by C. C. Piper
The truth was, up until I’d discovered this pregnancy, when I thought about that night with Trevor, certain aspects of it made me smile. Even though for the sake of my sanity I’d decided to never do it again, I’d liked being with him. We’d both gone into the arrangement with our eyes wide open. It’s just that we hadn’t anticipated any far-reaching consequences.
Especially not something like this.
“I suppose that would be okay,” I replied. I’d told him because I’d wanted him to know. This baby was his, and I couldn’t in good conscience push him away now.
“Awesome.” He smiled at me, then, and it was the same charming smile he’d given me on our date together. This one, though, rather than melting my knees and making my nipples stand on end, was friendlier and more affable. Sweeter.
Which was an ironic way to think about a man who’d secured me to a bed with actual ropes, ordered me to obey him, and had proceeded to fuck me until I screamed his name.
I’d had so many orgasms in that hotel room that I’d nearly blacked out. Maybe it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that he’d impregnated me. I didn’t know much about Trevor, but I knew he was potent.
In more ways than one.
“It’s this Thursday,” I said. “At three in the afternoon.”
“I’ll be there,” he promised.
And now, I’d just have to see if he actually would.
12
Trevor
As I took in the reflective black glass doors, my pulse did this peculiar act of galloping like a horse before stuttering out completely, only to do it again. And again. It was like the unsynchronized rhythm of some nerdy guy who couldn’t dance to save his life. Were pulse rates supposed to do such things? Race and then stop? Because that was what mine was doing, and it was making me feel lightheaded.
Or maybe it’s what I was facing inside that made me feel that way.
The sign above me said one word. Womancare. It sounded like a spa or something to me, but actually, this would be where women went for gynecological and obstetrical check-ups. This place was all about a woman’s reproductive health and the health of any children she may be having. I knew this not because I was experienced or wise, but because I’d Googled it.
I’d always considered myself to be a pretty worldly person on top of being intelligent. I’d taken trips to Europe and Asia. I had my MBA. Though I loved my football, I’d also been exposed to the Met and had seen a couple of shows on Broadway. I wasn’t some uncultured Neanderthal.
Yet, I’d had no idea when I’d gotten out of my taxi and looked up to see the Womancare sign if I was in the right location or not. And then, I realized I didn’t even know what I was about to see, so I’d done some last-minute online research. I’d had so much sex with women but knew squat about what they had to do to take care of themselves.
It didn’t make me feel as evolved as I thought I’d been.
I’d read about all these different forms of birth control. The only two methods I was really familiar with at all were the pill and condoms. Oops. And then I started to read about all the stuff involved once a woman conceives a child. All the mood swings and tiredness. The sore swollen nipples and stretch marks and back pain. My ignorance threw me for one hell of a loop.
I was actually quaking in my boots when I thought about the process of labor and delivery. I hadn’t read much about that yet. I’d seriously considered getting hammered before I came here, which made me comprehend just how much of a jackass I’d been up to this point.
And so far, Jessica had gone through all this by herself.
It made me feel like an insensitive prick of an asshole, and even that insult didn’t seem to cover it. Although I’d already apologized to her at her gym, I knew I needed to do it again. In fact, I didn’t know how many more apologizes I owed her. Several more, at least. I’d fucked up that badly.
Talk about eating some humble pie.
Her appointment wasn’t scheduled for another twenty-five minutes, but I entered the automatic doors anyway, needing to do something with myself. There was a booth at the front manned by a large lady with hair so unnaturally bright pink it must be a dye job, and she glanced up at me suspiciously as the doors swished closed behind me.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes. My uh …” I trailed off, feeling stumped. I was sure this receptionist thought I was either in the wrong place, was some creepoid, or was a husband or boyfriend of one of the patients here. What did I say now, since I was none of the above? If I gave her an incorrect answer, would she call security on me? Christ, I’d never felt more insecure in my life. “Jessie Souza has a three o’clock appointment here?” I presented this as a question. Nice.
Not.
“And Jessie Souza is?” she prompted, her long manicured fingernails—the same color as her flamboyant hair—poised to type something on her keyboard.
What sort of response was she looking for? “Pregnant?”
She blinked what had to be false eyelashes at me. “Okay, but that’s not what I was asking. I need some more information from you. What’s her doctor’s name?”
Well, fuck. “I don’t know.”
“And you are?”
“Trevor Keller.”
“No, I mean what is your relation to the patient?”
“Uh …” Somehow, I didn’t think saying that she was my one-time hookup would win me any brownie points. “I’m her baby’s father.”
It was strange to say those words. This was my first time admitting it out loud, and I waited to see if it would feel like a lie. It didn’t. Somewhere between the time I saw Jessica’s slightly rounded abdomen and now, five days later, I’d come to accept her story. She could still be pulling the wool over my eyes, but deep down, I didn’t think so. My instincts were insisting that she’d told me the truth.
“All right, then.” She tapped something into the computer, her fingernails flying. How the hell did she type with those talons sticking out like that? “Go up to the third floor and turn left. You’re looking for suite 304.”
“Thanks.”
Feeling too on edge to take a sedate and slow elevator ride up such a short distance, I headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. The walls were painted a grayish blue, a shade probably meant to be calming, though I couldn’t say it made much difference to me personally. On the way, I caught sight of artwork that helped identify exactly what this place was.
There were paintings of women holding small children, stills of bare pregnant bellies, and posters showing inkblots of miniature hands and feet. There were women in yoga poses, silhouettes of families holding hands—dad on one side, mom on the other, with a couple of little ones in between—as well as a charcoal drawing of a mother breastfeeding.
Was it truly okay for me to be here?
Things only became worse once I found suite 304. Here, there were pamphlets about in vitro fertilization, intrauterine devices, and something called a vaginal ring. There was even a fucking diagram of a magnified uterus on one of the walls, right between a Ficus tree and a water fountain. As if displaying giant-sized wombs was the most normal thing in the world.
What was I doing here again?
Jessica. Supporting Jessica. That’s what I was doing. But what if she didn’t show up? What if this was some sick prank?
Jesus, I was losing it.
As I paced back and forth, a woman waddled in appearing as if she’d swallowed a pumpkin. A colossal one. She was followed by another woman, her baby bump not pumpkin-sized, but definitely larger than Jessica’s.
I kept glancing up and catching sight of that damn uterus. Finally, I made myself sit down with my back to it. I took a couple of cleansing breaths and told myself to settle down. Having a panic attack in front of a bunch of knocked up strangers had not been on the agenda for today. I peered at my watch, wondering if she was late, but only fifteen minutes had passed.
How had all this drama happened inside my head in fifteen measly
minutes?
Seriously, Keller. Get. A. Grip.
Just a couple moments after that, a set of familiar black curls appeared. Thank God.
Jessica stared at me for one endless moment, her mouth gaping as if astonished. Then, she went to the desk at the far side of the room to confirm her appointment. When she turned back around, I had this sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to sit with me.
I mean, I had basically treated her like pond scum when she’d come to inform me of my impending fatherhood, so maybe I deserved her snub. Who was I kidding? I absolutely deserved it. But why would she invite me to her appointment only to give me the silent treatment? For what felt like the twenty-fifth time today, I was anxious.
I didn’t like the feeling.
Just when I thought she’d shut me out, she veered toward the water fountain, and two and two became four. I jumped up to beat her to it, grabbing one of those paper cups and filling it for her. I offered her the cup, hoping to prove that I could be gallant when the occasion called for it. But I knew it’d take more than a single time of anticipating her needs before she’d forgive me. If she could forgive me.
We’d just sat down—together—when a voice said, “Ms. Souza?” We hopped to our feet again.
The nurse—I’m assuming she was a nurse based on the fact that she wore pink scrubs with storks on them—led us through a labyrinthine hallway to a tiny private room. “Since we’re doing your first sonogram today, there’s no need to strip down this time. Dr. Carrey will be with you shortly.” Then, the nurse shut the door behind us, leaving us alone in the room together.
Jessica seemed just as uncomfortable as I felt. Needing something to do, I offered to take her coat. She gave it to me mutely, then went to sit on the exam table. I noticed that unlike other physician’s tables, this one had metal doohickeys sticking out of the bottom.
Stirrups, my brain provided, accessing the pages of research I’d recently gulped down. For the woman to rest her feet in. I’d only ever seen stirrups on silly sitcoms. Then, they’d been an excuse for the audience to laugh—cue Ross from Friends getting trapped in them—but being within inches of the genuine articles now didn’t feel at all like a laughing matter.
Shit was getting real.
I was still standing there, her coat over my arm, and feeling like an idiot, when a light knock issued from the door. “Hi, there, Jessie.”
“Hi,” she said, her voice small. “Uh, this is Trevor. He’s the father.”
I wondered if her physician would ask me where I’d been up till now or even make a scathing remark, but she didn’t.
“Are you two ready to see your baby for the first time?”
“Yes,” Jessica said, sounding surer of herself than she had before. My mouth went dry at the query, so I only nodded.
“How have you been feeling, Jessie?” the doctor asked her, and I felt like a chump for not inquiring myself.
“Okay.”
“Any pain?”
“No, not really.”
“Any nausea or fatigue?”
“Fatigue,” Jessica stated, rubbing her eyes. “I don’t seem to have any energy at all. I’m sleeping more, but it isn’t helping.”
Worry threaded itself around my spine and flooded my system like venom from a poisonous snake. Did that mean something was wrong? But before I could ask, Dr. Carrey patted her patient’s arm and answered.
“Fatigue is a common symptom of pregnancy. Sometimes it lets up during the second trimester and returns in the third, and sometimes, it stays with you throughout. The main thing I would encourage is a healthy diet with lots of vegetables and fruits. Also, have you been taking your prenatal vitamins?”
“I ran out,” Jessica admitted.
“I’ll get you some,” I put in, and she gawked at me as if I’d just told her I’d come up with the cure to cancer. “Is it a prescription?”
“No,” Dr. Carrey responded this time. “They’re available at any pharmacy and most grocery stores.”
I took out my phone and opened my notes app, jotting this down.
The nurse came back in with some sort of scanning apparatus, and I watched as they raised Jessica’s shirt, exposing her stomach. Seeing her bare and bulging belly further cemented that she was unequivocally with child, and I observed the proceedings, entranced by what they were doing.
Once everything was set up, the doctor took a tube of KY jelly and squirted it on Jessica’s skin. Then, using a plastic wand, she ran the device across the lowest part of her abdomen. A staticky sound immediately filled the room. The noises had a regular yet sloshy cadence, and I had to speak up again.
“What are we hearing?”
“That’s the baby’s heartbeat.”
Holy crap!
“Is that sound normal?” I asked, my own heart rapping hard against my rib cage. “Is it healthy?”
Dr. Carrey smiled at my enthusiasm. “Yes, this is a normal fetal heartbeat. And yes, all indications so far are that this baby is healthy.”
“How far along is she exactly?” I asked next, ready to type it into my notes.
“Based on the size of the head, she’s now at seventeen weeks.”
“I still haven’t felt anything,” Jessica spoke up. “My pregnancy books say I should start to feel life anytime now.”
“It varies from woman to woman. It usually feels like a soft fluttering this early, some mothers compare it to butterfly wings. Keep paying attention, and you’ll feel it,” Dr. Carrey assured her.
“So that means the baby is due when?” I asked, reentering the conversation.
The nurse pulled up a screen on the desktop computer. “Official predicted due date is July 25th.”
“A summer baby,” the physician added, but all I could think about was how July wasn’t that far away. “And there he or she is.”
She pointed at a black, white, and gray image on the monitor attached to the scanning machine, moving the wand back and forth. I squinted at it, and then, miraculously, I detected the clear outline of a miniature hand shaped like a starfish, and Jesus Christ, a face. There was a nose and ears and a mouth. The corners of my eyes stung, and the back of my throat became hot. I was staring at Jessica’s baby, at my baby.
I cleared my throat, taking an audibly shaky breath. In my peripheral vision, I noticed Jessica wiping her eyes, and I avoided meeting her gaze. Damn, I couldn’t lose it if she was. She needed me to be strong, and here I was barely keeping myself in check. In an attempt to keep all my unruly emotions at bay, I zeroed in on getting more information.
“What’s the gender?” My voice sounded like a bullfrog’s but if anyone noticed, they were kind enough not to remark on it.
“Let’s see if we can tell …” Dr. Carrey swept the wand over a certain area of Jessica’s stomach, and the screen filled with the distinct picture of two round globes, like a pressed ham. “Listen, little one, we’d all like to know what you are, so we’d appreciate it if you’d cooperate.”
But no matter what the doctor did, the baby wouldn’t position itself in the correct way for anything between its legs to be identifiable. Rather than being upset or disappointed, however, I chuckled.
“Is it … mooning us right now?” I asked.
The doctor stilled and grinned back at me. “That’s precisely what he or she is doing. Tell me, does stubbornness run in either of your families?”
At that, I laughed out loud. “It does. It’s part and parcel of the Keller DNA. And the mooning thing … That baby must belong to me.”
Up to that point, I’d been concentrating on the amazing creature squirming on the monitor, but now I looked directly at Jessica. She was staring at me with weepy jade green eyes, so many emotions swimming there I couldn’t possibly read them all.
I felt an impulse to clasp her hand in mine, and I did, hoping she wouldn’t reject my touch. She didn’t. Instead, she tightened her grip. Something important happened between us in that moment. Something beyond anything that had transp
ired until then. I felt linked to her, connected to her in a way I’d never been to anyone else.
Wow.
Dr. Carrey began talking again, but I missed the beginning of what she said. What I caught was, “… and since you experienced a miscarriage once before, this pregnancy is considered high risk …”
“Wait … you had a miscarriage?” I asked Jessica, interrupting her doctor who instantly went silent as the grave. I got the feeling that her physician had just told me something she wasn’t supposed to, but I didn’t care. I needed to know, confidentiality be damned.
Jessica sighed, her features wreathed in sorrow.
Abruptly, her doctor spoke again, her voice extra cheery. “Well, Nurse Tyra and I will go get you some printouts from your sonogram. We’ll be back in a jiffy.” They each scurried out, but I only had eyes for their patient.
“I did,” Jessica shuddered out, breaking eye contact. “When I was seventeen. I wasn’t in a situation where I could get the proper medical care. I started bleeding and by the time I arrived at the emergency room, there was nothing they could do to stop it.”
She sounded sad, but there was more there, too. I almost pushed for more but decided against it. I didn’t have the right to ask about her past. What I had to do was protect the part of her life that was currently intersecting with mine.
“That won’t happen this time,” I told her in a bolstering voice, though I needed to bolster myself as much as I did her. “I won’t let it. Anything you need, day or night, you call me. I’m sorry you went through that before, and I’m sorry that you’re in this position now because of me. But I want you to be safe, and I want our baby to be safe. So even though my track record isn’t the best, I’m going to take care of you both, okay?”
“I appreciate that,” she said. “But I’m not looking for some sort of payout from you.”
The subject of money was a tricky one for us, for obvious reasons. But I had the means to provide the best of care and that’s what I was going to do. “This is my responsibility, Jessica. One I would never shirk. I expect you to let me to at least pay for all the medical costs. It’s what any decent father would do, and it’s only fair.”