Chapter 32
LILA
It had been a week and there were no viewings booked in for the house. I stared out the patio doors at our tree, a mug of ginger tea in my hand as my nausea played havoc with my stomach.
Mom insisted ginger helped with morning sickness, so I was inhaling it from all angles. Ginger biscuits were delicious, but I was going to get fat from eating packet after packet.
I’ll be fat soon enough anyway, I realised.
I spied the mail on the counter and sighed, picking it up. There were a few letters addressed to Victor, but the others were for both of us.
The homeowners.
Oh look: a mortgage statement—just what I needed to see.
It was bad enough that the house wasn’t receiving any interest, but I also couldn’t afford to live here alone. I hummed and pushed the thoughts out of my mind—I couldn’t entertain them right now.
I walked through the kitchen and headed upstairs, my feet feeling heavier than usual. Was that normal? Did your feet get bigger when you were pregnant?
I examined them, noticing they looked a little swollen but nothing significant.
I needed to sit down and do some research, maybe buy some pregnancy books and figure out what was happening with my body, what changes to expect.
I stroked my stomach, still unable to believe there was a baby in there.
But…the thoughts of my living situation niggled. What would I do in the worst-case scenario?
Bile rose in my throat, and I sipped my tea.
I can’t think about the worst-case scenario.
You have to, you’re gonna be a mom, my sensible voice told me.
I paused in the hallway, turning and gazing at the two bedrooms at the opposite end to our—my—bedroom.
One would be the nursery, but the other was the spare. I could move into the spare, so I was beside the nursery, but then it was much smaller than the master bedroom.
Maybe I could get a roommate. Rent out the spare room.
With a baby?!
Urgh, no.
That wouldn’t work for a variety of reasons. But most of all, I didn’t like the idea of a stranger living here while I was pregnant—or worse still, when I was a new mom.
I bit my lip and turned back to the master bedroom, my heart fluttering in my chest at a sudden memory of Victor carrying me over the ‘threshold’ when we’d first moved in. How we’d laughed and made love on the bed.
We’d thought this was our forever.
Victor.
Victor was the only feasible option. He’d have to keep paying his half until it sold, and that was that.
But what if he can’t afford it?
I’d kicked him out—he’d gotten an apartment, but it was a dive. I shuddered at the memory of it.
Maybe we could drop the price on the house? See if we could get a quicker sale? But then we’d have negative equity. I’d already priced it low.
Urgh!
Maybe I could move back in with my mom—but we’d still have to pay for the house, so that made even less sense.
Okay, Victor could move in here, and I could go and stay with my mom.
But the thought of that was enough to send me over the edge. I needed space, and there was none at my mom’s. Plus, I’d have the baby, and she really didn’t have room for both of us.
Fuck!
What’s the solution though? Victor moves back in here with me until it’s sold?
My head reeled.
Can you imagine?
I wasn’t going to leave. I was pregnant—I’d have to come up with another solution.
But what?
First thing was first: I had a shift at work today, and no matter how sick I felt, I had to go to keep up my half of the mortgage payments.
I showered and dressed, praying the nausea subsided enough for me to do my shift without running to the restroom constantly. I didn’t want to announce my pregnancy until after the scan, but that was only a week away. Vanessa had already caved and told Bianci, who was over the moon.
A stab of guilt hit me when I remembered Victor asking to be present at the scan—and how I’d snapped his head off. But the scan wasn’t about me—that was about the baby, wasn’t it? I didn’t want him there, but maybe I could do it for the baby.
It could be nice for their bond. As much as I didn’t want to give Victor anything, I did wonder about that.
While I was driving to work, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen—unknown number.
Yeah—no. Not answering that. If it was important, they could leave a message.
The store was busy, and the hours seemed to fly by at first. But then when it quietened down, I saw the paint stock that needed putting out.
Shit.
I couldn’t lift that, but I hadn’t told anyone about the baby. They knew about Victor and me—and now I was pregnant. I couldn’t bear their pity, but I knew I couldn’t lift anything that heavy.
Fuck!
“You okay?” Brenda, an older colleague asked me. Her salt and pepper bob moved with her as she tilted her head to peer at me. “You look kinda peaky.”
She’d appeared at my side out of nowhere, making me jump. I clutched my chest and forced a laugh.
“Sorry, I was in my own world,” I explained, still eyeballing the paint cans.
She followed my gaze, noticing my hesitation. “You want some help with these?”
Oh, fuck, how much could I lift? I didn’t even know.
“Uh…” I stared at the tins and tried to come up with an excuse. “I’ve hurt my back, that’s all. I need to be careful.”
Brenda’s eyes widened. “Gotcha. I’ll do the paints then; you go on checkouts.”
My body almost sagged with relief.
“You can sit down there too, it might help,” Brenda added.
I could’ve kissed her.
“Thank you,” I said, turning away before she could see the tears in my eyes.
Why was I crying?!
What the hell?
I really needed to get a pregnancy book or research online. I had no clue what was happening to my body and I was just exhausted. My mind felt like it was on fire and all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball on the floor and sob.
And I was only eleven weeks pregnant. It’s only going to get harder, right?