1. Logan
Rain peltedagainst the roof of my gynecologist’s office. I tapped my sneaker against the tile flooring and scrolled through my Instagram feed tirelessly, liking posts of people I had known in high school and college. Every smiling engagement announcement or baby gender reveal was another reminder of how far away I was from where I planned to be at twenty-six.
A nurse stuck her head in the room, jarring me from my fantasies. “Doc will be a few more minutes, hun. Hang tight.” She closed the door quietly before I could say anything, and I turned back to my phone.
I had plans for when I was twenty-six. I wanted to be married with two kids and a dog. At least, that was my ten-year goal from when I was sixteen. The same goal I had told my best friend, Scarlet, who had laughed at me and swore she would never marry before thirty.
Ironic since she tied the knot last summer, and I had stood at her side as her maid of honor, silently questioning how our lives had been reversed.
There was a soft knock on the door, and then my doctor finally walked in. Doctor Williams smiled at me, her hair pulled back into a ponytail that swished with each calculated step she took into the small room.
“How are you, Logan?” She was only a few years older than me, but her voice was hoarse from years of smoking. The stale scent of nicotine filled the space, and I fought the cough building in my chest.
Clearing my throat, I licked my dry lips and smiled at her. “Never been better.” The same lie I repeated every year slipped easily from my lips. There was no point in telling this woman, who I only saw once a year, that I was downright miserable.
“So, you’re here for your annual exam and prescription renewal?” She wasn’t looking at me but instead at the clipboard of my charts, I presumed.
“Yes, although, I don’t see a point of the birth control now.” I sighed, and she looked up, brows drawing.
“Are you planning on trying with, uh, what’s his name again?” She tried to recall my ex’s name, and I cringed. We’d spoken extensively about him last time I was here. I had told everyone and anyone who was willing to listen about my Major League Baseball-playing boyfriend. I had told Dr. Williams how I knew he was going to propose soon and how we were going to make the prettiest babies.
Look where that got me.
“We broke up a few months ago actually, and I don’t see any men in my future.” I tried to laugh it off, but my voice was strained. I crossed my arms over my chest. She nodded and looked back at her chart and then at me, not voicing the question in her hollow eyes.
“Ms. Shaw, you were right about the birth control. I can’t renew the prescription.” She wrote something down and then put the clipboard down and focused on me.
“And why not? I was only joking.” She plastered on a smile that I didn’t like. One that I knew was going to bring bad news.
“Because you’re three months pregnant.”
“No, no, no.” I shook my head so hard, my head hurt. “You must have my results mixed up with someone else’s.” I stood and paced the room. My heart was beating loudly in my ears, making it hard to listen to Dr. Williams as she told me all about the wonderful news. I reached for the hand tightening around my throat and came up empty.
I had been fighting anxiety attacks for a few weeks now and knew the signs.
This is not happening.
It isn’t possible.
“You haven’t had any symptoms?” she questioned, remaining calm, while my mind was running haywire.
I pulled at the chain around my neck, at the silver cross my mom had given me for my eighteenth birthday. The one that usually kept me calm. The only piece I had left of her.
It didn’t ease my nerves, but fidgeting with a piece of her eased my racing heart just a little, just enough that I could think clearly without the darkness clouding my judgment.
“No, I haven’t even had sex in months! I mean, shit, I haven’t even missed a pill.” I started recounting the last couple of months.
Richard and I broke up four months ago. We hadn’t been intimate in months. The relationship had been fizzling out for longer than I cared to admit, but he was always away from home. Playing away games in other states, late-night practices, and extra time at the gym.
There wasn’t any time for us.
He didn’t make time for me. Baseball was more important. It was his life. Hence our breakup.
“When was the last time you were intimate with your ex?”
“Nine months ago on New Year’s Eve.” It had been the worst sex of my life. He was drunk, and I wished I was, too. More than that I wished I had been strong enough to say no because, as usual, he got what he wanted and fell asleep while I was left there staring at the ceiling, wondering if this was what the rest of my life would be like.
“Anyone else? It’s not his baby, Logan,” she gently reminded me, and I wracked my brain, trying to remember someone else.
Shit.
“It’s Jaxon Dexter’s,” I whispered. He’d been in the bar that night.
The night I came home to another girl in Richard’s bed and fled to the local bar, where Jaxon and his team were celebrating their win against Richard’s team. My perfect boyfriend had been just like all the other players. A no-good, piece of shit.
Mom would have been so disappointed if she could see me now. Cheated on by a baseball player and pregnant with another one’s child.
She always told me to stay away from them. I should have listened. I didn’t want to be a cleat chaser, yet here I was.
The same night Richard locked me out of his apartment and I missed two days of my prescription while I licked my wounds and found the courage to go in there while he was at practice.
Two whole days. After a one-night stand with the sexiest man I had ever seen.
“But we used a condom,” I sputtered, choking on the realization that there was a baby growing inside of my very flat stomach.
“They aren’t always effective, but that’s beside the point. I would like to do an ultrasound, and then get you a list of prenatal vitamins you need to begin immediately.”
“This is all too fast; I’m not even married! This goes against my ten-year plan!” I screamed, shoving my distressed hands through my hair.
“Is there someone you want to call? Maybe your best friend?” Scarlet was the last person I wanted to call. She would only make fun of me for having hot sex with a stranger and then getting knocked up.
The person I wanted to call was unreachable. My mom.
“No. I just need a minute. This is all very alarming.” She stood, nodding her head in understanding.
“I’m going to grab some pamphlets about what to expect and tell a nurse to come help you get prepped for the ultrasound so we can see the baby.” She squeezed my hand and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
I dropped into the plastic chair, covering my face with my hands. The first tear rolled down my cheek.
This isn’t happening.
Slapping my hot cheeks, I prayed that I was going to wake up from this nightmare, but instead, there was only another knock on the door, and the same nurse from earlier came in.
“Alright, honey. Let’s get you prepared for this ultrasound.”
This had to be a dream.
This couldn’t be real.
Twenty minutes later, after hearing my baby’s heartbeat and seeing the very tiny, very real baby in my stomach, I was overcome with emotion—sadness, happiness, distress. I didn’t know how I made it back to my car, but I was sitting there, tears streaming down my cheeks, a list of vitamins to take and a handful of pamphlets crumpled in my fist.
Holding my phone to my ear with a shaky hand, I waited for Scarlet to answer.
“What’s up, bestie?” Her voice drew out the sob I’d been struggling to contain. “Oh, no, today was your doctor”s appointment. Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”
“I’m pregnant, Scar. I’m pregnant,” I cried into the phone, throwing the papers on the passenger seat and picking up the black and white pictures of my baby.
My baby.
Something clattered to the ground, and Scarlet sighed. “Well, fuck. That wasn’t part of the plan. Does Richard know?”
“It’s not his,” I whimpered, closing my eyes.
“No! You’ve been sleeping around? My best friend? Girl, who are you, and what have you done with my boring best friend?” She giggled like I was the brunt of some hilarious joke, which made anger replace my sadness.
“This isn’t a freaking joke, Scar. I’m pregnant from a one-night stand. A god damn one-night stand. Did you hear me? In case you didn’t—a one-night stand!”
“Yes, I heard you. Now, who the hell knocked you up, buttercup? Please tell me he’s cute. I want my god-baby to be cute. I’m sure he or she will be, but you know it doesn’t hurt for the father to be good-looking.” She was rambling like she always did, and usually, I’d play along, but I couldn’t because none of this was funny.
“Jaxon Dexter.” I hit my head on the steering wheel. “Jaxon freaking Dexter is the man I slept with.”
“The pitcher for the Braves?” she asked.
“The one and only.”
“Thank God! He’s got one fine ass. I mean, seriously, have you seen it?” Rolling my eyes, I prayed for the strength to not strangle my best friend when I saw her later. “Wait—of course, you’ve seen it. Was it firm?”
“Scarlet!” She sighed.
“Okay, what do you want to do?”
“I have to tell him, right?” I sat up and glanced at the picture again. My baby that was the product of one of the worst nights of my life.
“Only if you want to.”
“What do you think my mom would say?” She was going to miss this. Like she had missed all the milestones I’d had since cancer took her away from me.
“She wouldn’t have cared as long as you were happy.”
“She didn’t want me to be a cleat chaser either,” I reminded her.
“You aren’t a cleat chaser. Seriously, Logan, you need to stop thinking so low of yourself. If I wasn’t married, I’d have totally slept with Jaxon Dexter if he was offering. Speaking of, you need to tell me that story. How far long along are you?”
“Three months.”
“Holy shit! And you didn’t know the whole time? Didn’t you notice you haven’t had three periods?”
“It’s always been irregular; I had no idea. I’m still in shock. I didn’t believe the doctor until I saw the baby on the ultrasound. Oh, God, Scar—there’s a very tiny baby inside me.”
“It’s going to be okay. Whatever you decide, I’m here. I’m going to be an aunt, Mattie!” she screamed at her husband, whose deep voice rumbled in the background of the call.
This isn’t happening.