by Jen Andrews
I patted him on the shoulder. “It’s fine, Noah. You did what you could. If she comes back, she comes back. If not, then it wasn’t meant to be.”
We both left the office, Noah heading back to work and me heading back home to finish getting ready for the day. When I arrived home, the message light on my answering machine was blinking. Again, the message was from Andy.
“Hey there, Beautiful. I couldn’t sleep, and just wanted to call and hear your voice. Hope you’re doing well . . . I love you.”
That was the second time I had missed his call. He said he couldn’t sleep. Not having any idea what time it was in New Zealand, I found an app on my phone and converted the time between here and New Zealand. It was just after seven a.m. in Auckland when he had called.
For some reason, the phone number he was calling from wasn’t showing up on my caller ID so I couldn’t call him back. I wanted to talk to him and see how he was doing, hear his voice, and beg him to come home to me.
To us.
He sounded a little happier than the last time I heard his voice and that made me smile. It also thrilled me that he was calling. His letter had said he needed a clean break, yet here he was—calling me again.
It gave me hope. Maybe he had listened to what I said to him before he had left for New Zealand. Maybe he was having second thoughts. God, I needed him back here. I scrolled through my phone contacts, finding the number of one of the only two people in New Zealand that I could call.
Nervously, I tapped the call button and several seconds later, the phone began ringing. I hadn’t considered what I was going to say to her if she answered.
The thought barely processed in my mind, when a heavily accented woman’s voice answered, “Kia ora.”
Unsure of what the words meant exactly, I stuttered a simple “H-hello?”
I waited for a second, and the woman said, “Hello? Who’s calling, please?”
I took a breath. “Hello, is this Iria?” I asked, not sure if I pronounced her name correctly or not.
“Yes, it is. May I help you?” she asked politely.
“Hello, my name is Zoey James. You don’t know me, but I’m trying to reach Andy Tate, and this is the only phone number I have.”
She laughed. “Ah, tattoo girl. Yes, of course. I know who you are.”
Tattoo girl? What did that mean?
“Are you still there Zoey?”
“Yes. Sorry, I’m still here,” I said as I snapped back from outer space. I was in the bad habit lately of spacing out. “I was trying to figure out why you called me tattoo girl.” I laughed nervously.
“Ah, I guess A.J. didn’t tell you about it yet then, eh.”
“No, he didn’t,” I replied, still confused. Get to the point, Zoey. “That’s actually why I’m calling you. I keep missing his calls, and his phone number is not showing up on my caller ID so I can’t call him back. I know he’s moved back into his house with you and your husband, and I found your number on his old phone. I hope it’s okay that I called you.”
I suddenly felt stalker-like.
“Of course, Zoey. It’s nice to speak to you. A.J. has told us so much about you I feel like I already know you.”
Really? My heart did a little flutter in my chest. “That’s good to hear. Does he happen to be around so I might talk to him for a few minutes?”
“No. I’m sorry. He went to play rugby with Tamati and his team. You’ve just missed him.”
I chuckled. “Looks like we’re playing phone tag, then.”
She laughed.
“Iria,” I said timidly. “Is he doing alright?” I suddenly felt like I was putting her in the middle of something in which she might not want to be involved. She didn’t know me. “Sorry, you don’t need to answer that.”
“It’s fine, Zoey. I don’t mind. He’s doing okay. He has good days and bad days. The day he received the photo book from you was the worst.”
My heart sank. It wasn’t my intention to hurt him when I made the album, especially on his birthday.
“The next day, he went to his favorite tattoo shop and had your name tattooed on his side.”
What the? “He did?” My name inked on his body . . . Forever . . .
“Yeah, he did. He loves you very much.”
I sighed with relief. “Thank you, Iria. I needed to hear that. Will you tell him I called, please? I’ll be out of town for a couple of days but I’d love it if he would call me back.”
“Of course, Zoey. Please call me anytime to talk, if you want to. I think we’ll be good friends.”
I heard the smile in her voice then I thanked her, and we ended the call.
What a whirlwind of emotions already today. I flopped down flat on my back in the middle of my bed, taking advantage of it, because when my belly grew bigger, I wouldn’t be able to do it.
James hopped up on the bed with me, curled up in a ball right next to me, and fell asleep. I dozed off too.
I woke from my nap when my phone pinged with a text. I picked it up, surprised to see I had slept about an hour, and the text was from Iria.
The text contained a photo of Andy that he obviously didn’t know she’d taken.
He was standing outside, shirtless, and was taking a drink from a bottle of water. It appeared he was taking a break from the rugby game Iria said he was playing.
He looked like he’d lost some weight, but the main thing I did notice, was the very large, very black tattoo running down the side of his torso, from just under his arm, to a few inches above his hipbone.
It simply said Zoey.
The style of the lettering seemed to match the Maori style of the rest of his tattoos. I couldn’t believe he’d inked my name onto his body. I scrolled down to the bottom of the picture where Iria had sent a text message.
Thought you would want to see it for yourself.
I sent her a thank you text . . . and cried. Holding it together until I saw him again was going to be difficult, but the bigger picture was I had to take care of myself, our baby, and I needed to get answers about Emma. Until I had what we needed, there was no other choice for me but to let Andy do what he needed to cope.
Just before noon the next day, I hopped in my car to pick up Sasha so we could get on the road to San Francisco. The second I left my apartment, the butterflies started in my stomach. I was scared of what was coming, and scared of the information we would hopefully acquire from Michelle.
When I pulled up in front of Sasha’s house, I honked the horn to let her know I was there. A few minutes later, she came outside pulling a giant rolling suitcase behind her. I laughed and popped open the trunk for her then stepped out of my car to help her with it.
“Sash? You do realize we’re only going to be gone twenty-four hours right?” I giggled as I watched her attempt to lift the suitcase on her own.
She blew her newly blonde hair out of her face in frustration. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me?”
I stepped off the curb, picked up one side of the suitcase, and helped her hoist it into the trunk.
“What the hell is in here, a body?” I asked. “I think I just strained my spleen from lifting that damn thing.”
She glared at me over the top of her designer shades. “Very funny, Zoey, it takes a lot of work to be me, you know?”
We weren’t far into our trip before we needed to stop for road trip snacks. Apparently, Baby Tate thought I needed to eat an entire box of Dibs Peanut Butter ice cream snacks.
Okay, maybe it was two boxes.
Three and a half hours, four stops to use the bathroom, two snack stops, and one small traffic jam later, we finally pulled into our hotel.
We decided to splurge and booked a suite with all the amenities, so we could have a girl’s night in to help me stay calm. We had valets and bellhops galore to attend to us, and I for one, was relieved not to deal with Sasha’s suitcase again. After checking into our spacious room, we changed into our pajamas and ordered room servic
e. Sasha turned on a movie and sprawled out across the king sized bed to wait for our food.
“Sash?” I said, after a while.
“Yeah, Z?” she said as she looked at me.
“Thanks . . . for everything.”
She winked at me. “Anytime.”
Once again, the butterflies fluttered in my stomach, because in less than a day, my life was forever going to be changed, regardless of the outcome of our meeting with Michelle.
The next day, I finally rolled out of bed after a night of tossing and turning. After taking a long bath to relax, I forced myself to do a manicure and pedicure so I would be presentable when meeting Andy’s ex-wife. I’d decided to attend the appointment with Michelle since mine and Andy’s child was the motive for the meeting. I needed to hear for myself if Andy’s genes or DNA was the cause of Emma’s death. I also needed to learn the reasons for doing what she did directly from her mouth, not secondhand from Sasha.
While I was painting my toes, Sasha giggled, and I could sense she was trying to keep the atmosphere relaxed for me.
“You won’t be able to do that too much longer on your own, Z.”
I screwed the top onto my nail polish and dropped it back in my makeup bag. I laughed as I fanned my wet toes. She was right. I never thought about any of those things after my miscarriage. Little tasks like painting my toes, then eventually, not being able to see my feet.
“Guess I’ll need to treat myself to the salon when the time comes.”
I stood and suddenly had a very odd feeling low in my belly. Like a hundred little butterflies flitting around inside me. I rested my palms on my stomach and looked down to see if I could see it move. I let out a laugh for being a dumbass. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to see it move yet. It was much too soon for that, but I definitely felt something.
“Zoey, is everything okay?” A very worried Sasha jogged across the room to me.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I whispered. Tears of both joy and sadness welled up in my eyes. “I think I just felt the baby move, Sash.”
She smiled sympathetically and hugged me, not quite sure what to say to keep me from crying. It still didn’t make my heart hurt any less. Andy was missing it, and all I wanted to do was break down and cry.
I needed to get this day over with, because as soon as possible, I was getting my pregnant ass—should I say, pregnant belly—on a plane to New Zealand to go get Andy and bring him home. I refused to deliver the news to him, regardless of whether it was good, or bad, over the phone. We’d need one another’s support either way.
I changed into a fitted, knee length, red dress, and my favorite heels. I didn’t want to meet Andy’s ex-wife looking like a frumpy, pregnant chick who didn’t care about her appearance. I applied my makeup while Sasha braided my hair in to a loose French braid, leaving several wavy tendrils hanging loose. Swinging the long braid to rest over my shoulder, Sasha gave me a once over.
She pulled a tiny box from her suitcase and handed it to me. “Here, you need to wear these too.”
Carefully, I opened the box, which held a pair of diamond earrings that matched my engagement ring.
“Wow, Sash. Where did you get these?”
A love struck grin spread across her face. “Ben.”
Apparently my tiny intrusion in her love life months ago worked. I knew they’d been dating since then, but I didn’t realize they had become so serious.
“Aww, Sasha, that’s awesome. But are you sure you don’t mind me borrowing them?”
She shook her head and pushed me in front of the mirror. “Put them in now. But I swear, if you lose them, I will gut you and leave your body to rot on the side of the road.”
God she was so gross sometimes. I laughed at her morbid sense of humor as I put in the earrings and handed the box back to her. I grabbed a sweater to go over my dress as the bellhop knocked on the door to collect our bags.
“It’s go time,” I said. We gathered our purses and headed to the elevator.
Forty-five minutes later, we pulled into the parking garage of the skyscraper where Michelle’s real estate firm was located. Sasha found a parking space and shut off the car.
“Thank you for not crashing my baby,” I said as I patted the dashboard of my Audi. I had forced Sasha to drive because my legs were trembling too badly from nerves.
She tossed my keys at me, and I dropped them into my purse.
We entered the building and headed straight for the elevator. The doors slid open and several people exited as we waited for our chance to enter. People in business suits carrying an array of briefcases and laptop bags filed in ahead of us. When it was finally our turn, Sasha needed to give me a little shove to get me to move.
I stepped inside and turned to face the door. Breathe Zoey . . . Just breathe.
Sasha filed into the crowded elevator next to me.
When the doors closed, and the car began to rise, my stomach dropped, and I swayed a bit from the movement. I immediately brought my hand up to my stomach and rubbed small circles over it. For some reason, it soothed me. I felt like Andy was with me, giving me the strength to continue.
The elevator stopped on a few floors, letting people off and on. It finally came to a stop on our floor, and again, my feet refused to move forward.
Sasha gave me another shove through the doors. “Move your ass, Z,” she growled. She pulled me along behind her until we came to a vast lobby where a receptionist sat behind a large desk. She dropped my hand and walked to the desk where she gave the receptionist her name.
“Ladies, please take a seat,” the receptionist said politely. “Michelle will be with you shortly.”
We sat in an incredibly stylish waiting area with contemporary white leather chairs. The area was very clean and uncluttered with brightly colored artwork on the walls. There was also one entire wall with floor to ceiling windows, where you could see down to the Golden Gate Bridge.
We waited in silence until a petite Asian woman came to the lobby and called Sasha’s name.
“Good afternoon. My name is Pam. Michelle can see you now. Please follow me,” she said as we stood.
She led us down a wide hallway, with generous sized offices on either side.
Like the lobby area, the offices had front and back glass walls. I could easily see myself being nauseated if I stepped too close to the outside glass walls and looked down.
Pam stopped in front of one of the doors of the glass-encased offices and motioned for us to go in.
We went inside and there she was, sitting behind a large, glass-topped desk. One look at her confirmed my suspicions that she was the mysterious woman who showed up at the shop looking for Andy.
Noah had forgotten one major detail though. Michelle was gorgeous.
She rose from her chair and introduced herself to Sasha. She was wearing a gray, pencil skirt with a pale pink, low cut silk shirt.
Her short, dark hair was perfectly styled, and her makeup flawlessly accented her fair skin and brown eyes. She was exactly the opposite of me.
I realized Michelle had her hand extended and was introducing herself to me.
“Hello, Zoey,” she said courteously after I told her my name.
I shook her hand and released it quickly, mumbling a hello. When I made eye contact with her, I noticed something in her eyes change.
We sat across from her, and she spoke with Sasha, asking her what type of property she was interested in purchasing. I was simply a friend that Sasha had brought along for “her” meeting with Michelle. When the time was right, one of us would start our inquisition.
As they talked, I casually glanced around her office to see if I could find anything out about her just by looking. I didn’t see anything personal.
No photos, no nothing.
I turned my attention back to Sasha and Michelle who were discussing whether Sasha was going to be living by herself, or with someone.
My cell phone rang in my purse, startling me. I had meant to turn off the r
inger, but my anxiety caused me to forget.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I pulled out my phone to silence it.
When I glanced at the screen, I saw it was a call I was waiting for. One call I would not, and could not afford to miss. Sasha and Michelle watched me as I fumbled with my phone. Thank God I had forgotten to shut off the ringer.
“It’s my doctor, I need to take this.” I offered my apologies again to both women for the interruption. I knew Sasha would wait for my return and then we would get down to business, and the true reason we were here.
As I pushed the glass door of Michelle’s office open and stepped into the hallway, I answered my phone.
“Hello.” I was so nervous it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.
“Zoey, it’s Dr. Stewart, how are you feeling?”
“I’m doing well, thank you,” I replied as my pulse thrummed in my ears. I was facing the office where Michelle and Sasha sat, watching me curiously.
“Is everything okay, Dr. Stewart?”
The suspense was killing me about my test results. Since we didn’t know what caused Emma’s death, she had performed standard genetic testing, until we were sure of what to test for specifically. Once I had that information, they would perform a test for that particular condition.
Slowly, I paced back and forth, rubbing my hand over my small baby bump. I listened as the doctor told me all my tests had come back normal. Oh, thank you God.
I let out a long sigh, almost as if I had been holding my breath since I found out I was pregnant. Tears pricked my eyes from my sudden wave of relief. I glanced back into the office, immediately getting the impression that Michelle and Sasha were talking about me.
I stopped pacing and listened to the doctor as she continued to speak to me about my tests. I asked Dr. Stewart if it was okay for me to fly to New Zealand. She said it was, but she wanted to see me before I left. While we were on the phone, we confirmed my next appointment for the last week in September.
It would be my eighteen-week appointment, and I might get to find out if we were having a boy or a girl, but it would mean waiting another three weeks before I could tell Andy. I hated having to wait so long to tell him. However, Dr. Stewart promised me that if they had any appointment cancellations, they would get me in sooner.