Chapter 7
7
I can’t stop crying after Jackson and Simon leave my apartment.
I have screwed up. This money was supposed to provide for my future and the future of my daughter. All I had to do was sign on the dotted line, and we would have been set for life. I would have been able to go to nursing school, I would have had childcare for Little Tuna, and we could’ve moved into a nice house instead of this studio dump in a scary neighborhood.
And now I am back at square one.
Yet I know in my heart that I didn’t do the wrong thing. How could I let Simon get away with what he did? I couldn’t. Every time I spent his money, I would feel sick. I had to turn it down.
About an hour after the two of them leave, my phone starts ringing. For a moment, I am hoping that it is Jackson, telling me that he believes me after all and that he’s going to go with me to the police. That he wants to show me that he actually is the decent guy I believed him to be. That I’m not alone in this.
Apparently, I have become delusional. Anyway, it’s not Jackson. It’s my brother.
“Teggie!” His voice is jubilant. He has no idea what just happened. “I am popping champagne right now in your honor.”
I flinch. “No need.”
He laughs. “I know you’re not going to have any champagne while you’re pregnant. I’ll save a glass for you for after the baby comes, okay? Or maybe we can get you some sparkling cider?”
“I can’t afford it.”
“Oh, come on! You’re loaded now! Time to loosen the belt.”
“No, it’s not…” I close my eyes, not wanting to tell him everything that happened between Simon and me. God, what if he didn’t believe me? It would kill me. “The deal… It didn’t work out. I didn’t sign a contract.”
“ What? ” It sounds like all the air got knocked out of him. “Why the hell not?”
“It’s…” I press two fingers against the space between my eyebrows, fending off an impending headache. “It’s complicated. I really don’t want to talk about it now.”
“I don’t understand. What happened? Lamar owes you that money. He’s the father of the baby, isn’t he?”
Using the word “father” to describe that man feels like a bastardization of the word. He isn’t Tuna’s father. He’s nothing to her. “I can’t talk about it now.”
“But, Tegan—”
“I can’t.” My voice breaks on the words, and that’s when Dennis shuts up. He recognizes I’m serious. “I wish I could see you.”
This isn’t the sort of thing I can tell my brother over the phone. It’s got to be face-to-face.
“I wish I could see you too, Tegan.” He’s quiet for a moment, probably trying to figure out what the hell is going on. I can’t blame him. “Is there any chance you could come here? You could drive up here tomorrow, and you’re welcome to stay in my spare bedroom as long as you want. Until the baby comes, if you’d like.”
“I don’t know,” I say, thinking of all the miles between my apartment and Dennis’s place up north. “It’s a long drive.”
“Of course, you’re right,” he acknowledges in that voice he always used when we were kids and he was about to refute what I had thought was a very valid argument. “But it’ll be worth it. Because once you get here, I promise you won’t have to lift a finger. I’ll make sure the fridge is stocked, and I’ve got a wide-screen TV.”
I grin. “Will you give me a foot massage?”
“ One foot massage,” he chuckles. “Redeemable at any time.”
As much as I’ve always appreciated my own space, the idea of staying with my big brother for a few weeks and getting taken care of sounds like exactly what I need. Yes, my doctor is here, but I can find a new doctor. What I need is my brother. And possibly a foot massage.
“Actually,” I say, “that sounds great.”