by Magan Vernon
I sighed. The truth had to come out at some point, so better to tell him now. “I went to an abortion clinic.”
“What?” He pulled his hand from my stomach and sat back, staring at me with his mouth wide open. “You had an abortion? Without even talking to me about it?”
I shook my head, the tears slowly streaking my face. “No. I went. I sat there in the waiting area. I had the paperwork in my hands and was ready just to be done with all of it. Make sure we didn’t have to deal with the consequences.” I sniffled and wiped the wetness from my cheeks. “Then it hit me that I couldn’t run away from this. That this baby inside of me is ours. A part of us. So I ran. I ran out of there in the rain until I was at your office.”
He let out a deep breath as if he was letting off the weight of the world. “Oh.”
“It was stupid of me to go in the first place. I don’t know why I went. I just always thought that you know I have choices and maybe it would be best for that choice.” I shook my head, my hand absently lingering to my stomach. “But this is different. This isn’t some mistake that happened in a fraternity house basement when I was raped. This is real. This is ours.”
He smiled, putting his hand on mine. “It is, isn’t it? It’s really ours...” His eyes trailed to our hands.
“Are you scared?” I asked.
He sighed. “Scared. Nervous. Excited. Hopeful. I think I’m feeling every emotion in the book right now.” His eyes went back to mine. “I’m sure you’re doing the same.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“It’s probably going to be even worse when we tell my parents at dinner tonight.”
My eyes widened. Shit. I forgot all about dinner with his parents. I was so wrapped up in everything that dinner with his parents was the last thing on my mind. “Do we still have to go? Can you just tell them I’m sick?”
He blew a big puff of air out of his nose. “We should probably go and tell them what’s going on. That’s the best option. Face to face, not over the phone. Which means we should probably do the same for your parents and take a drive to Princeville soon.”
My parents. I didn’t even think about telling them either. I was more worried about what Mr. Conservative Governor and Republican Nominee for President would say. My dad could be just as scary as him. Maybe scary is the wrong word. Whenever Dad was upset with me he just had this look. It wasn’t angry. It was like I disappointed him and that was worse than him being mad.
“Yeah.” I sighed. “That’s probably a good idea. I don’t work on Saturday, I guess we can drive in for the day.”
He squeezed my hand. “It’s going to be fine. We’re going to be fine. We’ve been through a lot in the time we’ve been together and we’ve survived all of it.” He shook his head. “What am I saying? That makes it sound like we’re fighting a battle. This isn’t a battle. This is our child. Our future.”
Trey smiled and leaned down, lifting my shirt up, then started humming the tune of “Hail to the chief”, the President’s song.
I squealed, the vibration from his lips just inches from my stomach. “Trey! What are you doing!”
He stopped humming and looked up at me, the grin on his face broadening. “I have to start him out right. He should have big dreams. He’s a Chapman.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Who is to say that she’s not a she? Or that she could be President?”
He put my shirt down and slowly lifted his head up until his face was only an inch from mine. “That’s the Monica I know. The one who would fight me on anything. I hope he or she will get that same feistiness.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “And maybe the red hair too.”
“It’s not red,” I muttered.
“You’ve been trying to tell me that for years. You’re a pretty good debater, but we’ll see what happens when our child comes out of the womb with wavy red hair. I wouldn’t complain about that. Or any hair color he or she has. This baby will be ours.”
I forced a weak smile. It was true. This baby would be ours but that didn’t stop me from worrying about everything else. His dad was the freaking head of the pro-life crusade and his son just got his fiancée pregnant out of wedlock. That couldn’t be good for his campaign, even if this was something that would last way beyond it. But the way Trey smiled at me made me think that it was all going to work out. At least for now.
Chapter 5
Trey
On the outside I was cool. I kept a smile on my face and held Monica’s hand, like I always did, but on the inside I was a nervous wreck.
I should have cancelled dinner with my parents and not insisted that we go and see them. I was sweating so profusely I didn’t know if I could even convince them it was because of the Midwestern heat.
We were meeting my parents at The Signature Room which was on the 95th floor on the John Hancock building. Everything about it exuded power and money and it didn’t help that Dad had bodyguards with him 24/7 now and crowd of paparazzi were waiting by the front entrance of the John Hancock building as soon as Monica and I got out of the cab.
I put my hand on her back, guiding Monica toward the entrance, keeping my other hand up to shield my eyes from the blinding flashbulbs. That definitely didn’t help my nerves at all. Neither did Monica’s stiffened back as we pushed our way through the crowd toward the doors which were immediately opened by two men in black suits and shut behind us.
As soon as we were inside Monica let out a deep breath of air. “Is this what it’s going to be like all the time?”
I sighed, guiding her toward the elevator while two men in suits stayed by the front doors and another was waiting for us right by the elevator door. “I’d like to say no, but I know that’s a lie.”
She looked at me, her eyes wide as she bit her bottom lip. Normally I would find her vulnerability endearing. Sexy, even. But not at that moment. Now it just made every hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I didn’t want to see her worried, but the truth was, I was just as nervous as she was.
I thought we might be in the elevator alone but the man in the suit got in with us, standing at the front with his back to us.
“This isn’t awkward at all,” Monica muttered.
The man glanced over his shoulder, offering a small smile. “I don’t see or hear anything.” He winked.
Monica wrinkled her nose. “We’re not exactly the kind of couple that does that sort of thing in elevators.”
I squeezed her side and placed a quick kiss on her temple. “Lighten up, Mon. He was just kidding.”
She shot me a sharp look and I swallowed hard. I’d done a little bit of research on pregnancy on my phone while she was getting ready and I knew her hormones were through the roof right now. I wouldn’t call Monica a bitch, but the girl was very strong-willed and told it like it was. Combine all the hormones and the fact that we were about to tell my parents she was pregnant during one of the most important campaigns of my father’s career and you could say I was afraid the girl might go a little Norman Bates.
I just smiled and pulled her closer. I knew she was nervous and I probably wasn’t doing anything to help it. I wasn’t even sure if there was anything I could do. I was just hoping she didn’t throw up in the elevator or anywhere else for that matter.
The doors opened and I let out a deep breath before the bodyguard got out and we followed him as he opened the doors to the restaurant. The hostess and everyone waiting to get in all stood at attention. They stopped their conversations and stared at us, like we were walking the green mile. Maybe that’s exactly where we were going and this was a death sentence. I couldn’t be sure.
“We’re here to meet Governor and Mrs. Chapman,” I said as smoothly as I could once we approached the hostess’ podium.
She smiled almost too wide. Her face was caked in a dark line of makeup that was a different shade than her neck and had frost white hair that definitely wasn’t natural. I didn’t know a single guy who found that kind of thing attractive and yet so many girls did it.
“Of course, Mr. Chapman. The Governor is waiting for you.” She had a voice that sounded like Mike TV from the old Willy Wonka movie. I had to bite my tongue so I didn’t cringe.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I replied and we followed her into the restaurant.
A few people stared as we walked by, like we really were some sort of celebrity couple, which didn’t help my nerves. The sweat gathered under my armpits and I was afraid it was going to show through my dark suit. I knew that wasn’t exactly possible, but if it were, then it would have happened.
Instead of looking at all the gawking patrons I tried to focus on the atmosphere of the restaurant. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows surrounded the entire area and looked out onto the Chicago night sky. There was a clear view of Willis Tower and the bright city lights. I’d only been to the exclusive restaurant once before at one of Dad’s colleagues’ fundraisers, but hadn’t actually paid attention to my surroundings. This time it was all I could do. My palms were sweaty and every time I glanced at a table they were staring at us. It could have been because we just walked in and had a bodyguard behind us, but I had it in my head that everyone was staring at Monica’s stomach and then consequently at the front of my pants.
It was a really stupid theory. She couldn’t have been more than a month pregnant and there was no way anyone could tell or would be looking at me like that, but it was still in the back of my mind.
The hostess stopped at a table in the corner and I held my breath once Dad’s eyes caught mine. It was as if he knew and was judging me for it. Did he know? Could he read minds? He always seemed to know what was wrong before I did and how to solve it, but I just chalked that up to him being a great politician.
Okay, maybe I was a little too paranoid.
I forced a smile. “Dad, good to see you.”
Dad stood up and gave me a firm handshake. The guy was always polished in his suit that I knew cost about as much as my rent, with his graying hair in place. He had a few wrinkles around his eyes, but that was the only sign of his age. He didn’t smoke, rarely drank, and spent a few days a week in the gym. For a man in his mid-fifties he was in all around good shape. “Trey, glad you could make it. And Monica...” His words trailed and his smile broadened as he let go of my hand and put his arms out, embracing my fiancée in a huge hug.
I tried to hold back a gasp. Hugging someone too hard when they were pregnant couldn’t hurt them. Could it? I didn’t actually know that much about pregnancy. I should have had her make a doctor’s appointment that afternoon and spent some more time on Google.
When he let go of Monica, I pulled out her chair and slowly pushed it in before taking the seat next to her. Dad took his seat, but the seat next to him was empty.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
As if she heard her name called, I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see my mom standing behind me. “Can’t a lady take a bathroom break?” she asked, laughing softly. Mom was everything a typical politician’s wife would look like. Or Stepford wife as some people would say, with her colored blonde hair and collagen injected face. Even though she looked the part, I always had a soft spot for my mother.
“Sorry, Mom, just wanted to make sure you were around.” I smiled, patting her hand.
“I wouldn’t miss dinner with the two of you, no matter how crazy the photographers seem to be.” She put her other hand on Monica’s and I noticed Monica suck in a deep breath and finally let it out once Mom took her seat at the other end of the table.
Dad hated cell phones at the dinner table, but I had to know if Monica was okay and I couldn’t exactly ask it out loud. I hated shortening texts just about as much as Dad hated texting, but I couldn’t see my phone that well from under the table, so I had to do the best I could.
U K?
Monica glanced down at her phone before putting it in her purse. “I hope you all don’t mind, but I’m going to use the restroom as well.” Monica stood up, smoothing out her dress.
“Are you feeling all right, dear?” Dad looked at Monica, raising an eyebrow. The guy could always see through any excuse or cover-up.
“Yes, sorry, just haven’t been feeling too well. Might be that flu that’s going around or something.” She trailed off at the last part and then quickly skittered away from the table, practically running toward the bathroom.
“I hope she’s okay,” Mom said, staring at the blur of red hair as Monica disappeared around the corner.
“She should be fine. She was sick at work but didn’t want to miss our dinner,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I slowly pulled it out.
Monica: Sorry, the smell of your mom’s perfume got to me. Just going to try to get myself together.
“Something must be awfully important if you’re breaking my cardinal rule of using your phone at dinner,” Dad said.
“Sorry,” I apologized. “Just someone from the office had a question about the Instagram campaign.”
“Social media rules the world now, doesn’t it?” Dad asked but it was more of a statement than a question.
“Yes it does. Luckily you have the best social media team out there.”
Dad smiled but it was forced like he was trying to figure out exactly what stunt I was trying to pull. I wasn’t a drinker. Ever. On my twenty-first birthday I went out with my fraternity brother John and ended up only having just one drink and having to help him home. But tonight? Tonight I wanted to drink a whole bottle, anything to escape my reality.
Monica came back to the table just as the waitress brought us our menus. I scanned the menu, but knew I was going to go with the filet so there was no point in even looking further. By the time the waitress came back, it seemed like everyone was ready and my nerves were a little better. That is, until it came time for Monica to order.
“I’ll have the seared scallops,” she said, handing the waitress her menu.
“Are you sure?” I asked, raising an eyebrow and trying not to be too obvious. I read something about what pregnant women were supposed to eat and I thought seafood was a big no-no.
“Not even married yet and you’re telling Monica what to eat? I’m sure she doesn’t like that one.” Dad laughed.
“Yeah. It’s what sounds good to me right now and with being sick you should understand that,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Yes, but with your sickness you probably don’t want to eat seafood,” I said, hoping she was fully getting the hint.
She blinked once then twice, her eyes narrowing. “Fine. How about a filet, medium rare?”
“Or well done. You know, nothing too pink.”
“I’ll have it pink if I want to.” Her facial expression turned to an all out scowl. “Or would you prefer blue?”
“I’ll give you a few more minutes, ma’am,” the waitress said, nervously skittering away.
“Trey, what is the matter with you? The waitress probably went back to the kitchen to go tweet or Facebook or something all of her friends about the controlling governor’s son.” Dad leaned over the table and hiss-whispered.
I shook my head, staring down at my lap and taking in a deep breath through my nose. I always knew what to say in difficult situations but this one had me stumped. I was at a complete loss for words.
It was Monica who spoke. Her words barely above a whisper. “I’m pregnant.”
“What?”
I looked up to see Mom and Dad’s eyes both widen before I turned my attention to Monica and took her hand. “Mon, you don’t have to do this right now.”
A single tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away with her free hand. “I do. We have to. No use hiding it or trying to make small talk.” She turned her attention to Dad and Mom. “I’m pregnant. I’m so sorry.”
We all stayed silent for what seemed like forever. The air was so thick it couldn’t have been sliced with the sharpest knife. For a guy that was a master communicator, Dad seemed to be at a complete loss for words. It was Mom that spoke
first.
“Well, this is definitely a surprise.”
I stared at her. Waiting for what else she was going to say. Waiting for someone to embark some words of wisdom on us because I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was absolutely terrified of their reaction.
“Have you gone to a doctor?” Mom looked right at Monica. They never really talked much. I wouldn’t say that they didn’t get along, but they were two different people with the only thing in common: me.
Monica shook her head slowly. “No. Not yet. I just found out today.”
Mom nodded. “I’ll call my doctor and have him come to the house tomorrow. We can arrange everything there then you and I can sit down and talk about a fall wedding.”
“A fall wedding?” I asked.
Mom stared at me, blinking slowly as if I’d just asked the stupidest question in the world. “I don’t think it would be wise for the unwed couple to have a baby bump at inauguration.” She raised an eyebrow. “You do still want to get married, right? No sense in postponing it if you’re in love and ready.”
I cleared my throat, grasping at straws for what to say. That definitely wasn’t the response I was expecting. I thought Dad would have some political answer. Something canned that would at least make sense and move us forward. But he didn’t say anything. He just sat there, staring out the window as if the answers would be in the Chicago skyline.
Monica grabbed my hand, her eyes never leaving mine as she answered my mom. “We’ll talk about it. It’s a lot to take in for us and I think we’re both overwhelmed, but as soon as we figure everything out we’ll let you know.”
My mom said something else but I barely even paid attention. I just focused on the fact that Monica was just as scared as I was, probably even more so, but was keeping it together. There was a reason I’d been with her for so long; the girl who was so different from me yet so much the same. The one who kept me together no matter what.
The only words I could utter back were the only ones that matter. “I love you, Monica and I’m ready to jump when you say jump.”