Chapter 8
Eva
My phone pinged while I returned from work.
I noticed the push notification from the medical app.
Heart beating in my throat, I opened it and clicked on the link.
I knew what beta results should be. For someone who was five weeks along, my hCG levels looked good.
If they doubled in two days, I’d know my pregnancy was viable for now.
Concern grew as I didn’t have symptoms—no back pain, no breast tenderness, no nausea.
With previous pregnancies, I had all of these within two weeks of insemination.
Since symptoms usually equaled success, I prepared myself to say nothing until my eight-week scan—nothing to anyone.
I got into the old truck to drive home, feeling silly in my nice suit with my very expensive laptop bag.
Mona commissioned it from some fancy Saville Row guy when I’d gotten a director position two years ago.
She was so proud of me. I cherished the bag and that memory.
But right now, it provoked strange feelings—signaling the series of contradictions facing me.
I made it home to the smell of sloppy joes. Normally, I’d dig right into this American delicacy, but I could barely stomach being in the same room as this meal.
I made an excuse. “Uh, Daphne stuffed me full of food at lunch, you know? So, I will probably just eat leftovers, if that’s okay?”
I sensed the disappointment in my mom’s voice, but Mom nodded. “Whatever works, sweetie.”
The first unnerving symptom sent me spinning.
I changed clothes and drove around aimlessly, saying I was visiting Ellie until I pulled into the local hotdog stand.
I knew hotdogs were a no-no when pregnant.
So, I ordered the biggest bucket of crinkle fries I could get and a massive slushie.
This sounded amazing. The craving convinced me I was pregnant.
Ellie stood behind me, holding Jane’s hand, “Eva! Oh my god!”
“Hey,” I said, embarrassed to be shoving fries in my mouth alone.
“Oh, can I have a fry?” Jane chirped.
“Yes, sure,” I agreed, knowing Ellie wouldn’t care.
She wasn’t a granola mom. She didn’t judge.
“I’m picking up food for us. Are you alone?” Ellie asked, concerned.
“I’m… having a thought,” I said.
“Well, do you want to be alone, or can we join you? It’s just us tonight. I was too lazy to cook.”
“Oh, definitely, you can join me.”
“Great. Let me order her a hotdog and I will get myself something. You want anything else?”
“No, I’m good.”
“I’ll order a kids fry, too. She will eat all of yours.”
I didn’t fight her. I was endlessly hungry after missing lunch.
Ellie returned with drinks, a Chicago dog, another bucket of crinkle fries, and a hot dog with ketchup on the side. The place refused to put ketchup on the dog. That was a party foul. Thankfully, Jane was okay with her mom squeezing it on while she continued devouring my fries.
Ellie handed Jane a tablet that she carried in her purse. Like any mother to a young child, she packed snacks and entertainment.
“So, how was your first day?”
“It was good,” I said. “Eventful, but good.”
“Oh, really? Meet any hot guys? Or girls… no judgement?”
“Nope.” I could answer that very honestly.
All hotness points Davey originally garnered went out the window the minute he started in on me.
“What’s up then? Do you not like it?”
“No. It’s great. My office is lovely, the views are nice, and my bosses and direct reports are great. Also, you’d appreciate the snack and coffee sitch. And, despite all of that, there is still a massive, bougie cafe in the store next door.”
“Girl, you better blow some of that grown up money on nice shoes or something on your lunch break.”
“What? My shoes are fine!” I looked down at my Birks.
“Uh-huh. Sure. You deserve some nice things. Mona isn’t here to encourage that, so I will step in. Speaking of which, I need wedding shoes. I’ve looked everywhere, but—”
“I get a discount. Let me buy them,” I said.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ll set us up with a personal shopper. Pick a dress for your bridal shower and the rehearsal, too.”
“Oh, Eva, I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you can,” I said. “You are my best friend for life. I’d much rather spoil you than buy more shoes.”
Besides, if this pregnancy worked out, none of my clothes would fit in a couple of months, and heels would be a forever no-go. I was blessed to be early in my pregnancy where summer dresses were acceptable almost anywhere and breezy fabrics hid a growing stomach.
I wanted to forget about the pregnancy, but my mind raced.
Ellie continued her list of to-dos, but I burst out, “Can I tell you something really secret and really scary?”
“Please do not be back with Mona and leave me,” Ellie groaned.
“No, definitely not!” I laughed. “No. It’s not bad per-se, but, it’s not good.”
“What then?”
“I have… a situation… one that will abate in like thirty-five weeks.”
“Are you on a contract at this job?”
“No.”
I watched Ellie think through it.
“Oh my God. Shit! Did you get… what? How? Was it Mystery Davey?”
Not-so-mystery-Davey.
“Yeah, it was him because it couldn’t be anyone else. The thing broke. I took Plan B, but my doctor gave me a lecture about being over 150-lbs and it not working as well or something.”
“Oh, shit. Eva, I am so sorry… I mean if I should be sorry? I know this is complicated for you, babes.”
“It is, but I want to go through with it. There was no doubt. I know I shouldn’t. I will probably have to leave my job, but I can save up and take some time off and—”
“Eva, you need to tell Mystery Davey the truth.”
“Are we calling him that now?”
“What else can we call him?”
I grimaced. “Literally anything but Mystery Davey, yeah?”
“Well, whatever we call him, he will want to be there. He’d want to know.”
“I really don’t think he will. I think it’s best if I do this on my own. I can support a kid and raise it by myself.”
“It’s hard to be a single mom, Eva. Custody is hard. Figuring it out now—planning how to coparent is important.”
“I never wanted to see him again—”
“Think of it from his perspective, Eva. He will have a child out in the world. You cannot just ignore him for eighteen years. Your kid will ask questions. He doesn’t have to be in your life more than weekends—and only after the baby is old enough—but you gotta tell him.”
“What if he wants nothing to do with it? I suspect he’ll just tell me he’ll pay to terminate it. And I don’t want that,” I said. “That’s not where I’m at.”
“Then, he can be an asshole who terminates his parental rights, and you won’t put him on the birth certificate, but at least give him that chance.
Jane’s dad and I weren’t perfect, but he is a good father.
And I like having him there, okay? It took work and a lot of expensive lawyers, but you have months to figure this out.
Make him pay for your medical bills and to deal with baby shit. Have you told your parents?”
“You are the only one who knows,” I said. “And I need to keep it that way. I worry they will be angry with me.”
“Thank God your dress is stretchy. You’ll need it. You’ll be what… 16 weeks? You’ll definitely be showing.”
“Shit, I’m sorry!”
“Don’t apologize. If we need to alter it, we will. Don’t worry about that. Take care of you and this baby. You’re the maid of honor. We can buy you a completely different dress if we must. You’re allow to stand out.”
I smiled. “I am excited to stand up for you—even if I cannot get blitzed.”
“It will still be epic. And when she’s born, you can show her pictures of the day and say, ‘Look, you were in mommy’s tummy when Aunt Ellie got married.’ You’ll see.”
I grinned, tearing. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ellie.”
I closed my door every morning to avoid sharing the sound of retching with my coworkers and sat close to the bathroom on the train.
I ate dehydrated fruit because it was the only thing keeping me alive on my commute.
But at nearly seven weeks pregnant, I felt awful.
I’d taken to sleeping on the small couch in my office if I got a lunch break. Food sounded awful anyhow.
Then, one day, I just couldn’t function. I texted Ellie on the train headed to work.
ME
The meds they gave me aren’t working.
ELLIE
Call them and ask for something else.
ME
I doubt they will. They haven’t seen me.
ELLIE
If they are worth anything, they will. You always get sick.
ME
It’s not this bad usually.
ELLIE
Remind yourself that it’s a good sign.
It was increasingly difficult to do that.
My back hurt. I constantly fell asleep—something made worse by the useless medication.
It made me too drowsy to function so much that Mom worried I’d picked up a drinking habit.
I told her repeatedly I was off the sauce, which confused her more.
On top of that grief, my back was constantly killing me, and I still did barn chores to look productive.
I kept riding on days I felt well enough.
Poco hadn’t let out a buck in years and if it was good enough for Her Majesty the Queen to ride while pregnant, it was good enough for me.
I messaged my doctor’s portal and waited. By the time I made it to the office, they replied and said they would send a script to the pharmacy near my home. This, of course wouldn’t work. So, I had to call and tell them to transfer it.
I was exhausted and seasick. It was already getting close to lunch when I felt rain—rain in my office.
“Holy shit! It’s raining!” I said loudly.
But it wasn’t. A pipe exploded above my head. The dribble turned to a downright downpour by the time I grabbed my laptop and phone to thankfully spare them. By now, I was dripping wet and standing in the hallway, unsure what to say.
“Help!” I said. “I have… a downpour?”
Our Chief Influencer Officer, Chloe Markham, and her assistant entered from her office, staring confused. Daphne came around the corner. Everyone stared in horror as water poured.
“Call maintenance, Lucy,” Daphne said. “Send them to Eva’s office. Eva, I have to leave for my diabetes test in half an hour. I’ll be gone for most of the afternoon, so take my office.”
“The baby beetus,” Chloe joked. “Good luck.”
“I swear there are about five foods I can presently consume without losing it. If they take even more out of my cold, dead hands, I’ll revolt.”
Oh, joy! I worried she’d figure out why I was constantly using the bathroom, but I’d ducked her so far.
“Thanks. I will gladly take the offer.”
“Why don’t you run and get some food while they sort this out,” Chloe said. “You look rattled.”
The only thing that sounded good were the huge Swedish cinnamon buns in the cafe downstairs.
I elected to get two and save one for later in the day along with a half-caf cup of coffee.
By the time I returned, I spotted my reflection in a mirror and realized my entire blouse and bra were soaked through.
With my painful always-awake nipples there, it was dangerous.
I had a change of clothes in my gym bag for the chance I got to use the membership to the club next door that gave us three free day-passes a week.
That rarely happened, but it was a nice thought.
So, in a running skort and workout top, I’d finish my day.
Given the top was too revealing, I pulled an old hoodie on and apologized to everyone for my disastrous appearance.
My assistant sent my outfit to the dry cleaners.
Fortunately, in a sports bra top, my tits were the comfiest they’d been at work since this whole thing began.
I breathed a sigh of relief and settled in Daphne’s office with my cinnamon buns and coffee.
I ate one, then looked at the other while typing emails. All was well until a sudden urge to vomit hit. Thankfully, Daphne had her own attached bathroom—the perks of being the prez—and I rushed to vomit in peace and into a clean bowl.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “Could this day get any worse?”
Of course, anyone who ever asked received a firm yes. And that day, I got my yes.