Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.
I don’t know his name, or how to find him and tell him I’m pregnant with his child.
I don’t know anything except that I’ve been balled up in bed since I got home.
My dress still feels too tight as I sit up, pulling it off my body with a huff.
I toss it across the room, trying to ignore the knot in the back of my throat. I am so tired of crying.
I manage to fall asleep before waking up hours later, still hungry.
Before I can get up and grab some food from my kitchen, I hear my front door open. It can only be one person—only one other person has the key to my apartment.
I’m pretending to be asleep in my bed when I feel Quintin’s body weight join me, causing the mattress to dip in a way I’ve only just gotten used to. His weight has become such a comfort, I seek it out each night.
Now, it all just feels so heavy.
“I know you’re awake, baby,” he whispers, sidling up behind me before wrapping me in his arms. His hands rest on my belly, and I find it hard to accept the comfort.
For all this time, we were able to ignore that this isn’t his biological child. We pretended and played house like some lovesick kids. But today, reality stared us down, forcing us to acknowledge the truth.
I wish this was his baby, not some guy’s who doesn’t even recognize me.
Silent tears slide down my face, and it isn’t until I sniffle that he picks his head up to look at me. Silently, he brushes my tears away, pressing a kiss to the side of my face. We don’t speak for a few minutes, and when he starts to stroke my hair, I close my eyes.
“I thought I recognized him.” He’s still whispering, pressing another kiss to the back of my neck.
I wiggle out of his hold to look at him. “Wha—you know him?” Incredulity swirls in my tone, and I try to tamp down the immediate betrayal threatening to surface. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I know it’s all beginning to feel like too much.
“I was touring the apartment when I saw him leaving your place,” he murmurs. “I didn’t even know you then.” He pauses before he speaks again, his words feeling heavy and light at the same time. “Look at all we’ve managed to build since.”
I recognize his words, but the pain still cuts too deeply. Does it even matter anymore? Even if I never see him again, the shame makes it hard to accept the entirety of this situation.
“He spent one night with me. He was inside me , and he doesn’t even remember.”
Quintin didn’t sign up for this pity party, but he holds me through it anyway, stroking my bare skin, rubbing his thumbs over the baby that isn’t his.
I hold back a sob.
He’s silent for a moment, and when I move to sit up, he helps me.
“Are you… Do you plan on telling him?” His question is quiet, but I hear the emotions behind it, his voice wavering ever so slightly.
As much as this hurts me, I can only imagine what it feels like to him. The ever-steady Quintin looks at me like he doesn’t know what to do. Neither do I.
I also don’t know how to answer his question.
“How? How would I find him? Sure, maybe if I check the guest list, but I don’t even remember his name.
” My words are full of despair, full of all the pent-up frustration and anger that’s been brewing since I found out I was pregnant.
I turn my back, unable to look at him when I’m so angry with myself.
“I…uh, I have his card.”
Soft words that make my heart hit my feet.
I whip around to stare at him. “Why would you do that?” I demand.
Silence stills us, and I wonder if he’s going to answer.
“Because I’d want to know.” A quiet confession, one I don’t care to hear.
Still, I gasp as fresh tears fall. I don’t know what any of this means, don’t know what Quintin is thinking or how he’s feeling, and I’m afraid to ask. I’m afraid this is too much for him.
And now that I have him, I don’t ever want to let him go.
I’m afraid I’ve opened myself to him for nothing, that now that I’ve gotten used to his presence, to the idea of a future together, he’ll leave.
“I just want you to be happy,” he whispers. “No matter what it means for us.”
What it means for us?
Why does this feel like a chapter is closing?
“But I don’t?—”
Quintin shakes his head and holds his hands up, silencing me before he speaks.
“Don’t…make me second-guess my actions. I want to be able to look myself in the mirror.” I don’t say anything else, tears falling as the moment washes over me.
Why does this feel like an ending?
“You need to eat,” he announces on an exhale, standing.
He helps me up, and we head to the kitchen.
I watch him silently as he pulls a container of food from a brown paper bag and sets it in front of me.
Hunger claws at me as I pick up a piece of chicken and nibble on it.
He walks to my bathroom, gathering my bathrobe from where it hangs behind the door and wordlessly helps me put it on.
We don’t speak as I eat, and only when I’m finished does he start.
Quintin’s gaze holds mine, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. “Have you thought about how you want to handle this? How you want to tell him?”
I chew on my bottom lip, the weight of the decision pressing on me. “Honestly, Quintin, I don’t know. It’s complicated, and I only just learned telling him is even possible.”
His eyes search mine, his hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek. “Don’t think about my feelings.”
An impossible ask when all I’ve done these past few months is care about them.
A tear escapes, and I nod, my heart aching with the depth of his understanding. He’s far too kind, his soul far too beautiful. “But I love you.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever said it in this capacity, the first time I’ve ever meant it. Maybe it feels like a consolation prize to him, like a severance package, but it’s more of a vow to me.
I love you today. I’ll love you tomorrow.
I’ll love you no matter what.
I watch a sad smile grace his lips for just a moment before he presses them together. I try not to let it bother me when he doesn’t say it in return, opting to drop his hand instead.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card, sliding it across the counter toward me. “His information is there.”
I pick up the card, my fingers trembling slightly as I brush them over the embossed ink. The weight of the moment settles over us as I look up to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Quintin.”
Because I don’t really know what else to say now.
He offers me a small, sad smile before nodding. “Take your time, Daniela. I’ll be around.”
With a shaky sigh, I nod again, unable to find the right words to convey the mixture of gratitude and turmoil swirling within me. Quintin pushes his chair back and stands, his fingers brushing mine.
Something about the minute contact makes me yearn to weep. Why is life so fucking hard? Why is the timing so fucking disastrous? Why didn’t I meet Quintin sooner?
“I’ll give you some space to figure things out,” he says softly, his eyes holding mine for a moment before he turns and walks away, leaving me alone, just like he spent months assuring me he wouldn’t.
“Daniela Figueroa?”
The sound of my name has me snapping my attention to the nurse. She smiles at me, and I slowly stand to join her.
“How are you feeling today?” she asks when I reach her, and she holds the door open for me.
“Nervous,” is all I can muster. I take one last look at the empty waiting room, just in case.
But he’s not there.
“I’m sure you have nothing to be worried about,” she answers before opening a door for me. “The doctor will be in with the ultrasound tech.”
The nurse is about to leave when I stop her.
“Oh, if a man is in the waiting room asking for me, can you just bring him back?” My voice is quiet, unsure, but she merely nods with a smile.
I climb on top of the bed, the paper crinkling under my ever-expanding ass as I sit there, looking at my feet. The tan of my boots blurs as tears begin to form.
Why isn’t he here? He’s always here.
Maybe he thinks this isn’t his job anymore.
But I never said it wasn’t.
I never said it was either.
Two knocks on the door have me wiping my tears and sitting up straight. The doctor enters, all smiles until she glances around.
“Just you? I thought for sure Dad wouldn’t miss this,” she exclaims, walking over to wash her hands as another woman trails behind her.
“I thought so, too,” I whisper under my breath, lying back to prepare for the anatomy scan.
But I guess we’re not his responsibility anymore.
Just like that, we now pertains to only me and the baby.