I know she’s joking, but her words strike me like a lightning bolt straight to the heart. Gasping for air, memories flood my mind—memories of Harrison and me. Together.
“…and that can’t be because you’d have to have sex in order to get pregnant, and we both know that’s not happening,” she continues with a laugh.
Sex.
Oh, God!
We had sex!
Unprotected sex!
Gabby returns to the stall and sets the wet paper cloth over my forehead. My mind is still reeling with realization and shock as she continues to talk about the different flu strands going around her office, but I already know.
I don’t have the flu.
When I begin to lose feeling in my legs from crouching beside the toilet, I start to stand. Gabby’s right there to help me. “You should go home,” she says, placing her hand on my forehead. “You don’t have a fever, but I don’t think you should stay and risk getting everyone sick.”
“You’re right,” I mumble, my mind swimming with uncertainty as she wraps her arm around my shoulder and guides me to the bathroom door.
“I’ll make regrets for you to everyone, and when I get them cleared out, I’ll come over,” she says.
“No, don’t do that. I’m just going to head home and rest. You don’t need to come over just to watch me sleep.” Lie. I’m not headed home, at least not yet. I’ll be making a trip to the drug store first to buy a pregnancy test.
Then what?
What if it’s actually positive?
Harrison flashes through my mind.
Oh, God, I’m going to have to tell him, and say what? Hey, Harrison, remember me, your ex-wife? The one you slept with mere minutes after our divorce was final? Well, good news, I’m pregnant.
My stomach recoils, but I don’t think it’s pregnancy-related sickness. It’s stress from having to tell my ex-husband that I’m pregnant with his baby. How did this happen? Well, I know how this happened, but how did this become my life? I’m like a walking episode of The Young and the Restless. What are my preschool parents going to think of me?
Gabby guides me down the hallway and to the table where we’ve stashed my purse. As if on autopilot, I smile politely while retrieving my belongings and make my way to the exit.
“Honey, are you all right?” Mom asks, coming up behind us with a look of worry on her face.
“Yeah, just a touch of the flu,” I answer, the lie rolling too easily off my tongue.
“Oh, no. Well, feel better. If you’re not well tomorrow, text me, and I’ll bring you some soup,” she replies, pulling me into her arms and giving me a warm hug.
“I will. Please give my regards to everyone. I really appreciate you all throwing me this party,” I add.
“It was nothing,” Mom says with the flick of her hand before setting it on my forehead. “It’s not every day your oldest turns thirty.”
“No, I guess not.”
“Do you want Dad to drive you home?” she offers, glancing over at Gabby.
“No, that’s okay. I can drive. My stomach isn’t too bad now, so I think I can make it home.”
She continues to look on with that motherly watchful eye, and I almost crack under the pressure. She knows I’m lying, but, if I am pregnant, I don’t want to tell them first. Harrison deserves to know before my family, which is why I continue the flu charade for just a little longer. “Well, if you’re sure… I’ll stop by tomorrow and check on you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I reply, giving her another hug, before being ushered out of the bar and escorted to my car.
“I’ll text you in the morning,” Gabby says, full of concern.
“I’ll be fine, but thank you,” I reply quickly before climbing into my car. As I crank over the engine, I throw her a wave, plaster on a fake smile, and back out of my parking spot.
My mind is a mess of nerves and excitement as I drive toward the nearest drug store. Could I really be pregnant? The symptoms match up. Nausea, tired, and tender boobs. Plus, I missed my period this month, but I just chalked that up to the stress. It’s not like my monthly cycle has been normal since the separation. In fact, since I stopped taking my birth control several months back, my period has been all over the place. It’s not like I had a reason to stay on the pill, anyway.
I pull up to a stoplight, my hands trembling with nerves. I release the steering wheel and try to shake them out a little, my fingers feeling a bit cold. The light changes to green, and I slowly start to pull into the intersection. I see the flash of light only moments before the horn sounds. There’s nothing I can do, not even brace for impact. My vehicle jars hard as the other car makes impact, the seat belt pulling against my body and holding me in place. The airbag deploys with a loud bang as everything around me starts to fade away. It’s like I’m floating, all the sounds of crunching metal, shattering glass, and horns honking vanishing. There’s no sound. Even as I glance over and see a face full of fear in my driver’s side window. His mouth is moving, but there’s no sound.
My eyelids become heavy and the desire to sleep takes over.
The baby.
My hands drop to my still-flat stomach, and I send up a silent plea to God, his angels, and anyone else up there who’ll listen. Please don’t take away my baby. Please keep her safe.
And then my mind drifts to Harrison.
To the man I love.
To the one who’s going to be a father and doesn’t even know it yet.
My world fades to black.
My eyes open just as I’m rushed through sliding doors. A man stands on one side and a woman on the other as I’m guided into what appears to be the emergency room. “What have we got?” I hear a man ask just before his face comes into focus.
I listen as the paramedic reports to the doctor about the car accident, my vitals, which are strong, and a slight bump on the side of my head. The doctor orders a CT scan to check for bleeding on the brain, and that’s when the panic sets in. “I’m pregnant,” I state, causing everyone around me to stop and glance down.
The doctor gives me a smile. “Okay. How far along are you?”
“Just a few weeks. Well, I think I’m pregnant. I was on my way to the store to get a test.”
“Well, start with a pregnancy test then,” he says with another polite smile. “Just hang tight, okay?” he adds, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. That small gesture goes a long way to help settle my fears, even though I’m terrified right now.
Everything after that happens quickly. I’m taken to a room and stripped down to a gown, where my blood is drawn and a few small wounds are tended to. The nurse is very pleasant as she applies an ointment to the burn on my arm caused by the airbag and puts on bandages.
“Well,
Mrs. Drake, you’re very lucky. They say your car was impacted at the driver’s side front tire and not the door. You have a few superficial burns and lacerations from the airbag, and a mild concussion from the bump to the head, but no other signs or symptoms of anything more severe,” he says, reading from my chart. “Oh, and your blood test came back positive. Congratulations, you’re pregnant.”
You’re pregnant.
Those two words have the biggest impact on me, changing the course of my future forever. A baby. I’m having a baby.
“We do want to take a look at the baby, however. You have a bit of spotting, but that can be completely normal. There’s an ultrasound technician outside, who’ll come in and take a look at the baby. Hang tight, and she’ll be right in. Once that’s complete, we’ll take you to a room for observation. Between the bump to the head and the spotting, I’d like to keep you for the night and make sure everything is okay,” he says, turning to leave.
“Thank you,” I reply in disbelief and fear.
“Oh, and the nurse called the emergency contact in your phone. He’s on his way.”
He.
Apparently, I say the word aloud.
The ER doctor gives me another smile. “Yes, your husband. It’s good that you have someone listed in there for emergency situations. Not many think to include one for times like these,” he says before turning and walking out the door.
Harrison.
He’s coming.
And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Chapter 5
Harrison
* * *
A lonely Saturday night at home. Not just any Saturday night, today is Winnie’s birthday. The big three-oh and I’m not there to celebrate it with her. I sent her a text earlier, but it’s still radio silence on her end. That’s okay because at least she knows that I’m thinking about her. That I’m always thinking about her. I’ve called or sent her a text every day since the divorce was final. I guess you could say I’m having a hard time accepting it. My phone rings in my hand, and I silence the call. This is the second time Chase has called, and I’ve ignored him. I don’t want to go out tonight.