Chapter 18
Drew – Three Weeks Later
I swallow thickly. The lump in my throat makes it hard to breathe as I stare at the walls, my mind flitting between all the signs—cancer, babies, illnesses—overwhelmed by it all.
Someone coughs to my right, and a child screams in the corner, terrified of getting their shots and I tremble.
My nerves are shot. Just thinking about the receptionist’s bubble gum snapping is fraying what’s left of my patience.
And my appointment was supposed to be an hour ago.
Can I handle this much longer?
Another scream erupts making me jump.
No, no I cannot handle this much longer.
“Can you please stop that child from screaming? My head is pounding,” a young woman who clearly has a hangover snaps. The mother of the child ignores her and continues to try to soothe her daughter, which just angers the young woman.
My stomach twists. Please, don’t let a fight break out in the doctor’s office. I really can’t handle that today.
“Seriously, you’re just going to ignore me like some rude bitch?” the young woman growls, and I sigh because yep, there is about to be a fight.
Great. Now my appointment will probably be cancelled. Why does everything feel impossible right now?
“Drew Taylor,” I hear my name called, and I sigh internally as I quickly stand and walk towards the nurse, just as the young woman gets up to confront the mother.
Talk about timing, because of course, this would happen the moment I get called back.
I follow the nurse to the back, just as shouting echoes, and I quicken my steps before I’m guided into a room, and an older man with white hair sits behind a desk.
“Ms. Taylor, sorry about the wait,” he says as I take a seat, his kind light blue eyes assessing me, “What can I do for you today?”
I clear my throat and mumble, “Well, uh, roughly five or six weeks ago—or maybe just under, or even a little over, I can’t really remember—I began to feel sick.
I thought it was stress-related until I realized I’d missed roughly two or three months of my period.
I tried to ignore it, but it’s now been three weeks, and I still haven’t had my period. ”
He hums as he types away, then asks, “And you’ve been sexually active?”
I nod a little and say, “I have a steady boyfriend, and we haven’t been using condoms, but I am on birth control.”
“Okay,” he says as he types away, then says, “I want to take some blood, and then after that, I will do an ultrasound across your stomach and hope we can pick anything up. I would do an intervaginal scan but unfortunately the device disappeared yesterday otherwise I would have used that,” he grabs a cup and passes it to me, “I also want a urine sample,” he looks at the nurse, “If you can take Ms. Taylor to the examine room,” the nurse nods and then he looks back at me and says, “I’ll be in there as soon as I have your urine results and we’ll do the scan. ”
I nod numbly and stand and fear rushes through me as I follow the nurse.
***
“Okay, if you just take a seat on the chair, the doctor will be back with you shortly,” the kind nurse says softly a few minutes later, after I’ve handed her my urine.
I nod, my mouth seemingly unable to work, and do as she said. My eyes take in all the posters of babies surrounding me, only building my fear.
What if Bellamy doesn’t want this? I can't stop thinking about how he might react.
What if he leaves me?
The fear crawls up my spine. Oh crap, what if he uses this pregnancy as a reason to hand in his cut and then resents the child and me?
I squeeze my eyes tight. I don't even know if I’m pregnant. Maybe it's just the pill messing with me, or stress—that's possible, right?
The pill has never stopped them before, the voice in the back of my head unhelpfully reminds me, and I swallow hard, the lump still there, refusing to leave.
“Okay, Ms. Taylor,” Doctor Hammington says as he walks into the room, reading his notes, “your urine sample has indicated pregnancy, and the results indicate you are between ten and twelve weeks.”
Ah, double crap.
“If you can lie back for me and lift your top,” he instructs and I listen, my hand trembling as I move my shirt up, suddenly happy I wore it with a pair of jeans.
He pulls a machine over towards me and grabs a bottle before stating, “This will be a little cold,” and squirts some gel on my stomach, then places the device on top of the gel and moves it around a little before pressing some buttons on the machine, “Alrighty then, let's see if we can find this baby.”
I nod, take a deep breath and look at the screen while holding my breath.
Black and light grey enter my vision before a small baby shape becomes visible, and I swear I struggle to breathe as he says, “Ah, there you are,” before pressing a few buttons, and a whoosh-whoosh sound echoes in the room.
Triple crap. I really am pregnant. No more hoping it’s a mistake, because yep, there’s a baby.
***
An hour later, I walk down the street, ignoring all the cop cars. As I had guessed, a fight broke out in the waiting area, the hungover woman actually hitting the child who tried to step in between her mom and the crazy lady, and I stare at the photo the doctor gave me.
I’m twelve weeks pregnant, meaning the baby was conceived the first week we slept together.
“So much for contraception,” I grumble as I put the scan photo in my pocket and walk into the tattoo shop, needing to see Bellamy.
I’ve put this off for weeks. I’ve run away from the problems, and now… now, I need to act like an adult and confront them.
“Back again,” the woman behind the desk scoffs, and I just roll my eyes and walk towards the hallway like normal, ignoring her and her pathetic jealousy over a guy that was never hers and always mine.
“You can’t go back there!” she snaps loudly and steps in front of me, and I sigh.
I really don’t want to hit someone else, last time, my knuckles bruised.
“Move out of my way,” I demand lowly as I look into her pink eyes.
She looks me up and down, then curls her top lip and sneers, “I don’t think so. You’re not going back there anymore, and soon, I’ll have that man beneath me.”
I raise a brow and say sarcastically, “Wow, such a girl’s girl trying to steal another woman’s boyfriend,” then grab my phone and say, “I’ll just call him.”
I don’t need her crap. I have to tell my boyfriend, who has already had a baby terminated by a crazy a woman that I’m now pregnant. He’ll most likely use this child as an excuse to leave the club, a club that wants him back, meaning he’ll resent me in years to come.
And don’t get me started on my own fears.
The bitch sneers, “You’re a nobody,” clearly not liking the truth, and I chuckle, “Actually, you are a nobody to him. I’m his everything, and this is getting pathetic, especially when I have been with him for over four months, and he’s living with me!”
The bitch looks at me in shock that I’ve actually stood up for myself before I hear boots echoing towards us. I bring up Bellamy’s number, only for the man himself to appear with a scowl on his face aimed at the bitch.
“When are you going to have some self-respect, huh?” he demands as he shoves past her, then wraps his arm around my waist, and I step into him, pressing my nose against his chest and inhaling, my nerves instantly settling being in his embrace.
His chest rumbles against me when he snaps, “Next time you stop my girl from coming to see me, I won’t be so fucking nice.
Stay the hell away from her!” before he guides me towards his room, ignoring the shocked receptionist. Should I bother to learn her name?
Does it even matter? I silently scoff. No, she’ll just stay 'bitch' in my mind. Bellamy doesn’t even know her name.
“You come to finish your job?” Bellamy asks as he guides me into his tattoo room, and I hum, because maybe that will settle me and help me drop the bomb that we’re going to be parents.
He removes his cut and hands it to me and I smile, put it on, and bring the leather to my nose. His spiced and earthy cologne hits my senses and I sigh with contentment. He chuckles, catching my attention, I notice he’s already sitting on the chair with his equipment out, shirt off.
I smile and walk over to him, and he gently helps me up onto his lap so I can straddle him, then passes me some gloves.
I quickly put them on, grab the tattoo gun, dip it in red, ready to color the rose, then get to work, letting the buzzing surround me.
I never knew tattooing was so relaxing, and honestly, it gives me the same sense of peace that ballet does. Weird, right? That something so different feels so calming?
“Have you heard from your sister?” Bellamy asks, and I look up to see him removing his hair tie and wrapping it around his wrist, letting his longish hair fall to the side, and I smile, loving that he knows me so well.
I admit, “I haven’t. Apparently, she’s barely spoken since Dad laid into her.
Dad said she went to the gravesite, thinking he was bullshitting to get her to change her spoiled ways.
Since she returned that night, she’s withdrawn, been very quiet, and is apparently helping Mom fix the mess in my old room but a leopard never changes its spots in my eyes. ”
Bellamy hums, and I gently shade in the rose, and my heart pounds.
I need to tell him the truth, but I don’t know how. The picture in my pocket feels like a weight, heating my skin as I worry about what he’ll think.
“Talk to me,” he murmurs, running his hands up and down my thighs, “You’ve been off lately. I thought it was the Nutcracker showcase, but even after, you still look tense.”
Crap, guess I didn’t try to ignore it as I thought I did.
I inhale and avoid his gaze as I dip the gun then press the needle to his skin, and admit, "My period is late…"
I feel him tense beneath me, but I don’t stop what I’m doing, I can’t because if I do, I’ll probably cry.
I swallow hard then confess, “I’ve been having symptoms like fatigue, nausea, and dizzy spells for weeks. Four weeks ago, I realized I’d missed a few months of my period. I decided it had to be stress and chose to ignore it.”
Even though it’s strained, he snorts then says, “Now why am I not surprised,” and I scrunch my nose up as I pull the needle off his skin and finally get the nerve to look at him.
There’s no anger, or sadness, or fear. If anything, there is no emotion at all.
I think that is worse than anger, he’s shut off his emotions.
I admit, “I’m scared,” before I dip the gun again and continue the rose and I allow my disappointment to come out as I say, “I didn’t want kids yet, I want to enjoy you.
I wanted to ride on your bike around the country.
I wanted to do more shows and teach. I wanted more time to become settled and not in an apartment but in a house with a yard and maybe own my studio, not one I’m renting that could be taken from me in an instant.
And honestly, being married for five years first would have been helpful.
” I huff and lean back and lock eyes with Bellamy’s which are now showing concern but for me, seeing my discomfort having a child now, “Even though I know I will love it unconditionally and I’ll most likely push it towards ballet and art,” Bell half smiles at that and I confess, “I’m scared,” causing him to sigh but he soon laughs when I admit, “I’m scared because there is a chance they’d turn out like Elizabeth and that crap is terrifying. ”
“I can understand that, believe me but you know we’d never let that happen.
I know this is sudden, I know that you’re scared and that we’re both not ready for this, but it is happening, Drew,” he says softly and I scrunch my nose again as I dip the tattoo gun and mutter, “I hate when you speak logically, you should be freaking out with me.”
He chuckles slightly as I continue to color in the rose before he sighs and then asks, “Have you seen a doctor?”
“Uh huh,” I reply as I tilt my head trying to ensure I don’t go over the black and I mumble, “I went this morning thinking maybe it was still stress related. I had a scan and the doctor confirmed I’m twelve weeks pregnant where thankfully there is only one baby.
I would have passed out if he said it was twins.
When I walked out the cops had swarmed the place because some hung over woman attacked a mother and her child because her child was screaming that she didn’t want her shots.
Instead of hitting the mother, she hit the child who tried to protect her mom,” I pause for a moment before I lift up and gasp, “Oh god, what if our child continuously cries and hates me?”
Bellamy blinks then blinks again before saying, “Seriously, cops at the doctors?”
I wince but nod, and he shakes his head before he cups my cheek and says, “We’ll figure it out,” though the tension in his body hasn’t lessened, so I’m not inclined to believe him right now.
Swallowing, I ask, “Before or after I start to feel sick when I do a pirouette?”
He frowns and asks, “What’s that?” and I roll my eyes and answer, “A turn,” and he sighs as he gently runs his hands over my thighs.
“We’ll figure it out, baby,” he says, unconvincingly, then demands, “Finish the rose so I can take you home.”
I swallow yet again but nod and dip the gun, all while my mind wanders and fear consumes me when he zones out and puts his hands on the chair instead of on my thighs.
Does he think I trapped him like his ex had tried?
Am I going to lose him?