Chapter 21
Gabriella
I rolled over in bed, my hand searching for Chandler, but wasn’t surprised to find the other side of the bed empty.
The cool sheets met my hand as my eyes fluttered open.
I could still smell the remnants of his cologne, and could still feel the touch of his hands against my skin.
It made me feel even more alone now in the early morning hours.
He must have slipped out, as he always had.
It was like he had some rule about not staying over.
For some reason it annoyed me more than it should.
I pushed down the feeling of hurt that I was being used.
I had no right to feel hurt because we used each other.
I was the one who had texted him two nights ago, going along with his ridiculous made up meeting for some made up company that spelled S-E-X. He was something else.
But last night, he had come over again. Unannounced this time, with that same look in his eyes that had me dropping my clothes right there at the door.
We must have had sex on every surface of my apartment at this point, eager to try every position and angle we possibly could to see if we could top how good the last time was.
We somehow found a way each time, leaving us both writhing with pleasure.
I rolled toward my nightstand and checked the time. It was barely 6 a.m., so he must have left in the middle of the night. We did have work today, so maybe he just wanted to get home so he can do his morning routine. There I was, making up excuses for him.
I sat up in bed and my head started spinning as if I were hungover, though I hadn’t had a drink.
I gripped the sheets around me tightly, pulling them close to my naked body.
The room was moving, but I was sitting still.
Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me like a truck, making me keel over and clutch my stomach.
I groaned as I crawled out of bed. Another wave hit me and had me running to the bathroom, my feet slapping against the hardwood floor.
Thankfully, I reached the toilet in the nick of time, before spilling my insides into the porcelain bowl.
I gripped the sides as I wretched loudly, the sound echoing off the walls.
I hovered there for several minutes, making sure to get everything out before I curled up on the nearby fluffy, bath rug.
I wanted to get back in bed, but didn’t trust my stomach.
I must have fallen asleep there, completely exhausted from being up the night before to follow it up with puking my guts out.
When I woke up, the sun was pouring through the small bathroom window and warming my skin.
I pulled myself to a sitting position, my stomach not agreeing with the movement.
I took a deep breath, trying to keep down the bile in my throat.
What the hell was going on with me? I had been feeling a little sick the past couple weeks, but chalked it up to the stress at work.
My emotions had been all over the place since my father retired, leaving the company to a stranger.
A stranger that I was now sleeping with.
That little detail also had my anxiety at an all-time high, as I was terrified of getting caught.
But this was the first time all of this had taken such a physical toll on me.
I gently held my stomach as I glanced around the bathroom, looking for anything to distract me from the nausea that was rolling through me again.
That was when I spotted the box of tampons on the shelf above the toilet, staring down at me.
I swallowed hard. I couldn’t remember the last time I had used one.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had my period. My heart started pounding.
Calm down, Gabriella.
I had been so wrapped up in work, I probably just forgot when it was.
I needed to get to my phone. I pulled myself to stand and walked unsteadily to my bedroom where my phone was plugged in.
I quickly unplugged it and carried it with me back to the bathroom where I resumed my position of a curled-up ball on the floor.
I opened my personal calendar and scrolled through looking for the familiar red dot I always logged.
But it wasn’t there. Not since almost two months ago.
I was sure there was a logical explanation.
It wasn’t the first time my period was late due to stress.
Sometimes everything going on at work messed with my cycle, and this had been the most taxing time to date.
But I had a nagging feeling in the back of my head that it might be more than that.
It might be all the sex I had been having.
The thought of me being pregnant had me dragging myself back to the toilet to relieve myself.
I could not go to work like this. I couldn’t face Chandler when there was the possibility I was pregnant with his baby. The thought made me shudder. I had to find out for sure, and until then, I was staying away from him. I picked up my phone and texted him:
Something came up. I have to take the morning off.
I hit send, bracing myself for his asshole response about how this was going to ruin his day. He responded as I expected.
Chandler: Seriously? Our schedule is packed. This really puts a wrench in things.
I rolled my eyes. He couldn’t care less that I was sick. He also acted like he wasn’t the damn CEO of the entire company. He didn’t need me to hold his hand through everything.
Me: You can handle it.
Chandler: You better be back this afternoon.
I didn’t bother responding as I locked my phone and tossed it on the bathroom rug. He was such an ass. An ass I couldn’t get enough of.
When I felt like the nausea had passed, I uncurled from the fetal position and went to my closet to change into shorts and a t-shirt. I had to get over to the bodega and get a pregnancy test. That was something I never thought I would say, at least not any time soon.
Before I left, I popped a piece of wheat bread in the toaster and slathered on a light layer of butter.
Despite my stomach protesting, I knew I had to get something in my system.
I still felt dizzy, my body weak. I took small bites, forcing myself to swallow each one as I sat at my kitchen counter.
My feet bounced nervously on the bottom rung of my stool.
I wondered if I should tell Juliet what was going on, but decided against it. This was something I needed to face on my own. Plus, I wasn’t even sure if I was pregnant. I was probably just building this all up too much. At least, I hoped that was the case.
When I had stomached the piece of toast and it felt like it was staying put, I grabbed my purse and headed out the door.
The morning sun beat down on me, making me sweat and dampening my already clammy skin.
I cursed the sky, wishing it was fall already.
I reached the bodega on the corner in record time, pulling the door open and hearing the familiar bell above my head.
I usually came here for wine and chocolate, so it felt foreign walking to the women’s health aisle.
I perused the small selection of pregnancy tests, their pink and blue boxes staring out at me like my tampon box had.
I wasn’t sure which one to choose. The ones with the lines or the screens.
I decided to try both, grabbing three boxes from three different brands.
I figured if I was going to do this, I was going to be thorough.
I smiled sheepishly at the clerk as he rang me up, avoiding eye contact.
It was the usual guy who worked the register, and I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about my purchase.
It was a stark contrast to my bottle of cabernet and chocolate-covered almonds.
It felt too personal, which was why I quickly slid over cash and hastily grabbed the plastic bag from him before practically running out the door.
Back up in my apartment, I unpackaged each test as I sipped on a large glass of water to get things moving. I read the instructions of each one, even though I knew the gist. Pee on the stick. Wait a few minutes. See if your life has changed.
When I was ready, I sat on the toilet with three wands in hand and did as the instructions said.
After I relieved myself, I set them on the lip of my bathroom sink and set the timer on my phone.
I walked into my bedroom and began pacing.
The outcome of my life felt too big to be confined within my small bathroom.
The next few minutes seemed to drag on and speed up at the same time, like some sort of strange time warp.
The timer on my phone rang out loudly, causing me to jump slightly. I quickly shut it off.
I took a deep breath and walked back into my bathroom. When I sidled up to the sink, I shut my eyes tight before picking up the first plastic wand. I opened one eye and looked down at it fearfully.
Two pink lines.
Shit.
I picked the next one up.
Another two lines, but blue this time.
No.
I picked up the last one and read the gray screen that read pregnant clear as day.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered, my stomach sinking to the floor and my body following after it, all three wands in my hand. I held them in my lap as the tears began to flow, leaving salty streaks down my cheeks. I couldn’t believe it.
In one fell swoop, everything I had wanted for my life had just been taken away from me.
All my dreams gone. Poof. Up in smoke. I always thought I would become a mother later on in life.
It was something I wanted, but just not yet.
Not when I had so much left to accomplish.
But I would never be CEO now, if I even had the slightest chance left of somehow taking that title from Chandler.
I couldn’t take on that kind of responsibility, at least not for a couple of years.
It would be irresponsible with a young baby.
And then there was the thought of what this meant for me and Chandler.
Our not-so-serious fling had just turned serious on a whole other level.
It was almost laughable imagining us as parents.
We butted heads at every corner and the idea of him being a father figure was something my mind couldn’t even imagine.
The only person he cared about was himself.
I dreaded the idea of telling him the news. I wished I could pretend like it wasn’t happening, but the knot in my stomach told me it was. The sickness I had been feeling these past few weeks, my missed period, and three positive pregnancy tests were just more confirmation.
There was no way I could go into the office now. I couldn’t face him. Not yet. I pulled my phone from the pocket of my shorts and typed out a text. I didn’t care that he was probably going to go ballistic on me. I had bigger problems to deal with.
Me: I’m feeling under the weather. I can’t come in at all today.
I watched the three dots bounce and winced slightly, knowing he was probably writing out a tyrannic text. I didn’t want to bother reading his response, so I turned my phone off before he could hit send. I needed to tune everything out. I needed time to think.