20. Charlie
Charlie
I 'm on my third scotch at the bar, my eyes darting around the room every few seconds. Stuart's telling some story about his golf trip to Ireland, but his words float past me, disconnected syllables that don't register.
All I can think about is Tess's face when she said those words—"I think I'm pregnant"—and how I haven’t seen her since then. I know she’s with Jane. Trey said the two of them left in Jane’s car.
The scotch isn't numbing me like I hoped; instead, it's amplifying the pounding in my chest and the storm in my head.
I realize Stuart has stopped talking and I drag my eyes to his. "Did you hear anything I just said?"
"Sorry," I mutter, ice cubes clinking as I swirl what's left of my drink. "Just wondering where Tess went."
Stuart's expression shifts from annoyance to something more perceptive. "I’m sure she’ll be back soon." He pauses, studying me. "You know, for what it's worth, that whole thing at the table?—"
"I don't want to talk about it." My voice comes out sharper than intended.
Stuart raises his hands in surrender. "Fair enough. But if you need?—"
"I don't," I cut him off again, then immediately regret it. "Sorry. I'm just..."
"Freaking out?" he offers, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.
Before I can respond, I spot them—Jane and Tess, slipping back into the reception. Tess looks pale, her movements careful and deliberate, like she's walking on glass.
My stomach drops. This isn't the face of someone who made a ridiculous joke. This is the face of someone whose world just imploded.
"She’s back. I'll catch you later," I tell Stuart, already moving away.
She sees me approaching and something flickers across her face—fear? Determination? I can't quite read it. Jane whispers something in her ear before squeezing her hand and moving away, giving us space but keeping a watchful eye from a distance.
"Hey," I say, the word feeling pathetically inadequate. "You okay?"
Tess attempts a smile but fails. "Yeah. Just needed some air."
We stand there, surrounded by laughing guests and music, a pocket of silence between us. Words crowd my throat but none seem right.
"Charlie—" she begins.
"Listen—" I say at the same time.
We both stop. I gesture for her to continue, but she shakes her head.
"Not here," she says quietly.
"Right," I agree, relieved and terrified at the postponement. "Of course."
Trey appears at my elbow, champagne in hand. "The cake cutting's about to start. Jane sent me to collect you two."
I force a smile, the muscles in my face straining with the effort. "Great. Wouldn't want to miss that."
We follow Trey to where Jane stands near the cake table. The four of us cluster together as the bride and groom prepare for the traditional moment. I detect a slight tremble in Tess’s hand when she accepts a glass of water from a passing waiter.
We make small talk about how beautiful the cake looks while a bomb sits between us. The absurdity makes me want to laugh.
Lillian and Michael cut the cake, feed each other bites, and everyone applauds. I go through the motions, clapping on autopilot while my mind races ahead to the conversation waiting for us at the hotel.
As the wait staff begins distributing cake slices, I lean close to Tess. "Do you want to stay for this, or should we head out?"
Relief flashes across her face. "Can we go? I'm feeling a bit tired."
Jane hugs Tess goodbye, whispering something that makes Tess nod. Trey shakes my hand with a meaningful look that tells me Jane has filled him in.
We make our rounds quickly, offering congratulations to the newlyweds and brief goodbyes to some friends. Stuart catches my eye across the room and raises his glass in a silent toast. He’s back to flirting with the blonde bridesmaid and I’m guessing that I’ll hear about it at our next poker night.
Outside, the valet takes our ticket, and we stand in silence, waiting. Tess hugs her arms around herself, though the night isn't particularly cold.
"Are you cold?" I ask, already shrugging out of my jacket.
"No, I'm fine." Her voice is soft, distracted. "Just...thinking."
The valet pulls up with the rental, and I open the passenger door for Tess. I round the car and settle into the driver's seat. My hands grip the steering wheel too tightly as I pull away from the hotel.
For several minutes, we drive in silence. The hotel is only ten minutes from the wedding venue, but it feels like forever.
I wonder if I should say something or wait for Tess. I’m just about to speak when she finally does.
"The ceremony was nice," Tess says finally.
"Yeah," I agree, grateful for the neutral topic. “Gorgeous place too.”
"I liked how they each wrote their own vows."
We're talking about wedding vows while potentially life-altering news hangs between us. I want to laugh or yell or pull the car over and demand answers, but instead I nod and murmur agreement.
Our hotel appears ahead, its facade lit up against the night sky. I hand the keys to another valet and we walk through the lobby, maintaining a careful distance from each other, as if one touch might trigger the conversation we're both dreading.
The elevator ride to our floor is silent. I watch our reflections in the polished doors—Tess, still beautiful in her blue dress but with shadows under her eyes I didn't notice before; me, mostly composed but with a wild look in my eyes I can't hide.
Our room door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly there's nowhere else to go, no more delays. Tess sets her purse down on the dresser with deliberate care, then turns to face me, her expression a complex mixture of fear and resolution.
"Charlie," she begins, and I already know what she’s going to say.
"I'm pregnant." The words hang in the air between us.
I feel the room tilt slightly, like the floor has decided to rearrange itself beneath my feet.
My mind floods with a rapid-fire succession of images: tiny feet, sleepless nights, endless diapers.
I want to speak, but my throat closes, trapping whatever inadequate response I might have offered.
Tess takes my silence for shock—which it is—and continues. "I took a test. Actually, two tests. Both positive." Her fingers twist together, betraying her nerves despite her steady voice. "I'm about five weeks along, I think."
"You're pregnant," I repeat, the words strange in my mouth. My hands feel disconnected from my body, tingling with pins and needles. "With my baby."
God, what a stupid thing to say. Of course it's mine. Tess's expression flickers between confusion and exasperation.
"Yes, Charlie. Your baby." She moves to sit on the edge of the bed, her dress pooling around her. "I know this isn't what either of us planned. It's definitely not what I planned."
Something in her voice—a slight tremor, a vulnerability—snaps me out of my selfish spiral. I cross the room and sit beside her, putting my hand on her thigh.
"Are you okay?" I ask, the question completely inadequate.
She laughs. "I don't know. I'm terrified.
Surprised. Definitely in shock." Her hand moves unconsciously to her stomach.
"I’m usually so careful, Charlie. I've been on birth control for years, but I.
..I missed a couple of pills. With all the back and forth between our places, I got out of my routine. "
"Tess," I say, reaching for her hand, "this isn't your fault."
"It's not anyone's fault," she says quickly. "It just...happened."
I nod, trying to organize my thoughts into something coherent. I stand and move to the window, pushing aside the curtain and trying to come up with the right words.
"I know this is a lot," Tess says, her voice small.
A lot. The understatement of the century.
I'm terrified. I'm not father material. I never had a good example—my own father's idea of parenting was checking grades and making sure I didn't disgrace the family name.
I've barely figured out how to take care of myself, let alone a child. And Tess and I—we're still so new. There’s still so much we don’t know about each other.
But I can't say any of that. Not when Tess is sitting there looking so vulnerable, when she's the one whose body will change, whose career might suffer, whose life will alter more dramatically than mine.
"I'm surprised," I say carefully, turning back to face her. "But not upset. We'll figure this out, Tess."
Relief softens her features. "Really?"
"Absolutely," I confirm, with more confidence than I feel. I move back to sit beside her, taking her hand in mine. "Have you thought about... what you want to do?"
Her free hand rests protectively over her stomach. "I know the timing is terrible, but I want this baby." She looks up at me, eyes searching mine. "How do you feel about that?"
How do I feel? How can I answer that honestly? I can’t imagine how this is going to go. But right now, looking at Tess, all I can think is that I don't want to lose her. And if accepting this baby is part of having her in my life...
"If you want this baby, then I want it too," I say, squeezing her hand.
The lie sits uncomfortably on my tongue, but it's not entirely a lie. Part of me—a small, terrified part—is curious about this life we've created, about what our child will be like, how it will feel to be a dad. I’m just overwhelmed by the fear, the doubt, the knowledge of my own inadequacies.
"I'm scared, Charlie," Tess admits, leaning into me slightly. “I don't know the first thing about being a mother."
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Hey, at least we're both equally clueless. We can figure it out together." The warmth of her against my side grounds me, gives me something to focus on beyond my own panic.
I feel her nod her head against my chest.
"I'm here, Tess. I promise." I press a kiss to her temple, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. "We're going to need to make doctor's appointments, right?”