18. Chloe
Chapter 18
Chloe
N ope. This could not be happening. I took a deep breath and tore open another test.
I’d sent Karl to the pharmacy because I was too shaky to drive. I should be at work right now, but I’d told the staff that I was working from home.
That was a lie. Work was the last thing on my mind. What on earth was happening? Everything hurt, I was exhausted, and my period was officially late.
And not the I ’ m forty and things are getting less regular late either. This was the I ’ m almost a full month late kind of late. I’d chalked it up to the stress of moving and taking over Hebert Timber. Not to mention how little sleep I’d been getting. But when my boobs started to hurt and I felt barfy, I knew something was up.
“You okay in there, boss?” Karl called from the other side of the door.
I opened my mouth to speak but snapped it shut again before I could burst into tears. Fuck, I was so hormonal.
“Yup,” I finally spit out. How the hell could I explain this one to Karl? Or anyone, for that matter?
I peed again and waited for the lines to appear.
Pregnant? At my age?
This couldn’t be happening. Accidental pregnancy was for the youngins, not old ladies like me. My friends had used advanced science, acupuncture, and special vitamins to get pregnant.
And here I was, knocked up after a wild night with my ex-husband.
God, what was I going to do?
Slumped against the wall of the bathroom, I took in the space. It was large and lovely and had the most beautiful tub right under a window overlooking the lake. When was the last time I’d taken a bath? For that matter, when was the last time I’d taken a deep breath?
Pregnant.
I’d thought about having a child many times over the years. Especially recently. I’d begun to feel uneasy about my future and had considered going to a sperm bank, thawing out the eggs I’d had frozen for my thirty-fifth birthday, and just going for it.
Lots of women chose to raise children on their own. And I had the means and the motivation.
But I’d always been too unsure of myself. Too concerned that I wouldn’t have what it took to be a good mother. Now, here I was, forty, in the woods of Maine, and accidentally pregnant by a man I’d vowed to hate for the rest of my life.
With a deep breath in, I picked my phone up off the counter and called Celine. It was in moments like this that I ached for my mother. For her kind words and the safety of her hugs. She’d know what to say and what to do, and she’d help me resolve all the ugly, complicated feelings.
The ache never stopped. It never lessened. I had just gotten better at living with it. Giving it the right amount of room inside my heart and my mind to allow me to get through the days.
Thirty minutes later, tires crunched in the driveway and joyful voices echoed downstairs.
I couldn’t move. My ass had been glued to the dove-gray tile of my bathroom. The excited squeals from the kids migrated to the backyard, along with Karl’s deep voice as he promised them popsicles and sandcastle building.
A moment later, there was a knock on the bathroom door. Then Celine was there, leaning against the frame, wearing a concerned frown. “Why the SOS call with no explanation? I’ve been so worried.”
Guilt hit me hard. I was sitting here on the floor, stewing in the consequences of my choices, and she was probably freaking out that I was sick or hurt.
“I’m sorry,” I said, bursting into tears.
She immediately sat next to me and pulled me into her arms. “I love you, Chloe. You can tell me anything. We can get through it together.”
I pointed to the trash can, where several boxes and used pregnancy tests were piled up.
“Oh shit,” Celine said. Pulling me closer. “Shh,” she soothed. “Get it out. It’s okay to be overwhelmed and emotional. I’m here and I’ve got you.”
For several minutes, I let the tears flow, soaking through her T-shirt and relishing the comforting way she stroked my hair. I’d missed her so much. I’d let time and distance and her shitty husband get between us, and I hated myself for it. She was the best person I knew.
“Tell me how this happened,” she said quietly.
I pulled back and looked at her, unable to form the words. Would she judge me? I was judging myself, that was for damn sure.
She raised one brow, and her lips kicked up on one side. “Gus?”
I nodded, ducking my head.
“I knew it!” She pumped her fist. “The way he looked at you? That lumberjack longing? I called this.”
When I glowered at her, she schooled her expression and pulled me in for another hug.
“Are you—”
“Yes. I’m keeping it.” There was no question. “All options are valid, but I want this. I know I don’t seem happy, but that’s mostly because I’m in shock and trying to figure out how the fuck I’m going to handle all this. But I promise you, this is a good thing.”
“Okay, then we celebrate.” That hint of a smile on her face grew into a full-fledged grin. “Because babies are amazing, and hey, you got laid!”
“Shut up,” I growled.
“Oh no, absolutely not.” She shook her head at me. “You owe me details. Where? When? What positions?”
My heart lurched. I didn’t want to think of that night. “Stop.”
“I’m your sister,” she urged, “and I haven’t had sex in years.”
I ignored that comment. I’d tried to talk to her about her marriage so many times, but she’d always been cagey with details.
“I went to his house. Last month, after the FBI meeting.”
“And…?”
“At first, we just had wine and cheese and chatted. But then we started yelling at each other.”
She pumped a fist again. “Sweet. Hate sex is my fave. So it was just one time?”
“Actually,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut, “it was three. No, wait, maybe four?”
She elbowed me hard. “Are you shitting me? You had an all-night fuck-a-thon with your ex-husband and didn’t tell me?” Her expression was one of pure disappointment. “You have broken the cardinal law of sisterhood.”
I buried my face in my hands. This was simultaneously a dream and a nightmare. I’d always wanted to be a mother. And while an accidental pregnancy was not ideal, at my age, I couldn’t be choosy.
But the circumstances?
Gus?
Maine?
All the baggage?
“Why couldn’t I just get pregnant from some random one-night stand?” I moaned.
“You want that? A rando’s child? Come on, Chloe.”
“I’m not rational right now.”
“That’s clear, sweetie. But you’ve got to get yourself together and make a plan.”
I huffed, wiping under my eyes. I could only imagine how badly my mascara had run. “Easy for you to say. You’ve done this three times.”
“Yes. And every time, it’s hard and scary and beautiful and more than a little gross. But you’ve got this. Things will work out.”
“I don’t want him to be part of my life forever.”
Celine pinned me with her mom glare, and I felt instantly ashamed.
“Chloe, your entire focus from now on is the well-being of this child,” she said calmly. “And you have roughly nine months to work through whatever has gone down between the two of you. But you will do it. Because this child needs a father.”
Her tone was uncharacteristically firm. Clearly, I’d struck a nerve.
“Are you okay?” I asked. It was a stupid question, but I wasn’t sure how else to bring this up.
“My kids are thriving,” she said, firm, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s all that matters.”
“I’m here for you,” I said. “If you want.”
She held up a hand. “Thank you. But I really can’t talk about my marriage right now. Especially sitting on your bathroom floor, surrounded by used pregnancy tests.”
I wanted to say more. To tell her that I’d support her no matter what. To tell her there was no reason to stay in a loveless marriage with someone who made her feel small. But it wasn’t my battle to fight, and until she told me in her own words, there wasn’t anything I could do.
“And while I’m not going to get into my personal life at the moment, just know there are worse things than an involved, responsible, present father.”
That hurt. And it hurt even more thinking that my nieces and nephew may not have that in their lives.
And while, on paper, Gus may seem like a stand-up guy, I knew better.
“But what if he leaves? What if he decides this isn’t for him?” I said, letting the old hurt rise to the surface.
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself,” she said, smoothing my hair. “Let’s focus on what’s critical here. Mainly the question of why you had a condomless sex-a-thon with your ex, whom you claim to hate and for whom you devised an elaborate revenge forestry scheme.”
“It was hate sex. Nothing more,” I corrected.
“Nah.” She shook her head. “It’s only hate sex if you do it once. If you do it multiple times, then deep down, you like each other. It’s canon.”
My stomach twisted, the reaction bringing with it a wave of nausea. “You act like you’re an authority on the subject.”
“Eh.” She shrugged. “Enemies to lovers is an elite trope. I’m a connoisseur.”
“You are not helping right now. This isn’t one of your spicy books.”
Celine got up and held out a hand to me. “Get up. We’re celebrating.”
With a sniffle, I took it and let her pull me to my feet. “This is a mess.”
“News flash, having a child is the messiest thing, physically and emotionally, you will ever do. Get used to it.”
She led me downstairs and into the kitchen, where she leaned out the sliding door to wave to her kids, who were currently burying Karl in the sand. The beach area was tiny, but the kids loved it, and they would likely be busy for a while.
Celine opened the fridge and started pulling things out. “Sit down,” she ordered. “I’m going to feed you. The first rule of pregnancy is hunger makes you insane and irrational, so you gotta eat.”
When I made no move to sit, she waved a hand at me.
“Stop making that face. And stop overthinking and obsessing. This is unexpected. But it’s also fucking great.”
“Yes,” I said with a slow nod.
“So let’s skip the angst and be happy. There’s a baby in there.” She pointed at my stomach with a spatula. “And you’re going to be an incredible mother.”
“But—”
“Nope,” she bit out, cutting me off. “Not having it. There’s a reason you came back here, and there’s a reason you bought this house. Don’t you see it? This was meant to be.”
“Hardly,” I huffed, my stomach dipping. “What am I going to do? I live in Seattle, and my work takes me around the world. Now I’ve got an unreliable baby daddy in the mix.”
“Unreliable? I think you’re wrong there. He’s responsible and well-respected. And he’s probably grown up a lot in the past twenty years.”
I scoffed. God, why couldn’t Celine just hate the man like I did? Her optimism was tiresome.
“I suspect he might be one of the good ones. Plus, you won’t be complaining when the morning sickness passes.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the second trimester, you’re gonna get super horny. You won’t be complaining about him being around then. You’ll more likely be dry-humping that lumberjack’s leg like a feral dog.”
“Ugh, stop. I can’t sleep with him ever again. This situation needs clear boundaries.”
Celine laughed as she scrambled eggs in a pan.
“You could also just stay here,” she said.
“In Maine?” That was an insane suggestion.
“You own a whole-ass forest. And a lakefront mansion. And a timber company. Somehow, I think you could make it work.”
My stomach churned at the sheer number of issues I’d have to figure out.
“Stop it,” she said, sliding a plate of eggs in front of me. “You’re obsessing again.”
With a roll of my eyes, I picked up my fork. She was right; hunger made the nausea worse. I had so much to learn, not just about pregnancy and babies, but about how to raise a child and protect them from the kind of heartbreak I’d experienced.
Celine refused to let me work for the rest of the day. Instead, she stayed and kept me company. After she made lunch, we sat on the patio. She showed me how to calculate my due date online and suggested insane baby names while we watched the kids play and laugh in the sunlight.
I rested my hand on my still flat stomach. The love I could feel for this tiny person was already activating every protective instinct in me.
With those instincts came a wave of guilt. I’d let things get messy. Not only had I had unprotected sex with my employee- slash-ex-husband, but I’d enjoyed the time I’d spent with him recently.
I’d been letting him creep back into my life, with his grumpy charm and his kind actions.
It was exactly what I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let happen. I swore I’d keep things clean and professional.
Yet here I was, pregnant with the man’s child, making a messy situation even more difficult to navigate. Because I would never, ever let him hurt my child the way he hurt me.
I’d trusted him with my heart once, and I knew better than to trust him again. What if he chose his career over this baby? Or something equally meaningless?
What if he tossed this child aside for something better?
If he let this perfect little person down, then I would actually have to murder him. Just the thought brought all my sadness, anger, and rage back to the surface.
The emotions that had swamped me the day I stepped onto that plane, knowing he was letting me leave, came straight back. The lonely months that turned into years as I carried on, knowing that, despite his promises, he’d never loved me the way I’d loved him.
The pain of losing everyone I loved and my home, being tossed out into the world with no support, had me clenching my fists. I could do this. I would do this.
I would love and cherish this little miracle. And while I’d allow Gus to be a part of his child’s life, I’d be drawing some very firm boundaries and making sure both of our hearts stayed protected forever.