Chapter 13
Unconditional
? Sweetest Devotion - Adele
Angelina
Three weeks later
I usually love days off when I can lounge around the house in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and underwear. No bra, obviously. I’m convinced they were created by the devil himself.
Today’s not just any day off, though. I have an appointment with my OBGYN for my annual checkup. I’ve been dreading it ever since the reminder popped up on my phone last week.
At my last visit, I talked about planning a wedding and trying for a baby. Now I’m married to another man and not even getting laid, let alone pregnant.
After a quick shower, I throw on a pair of leggings, a tank top, and, begrudgingly, a bra, then I put my hair in a messy bun. It’s all the glam I can muster with how tired I’ve been.
Between work and spending extra time at the ranch with Sadie, I’ve been more exhausted than usual.
Sadie’s adjusting well to her new home, but she seems to only want to eat when I’m around.
So, I visit twice a day to make sure she’s getting the nutrition she needs.
I’ve taken to eating two meals a day with a horse, but I don’t mind.
She’s not the worst company. Sometimes, Griffin joins us, but those days are few and far between. He has a lot going on, too.
Our shotgun wedding has become an elusive thing.
He tried to bring it up a few times, but I shut him down, and eventually, he stopped trying.
I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with such a serious conversation, one that deserves my full attention.
My focus has been on work and piecing myself back together as best I can. Everything else will have to wait.
Griffin is a flirt, of course—I don’t think he can help it. More than once, I’ve left the ranch only to come home and spend some one-on-one time with my vibrator.
I grab the keys off the hook near the door and head out to my van. It’s early morning still, so the drive to the doctor’s office is peaceful. I’m the only person in the waiting room when I check in, and it doesn’t take long before a nurse with a clipboard calls my name.
It’s a routine appointment: weight check, blood pressure check. Then she hands me a plastic cup with a lid. After I finish giving my sample, the nurse shows me to a room and hands me a paper gown.
“The doctor will be in shortly.”
“Thanks.”
When the door closes, I do the customary thing all women do—tuck my panties under my folded clothes and sit my bare ass on the cold, crinkly paper. It feels like a humiliation ritual every time.
By the time the doctor arrives, my toes are frozen, and I’m silently cursing the air conditioning. My nipples could cut glass. Would it kill them to turn the heat up a bit? I’m not a polar bear.
“Good morning, Angie. How are you feeling?” Doctor Patel flips through the pages on her clipboard. The question catches me off guard. I’m just here for my annual checkup, but now that she mentions it, I have been feeling off for the last few days.
“I’m a little tired, and my boobs are sore.”
“When was your last period? At your last visit, you mentioned they’d been a bit irregular since you came off your birth control.”
I stare at the abstract art on the wall as I do some mental calculations. “About six or so weeks ago. It was before the wedding, but it was very light.”
She flips the page back and forth, then she sets the clipboard down on the table. “Congratulations.”
I glance down at the gold and diamond wedding band encircling my ring finger. I can’t tell her the real story, so I pretend my life isn’t a mess. “Thanks. It was just a quick ceremony in Vegas. You know what they say… what happens in Vegas.” I laugh, but it’s forced.
Doctor Patel’s brow furrows as she studies my face. “What? Oh. No, not that. You’re pregnant.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”
She cracks a rare smile. “You’re pregnant. If the calculations are correct, I’d say you had a very successful wedding night, but we’ll have to do an ultrasound and take some measurements to be sure.”
My wedding night.
My wedding night to Griffin.
My wedding night involved a large box of magnum-sized condoms for Griffin’s magnum-sized dick.
A lot of that night is hazy, but that part, I’m sure of. I saw the discarded wrappers when I packed up the honeymoon suite.
Could it be Tyler’s baby?
“Is it possible I was pregnant before the wedding?” I ask.
“There’s a chance. We won’t know for sure until we get some measurements. I’ll finish up your exam, and we’ll get you scheduled for an ultrasound. One of our techs is on maternity leave, so we’re a little backed up, but we can probably get you in sometime next week.”
My throat tightens as reality holds me in a vise-like grip.
I’m pregnant.
This is everything I’ve been dreaming of, only it’s not. I don’t have a partner. I don’t even know for sure who the father is. Do I want to be a single mom? Will Tyler want anything to do with the baby if it’s his?
My thoughts stray to Griffin playing with his nieces, tossing Gracie into the air only to catch her and rub their noses together—the way those girls think he hung the moon and stars. I have no doubt Griffin would make an incredible father, but it might not be his baby.
As for Tyler… well… he’s already proven his word means nothing. He might stick around for a little while, but I’d always be waiting for him to walk away.
The rest of the appointment passes in a haze as my mind conjures question after question.
After saying goodbye to Doctor Patel, I pull on my clothes and head back to reception to schedule my first ultrasound.
Liz, the receptionist and a friend of mine, congratulates me, but I’m too preoccupied to express my gratitude.
As I step out onto the street, I close my eyes and suck in a lungful of fresh spring air.
When I make it to my truck, I pull out my phone to call Jess, only to remember she won’t be able to answer.
I need to talk to her. I need her to tell me I’m not crazy to think I can do this on my own, so I swipe over to our old text thread.
Me: I’m pregnant and it might be Griffin’s. Our babies might actually be cousins.
Me: What the hell do I do?
Me: I love you, but I hate you for missing this.
Me: I miss you, Jess. I miss you so much.
A tear falls down my cheek and lands against the screen. I press my free hand to my belly and close my eyes. “What am I going to do?”
With my body draped across the cold porcelain, I lean into the toilet and empty my stomach for the second time in as many hours. I’m suddenly grateful for my stress-cleaning spree after yesterday's appointment.
Once I’m certain there’s nothing left to throw up, I fall onto my ass and press my back against the side of the tub. With my elbows propped on my knees, I close my eyes and run my fingers through my hair.
The nausea hit me first thing this morning, and the headache followed soon after. After sitting on the cold bathroom floor for almost an hour, I’m no closer to answers than I was yesterday.
I even peed on three sticks to make sure she was right.
Each one came up positive almost instantly.
I should be elated by the news, but my thoughts keep returning to the same fucked up fact: I’m married to a man who doesn’t love me because I couldn’t bear the thought of coming home to an empty house with an empty ring finger and an empty life.
Empty.
That’s all I am now.
Only… that’s not exactly true, is it?
My hand automatically gravitates toward my belly, even though nothing has visibly changed.
It’s instinctive. Soon, there will be a bump there, and later, I’ll feel little kicks and flips.
Maybe I don’t have everything figured out, but the most important part—the love part—it’s already unconditional.