Chapter 18 #3
I don’t mind the stretch then, of the speculum that Christina has inserted inside me. I think I only wince once and squeeze his hand for like three seconds until I adjust to the pressure. In my head, I take that as a victory.
Not him though.
His fading bruises ripple and he snaps at Christina to be careful.
And even though I say sorry and tell her to keep going — which she does after looking slightly intimidated by Reed — and stare up at him and shake my head, I can’t stop my ballerina heart from spinning.
I can’t stop myself from going breathless again when his jaw clenches, making me aware that he doesn’t like that. Me asking him to hold back.
A second later though, Christina’s voice breaks our stare when she says, “And there’s the tiny little thing. The baby.”
At this, we both snap our eyes to the monitor so we can see her.
Or at least see something.
Because for the love of God, I can’t.
I cannot see our baby.
And I tell her that and laughing, she points it out for me. The little dot that’s supposed to be her. She also tells me that the due date is in July.
My stomach flutters and I know it’s not her but still. I’m assuming that it is and I’ll keep assuming until she does move inside of me.
But anyway, Reed sees her right away and I’m not going to lie, I hate him a little bit for that. That he could see her while I couldn’t.
Although my ire melts away when he asks Christina to make four copies of it.
Of her.
And he does it while his fingers flex against mine.
Soon though, I have to let go of them, his fingers, because it’s over. And Christina tells us that the doctor is waiting for us in her office.
Dr. May is a friendly woman in her fifties maybe who asks me all kinds of questions.
She takes my complete family medical history and prescribes me prenatal vitamins.
She hands me pamphlets that I can read and get myself informed about the upcoming changes in my body and tells me to call the office any time I feel the need to.
Then it’s Reed’s turn.
To ask questions.
And he has a lot of them. The very first one is what the fuck can we do about my morning sickness. And why the fuck won’t it go away? And what the fuck we can do to give me a break from it?
All his exact words, not mine.
The doctor is patient, however. She says that we can’t do much about it. Every woman’s body is different and it sucks but I’m going to have to ride through it. And usually it clears up by the second trimester. However, if I really can’t bear it, she can prescribe me some mild anti-emetics.
Honestly though, these things take a natural course and she doesn’t think there’s any cause for worry at this point. So I refuse the anti-emetics — despite Reed being all upset over it — and thank the doctor for all the help.
And then Reed drives me home.
My new home that I’ll be living in for the foreseeable future.
It’s not my old house where I wanted to live with Conrad.
This is another thing I put my foot down about.
Living separately, living on my own.
Because after everything that happened and what Conrad told me about him taking care of us while growing up, I wasn’t going to burden him more.
He’s already taken care of me and my brothers, he deserves a break now.
Especially now that he’s got a new job. He doesn’t deserve a pregnant sister living in his house.
So I told them I’d live in an apartment close to school and once I’m out of St. Mary’s and have a job, I’ll pay them back for everything.
But Reed refused.
He already had a plan for that too.
So I’m going to live in this house.
It’s a house made of all glass, or mostly glass with tall windows taking up all the wall space, and it sits on top of a cliff in the town of Wuthering Garden.
It’s the same house that Reed brought me to that night. When he found me on the street outside of the Blue Madonna. His vacation home, or a vacation home that’s his for now.
I haven’t been able to really crack who it belongs to other than the fact that it belongs to a friend of his and is located close enough to the clinic and my school.
It’s gorgeous though.
Just like the guy who’s driven me over from the clinic in his Mustang.
As soon as he comes to a stop, he climbs out and walks around the car to open the door for me. The first day I got out by myself and it pissed him off. So now I wait for him to do his thing.
It’s not something he used to do two years ago though.
He’d get the door for me once when I was climbing in. I was free to climb out on my own after that.
Now he likes to help me with that as well. Just as he likes to help me with my backpack, which he’s still carrying as he walks me to the front door.
He only gives it back to me when I’m at the door, exactly on the threshold, with the door unlocked, ready to go in.
I know what he’s going to do now.
“You’ve got your phone with you?” he asks like he always does.
“Yes.”
Last week he bought me a new cell phone. Cell phones and personal technology are prohibited at St. Mary’s so I had to leave my old one, the one I had at Bardstown High, at home. I told him that I could still use the old one but he shot me an irritated look and bought me my current phone.
My brothers wanted to pay for half of it.
Reed gave them an irritated look as well but they glared at him back, so my brothers split the cost.
“And groceries and things are stocked?”
“They are.”
I have groceries for days actually.
Because again, Reed bought me everything over the weekend and then my brothers showed up with groceries too.
So I have two sets of every food item. After a lot of discussion, they have now come up with a rotating schedule as to who will bring me groceries what week.
This was a much more heated discussion than the cell phone one because they’d found out that Reed had already hired a cook and a housekeeper to come every day.
“Good. I’ll come by tomorrow to pick you up. Same time,” he instructs. “Lock the door after me.”
As usual.
He picks me up and he drops me off. He gives me instructions and then he leaves. Only to do it all over again the next day.
Because he doesn’t live here with me.
He lives in a hotel. One of the most luxurious hotels in Wuthering Garden, only fifteen minutes away from me. He made that very clear when my brothers asked him about it.
When he told them he already had a house for me, Con’s first question was where would Reed live. And he said that he’d be staying in a different place but close enough to get to me in record time if something happened.
As much as my brothers hate that I’m living alone now, they agree with this. They don’t want Reed anywhere near me even though I’m having his baby and he’s taking care of everything.
Before he can leave though, I ask, “Are you going back to the office?”
He’s taken aback by my question, I guess because I usually let him go without comment. But not today.
Today I have to say something to him.
His eyes flicker with suspicion as he answers. “Yeah. Why?”
“Just curious.” I shift on my feet. “So I was thinking something.”
His suspicion only grows. “And what might that be?”
“What do you… do for fun?”
“What?”
Ugh.
Seriously? What am I asking him?
But now that I’ve said it, I forge ahead, “I-I mean, all I’ve seen you do this last week is go to the office and take care of me and… What do you do after this? Like hobbies and stuff. Do you work on cars, I mean… there must be something you do to relax.”
It’s been bothering me for days now.
The fact that this job is killing him and that he has to do it because of me. He should be doing what makes him happy.
Like cars maybe and…
“I don’t have time to relax.”
“But –”
“Just lock the door after I leave.”
“Does he… know?” I ask him then with wide eyes.
“Does who know what?”
“That I’m pregnant. Your dad.” I pause to swallow down my racing heartbeats. “Does he know that you’re doing all this for me?”
The man who wanted to punish me for stealing his son’s car. And rightfully so.
The man who forced Reed to give up soccer in exchange for my freedom.
I wonder if he knows and if he does, what must he be thinking about it. About the fact that I’m pregnant with his son’s baby.
The flutters inside my stomach make an appearance and I can’t help but put my hand on my belly. And when I do, his eyes inevitably focus on it.
There’s a purple bruise on his right cheekbone that ripples at my question. It thrums just like the look in his gaze, all angry and determined. “You don’t have to worry about my father. I’ve got it under control.”
“But Reed —”
“I can handle my dad, all right? It’s fine.”
That’s exactly it, isn’t it?
That he keeps saying everything is fine. That he’s taking care of everything.
And I’m letting him because I know how important this is for him.
I know that.
I feel that.
That’s why he stood in front of Conrad and made him a promise. That’s why he made all these plans. That’s why he put so much thought into them, so much care and so much detail. He must’ve made hundreds of lists to be able to pull this off.
That’s why I’m letting my brothers take care of everything too.
Because I know this is how they take control of the situation. This is how Conrad makes sure that nothing falls apart. This is how he copes with things. Like he did when Mom died and he had to take care of everything.
I know if I take this away from my brothers, this control, it will only make matters worse. I know if I take away his control too, it will only piss him off.
And I’m grateful, you know?
God, am I grateful.
Up until a couple of weeks ago, I thought everything would fall apart. I thought I’d be alone and an outcast. I was so scared. So, so scared.
But then he came and he saved everything.
I’m going to school. I have a place to live. I have a doctor. I don’t even have to quit ballet. Not every girl is this lucky. I know. I’m the exception. I have a support system that most pregnant teenage girls only dream about.
And so I have to speak up.
I have to step in and stop Reed.
“I don’t need all this, Reed,” I insist, looking up at him.
“I don’t need a grand house and a cook and a private clinic.
I know you want to be here and you want to make things easier for me and I’m not arguing about that.
But all of this,” I wave my hand at things, “it costs a lot of money, Reed. I know. I’m not an idiot.
I don’t need all this, okay? And so I don’t want you working there just because of this.
Because you have to provide for everything.
You hate that company. You never wanted to work for your father.
I know. But you had to because of me, because of what happened and what I did.
So I’m not going to let you do something you hate.
“I mean, you’re not letting me quit my dream.
You even got me back into Blue Madonna. And I know soccer really wasn’t your dream but you must have one, Reed.
You must want something and I can’t stand by and watch you do something you never wanted to do.
Besides, it’s been two years. Can’t your dad see that you hate it?
Can’t you explain it to him? I mean, he’s your dad.
He must want to see you happy. And if he’s such an asshole that he doesn’t care about anything else but himself then I can talk to him.
I can apologize for everything I did. I can explain —”
He cuts me off when his arm shoots out and his fingers grab onto my bicep. They not only grab onto it, his fingers dig into the meat of my arm.
I feel them dimpling my flesh as he bends down over me, his eyes fraught with something that I can’t place, that I haven’t really seen on him. “You will never ever talk to my father.”
“What?”
“Not ever. You won’t even say his name, you understand?”
“Reed —”
“Do you understand, Fae?”
I nod before I can even think about it. “Yes.”
His fingers still don’t let up. In fact, he comes down at me even more.
“My father has nothing to do with this. With you. He’s not going to touch you.
He’s not going to even look at you. I won’t let him.
Not again. So you’re going to put this thought out of your head and you’re going to let me handle everything. Say yes if you understand that.”
The violence in his words, the fierceness, makes me want to say yes. But more than that it’s something else, something far needier than his ferocity.
Something that begs me to agree with him right now.
Like if I don’t, it will destroy him.
“Yes.”
He nails me with his gaze for a few seconds, as if checking whether my acquiescence is genuine or not. When he’s satisfied with it, he straightens up, letting me go. “Now lock the door after I leave.”