Chapter 30
I don’t even have to open my eyes to immediately recognize two things. One, it’s not even dawn yet. Two, Grace is not in the bed beside me. I frown in disappointment, more than just a little tired of the patience game she’s forcing us to play.
On the one hand, I get it. On the other, I’m ready to scream in her face, I love you, so get the fuck over it and accept it already.
Rolling out of bed, I check the bathroom before padding down the hallway into the darkness of the kitchen and then over to the family room.
The mess of junk food from last night is gone and I wonder how long she’s been awake or if she ever went to sleep when I did.
I had fun last night with Kaplan and Luca, but much of my evening was spent nursing a couple of drinks while they either hit on women or women hit on us.
I don’t want women.
I want one woman.
But something was different with her when I came home.
For as much as the woman loves to pack away food and sugar, she doesn’t typically binge out like that unless she’s stressed or upset about something.
Then there were the tears while we were making love.
And yes, I know I just used that term and it’s kinda corny and I hate the way it sounds, but whatever.
That’s what it was.
I was inside her and I love her, so yeah.
But why was she crying and why isn’t she in my bed this morning? Is she planning on leaving me? Ending this?
With a sudden surge of rising panic, I quicken my steps, heading down the hall to her bedroom. The door is closed, and I knock softly. When there is no response, I open it to find the blankets in disarray, but no Grace.
The exercise room, office, media room, all empty.
It isn’t until I reach one of the empty bedrooms that I find her, standing in the dark, pressed against the window, staring out at the muted sky, still thick with night.
She’s dressed in a T-shirt and yoga pants, her blonde hair hanging loosely down her back.
“Grace?”
She doesn’t even stir, but I know she hears me. I cross the room, wanting to take her into my arms but holding myself back. If she’s going to eviscerate me, I’d rather not be touching her while she does it.
“What are you doing in here?” I continue when she doesn’t so much as acknowledge me. Her eyes are lost, unfocused, and for a beat, a different surge of panic hits me, jacking my heart rate up. “Sweetheart, can you respond? Are you having a seizure?”
Honestly, I have no idea if she is able to respond when she’s having a FAS. I know she explained to me that she’s completely conscious during them, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s able to tell me what’s happening either.
I reach out, going to touch her face when she shifts to me, her eyes falling to my bare chest. She holds there for a beat and then meeting my eyes whispers, “Carter, I’m pregnant.”
It takes me entirely five seconds longer than it should to comprehend the meaning of those words. And even when I think I understand them, I don’t. She couldn’t have said what I think she just said.
“What?” That’s how brilliant I am. “You said…”
“Yes.”
“No. You said you’re—”
“Pregnant. Yes.”
Tremors overtake my limbs, and suddenly I need to sit down. Only there is no furniture in this room. Nothing. My heartbeats turn hysterical and my hand flies out, clutching the window frame.
“How?” Another winner.
Blue eyes still locked on mine immediately grow glassy with tears. One. Two. Three. They start coming. My mind is yelling at me to do something. To grab her. To hold her. To kiss her. To wipe away her pain and promise her the world. But I can’t turn those thoughts into action.
All I can do is stare at her, utterly mystified.
“Are you sure?”
She shakes her head. “I got dizzy yesterday and I didn’t want to tell you about it.”
“You got dizzy? Why wouldn’t you want me to know?”
“Carter. You have to stop throwing my words back at me in the form of a question and let me talk or I’ll never be able to get this out.”
“Fine. You’re right. Talk.”
“I got dizzy, and I was worried something was going on. I don’t typically get dizzy. Not even before a seizure. I texted Margot and we did some tests, and did you know they gave me Dilantin when I was seizing?”
I blink at her like I’m staring into the sun. It’s like she’s speaking to me in Urdu and I’m using Google to translate. Nothing right now is making sense to me and I’m still five seconds behind before I can catch up.
I press my hand deeper into the window frame, praying it holds up upright when I feel like I’m about to pass out.
“Dilantin? Um. I don’t know. I mean, maybe I remember hearing them say something about that, but…” Realization smashes into me with the force of a sledgehammer. “You’re on Depo. They gave you Dilantin.”
And I didn’t think about it because why the fuck would I think about it? Grace was having a seizure and my heart was splintering inside my chest watching it happen. I didn’t care what they gave her as long as they made it stop.
Fury pounds through me. I should have known. I should have thought about it. Anticonvulsants interfere with birth control. That’s second year of med school. That’s my job. To know what to prescribe to my patients and what to warn them about taking.
That’s why she was watching Juno when I came home.
That’s why she was eating the entire kitchen’s worth of food.
That’s why she was crying and that’s why I woke up alone.
I don’t know how to respond to this. As a doctor, we learn to temper our reactions when informing someone they’re pregnant. That news is not always a happy one and I can’t tell where she lands with it.
I feel like I let her down. “I let you down.”
“No. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault. It was a mistake. We both made a mistake.”
A mistake.
No.
Pain flares in my chest and my thoughts stutter to a halt. A mistake? Fuck that. Nothing we create could ever be a mistake.
“We should have caught the Dilantin and we didn’t,” she continues, and I blow out a relieved breath. That’s what she meant was a mistake. Not catching the Dilantin. Not the baby. Right?
It suddenly hits me that I’m elated.
Grace is pregnant with my baby. Unexpected as hell? Absolutely. A little scary? No doubt. But I love her, and I want her, and the idea of her growing something we made together inside of her is just…
“Did you do an ultrasound?”
She falls exhaustedly against the window. “Just blood work. So, you know, that might come out differently than the sticks. Those aren’t always accurate. Especially with the medications I take.”
It’s insane. This feeling in my chest right now. It’s insane.
“But it could be,” I say, taking a step because I have to be closer. I have to touch her, and I do, taking her hand in mine and knotting our fingers together. “It could come back showing we’re having a baby.”
A tear hits her cheek, and she licks her lips.
“I think it will.” Her watery gaze meets mine, but in a flash, her expression grows resolute before my eyes.
“I don’t want you to think that I expect anything from you.
I’m prepared to do whatever I have to do, but I’m not trying to trap you or force you into anything you don’t want or aren’t ready for.
Just because I’m likely pregnant doesn’t mean that you have to be involved or we have to be involved or—”
“I’m going to assume you’re saying this bullshit because you’re still processing this,” I interrupt, irritated that she’s even doing it in the first place.
“You don’t have to try to let me off the hook.
I am the father of this baby. That means I’m as involved as a father can be.
End of story. As for the you and I being involved, well, I think I’ve made it pretty damn clear that’s what I want.
What I’ve wanted all along, regardless of you carrying our child. ”
She blows out a breath, her features crumpling. She nods, mumbling, “How can you say it like that? So casually?”
I laugh. “Shock, maybe? I don’t know. But I’m not freaking out about this the way maybe I should be. I was more upset over thinking you believed the baby was a mistake.”
“Mistake? No. Unplanned? Most definitely.”
“Not all surprises are bad. Maybe because it’s you and it’s me and it’s us.”
“Carter, I’ve completely dismantled your world since I stepped foot inside this condo.”
“No truer words have ever been spoken.” And I wouldn’t change any of it.
“But that’s what I mean. I don’t want you to do this with me out of—”
I shut her up with a kiss. First on her lips then on her neck because it’s right here and it smells good.
Her pulse is thrumming a mile a minute. “Be quiet. Stop arguing with me. Turn off that crazy brain of yours that has a penchant for overthinking and sending your thoughts in the wrong direction.”
A tired laugh escapes her lips. “It’s a chronic problem with me.”
“I know. So listen and listen close. I want to be part of this with you. I will tell you that every damn day until you believe me, but it’s true.”
Her forehead meets my chest and I clutch the back of her head, holding her to me. My lips meet the top of her head, resting there.
“I want that too,” she whispers, sighs. “Okay. After the blood work comes back, I need to make an appointment with my neurologist. Find a doctor or midwife. Christ, there is so much to think about. So much to consider.”
“Do we have a lot to figure out? Yes. Are we going to do that together? Also yes. I want you to have an ultrasound. I want to see what your blood work shows. I want you to start taking prenatal vitamins and—”
“And you are not my doctor or this baby’s,” she smarts, righting herself, arching an eyebrow at me like she’s not about to take any of my shit. Only she’s too fucking stubborn to listen. She already hid her dizziness from me, what else will she hide in the coming months?
“No, but I am your attending. Once we know for sure you’re pregnant and things are going the way they should, we’re going to have to discuss your schedule. You’ll likely have to cut back some hours or some surgeries so that we know you’re taking care of yourself the way you should.”
With that, she shoves at my chest, forcing me back a step.
“Don’t you dare fuck with my career, Carter Fritz.
I have worked too hard for too long to allow you to do that.
You’ve already cut me back after the seizure, pushed me onto another attending while you took on Janet as your number fucking one.
I know you’ll only try harder to push me out now that I’m pregnant.
Do you have any idea what that could do to me?
To my career? How weak and inferior that will make me look?
Do you not have a clue how much I love what I do? ”
I can only stare at her, eyes squinting.
My silence incenses her further. “If you so much as attempt it, I will fight back with everything I am to the highest authority possible. I am a resident with two years left in my residency. It’s the most crucial part of my education.
Being pregnant and having a baby will not detract from that. I won’t let you do it.”
And then she’s gone. Flying out of the room and out of the apartment with a slam of the front door. Shit. I seriously fucked up.