Chapter 23 Jada
I went down the elevator, getting that nauseous feeling again. When I stepped out, I moved out of the path of people so I could take shallow breaths until my stomach quit tossing. That French toast was a mistake—something I never expected myself to think.
But instead of going to work, I found Rei. Her fine hair fell out of her ponytail while she sprayed pungent disinfectant on a water fountain. The glowing number of “bottles saved” blurred in my vision. “Want to see if it’s Bryce?” I asked her, feeling like a mad woman.
Understanding widened her eyes. “You got his handwriting?”
I nodded. “You have the sticky note, right?”
“Follow me.”
She led me to a janitorial closet the size of my bedroom and shut the door behind us, leaving us in the flickering artificial light of a lone, uncovered bulb.
A sharp stabbing feeling pricked at my temples, but I reached into my purse for my notebook and flipped to the page where Bryce had written his number.
Somewhere in a dark corner of my mind, I wondered why I cared whether the secret admirer was Bryce or not.
I guess I had to know if all our interactions were a complete sham or just most of them.
Rei produced a note from a shelf of cleaning supplies, and asked for my note. Once I passed it over, she held them both in the light, squinting between the two to determine the differences... or similarities.
“It’s...” Time seemed to suspend as I waited for the rest of her sentence. “It’s not him,” she said, seeming genuinely confused. “I really thought it was him.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I silently took my notebook back.
There was no sense of relief that followed, because I didn’t know how long the marriage plot had been in place.
Did Bryce only stop construction during naptime as a ploy to get a chance at his proposal?
Or was it a genuine act of care for the children?
I hated this situation, especially because for the first time since my parents’ passing, I was actually considering a real relationship, until Bryce went and ruined it with an outlandish proposal.
“Are you okay?” Rei asked, studying me.
My lips quirked to the side. “It sounds stupid, but I thought I was going to have this Cinderella story with Bryce. You know, regular girl marries Prince Charming.” I shook my head. If life had taught me anything, it was that fairy tales don’t last–if they were real at all.
“But this is good news,” Rei said. “It wasn’t him! You can keep dating him and see where it goes.”
Tears stung my eyes, and I quickly blinked to stem the flood of emotion. “Something else happened this morning, and I’m just not sure he’s interested in me for the right reasons.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Did he do something to you? I’ll dump bleach in his chair and ruin one of his suits. I’ll start cleaning the whole building with that grapefruit solution he hates. I’ll—”
I wrapped my friend in a hug, grateful for her. “Thanks for being there for me.”
She hugged me back. “Always.”
Breathing a heavy sigh, I said, “I should let you get back to work.”
“You sure? We can grab coffee or something if you need to cool down.”
I could tell she was worried about me, but sitting with me longer probably wouldn’t help. I didn’t feel like reliving the events of this morning, even before that crazy proposal. And despite it all, Bryce had asked me to keep the conversation between us. It didn’t feel right to share.
“I think I’m going to head home,” I finally said. “I’m not feeling so well.”
Rei nodded slowly. “Text me when you get there so I won’t worry about you all day.”
“Sure.”
We left the janitorial closet just as Dominic walked by, tying his apron behind his back. At the sight of us spilling from the closet, his lips formed a salacious grin. “A little morning tryst, ladies? I’m right on time to join you.”
Rei rolled her eyes. “Get out of here, Dom.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “Not today. I get it. But there’s always tomorrow.” He winked at us.
If I were in a better mood, I would have laughed. Instead, I watched him saunter away while Rei grumbled something about overconfident men, and then we said goodbye.
On the bus ride home, I tried to make sense of Bryce’s crazy request. But with all the bumps in the road and the stops and starts, my stomach was churning again, making any coherent thought impossible.
By the time the bus rumbled up to the stop closest to Glamma’s house, I was ready to be off of there.
Hanging on to the rail, I went down the bus steps and sat on the blissfully empty green bench, taking deep breaths of still-warm air. Fall in Dallas never felt right until later in October or November.
When my stomach finally settled again, I stood up, walking toward Glamma’s house. In the middle of the day, the sidewalks were empty, no one walking about or even sitting on their front porch. So when my cell phone rang, I jumped.
Feeling silly at my strong reaction, I reached in my purse for the device and checked the call. It was a local number, so I answered.
“Hello, this is Jada,” I said, forcing a smile onto my lips so I’d sound pleasant.
“Jada, it’s Dr. Martins,” the older man said.
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting a call so soon, but with Bryce’s money and influence, I shouldn’t be surprised.
“Was everything okay with my blood test?” Even though it was probably nothing, it could be something.
Ovarian cancer was more common in women with endometriosis, and it was a constant fear hanging over my head.
“Let’s go through it,” he said. “I ran several panels. Your blood glucose and insulin were elevated, but it wasn’t a fasted test, so that’s to be expected.
Your blood cell counts all looked in line.
Your liver enzymes are slightly elevated, which could contribute to nausea, but there is something else. ”
My stomach clenched, not with nausea but with dread. “What is it?”
“I know you said you have endometriosis, but I added a pregnancy test in just in case... and it was positive.”
I stopped on the sidewalk under the shade of a big oak tree. The wind that passed by wasn’t cold, but I shivered all the same. “Was it a false positive?”
“It could be, but that’s very rare.”
“So is getting pregnant unplanned with endometriosis and a birth control shot,” I retorted, refusing to believe I was pregnant. With a baby.
“Birth control isn’t always one hundred percent,” he countered. “The next step is to confirm a pregnancy with an ultrasound and see how far along you are.”
An ultrasound. That sounded expensive. “I don’t have insurance,” I said.
Suddenly, stalling on my insurance search because I couldn’t find an affordable option seemed very, very stupid.
My throat felt tight, and my vision tunneled.
I couldn’t be a mom. I couldn’t even take care of myself.
I was living in my grandma’s spare bedroom.
There wasn’t even space for a crib in there.
Dr. Martins’s voice was kind as he said, “I have an OB friend who does sliding-scale fees. Do you have a pen and paper? I’ll give you their number.”
Blinking quickly to clear my vision, I dug into my purse for my pocket notebook. It was flipped open to the page where Bryce had written his phone number.
“I’m ready,” I whispered, feeling small for the first time in my life.
He spoke slowly and carefully so I could hear him. My hand shook on the pen, forming shaky strokes until the full name and number was on the page.
“Hang in there, Jada,” he said. “I know you’ll make the right next steps for you.”
Once he hung up, I lowered my phone to my side, numbness washing over me. Something was seriously wrong with me. Something bad enough to give me a false positive... or a child to come that would rely on me for decades.
I curled my hand over my stomach. My waist had never been small, but now I knew there was something under my skin besides an extra layer of fat.
Shame washed over me. I couldn’t even know who the father was without knowing how far along I was. There was no father to call. No one to tell.
Except for Glamma.
My stomach sank. What would she think of me being a single mom?
All her prayers involved a husband first. I couldn’t blame her.
The rare occasions I allowed myself to dream of a family, a baby always came with a husband and a home with a nursery I could decorate just for my child.
There would be a gender reveal and baby showers.
An obnoxious amount of baby clothes shopping with Glamma.
Not a surprise positive and paternity tests and custody schedules—if I could find the father at all.
A heavy ache formed in my chest as I stood there under the rustling oak tree and tapped out the number Dr. Martins gave me. Within a few rings, a receptionist answered. “Hi, you’ve reached the New Hope Clinic. How can I help you?”
I swayed, feeling faint, and then leaned up against the tree. Lowering my voice, I said, “I had a positive pregnancy test, and Dr. Martins referred me to this clinic for a follow-up.”
After years of navigating the medical system for my grandpa’s oncological care, I hadn’t expected things to happen so fast. But here I was with an early morning appointment for the next day, thanks to a last-minute cancellation.
The receptionist said it like that was great news, but as I walked the rest of the way home, I couldn’t help fearing the answers I got tomorrow morning would change my life forever.
“You’re leaving early,” Glamma commented, glancing up at me as she took a sip of her coffee. She always sat at the table in the morning, reading her fashion magazines.
“I have a doctor’s appointment,” I told her. The amount of times I’d practiced this conversation was concerning, especially at my age. But she was my last living family member—I cared what she thought. Deeply.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Just getting a checkup. It’s been a little while.”