Chapter 26 ~ Isabella ~
S ix weeks later
Wrong door, Isabella, wrong door.
This thought flashed through my mind as I stood in front of my apartment door, about to insert the key into the lock.
My apartment was no longer my apartment.
It was my FORMER apartment.
Several weeks had passed since the redheaded lady from the catering company had picked me up at the bus stop and her colleague had taken me to New York. A lot had happened.
I hadn't been able to pay the next installment on the bank loan, and the bank had reacted immediately: Given my dire financial situation, I wasn't granted any further extension for paying my installments. The apartment was currently being foreclosed, and I had already been forced to move out.
When I first learned of this decision, I had been sad. Angry. Desperate. Hopeless. Where would I go? But then I had seen the whole thing as an opportunity for a fresh start. What did I want with an apartment I had once bought together with a man who turned out to be an asshole? It was time for me to move on.
And suddenly, moving on wasn't so far away after all.
I turned around, walked past the elevator, and inserted the key into the lock of the door on the other side of the landing.
Hayley's apartment.
Or rather, Hayley's and my apartment.
My neighbor and friend had saved me once again. I had feared I would have to disturb my sister Joanna during her vacation. I didn't want that at all. And I also didn't want to move back in with her and her husband. I loved my sister more than anything. But she had her life, and I had mine. I wanted to stand on my own two feet, and that included getting by in a shared apartment and making ends meet with my own money instead of throwing myself into my rich sister's arms whenever something went wrong.
When Hayley heard that I had to move out, she confessed that she had been thinking about taking in a roommate for a long time. A few days later, I had moved in on the other side of the landing and sold the furniture I no longer needed. At least that way I could cover the most necessary expenses.
I unlocked the door.
"Hello Isabella!" Hayley called from the kitchen. "It's so nice to have you back. How was it?"
At this question, my mood instantly plummeted to zero and my mouth twitched suspiciously. "Oh..." I said dejectedly, hanging up my spring coat on the coat rack. "As usual." I tried not to let my frustration show. But I couldn't fool Hayley.
"I'm sorry to hear that." Hayley's comforting voice made me feel better. She came out of the kitchen and looked at me warmly. "You'll manage, Isabella."
"Yeah," I agreed without much conviction and reached for the stack of mail that was waiting on the small sideboard next to the coat rack. Three letters for me. Thin letters from various New York hotels. I knew what that meant. A thin letter was a polite, brief, meaningless rejection.
For weeks, I had been writing one job application after another. I desperately needed a new job. By now, there wasn't a single renowned hotel in New York that hadn't heard from me. I applied for open positions, I sent unsolicited applications, I called agencies.
The result was always the same.
Nothing.
I only received rejections.
"The interview just now was also... nothing." I shrugged. "They wanted to know why I was fired from Emmett's, why I still don't have a new job, and then..." I swallowed. "Then they asked me why I even need a job. They had heard that I was engaged to a well-known New York businessman." I shrugged. "No idea how they even know that."
"Oh Isabella. I can't tell you how sorry I am." Hayley came over and hugged me tightly. She patted my back and I rested my head on her shoulder. "You really deserve better. You're such a wonderful woman and can do so much. The way you're being treated is truly a shame."
"Maybe I'll have to work night shifts in one of the many cheap hotels just to get my foot in the door," I mumbled into Hayley's shoulder.
"Nonsense!" Hayley pushed me away and looked at me sternly. "You said yourself that won't get you anywhere. And you need to move forward. You WANT to move forward."
"I need money." That was the plain truth. "I haven't earned anything for far too long. Emmett didn't pay me my last salary. And Carter obviously didn't pay me the 50,000 either."
Hayley let go of me. "I'll make us some coffee. This isn't something we can discuss in two seconds."
I followed Hayley into the cozy kitchen and sat down on one of the wicker chairs. Colorful cushions with a cheerful floral pattern, matching the tablecloth and the pictures on the walls, gave the kitchen a spring-like atmosphere. Hayley loved plants and had quite a few of them. In this kitchen, I always felt a bit like I was on vacation.
"I haven't even paid you the rent yet." Better to get straight to the point and not beat around the bush.
"That doesn't matter." Hayley filled the coffee machine with ground coffee and water and turned it on. "You can still do that once you've found a job. I'm happy you're living here." As the coffee machine began to hum softly, Hayley turned to me and asked, "Why don't you call him and demand the 50,000?"
"NO!" The answer shot out of me so vehemently that I was briefly surprised at myself. "I don't want to call him," I added a bit more conciliatory. "I never want to have anything to do with him again. And I certainly don't want to beg him for money. No way. Under no circumstances."
"You're not begging if you're asking for what's rightfully yours," Hayley corrected me.
"The money isn't mine. I didn't fulfill my part of the contract. The whole thing fell through and he... he won't get the inheritance." It was still so difficult for me to say Carter's name that I preferred not to. Hayley and I knew who we were talking about anyway.
"Why are you still worrying about him? He dropped you like a hot potato!" Hayley now looked indignant. The coffee machine behind her hummed louder. "If he really meant as little to you as you claim, you'd only be concerned about yourself. But you're thinking more about him than about you. You could really use that 50,000. The money is rightfully yours, Isabella."
"I don't want it." My tone made it clear that I not only didn't want the money, but also didn't want to talk about it anymore. The 50,000 was just a reminder of a mistake I had made. Of dreams I had foolishly harbored that hadn't come true. Even if Carter had transferred it to me, I wouldn't have touched it. I would have taken every single bill, put it in an envelope, and sent it back to Carter.
You couldn't heal a broken heart with money.
"Suit yourself," Hayley said now. She turned back to the coffee machine. The warm aroma of coffee now spread through the kitchen. I closed my eyes in pleasure. And immediately opened them again in horror.
"Hayley, I..."
That was as far as I got. I stood up. My chair banged loudly against the wall and as I hurriedly ran out of the kitchen, I held my hand over my mouth. I had suddenly become nauseous. My stomach was revolting out of the blue, as if I had just eaten something bad. But the opposite was true: I had hardly eaten anything. This upset stomach had been plaguing me for a good week now. Or longer?
I yanked open the bathroom door and stumbled to the toilet as fast as I could.
And retched.
And retched.
"Isabella." Hayley gently knocked on the doorframe. "Is everything okay? Can I help you?"
"Everything's fine," I gasped exhaustedly. I was sitting on the white tiled floor in front of the toilet, leaning against the bathroom wall to my right. Tiredly, I wiped the sweat from my forehead. "It'll get better soon, I'm sure."
"It'll get better soon? It's NOT getting better, Isabella. For days now, you've been nauseous in the morning before you've even eaten anything. And now the smell of fresh coffee is making you sick, even though it's already afternoon."
"I'll go to the doctor tomorrow." Exhausted, I clung to the radiator next to me and pulled myself up. Slowly and with great effort. It was as if all the strength had drained from my body. What damn virus had I caught?
"Maybe it's just stress," I added, listening to my own words. I wanted to convince Hayley, but just as much, I wanted to convince myself. I couldn't seriously be getting sick now. I had to get my life back on track! And that certainly wouldn't happen if I was lying in bed drinking liters of herbal tea.
At the thought of tea, a new wave of nausea surged up from my stomach. I closed my eyes briefly and held onto the radiator. If I waited, it would surely pass. And without me having to throw up again.
What's wrong with you, Isabella? You were never sick before. Yes, you once broke your leg, but that's something completely different. Damn it, you traveled through India and ate everything you could find there. You drank water from everywhere and you NEVER felt this sick. What's wrong with you now?
"I can tell you what's wrong with you," Hayley grumbled then. She was still standing outside the door.
"Have you ever worked for a doctor? Or can you see the future?" I asked exhaustedly. I slowly felt my way to the sink, turned on the cold water, and scooped it onto my face with both hands. Then I rinsed out my mouth. As the sour taste on my tongue subsided a bit, I finally felt somewhat better.
"No, I've never worked for a doctor. But I have eyes in my head and I can do math."
"What do you mean?" I slowly walked to the bathroom door. Hayley was leaning against the wall opposite.
"Could you be pregnant, Isabella?" Hayley's question hit me like a bolt from the blue.
"What?" I asked weakly.
"Could you be pregnant?" Hayley repeated slowly, looking me in the eyes.
"No. No way. I'm on the pill, have been for years." I took a deep breath. Pregnant? What a ridiculous idea. Of course I wasn't pregnant. I just had some particularly nasty virus that I had caught God knows where.
"And you've never forgotten to take the pill?" Hayley persisted.
"Never. I take it every evening at 8 PM."
"Always?"
"Always," I confirmed. "If I'm at a restaurant or out somewhere, I just quickly go to the bathroom and take care of it there. It's not a problem at all."
Hayley pondered. "And was that the case at the bachelorette party too?"
"At the bachelorette party?" I turned pale. "There..." I fell silent.
"Yes?" Hayley looked at me expectantly.
"Well, I had drunk quite a lot... And... I think I didn't take the pill until the next morning. When I woke up in the hotel room."
"The next morning!" Hayley shook her head. "That's not a morning-after pill, Isabella!" She gave me a stern look.
"Do you really think those few hours... and it was just that one time..."
"Just that one time." Hayley groaned. "Once is all it takes. When was your last period?"
"I don't know. With all the stress from the apartment, the move, and the job search... I haven't really paid attention. It's been a while. They'll probably come later." I nodded emphatically. Yes. Surely that would be the case.
"Or not at all for the next few months. If you take the pill half a day late, it simply doesn't work anymore. It says so in every package insert."
"Yeah...," I mumbled. "But I... I'm surely not pregnant." Hayley came toward me and grabbed me by the shoulders.
"Isabella. You can't know that. Based on everything you've just told me, there's definitely a possibility. So I'm telling you what we're going to do now: I'm going to run to the pharmacy and buy a pregnancy test. You're going to take it. Then we'll know whether you're pregnant or not."
I didn't know what to say. The chaos in my head was greater than in my old apartment right before the move.
PREGNANT?
I couldn't be pregnant.
I DIDN'T WANT to be pregnant.
And certainly not by Carter.
By the man who had publicly humiliated me. Who had slept with his ex and then with me shortly after. Maybe that pale, nondescript woman was pregnant too.
Isabella. Stop. Don't think about him, don't think about her.
"I'm going downstairs now to get a test. You wait here." Hayley looked at me firmly.
"Yes," I replied automatically.
Was this really happening right now?
Pregnant? Me?
It couldn't, shouldn't, mustn't be.
No way.