Together: A Surprise Pregnancy Romance

by Jennifer Van Wyk

  “Yikes. This could be a problem.”

  Just for the fun of it, I add another pillow for good measure. The third, though, is too much. I can’t even stuff it in.

  “Welp. I’ll have to buy some new scrub tops,” I mumble. I’m sure some of my co-workers have some from when they were pregnant that I can either buy from them or borrow. It’s not that I am poor and have no extra funds to buy maternity clothes, but my parents raised me to save any areas where I can, and that includes shopping secondhand for certain items.

  My phone rings just as I’m taking off my shirt and I look down to see Grace’s name lighting up my screen.

  “Craaaap. I really don’t feel like dealing with her,” I complain but answer anyway.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  “Hey there. What are you up to?”

  No way am I going to admit I was just making myself look pregnant when I’m already pregnant so I opt for a half-truth. “Just changing clothes and getting ready for bed. What about you?”

  “Still at the office,” she says proudly.

  “Yuck.”

  Her desire to work eighteen hours a day in a stuffy office isn’t appealing to me and I don’t do anything to hide that. She’s not bothered, though. Lucy and I have always given her grief about being married to her desk chair. I don’t mind working, but the amount that she does, inside an office and staring at a screen, no less, is not for me.

  “Kind of what I think about sticking my hands in someone else’s mouth.”

  “Touché.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Good. Kind of felt a little blech this morning but I got through it fairly quickly. It wasn’t too bad.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Mom said you have an appointment tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. Regular checkup but I think we’ll be able to hear the heartbeat this time.”

  “That should be fun,” she says in a voice that says she doesn’t think it sounds fun at all.

  “We think so. Nik and I were talking tonight and he wants to get something set up with you and Lucy and the guys for dinner soon. It would be good for you to meet him.”

  “Why?” she asks, her fingers tapping on her keyboard in the background.

  “What do you mean, why? Because we’re having a baby together.”

  “Yeah, but you aren’t together, together, so why does it matter? I don’t need to know him. Neither does Lucy. Mom said she and Dad met him already. Isn’t that enough?”

  I sit down on the edge of my bed, wondering why she’s being this way and how to answer her. Technically, she’s right. We haven’t made it clear that we’re a couple but that’s just what I said, right? A technicality?

  “He’s going to be around, Grace. He’s the father of this baby.”

  She’s quiet for a bit then she makes a weird noise. “I know he is, but that doesn’t mean I have to get to know him. What would we have in common, anyway? Samuel certainly doesn’t need to be there. Can you imagine?” she scoffs. “Samuel shows up in a suit and tie to dinner with this guy and he’s wearing work boots and jeans?”

  “Well, that’s incredibly uncalled for. First of all, when have we all ever gone to dinner somewhere that required a suit and tie? Second of all, he wears work boots because he makes sure that people have electricity. Like what you’re using right now at the office you’re so proud of. How do you think those outlets and lights and a bunch of other stuff got there? Stop being such a snob, Grace. You’re not better than anyone else.”

  She blows out a breath, “I know. I know. I’m just in a shitty mood and took it out on you. You’re right, it was uncalled for and rude. That’s not how I think, I promise. It’s just been a long couple of weeks is all.”

  “What’s going on? Is it work?”

  She hesitates and then I hear her office door shutting. “No, work is fine. As always. That I can handle.”

  “Samuel?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “Just a hunch. He was weird at Christmas and you’ve just said a few things lately that made me wonder.”

  “He’s been having an affair.”

  I gasp. “That fucker!”

  She laughs a little. “Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought, too.”

  “How long has that been going on?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. My guess? Our entire marriage, just with different women.”

  “Nooooo!”

  “Oh yeah. I’m pretty sure of it. There’s just been signs, I guess. Plus, who could blame him? I work a million hours a week and am never in the mood for sex.”

  “Uhh, I can blame him. Screw that, I do blame him! He knew about how much you would be working when he married you. That’s not an excuse.”

  On the other line, I think I hear her sniffle, which breaks my heart. I hate the thought of her crying over someone who’s not worth her tears.

  “How’d you find out?”

  “This is the best part. He was fired because he was sending dick pics to his assistant. The same one he’s been sleeping with for the past year. His company has a no-fraternization policy but he was always dumb enough to use his company cell phone to send the picture to her. On company time. So yeah, he was fired for being an idiot, basically.”

  “That’s it. He’s getting his wiener cut off.”

  She laughs again. “Yeah, I’ve had the same thought, too.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Well, he was fired so he’s no longer working there. The temptation is gone.”

  Is she saying that it’s the other woman’s fault? Surely not, right? “What do you mean, the temptation is gone?”

  “He’s no longer there so the problem won’t be a problem anymore. I’m still mad about it, but I’m not going to end a marriage just because he has a wandering eye.”

  “Wait… I’m confused. Did he have a wandering eye and have an emotional affair only? Like he had the hots for her but never did anything physical? Which isn’t okay, either. Or did he have sex with his assistant? Or did he just send her a picture of his wanger?”

  “Wanger? Really?”

  “Well, pardon me but saying the word dick or penis gets boring after a while.”

  “You’re so ridiculous.” She laughs. “To answer your question, he fessed up to having sex with her but promised he was finished with it. He had a momentary lapse in judgment. It happens.”

  “It happens?”

  “Well, it’s far from ideal but it’s not worth tossing away a marriage for it. I believe him when he said he won’t do it again because I saw how truly sorry he was. Plus, I’m pretty sure it was a midlife crisis.”

  I’m so confused but honestly, this conversation is so dumb and annoying, I’ll just end it now. “Grace, I’ll support you, but I need to be honest with you. I feel like you’re heartbroken but you’re trying to brush it off like it’s no big deal to save face. And if that’s the case, then I’m sad for you because no one would think less of you if you admitted that you’re upset that your husband cheated.”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t upset, Ashley. But I’m a grown woman who can look at life logically.”

  I have no words for her. Grown women can’t be upset? Women who are sad because their husbands cheat are illogical? Nothing she’s saying is making any sense. Maybe she’s the one going through a midlife crisis and is losing her mind.

  “Like I said, I’m here to support you however you need. I am sorry you’re going through it, though.”

  “Thank you, sis. That’s all I need right now, your support.”

  “Then that’s what you’ve got.”

  “What time is your appointment tomorrow?”

  “Nine.”

  In the background, I hear what sounds like her closing up her office. I’ve been on the phone with her at this hour enough to know the telltale signs of her locking her file cabinets and zipping up her computer bag.

  “You excited?”

  “Yeah, I am. I’m also a little ner
vous, too. What if they can’t hear the heartbeat?”

  “Then they’ll do it vaginally. The baby is healthy, though, and so are you, so there shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

  “Right.” I nod and switch my phone to speaker so I can wash my face and brush my teeth. Just like me being used to talking with Grace while she’s moving around her office and working while we’re on the phone, she’s used to the same with me. Only, the things that I do are at home.

  “And Nik’s been good? Do we need to do anything official for his side of things yet? I know it’s early, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

  Around my toothbrush, I mumble, “Stop being a lawyer, Grace. It’s not a good look.”

  “It’s my only look, you ass.”

  “That’s why I said it’s not a good look,” I tease, laughing at myself. Toothpaste spews out of my mouth and splatters the mirror.

  “Bitch.” She laughs.

  “Takes one to know one,” I counter, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing out my mouth.

  “Mom and Dad spoiled you too much.”

  “Uh huh. Find a new comeback, girl.”

  I hear her car beep like she’s just unlocked the car door and then the door shuts. “Fuck, it’s cold out,” she complains.

  “Isn’t the garage you park in heated?”

  “It is but it’s not all toasty warm. It doesn’t take all the chill out, though. Especially when the high is like two.”

  “True,” I murmur, keeping my lips pressed together while I wash my face.

  “What did you eat tonight?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m hungry and can’t decide what to eat and need ideas.”

  I grin and dry my face, keeping my phone on speaker because I don’t feel like pressing it to my ear. “You’re so strange. I grabbed two slices of pizza and a Naked Juice from the gas station on the way home because there was an abundance of disgusting teeth to clean today and I didn’t have the energy for anything else. And I had some pretzels for a snack.”

  “With mustard? Damn, that sounds good. What kind of pizza?”

  “Just pepperoni. It’s all they had.”

  “Still sounds really good. I’m starving.”

  I climb into bed, dropping my phone on the mattress and sit cross-legged facing it. Then I pick up my hand lotion off my nightstand. “Order a pizza and pick it up on your way home.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.”

  I want to tell her to ask her husband to make something for her but I won’t reopen that can of worms. After rubbing in the lotion to my hands and forearms, I pull my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head and pick up my book, opening it to where I stuffed my bookmark.

  “Stick with me, kid, I’ve got all the good ideas.”

  “Especially when it comes to food. Not so much when it comes to when you’re drunk.”

  I look at my phone and think for two seconds about how to respond. Rather than saying anything, I let actions speak louder than words. Just as I hear the beginning of an apology start to leak out of her rude mouth, I hit End on the phone, effectively silencing whatever she was about to say.

  What is wrong with her?

  My phone buzzes with a text.

  Grace: I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

  Me: That’s the last time I hear you talk like that. Understand?

  Me: It’s rude and I won’t tolerate it.

  Grace: Understood. I’m sorry and I mean that. I’m so pissed about Samuel.

  Me: I know you are. It’s okay to be mad. Hell, it’s okay to tell him to fuck off, or whatever you need to do. He’s in the wrong here. No matter what he tried to tell you, he is wrong.

  Grace: Yeah. I agree. I don’t understand why he would do that, though?

  Me: Because he’s an idiot?

  Grace: Can I come over? I promise I won’t say anything else stupid. I just don’t want to go home and have to deal with him.

  Me: Of course. You sure you can drive this far tonight?

  Grace: I’m sure. I’m stopping for food and then I’ll be there. About an hour. Is that okay? I know you’re in bed now.

  Me: You’re always welcome here, Grace. I’ll leave the front door unlocked. Just come on in and lock it behind you.

  Grace: Small town living, huh?

  Me: It’s the best. Drive safe. Love you.

  Grace: I will. Love you right back. Thanks for letting me come over. See you soon.

  True to her word, Grace shows up an hour later. She doesn’t hesitate to come into my room, find some clothes to change into in my closet, use my spare toothbrush and face wash, then climbs into bed with me.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, wrapping her arms around me.

  “I already told you it was forgiven. But I meant what I said, if you continue to talk down to me about this baby or Nik, you’ll find yourself out of this baby’s life, and possibly mine.”

  “I like this side of you,” she says. “You’re standing up for yourself. Finally. Only took you thirty-three years.”

  I don’t tell her the change is partly thanks to Nik. I’m not sure she would believe me anyway.

  But I know it is, and that’s enough for me.

  Nik’s changing me, and not because he didn’t like the way I was. Because I didn’t like the way I was. I’m finally discovering who I am, and that’s all thanks to Nik.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nikolas

  “Nik, I presume,” a woman says by way of greeting me when I get to Ashley’s house.

  “You’d be correct. And you are?”

  “Grace, Ashley’s sister,” she says, extending her hand.

  “Ahh. The lawyer, right? Nice to meet you.” We shake hands and I hear Ashley call to me to come on in.

  Grace moves aside, inviting me to sit on the couch while I wait for Ashley. She sits in the chair, a computer, coffee cup, and stack of files on the coffee table in front of her.

  “I’m almost ready!” Ashley calls from somewhere in the house.

  “No rush, we have plenty of time,” I call back.

  Grace looks at me with narrowed eyes that she probably thinks will intimidate me, but she’s dead wrong. I raise an eyebrow in return and she smiles brightly. There’s no honesty behind her smile, though. It’s too… perfect. She’s trying too hard.

  “Ashley tells me you want to get together sometime?”

  I nod. “Yes. It would be good to get to know each other, right?”

  She turns her head to the side and crosses her legs, sitting back in her seat. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why get to know us?”

  I furrow my eyebrows. “You mean other than the fact that you’ll be my baby’s aunts and uncles? Or other than the fact that Ashley is important to me and you’re important to her?”

  “Ashley is important to you? Why?”

  I repeat myself from earlier, “Other than the fact that she’s the mother of my child?”

  “Yes. Other than those things. That person you’re describing could be anyone.” She’s talking to me as if we’re in a courtroom and I’m on trial rather than in a living room.

  “But the person isn’t anyone else. The person is Ashley. And whether Ashley fit that description or not, she’s growing more and more important to me. The only way you will believe that is by getting to know me. If you don’t care to get to know me, then you can’t judge the relationship your sister and I have. And if you don’t care to get to know me, trust me when I say that I’ll have an opinion about your relationship with my child.”

  She uncrosses her legs and balls her fist on the arm of the chair. “Who do you think you are?” she demands. “You take advantage of my sister on a night that she’s heartbroken and distraught, pretend that you’re some white knight coming to save her? You pretend that you’re this perfect gentleman with such honorable intentions. I know the type of man you are, Nikolas. I’ve seen hundreds of men like you who pretend to be th
is upstanding citizen of your tiny town, with your minuscule business you think makes you some sort of man. And then you’ll get bored of her and leave Ashley high and dry. If that’s what your plan is, and I believe that to be true, then leave now. Don’t get her hopes up. And, by the way, I find myself a very good judge of character and I’m never wrong about people. Her family can help her figure this out.”

  Figure this out. What the hell? My pulse spikes as does my anger. “Who do I think I am? Who the hell do you think you are? Making assumptions based on the fact that, what, I work with my hands for a living? You’ve obviously been checking up on me. And that’s fine because I have nothing to hide. I was married once. She and I were good friends, thought we had more than friendship between us. Turns out we were both wrong and the divorce was amicable. My parents died in a car crash eleven years ago. I have one sister. She and I are close. I own an electrical business. It started small, as all businesses do. It’s grown and is profitable. I don’t have to pretend to be anything because what you see is what you get. You are wrong in this case, and I’m not afraid to tell you so.” I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees and never take my eyes away from Grace. She might be trying to prove to me that she’s a threat, but she’s underestimating me. “As for the rest of your speech. Who says I’m not a gentleman? Who says my intentions aren’t honorable? Is it because I’m a man who doesn’t hold a degree other than from high school and the school of hard knocks? Or maybe I’m missing the bigger picture here. Maybe your attitude toward me right now has nothing to do with me specifically. It’s because I’m a man.” She raises her eyebrows in reply. It makes me think that maybe her husband hasn’t been so honorable. Or maybe it’s deeper than that. “And trust me when I tell you there was no taking advantage of anyone that night. We were both in a bad place emotionally and found each other. If you ask me, we got lucky because we did find each other. And maybe if you took the time to know me, you’d think the same. If someone with not-so-honorable intentions had been in my place that night, we don’t know what would have happened.”