Chapter Sixteen
Whitney
Tuesday night has now become my favorite night of the week, followed by Thursday.
For a month Ryan and I have been doing dinner.
The first week was awkward, but now we’ve settled into a pattern.
I cook on Tuesday and he cooks on Thursday.
I try not look too deeply into why Tuesday is my favorite night, but I know it’s because I get to take care of him.
We’ve still managed to keep our secret, but it’s not going to be much longer.
The morning sickness has finally gone away and now I’m starting to gain weight.
My clothes are fitting more tightly now that we’re almost into the fourth month.
We’re going to need to start decorating a nursery and making plans soon.
I’m a planner, obviously, and we both want to know the gender of the baby, can’t even begin to tell you how excited I’m becoming about this new season of life.
I check the clock on my SUV as I pull into the driveway.
I have about forty-five minutes before Ryan gets here, which is nice, because that means I’ll be able to figure out something to wear that fits.
As I’m letting myself into the house, my phone rings.
Flipping it over, I see my brother’s smiling face.
“Hey Trevor,” I answer, closing the door, setting my stuff on the counter, and making my way upstairs.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while, Sis. I was gettin’ a little worried.”
I love him, I do, but my brother has this uncanny ability to call me when I’m about to let my guard down.
He knows exactly the questions to ask me in order for me to fess up and I can’t let that happen right now.
Pregnancy brain is a real thing for me, and I have no doubt somehow he’ll know, and then I’m screwed.
“I’m good,” I answer, hoping I don’t sound as winded as I feel after walking the length of the hallway and reaching down to take my shoes off. I’m not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to wear the high heels with the buckle straps today.
“Mom said you haven’t been over for Sunday dinner in a few weeks.”
Trevor is as subtle as a spaceship landing outside on my front yard.
“I’ve been busy. You know this is my busy season, and it’s not easy running my own business,” I make the excuse.
Truth is I’m so tired that all I wanna do on the weekends is sleep, and I’m scared my mom will be able to look at me and see what’s going on.
Usually I’m the one laying this guilt trip on Trevor so I have no idea what’s happening here.
“Are you sure that’s all it is? Most of the time when you’re busy you at least have time to send me a text to let me know you’re okay. I know you haven’t told mom about the baby yet,” he drops his bomb. “And even though I’ve asked, you still haven’t told me who the dad is.”
“Because it’s none of your business. Right now he and I are trying to figure things out, and I don’t need you in the middle of it, trying to fix this for me. I love you, Trevor, but you’ve got to let me deal with my own life.”
He’s quiet for a few minutes and I can almost hear him gripping the phone, can hear his teeth grinding against one another. “I didn’t know what Stephen was doing to you, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. If anyone could have helped you, it was me.”
My heart almost breaks as I hear the tortured timbre of his voice. I forget he has in some ways been affected even more than I was by not only the breakup of my marriage, but what he suspects has happened. I hope Ryan didn’t tell him anything I told him in confidence.
“Trev, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Regardless of what you think, I always have been. I don’t blame anyone but myself for the situation I was in. Truthfully, it made me a stronger person. Now I know what I want, and I won’t settle for less again.”
And I won’t because I took less the first time around, and even if it means being a single mother for the rest of my life, I will be. It doesn’t scare me, not like it probably would other women. What scares me is giving up my independence and handing it over to a man who’ll snuff it out.
“Just know I’m always here to talk. It doesn’t matter what time of the day or night it is, Whit. I couldn’t be there for you the first time around, but I can be there for you now.”
Damn emotions – what he said brings tears to my eyes. “I know,” I strangle out against a tight throat. “And I appreciate it, but please respect my decision when I say I’ll tell you everything when I’m ready.”
“I’m gonna hold you to those words, Whit. I just need to know you’re taken care of.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I gotta go,” I’ve got to get off the phone with him before he makes me cry.
“Love you, Whit.”
Damn him.
“Love you too, Trev.”
I hang up before I put my face in my hands and sob.
I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m not even sure why the emotions are coming at me so hard tonight.
Maybe I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well and I’ve been missing out on my afternoon nap.
Another thought creeps into my subconscious and I do my best to block it out, but it’s there, making its presence known.
Maybe I miss Ryan.
That can’t be it, I tell myself, but there’s no mistaking the way my heart beats faster on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
I purposely don’t work late on those days, either.
In fact, I’ve started taking off earlier on those days so I can get home and get changed before he arrives.
It’s not necessarily that I want to look cute for him, but – shit – let’s face it, I do.
I plop down across the bed, letting my head fall off the other side.
What the hell am I going to do? I’m the one who said there wouldn’t be any kind of relationship and look what I’m doing.
“Okay, Whit, here’s what you do. You keep track of how you feel when he’s around tonight.”
Saying the words out loud seems stupid, but there’s no one else here for me to talk to, and I decide this is my plan of attack. I’m going to gauge my feelings and see exactly what they are while he’s around. That way – if I lie to anyone – it’s only to myself.
“Do you like it?”
I tried a new recipe tonight, roast beef and gravy sandwiches. They simmered in the crockpot all day while I was at work. When I came home, I didn’t have to do much to throw dinner on the table.
“It’s not healthy, but damn that’s good,” he speaks carefully around the food in his mouth, moaning as he takes another bite.
“Sometimes I need to eat whatever I feel like. Tonight felt like comfort food,” I take a bite of my own sandwich, moaning along with him.
The taste of food has gotten sharper, and I swear sometimes I can tell individual ingredients. I’ve never been like this before, but from reading information on the internet, I know it’s from the pregnancy.
“Is anything wrong?”
How do I bring this up to him? How do I explain at thirty-five years old, I’m scared to tell my parents what I’ve done?
I’m worried about the judgment, and another part of me is worried that he won’t stick around.
“Trevor called me tonight, giving me a hard time about not going to Sunday dinners at my mom’s. ”
His green gaze pierces mine. I want to hide from the depth of his stare, because I feel as if he looks directly into my soul. “Is it because of me?”
Honesty time apparently. “No, not directly. It’s because of the baby,” I reach down, cupping my hand over my small bump. “I don’t know how they’ll react.”
“Whit, you’re thirty-five years old. What’s it going to matter?”
It’s frustrating. He doesn’t come from the type of family I do. “You don’t have to hear their judgment, about how they’re so disappointed in me. I waited until I was divorced and then got knocked up.”
“I don’t have to hear it because you won’t let me,” his voice is quiet in the space of the kitchen.
I’m not entirely sure how we got here, angrily whispering words back and forth with one another.
I put my fork down, appetite gone. He’s not lying, I’ve deliberately kept him away, because maybe this is my dirty little secret.
Then again maybe this is something I wanted for me, and not to share with everyone else.
Whatever it is, I realize I’m not being fair, but I’m still not sure I want to open us up to whatever our friends and family might dish out.
“It’s a simple decision, Princess. You either want me to be your secret, or you want me to be the father of your child.
I can’t and won’t be both,” he slams his own fork down.
“I thought that by spending time with you, you’d realize how serious I am about us co-parenting, or maybe even having a relationship.
Obviously we can make it work between the sheets. ”
“Don’t be crude, Ryan.”
“What was it you told me that night? You needed a dick in your treasure cove? Who was crude then? How come you get a different set of rules than I do?”
“That’s not fair,” I’m getting hot in my anger and stand up to fan my fingers in front of my face.
I look around as he gets up, too. Instinctively I move further back into the kitchen, until my waist hits the countertop on the far side.
“Don’t act like I’m about to hit you, Whit. I’m not that asshole you were married to. I think I’ve proven to you in the last few months that I’m different. I’d prove it to everyone if you’d let me. We’re two consenting adults having a conversation,” he runs his fingers through his hair.
My mouth is poised open to speak, but he continues.
“You wanna talk about what’s not fair? That’s mine,” he points to my stomach as he inches closer.
“The child you carry is mine and yours, but you’re the one who gets to experience everything.
I’m relegated to what you allow me to experience and you call all the shots.
There’s nothing I can take for granted, because you won’t let me. ”
My mind tells me to find a way out, my heart thumps against my chest, and my breath becomes pants as he’s finally close enough to touch me.
“Wanna know what else was mine?” His eyes are dark, voice soft, hands gentle as one reaches out to cup the back of my neck while the other slides against my cheek.
“No,” I whisper as I nod my head yes. Everything about Ryan and me is highlighted in this exchange. My voice is saying no, while my body says yes.
“You do,” he moves his mouth to my ear. “You wanna know. Stop fighting it, Princess. For those few hours that night, you were mine, and they were the best hours of my life. I had everything I’d ever wanted at my fingertips.
I gorged on you, I lived in you, and I left a piece of myself behind,” he breathes deeply, a sigh that moves the hair at my temple.
“Damnit, Princess, I’d be everything you need if you’d just give me the fucking chance. ”
It all sounds so good to hear him talk. I move my hands up to his biceps, curling my fingers in the skin, denting them with my fingernails. “I want to,” I mouth, but I know he doesn’t hear me, because I don’t let the words escape.