Chapter 27 Deena
TWENTY-SEVEN
DEENA
I found out I was pregnant at the end of June.
I’d spent the last six weeks either working, with Cal, or working with Cal.
It was like a dream. The weather warmed up, and he took me out to dinners, to shows, even to a weekend getaway in Mexico.
Every other waking moment was spent on my business or on his.
Stability had shimmered in the distance like a mirage; my finances were looking better than ever, and I’d picked up a few new clients through my work at Cal’s firm.
Then I went to the doctor to get on birth control. It seemed like a good idea, because when Cal wasn’t being a romantic, he was an absolutely insatiable lover. My appetites, it turned out, were as voracious as his.
The pregnancy test was standard practice. I wasn’t surprised I had to do one. I was, however, surprised at the result.
“That can’t be right,” I said to the doctor. The plastic chair squeaked as I shifted in my seat. I shook my head for the thousandth time. “I’m not pregnant.”
“We’ll do a blood test to confirm,” she started, “but—”
“I’m not pregnant,” I interrupted.
Her eyes were kind, if a little impatient. “Okay. Are you sexually active?”
“Well, yes, but—”
She turned around and grabbed a plastic model of a uterus from the far side of her desk. “When a man ejaculates, his sperm travels up the vagina to the cervix—”
“I know where babies come from,” I said through clenched teeth.
She nodded patiently. “Okay. So you understand that if you have unprotected sex, there is a chance of pregnancy?”
I felt like my head was going to explode.
But I remembered the way Cal’s hands looked when he spread his seed over my stomach in my office.
The look in his eyes when he saw me marked with his release.
And earlier, back in March, when I’d made myself orgasm on that billiards table, fingers trailing through his orgasm, his own fingers thrusting inside me as I reached my peak.
He’d pulled out then too, but we hadn’t exactly been careful in the aftermath.
My throat grew tight. “When will I get the results from the blood test?”
“Twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” the doctor said, and her printer whirred as she ordered the tests. She signed the forms and handed them over to me, a tight smile on her face. “We’ll see what they say and go from there. I’ll book you in for a follow-up appointment while we’re here.”
Because she knew I was pregnant, and there was no use wasting time.
Truthfully, as I pulled up my calendar and confirmed I was free when she scheduled me in for my follow-up, I knew I was pregnant too.
My eyes strayed to the little rectangular strip I’d peed on just a few minutes earlier.
It wasn’t a faint positive result. Two solid blue lines blinked back at me, undeniable.
I was pregnant with Cal’s child.
Moving as if in a dream, I made my way to the phlebotomist in the clinic attached to the doctor’s office, looked away when he poked a needle in my arm, made polite small talk, and then made my way home.
The one silver lining was that Cal was busy with a complex multi-investor, multi-city tour that had the potential to secure his biggest deal yet.
It would rival the deal he’d lost back in March.
Organizing the logistics had been a challenge, but I was proud of what we’d achieved together.
Now I was simply grateful for the few days I had to myself to process the reality of my situation.
My apartment smelled stale and closed-in, so the first thing I did was open some windows. Then I stared into the empty fridge like it held all the answers. My phone ringing shocked me out of my state of dissociation. Cal was calling.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey. What’s wrong?”
He was so in tune with me that he could tell my mood with a single word. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, then injected some life into my tone as I said, “Nothing, why? How did the meeting go?”
“Really good,” he said, his voice making my shoulders ease.
I was pregnant with his baby. As he told me about the meeting and how he thought they were close to signing the deal, I let myself imagine a life as the mother of Cal’s child.
I could watch him become a father. We could see a little baby grow into a toddler, and then a child, and then a teenager.
We could grow old together. It was a future I’d always rejected, but now…
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good,” I said. “Just tired. I just got home, and I think I might just go to bed.”
“Take tomorrow off,” Cal commanded. “I’ll let Willa know you won’t be coming in.”
Even from another continent, he was caring for me. It made me want to cry. “Okay. I think all I need is a good night’s sleep.”
“Rest, Deena. That’s an order.” His voice was a low rumble, and it felt like a warm hug.
Would he still speak to me like that when he found out I was pregnant? As soon as the question popped into my mind, I knew the answer.
Yes. He would be thrilled. He would wrap me in his arms and look at me the way he’d looked at me when he found me wearing his shirt. Like I was the most beautiful, incredible creature he’d ever seen.
We ended the call, and I crossed the studio apartment to stand in front of my mirrored closet doors. I lifted my shirt and ran my hand over my lower belly. I’d thought my clothes were getting tighter because of all the dates Cal and I had gone on. All that eating out…
I sucked in a sharp breath. All that alcohol. I drank wine all the time with him. I stared at my midsection, filled with horror. Immediately, I was on my phone, falling down endless rabbit holes about alcohol in pregnancy, certain that I’d caused irreparable damage.
Then my phone buzzed.
CAL
Sleep well.
Once this is all done, we’ll go out to celebrate. Couldn’t have organized this deal without you.
I rolled onto my side and clutched my phone. I didn’t know how to feel. My fingers hovered over my screen, ready to tell Cal everything that had happened.
But I couldn’t tell him over text. I’d have to do it in person. Besides, I didn’t even know for sure yet.
And what if he didn’t take it well? What if he turned around and told me to get rid of the baby? What if I thought he cared about me, but it turned out he didn’t care about me that much?
Forcing my mind to slow with a few deep breaths, I typed out a quick response.
DEENA
Can’t wait.
CAL
The staff tells me you aren’t at home. Where are you?
I huffed. His army of cleaners and nannies and managers also doubled as spies.
DEENA
I’m at my place.
My phone rang. I swiped to answer, and Cal spoke before I could: “Why aren’t you at home?”
“I’m at my home, Cal,” I said.
There was a silence. “But why?”
Deep in my gut, a warning began to thrum. Cal was wonderful, and I was pretty sure I was in love with him…but he needed control. And in moments like this, that need was suffocating.
“There are too many people at your place, Cal. Sometimes it feels good to be left alone.”
“You can just tell them to leave you alone, Deena. They’ll do anything you tell them to do.”
Frustration spiked within me, but I didn’t want to start a fight. There was too much going on, and I needed time and space to figure things out. “I just felt like sleeping in my own bed tonight. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Your bed is my bed, Deena.” His voice was hard. This was the Cal I’d first met. The man who barked orders at all his minions, who demanded to get his way.
The suffocating feeling increased, but I shoved it aside. Cal was Cal. I had to take the good with the bad. And there was so much good. He knew that I had to feel like my own person. He knew how important freedom and independence were to me.
And I knew what this was: His old demons were rearing their ugly heads. He cared about me, which meant he felt responsible for me. He was terrified of anything bad happening. Somehow, we’d have to figure this out. I wouldn’t be able to live a life feeling stifled.
But if he was this domineering now…how would he cope with a baby in the mix?
Dread tolled a big bell in my gut. My fairytale was slowly coming undone before my very eyes.
“I just feel weird about staying at your place when you’re away,” I finally said, which was the truth but also a total cop-out.
“That makes no sense.”
I sighed. “Cal,” I said gently. “Please.”
His own sigh ruffled the phone’s earpiece, and he relented. “I’ll see you next week. Make sure your door’s locked before you fall asleep.”
My annoyance faded, and a smile curled my lips. He cared so much about me, and there was something so precious about that. We could figure this out…couldn’t we? “I will,” I promised. “I’ll see you next week.”
We hung up again, and I left my phone on the bedside table. No more frantic googling. I’d wait for the blood test results and go from there.
I didn’t have to wait long. The following day, the doctor called me.
I was pregnant. I asked her about all the wine I’d had, and she said that the risk of harm was likely low as long as I stopped drinking from now on.
That eased my fears a little, but my emotions were still a maelstrom.
Ahead of me were scans and tests and checks and… and labor. Childbirth. Motherhood.
My God.
At least now I knew for sure. There was a baby on the way.