Chapter 23
Gabriella
I left the office on the verge of tears.
My emotions were all over the place. As much as I didn’t want to push Chandler away, especially right now with being pregnant with his baby, I didn’t know what else to do.
I didn’t trust myself to not blurt it out and I didn’t trust myself not to give in to his advances.
I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with him when I was carrying such a big secret.
Though Chandler and I never really got along that well, except for on the floor of his office or in the white sheets of my bed, we had made progress in our working relationship.
Yes, we still butted heads. I found him to be an arrogant ass, and he found me to be a stubborn bitch, but we had learned to work through it for the sake of the company.
Yet today, it was like we were back to day one and I could see the confusion in his eyes.
That was, until he masked it and started giving me a taste of my own medicine.
I was surprised he didn’t chase after me in a fit of rage with how I just talked to him in front of the whole office.
I had to get out of there though, and it was the best way I could think to do so without him asking any more questions.
I wasn’t going to meet my father, like I said.
He would be the second to last person I wanted to see right now.
I was actually on my way to the doctor to confirm my pregnancy.
There was a small whim of hope I was riding on, thinking maybe the three tests I took yesterday were wrong.
I knew it was highly unlikely, but I held onto that small hope as I hailed a cab to take me to the lower west side.
As I watched the buildings whizz past me as the driver expertly weaved in and out of the city traffic, I thought about how different everything would be if I was, in fact, pregnant. It would change everything.
I pushed out the negative thoughts that began to cloud my brain, focusing on the soft jazz music on the radio and the ins and outs of my breathing. I couldn’t panic. Not yet.
The cab pulled up outside a small brick building crammed between two high rises.
It stuck out like a sore thumb, but I found something charming about it.
I had searched for doctors all yesterday, and settled on this one based on the reviews.
I could have asked my friend, Erica, who her doctor had been, but I wasn’t ready to explain why I was asking.
I tapped my credit card against the machine the driver held out and thanked him before climbing out of the car.
Outside the glass door, I took a deep breath and pulled it open.
I rode the elevator to the second floor where the doors opened to a quaint waiting room.
There were two other women sitting in the light blue chairs, reading parenting magazines.
I shook my head in disbelief that I was even here.
I walked up to the receptionist, who sat behind her organized desk, busily typing on her computer. She looked up and gave me a warm smile that I tried to return even though I had a queasy feeling creeping over me.
Don’t throw up on her. Don’t throw up on the doctor.
“Hello there. How may I help you?” she asked with a slight Southern drawl.
“I have an appointment with Dr. Spellman at one-fifteen,” I said, chewing the inside of my cheek nervously.
“Ahh, here you are. Gabriella, is it?” she asked, her eyes on the computer screen.
“Mhmm.”
“Perfect. I do have some new patient paperwork to give to you.” She slid over a clipboard with several pages. “You can just take a seat and fill it out, please.”
I thanked her and took the clipboard from her, plucking a pen from a glass jar.
I settled into a chair and began reading over the paperwork.
It was the usual new patient form, providing my name, address, age, insurance.
Then it became real. It asked questions about my current sexual situation.
I wished there was a check box for ‘it’s complicated.
’ I answered as best as I could, skipping over the part that asked about the father.
A few minutes later, I handed the receptionist the clipboard of filled out paperwork and was soon called back by a nurse practitioner in pink scrubs.
The next twenty minutes were a blur of peeing in a cup, getting my blood pressure taken, stepping on a scale, and anything else she asked of me.
The whole time I felt like I was on the verge of throwing up, but I wasn’t sure it was nerves or morning sickness.
Finally, the doctor came in. She was a short woman with dark hair cut into a pixie cut that suited her small face. She wore a smart white blazer and black slacks, and was carrying my clipboard of missing information. I swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn’t ask questions.
“Gabriella, it’s so nice to meet you.” She held out her well-manicured hand. “I am Dr. Spellman.”
I shook her hand and mustered up a friendly “hello.”
“I wanted to be the first to congratulate you because you are, in fact, pregnant.” She smiled warmly, giving my hand a squeeze before glancing down at the paperwork.
“H-how long?” I asked.
“About six weeks,” she said.
Six weeks. I had been pregnant for six weeks already.
I did the quick mental math and realized it must have happened the night of the gala, the first night we had sex.
I cursed Chandler for having such strong swimmers, and I cursed myself for being so reckless.
In our fit of rage and passion, we didn’t use protection, and this was where it had gotten me.
I felt hot tears forming in the backs of my eyes over my total lapse of judgment that night.
Dr. Spellman put her hand gently on my shoulder, and gave me a reassuring nod. “I know it can be a lot,” she said softly. “But I’m here if you have any questions.”
“Thank you,” I said, wiping a tear away.
“Do you have a good support system?” she asked. “I have resources if you need.”
She must have seen the blank section of the paperwork.
“I do,” I said, nodding. I had my friends, and they were really the only ones I could turn to right now. My family was out of the question, and I hadn’t decided how or if I was going to tell Chandler.
“Good. Now, I’ll need to see you back here in two weeks so we can do your first ultrasound and see how things are progressing. You can set up your appointment up front.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice hardly above a whisper as my world felt like it began to close in on me with the promise of ultrasounds, sonograms, heartbeats, and more appointments. This was just the beginning. A beginning I wasn’t sure I wanted.
“Well, I’ll let you be. Take as much time as you need in here,” said Dr. Spellman, heading for the door. When she slipped through it, I quickly gathered my things, eager to get the hell out of there.
Down on the curb, I hailed a cab and told him my address.
I couldn’t go back to the office. I didn’t care how pissed off Chandler would be.
I needed time to process everything. The ride home was thankfully fast and soon I was curled up in a ball on the couch with a large bowl on the floor next to me in case I needed to hurl.
Feeling numb, I stared out at my living room.
I couldn’t believe I was pregnant, and with Chandler’s baby of all people.
Becoming a mother wasn’t something I was anticipating until much later, after I had accomplished everything I had been working toward.
It certainly wasn’t something I had planned on happening now with a man who could hardly stand me, and vice versa. It was a heartbreaking thought.
I didn’t want to bring a baby into this world when its parents could hardly ever be in a room without tearing each other’s heads (or clothes) off.
That wasn’t healthy. I didn’t see a world where we learned to be nice to each other, even if it was just to co-parent.
The whole thing seemed so surreal. I couldn’t believe I had to even think about these things.
How was I supposed to work with him when I was carrying this big of a secret?
How was I supposed to keep this from my father?
I shuddered at the thought. He would have questions, and he sure as hell was not going to like my answer.
If he found out Chandler and I had been secretly hooking up, my chances of being CEO would be gone with a snap of a finger.
Even worse, my father would never trust me again.
I didn’t even want to know what it would mean for Chandler.
I dared let my mind wander to the best-case scenario of Chandler being thrilled by the news, us magically getting along and becoming the best parents. My father might even be happy for us when he sees how great we are. And then a unicorn would fly down, sprinkling magical pixie dust on all of us.
I laughed at my wishful thinking, before choking on a sob that escaped me.
I couldn’t wallow here any longer for fear I would become one with the couch in my depressive state.
I glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to see it was already 6 p.m. How long had I been here wallowing?
I pulled myself up and my bones groaned from being so compressed for the past several hours.
As I spotted my phone on the coffee table, I winced slightly.
I didn’t want to know what sort of texts or voicemails I had from Chandler after I never showed back up at the office.
I resisted the urge to look and walked out the door of my apartment and down the hall to Juliet’s. I knocked, hoping she was home.
I was relieved to hear her footsteps padding toward the door, and when she opened it I just started crying. She looked at me wide-eyed before pulling me in for a big hug.
“Oh, my gosh, Gabs. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked worriedly as she stroked the back of my head.
“No,” was all I managed to get out.
She led me to her couch and sat me down, bringing me a glass of ice water. I took a small sip and wiped my damp cheeks with the back of my hand.
“Sorry to show up like this,” I said, shaking my head and looking down at the ground.
“Please. I’m always here. But what is going on?” she asked insistently.
I told her everything about the pregnancy tests, the doctor’s appointment, the tension with Chandler, the fear of my father finding out.
She listened intently, trying to keep her face neutral, though I could see the shock in her eyes and the furrow of concern in her brow.
There wasn’t an ounce of judgment there, and I couldn’t be more thankful for her.
“What do I do?” I asked, burying my face in my hands.
She gently pried them away and looked at me intently. “Whatever you decide to do, I will support you. Whether you keep the baby or not, I will be by your side.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
It was the first time in the past few days that I felt a fraction better. It didn’t feel like I was drowning in a life-changing secret anymore. Though I wasn’t quite ready to share that secret with Chandler.