week before it all blew up with me and I gave my resignation.

  So, I say nothing to her or her walking sweater of boobs. I avert my glance and simply walk. Garrett couldn’t have been more aloof.

  Maybe she is his “new girl.” After all, he acts as if he doesn’t know me. He is being so godawful formal. It’s off-putting. This is the same man that made me climax to the point of leaving my body. He knew me! He knew every inch of me. Indeed, he knows me—in the biblical sense. I don’t get it.

  As I walk away, I can feel him watching me. On second thought, maybe it is Gina watching me leave. I had always thought she felt threatened. Who knows? I am not about to look back to verify it either.

  Does Garrett think it’s someone else’s? Still, would he not even ask? Or at least congratulate me? Damn hormones …

  I can feel myself beginning to cry. I press the elevator to try and escape quickly while Erin is on a call, but she waves me to stop, stop! So, I wait begrudgingly.

  I need her to hurry. I don’t know what I had expected. The fairytale ending? I don’t know at all, but this feels very, very painful. I just want to run. How could he not even care? I fight my emotional self as I often do, but not it feels like I’m wrestling with two sides of myself.

  Of course, he doesn’t care. You were nothing but an office romance. You were a notch on the peg. Did you really think this would be a different encounter after the way it ended?

  But he did care. I know it. I felt it.

  Erin interrupts my brain battle. She hands me a tissue, which kind of floorsme because I didn’t know I was so obviously emotional.

  “Thanks. I can’t really take Benadryl in this condition, ya know… So, yeah, my eyes are pretty watery from those fuppin’ allergies.”

  Now I’m beginning to cry. Who am I kidding?

  “It’s okay, girl. It’s only me.” Then she whispers, “What happened?”

  “Nothing. He didn’t even ask or care. Oh, God. What am I going to do?”

  “Maybe he can’t tell. I mean, you aren’t that big.”

  I turn to the side, and she almost snorts since from that perspective there isa second being protruding about two feet off my hips.

  “Right, okay, but that’s a side view. And he’s a guy. They are oblivious to everything. Look, maybe you should go back and tell him.”

  The elevator has come and gone by now. I hit the button again hard and say, “No. I am not going to do that. He could not have been more aloof toward me.”

  The doors open. I smile at Erinand just before they close over my face I say, “Tell him to tell Gina I say ‘hi’.”

  And then I leave the office once again, this time for good.

  As the elevator makes its way down slowly, it does occur to me that he might have assumed it was someone else’s baby. Perhaps a random one night stand or even my ex-husband’s. But then I just shrug that thought off. It isn’t even rational, not even rational at all. Still, he could have asked.

  If it looks like a duck, it is a duck. I was trying to make his actions reasonable, and they just aren’t. He simply doesn’t care to know— whatever the case is— and that is devastating. All I can think about is burying my feelings in a bowl of ice cream. Then the self-destructive “me” shows up to have a conversation.

  Forget him! How could I have been so stupid? What was I thinking? He must have never really wanted to be with me at all. How ridiculous to think I was anyone different than any of his many conquests.

  Suddenly, that type of debate with my emotional self is exactly what I need. The silent demons in my head are now making me much happier about it all with this “screw him” approach.

  Then it hits me. Conclusively, I am glad I hadn’t told him about the baby. Maybe Gina and Garrett are hot and heavy.

  Great, let her have him. I know there is no one on the planet who made him that hard, so let her fake-tittied-self have him. Look, girl, I know him. He’s told me many times, he hates that fake look. So, Ms. Gina, you will only be another notch.

  As the doors open, I don’t realize I was speaking aloud until I say “bitch” and the mother and teen girl getting onto the elevator shoot me looks—the mother’s, stern, the girl’s, confused and in awe.

  Good, I think, maybe that girl will think twice about getting knocked up by her boss.

  I smirk at her and walk toward the parking lot, but not before I let out a tiny belch. What a grand day it has been, and this involuntary bodily function just tops it off.

  As I walk to my car, the saner side emerges with my lunch from earlier.

  Why had I been so hard on him? Even if he wasn’t the love of my life, maybe just using me for a little office fun, that could be okay. I was using him as well. Neither of us knew a baby would be the result.

  Should I expect him to suddenly be responsible and caring? It’s silly.

  This time, the debate in my head isn’t working so well to cheer me up.

  For some unknown reason, my heart is broken. Shattered into a kaleidoscope of a hundred lifetimes of pieces, it has broken into thousands of irreplaceable shards, all of which I leave on the parking lot floor this evening before I’m to embark on pre maternity leave.

  As I open my car door, I don’t even bother to wipe the tears from my eyes. They are puddling up too fast. Simply put, I can’t contain the heartbreak and the utter aloneness I felt at this moment.

  Chapter 32 – Carolina

  Friday and Saturday pass. It’s official: I’m on an early maternity leave. My firm offered that option as part of its super sweet benefits package to pregnant women who want to rest up during their last few months of pregnancy.

  I didn’t need to, but I wanted to take an extended leave of absence. I thought that this would be the perfect way to do it.

  Martha Grecco is coming to visit. It is something I have so looking forward to. Some of my family are also coming to visit. It will be exciting.

  I just don’t know how I am going to get over the fact that this will indeed be me and only me raising this child. As I watch the little chimes that hang over the crib in the new nursery, I can’t take it anymore. I call Erin.

  “Hey. So, I am sorry that I left you so abruptly the other day. It’s just been incredibly difficult— an annihilation of sorts.”

  I grab a few grapes off the fruit bowl on my counter and stuff them in my mouth as I continue my rant.

  “It wasn’t you. It was everything else. My feelings, his lack of caring, his aloof attitude, Gina-the-bod, my severe case of heartburn…”

  “Carolina, Carolina. No, stop. Look, first of all, what? It’s me. We’re cool. And second, I’ve been meaning to call you. Garrett has come out to the reception area almost hourly since Friday with these weird stream of consciousness thoughts regarding you.”

  My heart leaps despite my brain telling it to settle down.

  “I mostly ignored it because I told you, I’ve always thought he was carrying a torch,” she continues. “But then he said something like, ‘Carolina. Did you know? I mean did you know?’ Of course, I looke
d at him blankly. And then he added, ‘that she was pregnant? I mean did you know that already? So strange. She must be married or in love or maybe back with her ex.’”

  I hold my breath as Erin continues.

  “I responded, ‘Sir, are you asking me that? Because I don’t know. That’s simply too personal.’ He said, ‘No, no, of course not. But she is what? Four or five months, yes?’ And again, I rebutted, ‘Well maybe something like that. I mean close. She carries well. Who knows, really?’ And he pressed, ‘Well, she certainly can’t be more than five months. My sister was a walking blimp at seven months.’ Of course, I said, ‘That’s not sexist or anything,’ but he ignored me and said, ‘So yes, I am sure she is about four months. Well, good then. I mean, good for her. She’s a lovely girl, lovely.’”

  Finally, I blurt out to Erin, “Lovely? Oh, he wasn’t calling me lovely when his cock was in my mouth.”

  “Cari, please. Some decorum, darling, please.”

  “Sorry. It’s the hormones. Well then, he knows, I guess.”

  “Sure, he knows, but you are missing the point, as you often do. He is obsessed. He did nothing but talk about you all of Friday. And, I have to say, there was a moment when he seemed concerned if you were indeed farther along—which, if I go there and address that pink elephant in the room, no disrespect to your state of roundness —would make it his! You might reconsider your lie of omission.”

  “Oh, Lord. You are such a soap opera. He’s not. He is such a self-absorbed cretin, he would never think it was his. It’s okay. I’m not teary anymore.”

  “Fine. I think you are painting him with a broad brush of ‘every other guy’ and a side of souped-up raging hormonal imbalance. But have it your way. I still say, the man has fallen and he can’t get up, and you could be the only one to retrieve the poor boy’s shattered heart, but all right.”

  I snicker to myself at the shattered heart concept and then answer politely, “I love you, Erin. I need to take a nap. We’ll talk in the morning, and I will keep you posted.”