by Jenna Reed
“Calm down, honey. I told him not to come here, and if he does, I won’t open the door, I promise. I just really don’t like seeing both of you hurt. He’s like a son to me, and well, you’re my daughter, so I never want to see you hurt.”
His words relax me a tad, but that’s all. It doesn’t change anything. “Let me take a quick shower and then I’ll come down to eat something,” I finally tell my dad, my voice calmer now. I can see his shoulders relax a little and a smile falls on his lips.
“Okay, sweetheart.” He leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Staring down at my hands, I take a deep breath, letting the oxygen fill my lungs. My stomach hurts, my chest throbs, and I suspect this is what death of a heartache would feel like if you could die from such a thing. God, how am I going to survive this?
Shaking my head, I get up from the bed and open the dresser drawer. My phone is still there. I turned it off and threw it in there yesterday. It was going off non-stop and only made me cry more. Looking down into the drawer, I stare at the sleek device. I know I shouldn’t turn it back on, but my resolve is wavering with each second that I stand staring at it.
Grunting at myself for being so weak, I grab the phone and power it back on. I don’t plan on calling him, but maybe I can listen to one of his voice messages so I can at least hear his voice. How pathetic is that, even angry at him, I feel the need to hear his voice? I’m so fucked up, so screwed.
As soon as the phone turns on, forty-eight text messages, fifty-two missed calls, thirty-one voice message notifications pop up on the screen. Most of them are from Elijah of course, there are a few texts from Erin, but I know what those are going to say even without reading them.
Going straight to the voice messages, I hit play and listen to one when I realize that not all of the messages are from him. One is from my OBGYN office.
I must have an appointment coming up. They’re probably just calling to confirm it. I don’t recall seeing anything in my calendar, then again, I’ve been focused on other things. Knowing most likely that it’s just a reminder, but curious enough to hear otherwise, I hit play on the message.
“Hello Mrs. Renshaw, this is Chloe from Dr. Warner’s office. I just wanted to see if you wanted to reschedule your appointment you missed on the fifth of this month. Please give me a call back at your earliest convenience. Thank you, goodbye.”
The voice message cuts off and I stare down at my phone in confusion. Missed appointment? On the fifth? That can’t be right. It’s the end of the month now. I didn’t miss my appointment almost four weeks ago. Did I? A nagging feeling settles deep inside my stomach. I try to recall the last time I went in for my depo shot. Has it been four months ago? Shit. If so, then that means Elijah and I have been having unprotected sex for weeks.
I flip through dates and events in my mind. A throb forms behind my eyes and I squeeze my phone in my hand, realization dawning on me.
I should’ve had my period days ago. Which means… my knees wobble, and I lean against my dresser, trying to steady myself. Still, I’m unable to keep myself up on my feet. Sliding down onto the floor, resting my back against the wall, I start to cry.
I don’t know how I know it, but I just do. I can feel it deep inside me. I don’t need to take a pregnancy test, I already know… I’m pregnant.
I’m carrying Elijah’s child. His other child.
16
Elijah
Three days ago.
As soon as I enter the building, I know something is off. Call it a sixth sense if you will. There’s a tightening in my gut as I enter the elevator. Barbara tells me that Bailey left, and I can’t come up with a reason as to why she would leave. I check my phone. No missed calls, no missed messages. When I left, everything seemed to be fine.
The elevator door slides open with a ping and I step out into the main room. My eyes go to Bailey’s desk right away, hope springing in my belly that maybe Barbara was wrong and Bailey didn’t leave, but the space is empty.
The awful feeling in my gut festers. Something is definitely wrong, very fucking wrong. I get my phone out once more, ready to call Bailey when an unfamiliar voice startles me.
“It’s about time. I’ve been waiting here for almost an hour. Your cute little assistant told me to wait for you, and she promised you wouldn’t be long.” I turn around to face the woman, her voice grating on my last nerve. She’s sitting on a chair in the waiting area, her legs crossed, one of her feet bouncing like she is aggravated. What the fuck does she have to be aggravated about?
Her blue eyes pierce mine, a profess pout on her lips. She’s twirling a blonde lock around her finger while staring at me like I’m supposed to know who she is.
“Can I help you?” I ask, my patience running paper-thin. I don’t know who the hell this chick is, but the fact that she talked to Bailey already has me pissed. She better start talking before I physically remove her from the building.
Her face turns sour. “Wow, that’s rich. I mean, you told me this was a one-night stand deal, but you could at least remember who you fucked.”
Shit. I look her over again. Now that I’m really thinking about it, she does look familiar. Blonde hair. Fuck-me eyes. Then again, they all do. They all look the same inside my head. Flipping through my mind, I can’t find anything about the woman in front of me that stands out.
Did I sleep with her?
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I try to rack my brain, trying to place her, but I can’t.
She rolls her eyes, her lips pursing, “I’m Kelly, we met at the Irish bar on Main. I wore a green mini dress. You told me you would leave a lasting impression… that I wouldn’t ever forget what it was like to be with you.”
Fuck my life. I remember her now. It was months ago, but I did spend a night with her… or more like two hours before she fell asleep and I snuck out. Either way, that’s not what matters, what matters is why she’s here, at my office, and what the hell did she say to Bailey?
“What the hell are you doing here?”
She stands up, smoothing her dress down over her stomach. My eyes automatically traveling in that direction. I gulp, watching her hand rub over her very round stomach. Oh fuck no, this can’t be what I think it is. My knees buckle, and my throat tightens. I’m seconds away from hitting my face on the floor.
“I just came by to tell you I’m pregnant… it’s yours, in case you haven’t gathered that already. You never left your number, so I had to resort to seeking you out.”
“That… that can’t be…” The floor falls away from underneath me. “We used a condom.” I know we did. I always used a condom. The only person I never used one with was Bailey.
Bailey. My Sunflower.
“Well, I don’t know. I guess it broke or something. You know nothing is one hundred percent,” she says all nonchalant. “Anyway, I thought you should know. Of course I’ll be expecting child support once the baby is born, which is happening in four months, if you care. Other than that, I don’t really care what happens between us. If you want him every other weekend or however that works then… whatever. I’m cool with it.” She picks up her coat from the chair next to her and pulls it on. Suddenly I’m overcome with emotions. Sadness, anger, regret, they all burn deep inside me, threatening to spill out.
“It’s not mine. It can’t be,” I tell her, my hands clenched at my sides, my jaw tight. She gives me a deadpan look and shoves a stack of papers into my chest. She looked so pretty that night, and now she looks like a nightmare, an absolute nightmare.
“My number and stuff is on those documents. Also my due date, doctor, and the hospital info. I need you to fill this out and send it back to them. You know, for the medical bills.”
Teeth grinding together, I take the stack of papers and stare down at them in silence. My father had been right after all, the only exception being he placed the blame on the wrong woman.
It’s not mine, I repeat inside my head.
“I know it’s a shock. It was for me as well, but you�
��ll get over it. It’s just a kid. It’s not the end of the world.”
What she doesn’t get is that it is the end of my world.
The end of my future with Bailey.
The end of my life.
Present day
I don’t know how many times I’ve called and texted her. I lost count after the first few hours. I’ve had to recharge my phone twice today just to keep up with all the action the device is getting. And no matter how many calls or texts she hasn’t answered a single one. She hasn’t even reached out. I’ve checked all her social media accounts, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, everything. Nothing. I talked to her dad earlier today. I know she is staying with him, but he insisted on me not coming there. He told me he wouldn’t let me in and I believe him. He loves Bailey too much. If she asks him not to let me in, he won’t.
I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. Fuck, I can barely breathe. Everything hurts, my chest aches as if there is a knife permanently embedded inside it and every time I think of Bailey, the knife twists, the blade digging in deeper. I’m hardly alive, living on the hope that maybe Bailey will call me back or at least just let me know that she is okay.
I’m still not able to wrap my mind around me being a father. How can I ever be a good parent? I try not to think about it. I know if it’s true, I’ll do the best I can. Even if it’s just helping financially. At least Kelly and the kid wouldn’t have to worry about money. The kid, she said him, so it’s a boy. I could have a son. I wish I could feel any other way about it, but as of right now, it just feels wrong. Wrong because it’s not Bailey.
“You look like shit,” Asher tells me when I walk into his living room.
“Not only do I look like it, I feel like it too.” I throw the stack of papers Kelly gave me on the coffee table. I’ve already told Asher about this fucking mess. He was the first person I called after I couldn’t get a hold of Bailey. I didn’t know who else to call, and I didn’t want to make the rash decision of getting a lawyer right away, not without looking over all the papers I had gotten yesterday.
“Has she called you back?” Asher asks somberly.
Shaking my head, I lock my gaze on the coffee table. “She hasn’t, and I doubt that she will. If she wanted to talk to me, she would’ve called by now. All I’m hoping for at this moment is to find out that she’s okay. I have no idea what Kelly said to her, but I’m sure it wasn’t good. I can’t imagine what she thinks of me right now.”
I cringe at the thought. She probably thinks I’m a liar and a piece of shit.
“She loves you,” Asher announces. “I’m sure you both will be able to work it out.”
“Ha, I wish it were that easy, brother. It’s not.” I drop my head into my hands groaning, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces on the floor. “I love her, Asher. Love her. And I’ve fucked it all up by getting some one-night stand pregnant after I’ve been telling Bailey that I don’t want children. Ever. And then I go and have a kid with some random woman. Do you know what this means for her and me? We’re over, she won’t be with me if that baby is mine, and I couldn’t blame her for it either.”
“Look, let’s read over this paperwork. Maybe the kid’s not even yours?” The sound of rustling papers causes me to lift my head. Asher starts going through the papers, while I stare at him, my expression stoic. I’ve already read over them, scanning every single word. Everything seems to line up, her due date is January, she got pregnant in March. That’s around the time we had sex. It was long before I started dating Bailey, but still, it feels like I betrayed her.
What the fuck do I do? How do I ever make this right again?
“So, you did wear a condom?”
“I did, but like she said, they are not one hundred percent full proof… I looked it up to make sure. It can happen. At best, I should just stop having sex if I don’t want to run the risk of having any more slip-ups.”
Asher continues looking over the papers with a sober expression on his face. I don’t know why, everything is there, everything adds up. He’s not going to find anything that I haven’t. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his eyes narrow. He snatches his phone from the table and starts to type something into it, his fingers moving furiously.
What the fuck is wrong with him? I start to bounce my leg up and down subconsciously. I’m seriously going to rip his phone out of his hand if he doesn’t start talking soon.
A moment later, he turns the phone screen toward me, shoving it into my face. I squint to look at whatever he’s showing me. On the screen is some kind of website.
There is a little box with a date, above it, the word Pregnancy Conception Calculator. There’s a fucking website for this shit. I glance down at the date again. March first. I blink, still not getting what the hell it is he’s showing me.
“What are you showing me here?”
Asher rolls his eyes. “That’s the day she got pregnant.”
“Okay?” I question, why the hell does the exact date matter? Karma is being a major bitch to me right now. Of course I couldn’t remember the exact date I slept with her. Fuck, I’ve slept with so many women. There’s no way in hell I could possibly keep track of the exact dates I had slept with them. Though March does seem about right. Nine months from March is January. Even I don’t need some stupid website to do the math on that one.
“March first?” Asher questions again, brow cocked, a stupidly smug grin on his lips. “Were you not in Atlanta the first two weeks of March?”
I don’t know why, but I stand up, my knees hitting the coffee table, sending a jolt of pain up my body. My brain seems to kick into high gear at the movement.
“Yes!” I exclaim like I just found a pot of gold. Yes, I was out of town the first two weeks in March. Now that I have the time frames down in my head, the events of those days start to line up, like missing puzzle pieces falling into place. I recall being sick right before the trip. I stayed home and almost thought I couldn’t go. I ended up feeling better and went on the trip. I came back on a Friday and went out that night. Saint Patrick’s Day! The green dress. Kelly was wearing a green dress because of it! Everything falls back into place.
“Saint Patrick’s Day is on the seventeenth of March, right?”
“Yes,” Asher confirms.
“Fucking, thank you, God. I’m not the father,” I sigh, relief like I’ve never felt before washes over me. “I slept with her on Saint Patrick’s Day. I remember now. We met at the Irish Pub, she was wearing a green dress. If she got pregnant at the beginning of March, then there is no way I’m the father.”
Asher leans back against the couch, tossing the papers into the air. “You owe me, and I do mean big fucking time.”
“Whatever you want. I don’t give a fuck. Name it.” I scrub a hand down my face, my lips tugging up into a smile without thought. All I need to do now is to confront Kelly and win Bailey back. Asher rubs at his jaw, looking lost in thought.
“I’ll get back to you on that,” he responds, sitting back up, his elbows resting on his knees, “I think it’s best to contact Kelly and let her know that you’re not the father and you will not be covering any of her expenses. If she wants to fight you on it, then she’ll need to get a lawyer.”
“Damn right she will. Let’s call her. I want to get this over with as soon as possible, but right now I need to go see Bailey. I have to tell her I’m not the father, that whatever Kelly told her was a lie.”
Asher waves me away. “Yeah, yeah, go win the girl and get your happily ever after.”
Fishing my keys from my pocket, I start toward the door, stopping mid-step. Fuck, I didn’t even say thank you. I twist around and walk back into the living room, leaning against the entranceway.
“Thank you. I know I don’t say it enough, but you’re a pretty kick-ass big brother.”
Asher rolls his eyes. “You’re welcome, now go fix this shit. I’ve got a pounding headache just from dealing with your drama.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I know wha
t I’ve got to do. This time I don’t stop. I walk out of Asher’s house and out to my car.
I climb into the driver’s seat and start the car. Gripping the steering wheel with a death grip, I put the car into drive and head off in the direction of Bailey.
I’m going to win my girl back, my future back.
17
Bailey
I’m almost asleep when someone rings the doorbell. No, they don’t simply ring it, it’s more like they hold it down. The bell keeps chiming, the non-stop sound giving me an instantaneous headache. If that’s Erin on the other side of that door, I’m going to be pissed. I told her she didn’t need to drive all the way out here and coddle me. It might feel like I’m dying, but I’m not, maybe emotionally but not literally.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I growl, padding thunderously down the hallway. My father steps out of his bedroom, meeting me in the hall on my way downstairs. Just like myself, he is already in his pajamas, ready to go to sleep. Whoever this is, is going to get an ear full. Who am I kidding? I know exactly who that is.
“Want me to go and send him away?” Concern is written all over his face.
“No, I’ll go do it.” Right now, anger is consuming me. There is so much fury inside of me that I have no room to feel anything else. Reaching the front door, I unlock it and rip it open, my hand biting into the iron handle.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yell into Elijah’s face as soon as our eyes meet. Mine spitting with anger, while his hold shame, regret, and deep sadness. I want to continue my verbal assault. Tell him he is an asshole and that I hate him and want him to leave, but all those words get stuck in my throat. Why is he here? Why? Why can’t he just go be with supermodel baby momma? Seeing him is only making my heart gush fresh blood.