15. Emzee
EMZEECHAPTER 15
M y sister-in-law Tori had always had perfect timing; being in Chicago for a few days meant I had the perfect opportunity to have a proper sit-down with Emma instead of trying to explain what had been going on with me over email or the phone.
I ended up taking her out to brunch at The Whale for our face-to-face, because I’d desperately missed their lobster and waffles and also because they served decent mocktails.
My plan was to just ‘fess up and lay it all out for her, giving her an overview of everything related to my divorce and my escape from Chicago. She deserved an explanation, and I knew I had to renew her faith in me if I wanted her to continue running things at the charity in my stead.
She’d be getting a somewhat redacted version of things, though.
I still hadn’t told anyone—not my coworkers, not my brothers or sisters-in-law and most definitely not Ford—about the pregnancy, and the real reason I’d moved to New York.
As far as I was concerned, no one needed to know.
Yet.
For now, the important thing was to focus on making sure that See Yourself was in a good place.
With maternity leave looming in the not-so-distant future, who knew when I’d be able to take over operations again?
“I love working for you, but I can’t run the show when you go radio silent,” Emma said once we’d settled into a blue leather booth next to the retractable wall of windows.
The sun was out, and the window walls were up, letting a cool breeze drift into the restaurant.
Despite the tension between us, the ambiance was heavenly.
“I know,” I said. “This whole thing was just a giant mess, and I’m so sorry I put you through it.”
I gave her a brief rundown then, about how my marriage had crumbled, how my ex refused to sign the divorce papers, how he’d showed up on my doorstep in New York after tracking me there, even though I’d been trying to get away from him.
Emma was sympathetic, and she squeezed my hand across the table.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Are you safe?”
“Yeah, it’s—he’s actually been very sweet. Just…stubborn. I would have told you sooner, but I didn’t want to bring my drama to the charity, or dump all this personal stuff on you. Everything’s just been falling apart, and it’s sort of embarrassing to even have to talk about it.”
“Understandable.” She nodded.
“Emzee, I believe in the non-profit, and I believe in you. That’s why I’m still here. But even with everything you’ve been through, we have to figure out a way to keep things up and running here if you’re going to be living a thousand miles away.”
Our waiter arrived with our drinks—mimosa for Emma, watermelon juice with non-alcoholic tequila for me—and took our orders.
We both got the lobster and waffles, but I added a side of fruit and a side of bacon.
“Someone’s extra hungry today,” Emma noted.
“Umm, no, I’ve just really missed this place—and I don’t know when I’ll be back,” I said.
It wasn’t a total lie.
“I hope that’s not true, because we need to talk about rescheduling your photography classes and one-on-one sessions with the mentees,” she said, firm but gently.
“We can’t leave everyone hanging. Unless you want to hire another professional photographer to take over your classes? We can certainly afford it. I’ve already done some outreach, just in a general way.”
“No, I want to do it,” I said.
“I love working with the girls.”
“Great.” She pulled out her iPad and day planner and adjusted her glasses, shifting back to the take-no-prisoners Emma that I knew so well.
“So I gather you’re in New York for good?”
Her brows were raised, her stylus poised over the screen.
It was obvious she was still frazzled, but trying to be solution oriented.
I couldn’t blame her for being anxious.
I’d skipped town out of the blue, without so much as a warning to my charity or the people who depended on it.
Now I had to smooth things over and figure out a plan.
Shutting down wasn’t an option.
Even with my life in varying states of upheaval, See Yourself was still the most important thing I’d ever done and it meant the world to me.
Providing a support system and a way forward for the women my father had hurt was my way of balancing out his crimes, albeit in a small way.
“I’m in New York for the foreseeable future,” I said carefully.
“I’m not sure if it’s permanent, though.”
“Okay. How often do you think you can come back? Quarterly, monthly…?”
I thought on it.
It wasn’t until I’d seen my family at the hospital that I’d realized exactly how much I was missing them, and my home city.
New York was thrilling and chaotic and I loved the challenge and the energy of the place, but I wasn’t sure it would ever be home to me.
“I can fly back at least once a month,” I told her.
“Maybe more, but let’s shoot for once a month and see how it goes. I can combine my photo classes into longer weekend workshops and group my mentees into batches, that way I can cover everything when I’m here.”
Grabbing my mocktail, I took a healthy swallow, wishing it was the real thing.
I didn’t mention my upcoming maternity leave to Emma.
We’d have to cross that bridge later.
She nodded and made a note.
“Perfect. When will you be ready for your first weekend? I want to update the class schedule ASAP and email the girls.”
“How about next month? That’s only a few weeks away and it’ll give us time to plan.”
“Love it. Everyone’s been asking about you. They miss your classes. And you.”
My heart tugged with the memory of how much I enjoyed teaching those classes, and of course, working one-on-one with the women.
I got just as much from them as they did from me.
I couldn’t wait to get back at it.
One more good thing about being back in Chicago was that I could see my OB/GYN and get my medical files to bring to my new doctor in New York.
Thankfully, when I called, my obstetrician was able to squeeze me in for a final appointment at the same time.
Once I got into the exam room, I changed into a gown and lay down on the crunchy white paper covering the examination table.
I stared up at the ceiling, heart pounding with nerves as I waited for my doctor to come in.
“How are you feeling, Mara?” she asked once she came in with my chart.
“How’s the pregnancy been going?”
It was a relief to be able to talk to someone about it.
“It’s going okay, for the most part,” I said.
“But I’ve had a lot of morning sickness that makes it hard to get to work on time. I expected it, but I didn’t realize it would be so bad.”
“If you want, I can write you a prescription for an anti-nausea medicine.”
“It won’t hurt the baby?” I asked.
“No, not at all. But if you’re concerned, you can stick to natural remedies. Ginger tea, mint, lemon water. I’ve also had patients do really well on a regimen of B6 vitamins. It’s 25mg, three times a day, and you can get it at any pharmacy.”
I made a mental note of my doctor’s suggestions, knowing I’d place an online order for all of the above before I flew back to New York.
“I know it seems overwhelming now,” my doctor was saying.
“But once you get into the second trimester, the nausea usually goes away and you’ll feel better. A lot of my patients say their second trimester is the best.”
It was a relief to hear.
“Shall we check on baby’s heartbeat?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.
I’d been through a lot over the past two days.
Not only was I experiencing a whirlwind of emotions after reuniting with my family and meeting my new niece, but I’d also been thrown off guard by the arrival of my own baby daddy.
I hadn’t heard from Ford since he’d left the hospital.
Stefan had been surprisingly kind in asking my ex to leave, and Ford had complied, looking a little wistful on his way out.
It had tugged at me, but I’d had to let him walk away.
The doctor brought in a young technician, and after having gel smeared over my belly, the tech put the transducer on my abdomen and began the ultrasound.
I could see a fuzzy black-and-white image on the computer screen, a dark area in the middle where the baby was growing, and to the side, the rate and pattern of its heartbeat.
My baby’s heartbeat.
“This is your baby,” the tech said with a smile, pointing at a curved white blob on the screen.
“We’re picking up about a hundred thirty-two beats per minute.”
“Is that good?”
“It’s very strong,” my doctor reassured me.
“A very good heartbeat.”
As I looked at the little bean, I started crying.
I was happy, but at the same time it was sad and lonely seeing the baby on the monitor without Ford at my side.
It was heartbreaking.
The only thing that made me feel better about our breakup was that I’d have his child.
Our child. The baby would always be my connection to him, even if I was the only one who knew it.
Of course, I had a fair amount of guilt about keeping the news from him, but I didn’t have any other choice.
I had to do this for my family.
There was no other way.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
When the checkup was over, the doctor and the tech left me alone to get dressed.
My mind was racing. As I put my clothes back on, I couldn’t help wondering if I was making the right decision.
Was depriving my child of their father really the best thing for my family?
It felt like this was another moment—in a long line of moments throughout my life—where I was grappling with the choice to do the Zoric thing, or the right thing.
I walked out of the doctor’s office in a haze of confusion and inner turmoil.
Collapsing onto a bench outside, it took me a moment to realize that someone was coming toward me.
It was Ford. He’d followed me.
And he looked worried.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Seriously?” he asked, gesturing at the sign for the doctor’s office, which very clearly had the words obstetrician- gynecologist on it.
“What are you doing here? Is something wrong? Why are you seeing an OB/GYN here in Chicago?”
He knelt down in front of me, looking up into my eyes with concern and love.
My defenses were down.
I didn’t have the energy to lie anymore.
I took Ford’s face in my hands, inhaling deeply.
“I’m pregnant,” I said.