Chapter 42
My doctor appointment is not for a week. The more I think about my doctor putting me off that long, the more uneasy I am. I call the office back and beg for an earlier appointment but it appears my doctor is on vacation. The nurse, however, can do a test. I schedule that appointment for two days from now but keep my doctor’s appointment with the real doctor, too.
Next, I call my close friend Lauren, who’s the mother of a toddler, and the wife of Royce Walker, who heads Walker Security. I choose Lauren because she’s a trial attorney like Reese and a good friend. Also because Royce doesn’t just do a lot of investigative work for Reese’s firm, he’s ex-FBI and his team is compiled of FBI, CIA, SEALs, Special Forces and more, meaning they have stressful jobs. They have been on and continue to take dangerous missions. It’s not the same as a court case, but it’s high pressure. Lauren will know how those men deal with baby news in the middle of something big.
I get her voicemail. “Lauren, I have a crisis. Or not a crisis. But I need someone to talk to. Call me.” I hang up and text her the same message.
My cellphone rings and when it’s Reese’s number nerves overcome me. Why am I nervous? This is my husband. This is my soul mate. This is the man who is the father of my child. I answer the call. “Hey,” I say.
“Hey, sweetheart. How’s your column coming?”
“Done. Already sent to my editor. How are things there?”
“We’re going to head to the apartment around three. Does that work for you?”
“Works great. How are you feeling about everything?”
“Like hell.”
“You always say that right before trial and it’s never hell.”
“Keep reminding me,” he says. “I need to hear it right now. I’ll see you soon.”
We disconnect and I press my hand to my belly. Is there a baby growing in my belly? Reese’s baby. I walk back into the bathroom and check the stick and then read the box just to make sure I’m not confused. The test still reads pregnant. I bag up the test and stuff it at the bottom of the trash. Lauren still hasn’t called me back so I just decide to go to her office which is in the same building where she lives. I need advice. I need to tell someone I trust. I need to tell my husband but no matter what, before his opening statement is not the time. But when is?
Thirty minutes later, I find Lauren’s office dark but Walker Security, just next door is open. After being told by the receptionist that Lauren is having lunch in the conference room, I invite myself to go on back. I poke my head in the door to be suffocated by testosterone, as not one but six men, all about as big and intimidating as Royce—who is a bear of a man—sit around the pretty, petite brunette Lauren.
“Cat,” she says, her eyes going wide. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been calling and texting you. I need you.”
“Oh God. Sorry. The little one dropped my phone in the toilet this morning.” She stands up and I step into the hallway.
She joins me, pulling on a suit jacket over her pale pink dress, and motioning me to an open office door. We step inside and I whirl around to face her. “I think I’m pregnant.”
Her eyes light and then she holds up her hands. “Okay I know you two want kids but I sense panic in you so before I respond, tell me what you’re feeling.”
“We talked about next year.”
“It’s a little early but is that a big deal?” Lauren asks.
“He’s starting a massive trial tomorrow, Lauren. You know that. This is big news. It’s life-changing news. It’s not the kind of news you give someone before a trial.”
“I admit that the timing is delicate so let’s take a step back. Are you certain you’re pregnant?”
“The test says I am and I feel different but, I’m not sick. I googled that on my way to the subway. They say when you’re sick it’s a sign of a healthy baby. Those who miscarry often aren’t sick.”
“Wow.” She holds up her hands. “Wait. Why are we going there? You’re not going to miscarry.”
“You did.”
“I know,” she says grimly. “So I guess we know why you’re going there. You lived that with me.”
“And Royce. I saw what it did to you both. I’m a calm, rational person, Lauren. You know that. I’m thinking about all the ways this could affect Reese. I’m worried about my husband.”
The door opens behind Lauren and Royce steps inside. He towers above us and consumes the room. “Is there a problem?” he asks.
“I need to ask you something,” I answer.
“I’m listening,” he says, folding his arms over his broad chest.
“If you were leaving for a dangerous job, you couldn’t change, would you want to hear Lauren was pregnant before you left?”
Lauren holds up her hands again. “I’m not pregnant.”
He looks at me again. “I’d want to know,” he says.
“But would you be better off knowing? Reese starts a trial tomorrow. He has someone’s future in his hands. He’s a protector. He’ll worry about me. He’ll worry about the baby. If you were on that big job, and Lauren miscarried during it, how would it affect you?”
His lips thin. “I wouldn’t know if Lauren was pregnant in the scenario you’re suggesting. I’d be on radio silence.”
“But Reese won’t be. He’ll worry about a miscarriage just like me. A trial could take months or he could do his magic, corner someone into a confession, and end the trial.” Royce opens his mouth to speak. “Wait, please. Before you say anything else. There are already picketers, and it could get worse—”
“It will with this case,” he interjects. “Reese hired us to handle that for him.”
“See,” I say. “And if he’s worried that they are stressing me and the baby so he rushes something with the trial, even if it’s not conscious, what if he makes a mistake?” I look at Lauren. “You know the pressure. You’re a criminal attorney just like him.”
“It’s extreme pressure,” she agrees. “Your client’s depending on you.”
“But he’s also the father,” Royce says. “And your husband. He wants and needs to protect you.” He scrubs his jaw. “But I concede that you make good points.”
“But we’re best friends, too,” I say. “We tell each other everything and this is special.” I press the back of my hand to my forehead. “I don’t want to keep this from him. I feel like I’m selfish to keep it a secret and selfish not to have the willpower to wait and tell him.”
“When do you go to the doctor?” Lauren asks.
“I see the nurse in two days. My doctor is out until next week.”
“My suggestion,” she says, “is for you to let Reese get past his opening statement. See the nurse. Confirm the pregnancy. Think. Breathe. Then decide what to do.”
“I’d let him get through opening statements,” Royce agrees.
“Okay then. I wait at least two days.” I press my hand to my belly and start to tear up. “He’s going to be an amazing father.”
Lauren smiles and hugs me. “And you’re going to be an amazing mother.”
I stop by my favorite salad spot and grab lunch. I don’t feel sick. I don’t crave anything. By two I’m sitting at the island in the kitchen eating and googling pregnancy articles. It’s making me crazy to think of all the things that could go wrong which most would say are really statistically not a big deal. But Reese will read them just like me now and they will feel big when he’s in a high-profile trial like this. I don’t know what to do. I’m still hyper-focused on pregnancy articles when the door opens. I quickly clear my browser and hold my breath, waiting for Reese to appear. In a few beats, he’s entering the kitchen, and he’s stealing that very breath I was holding, just by being him.
He rounds the counter and comes to me, cupping my face. “I need you. You know that right?”
“Good. You’re stuck with me for life but why are you saying that?”
“Because I do.” He smiles and brushes hair from my eyes. “Which is why I’m going to keep you.”
I laugh at his mimic of my declaration from this morning. “When did you decide this?”
“Just reaffirming my vows, sweetheart.”
I have to tell him. I need to tell him. I have to tell him. “Reese—”
His cellphone buzzes and he glances at the screen. “The team is headed upstairs. Lori and Cole are coming too but you’re the one I need input from. My opening is a mess. I need you to listen to it.”
“I’ve read your opening. It’s brilliant. You even said it’s brilliant.”
“And then audio of my client fighting with her father, she’s accused of killing, leaked.”
I blanch. “What?”
“You heard me. An audio was leaked to the press.”
“Oh no. How bad is it?”
“Bad. The kind of bad that might have kept me from taking this case.”
“You think she’s guilty?” I ask, knowing how much he hates defending people who are guilty.
“I still don’t, but this is going to make it tough to win.”
“Strike it out of evidence,” I suggest.
“This judge is tough.”
“And you’re the best of the best.”
His lips curve. “And to think I started out as the asshole who cut in front of you in the coffee line.”
“Thankfully now you have manners.”
The doorbell rings and he laughs before pressing his cheek to mine, and whispering, “I love you, Cat.” And then he’s walking away and I can barely breathe again. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be a good wife right now but that’s what I want. I want to do the right thing. I have to do the right thing.