Chapter 3 #2
Ten minutes later, I was walking out of my doctor’s office and into the parking lot—the sonograms of the baby inside me burning a hole in my hand.
Never in my life did I think I’d regret wearing a crewneck sweatshirt and leggings, but here I was, desperately wishing I had pockets to shove the photos and pamphlets into.
If it was a couple weeks later, the weather in Pennsylvania would be cold enough that I would’ve had to wear a coat—one with pockets.
As I neared my car, that desire for pockets turned to desperation.
Because leaning against my car was Linnea, her arms crossed and her light brown hair spilling out of a light blue beanie with a ridiculously huge pom pom on top.
“Care to tell me what’s going on?”
Fuck me.
My surprise wasn’t that Linnea was there—we lived five minutes away from each other. No, my surprise was that she had somehow managed to know about this appointment, and follow me here—to my doctor’s office.
“How’d you know?” I asked.
She shrugged as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “I saw it on the calendar in your office the other day.”
“The calendar that was closed and in a drawer?” I narrowed my eyes on my sister. The little snoop.
Another shrug before she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “You’ve been acting weird. I dug around. Sue me.”
Then she glanced down at my hands, and before I could attempt to bury the photos between the other papers I was holding, not that it would’ve worked because the pictures were the largest sonogram photos I’d ever seen in my life, Linnea spotted them. Her gaze snapped up to mine.
“You’re pregnant? But, what? How—“
I cut her off, more than a little annoyed.
“Can we not talk about this outside in the cold?” I pushed past her and unlocked my car.
“I want food court teriyaki, so you can follow me to the mall, since you’re apparently very good at it.
” I dropped down into the driver’s seat and added over my shoulder, “And don’t even think about calling Mom and Dad. ”
Slamming the door before she could respond, I started my car and quickly exited the parking lot.
I loved my little sister, I really did. She was kind, and fun, and was one of the few people who really understood me.
We did everything together, and told each other everything, well, almost. But my relationship with her was complicated.
Not that she knew that, but that was because I would never tell her.
For starters, telling her would make her feel responsible, which was the last thing I wanted, but she’d also tell me that it was all in my head, when I knew for a fact it wasn’t.
Linnea was a labor and delivery nurse at the local hospital, and she was a damned good one at that.
She was constantly getting recognized and awarded for her professionalism, dedication, patient care, etc.
—none of which was surprising in the least. She was top of her class in college, and valedictorian in high school.
Linnea had always been good at everything she set her mind to, which was amazing, but it made being her sister hard.
Nothing had ever come naturally to me. Any success I had, I always had to struggle for first, and even then, they weren’t successes like Linnea’s, or Garrett’s for that matter.
Garrett was out in the world protecting people, and saving lives.
Linnea was helping bring lives into the world, and I was designing workouts and meal plans for people to get in shape.
I loved my job as a personal trainer. I loved helping people transform into the best versions of themselves for their health, or simply because they wanted to look a certain way, but it was hard not to see my siblings, to hear the pride in my parents’ voices whenever they spoke about them—which they did frequently—and not feel like the family loser.
I was proud of what I did, but it often felt like I was the only one who was, like I was the underachieving black sheep.
But then the fatherless “oops” in my uterus kind of solidified that title for me.
At a traffic light, I glanced over to the black and white image of my uterus, and the little humanoid blob in the center.
“What am I going to do?”
***
“What are you going to do?” Linnea asked, licking the melting ice cream around the base of her cone as we made our second loop around the mall. I’d gotten mine in a bowl to avoid that specific problem.
The food court teriyaki satisfied the craving from the doctor’s office, but once I finally finished eating after telling Linnea everything, the sweet craving struck.
It didn’t matter that it was cold outside, or that I’d just eaten what was probably two servings of Chinese food, I wanted ice cream.
I’d go to war arguing that it was the superior dessert.
You liked pie? It was better with ice cream.
Brownies? Better with ice cream. Cake? Better if it was made of ice cream.
Everything was better with ice cream, and that included telling your sister you were pregnant.
“I don’t know, Lins. I live in a six-hundred-square-foot apartment! There’s no room for a baby.”
That wasn’t entirely true, I supposed. There were technically two bedrooms, the second one just doubled as a home gym and office.
But where would I go with all of that? Sure, I could get rid of the gym equipment and workout at work, but I still needed space to create my clients’ routines and their meal plans.
Plus, there was only one bathroom—a small one at that—and I couldn’t imagine trying to do a kid’s bathtime in there.
The kitchen, which was actually quite large, and was one of the major selling points for me, was a downside in this scenario.
I couldn’t house a baby in the kitchen, and I couldn’t store any of the hundreds of things it would need in the kitchen either.
The expression on Linnea’s face told me she was mentally going through the layout of my small apartment, as if a door leading to another five hundred square feet would magically appear in the blueprints.
“Plus, I have no idea who the father is!” I could feel the hysteria in me rising.
“How very Mamma Mia of you.“ She smiled, and futilely chased the drips with her tongue.
I elbowed her in the arm. “I’m serious!”
She laughed. “I know you are.” She was quiet for a while, her smile fading ever so slightly, but not in a saddened way. “But, Darcy, do you want the baby?”
I shot her a hopeless glare. Had she not been paying attention to the whole conversation we’d been having? I had no idea what I was going to do.
“Stop.” She grabbed my elbow with her free hand, and brought us to a stop outside the pet shop.
“Before you go all bitch mode on me, I’ve been listening to you, but everything you’re saying is an excuse as to why you can’t have it.
You haven’t said that you don’t want to.
So, I’ll ask again. Do you want to have the baby? ”
Well, when she put it like that, it somehow made answering that much harder.
I turned my head away from her, needing a minute to gather my thoughts, and looked at the squirming mass of tiny puppies in the window.
They didn’t usually have live animals aside from fish and hamsters, maybe a guinea pig or two, but occasionally the local shelter would get an influx that put them over capacity, and they’d come here. Especially if there were puppies.
Their tails were wagging so fast it seemed impossible that they didn’t fly right off, and their little noses left wet streaks on the shop’s window as they pawed at the glass, trying to jockey for the best position.
There were two in the corner, curled up in balls dreaming peacefully, their tiny tummies rising and falling softly amidst all the chaos of their siblings.
I wanted all of them. I’d always loved dogs—all animals really—but these puppies were turning my heart into a puddle, much like Linnea’s ice cream.
“Darse?” Linnea gently prodded, still waiting for an answer to her question.
I took a bite of my ice cream, scraping the bottom of the cup for it, and began walking away from the puppies.
If I stayed there too much longer, I’d adopt one, and I wasn’t allowed pets in my apartment.
“I can’t make that decision right now. It’s been a long day, but, Lins .
. . I can’t have a baby and not know who the dad is. ”
Her voice was more chipper than it had been. Linnea had always been good with problem-solving, as long as she knew the starting point. “Okay, so we figure out who the dad is. You said you’re eleven weeks? Who did you sleep with approximately two months ago?”
I groaned. “No one good.”
She rolled her eyes, pinning me with a glare. “I don’t care about how they were in bed. We just need to know who they were.”
“Well, let’s see. Option one is Liam, who got engaged three weeks ago, according to his Instagram. So, yeah, there’s that.”
Linnea grimaced. “Okay, we’ll circle back to that in a second.
Option two? How many options are there, by the way?
” I narrowed my eyes at her and she held her hands up, half-eaten cone and all.
“I’m not judging, I only wanted to know how much worse they’re going to get if that was your starting point. ”
“There’s only two, and option two is . . .” I trailed off, immediately regretting all of my life choices. So really, it was a regular Tuesday.
“Who? An axe murder? A felon? Someone who puts milk in their bowl before the cereal?”
“Archer Mack.” My voice was barely a whisper, but she’d heard me loud and clear—her face said it all.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Darse.”