Chapter 41
Addison
“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” said Monica, her hands on her hips.
She stood in the middle of my loft and looked at all the boxes and bags we needed to open—the gifts from Daniel I had refused to go through.
But after my trip to the hospital, and realizing how real this pregnancy was, I knew it was time to start setting up my apartment for baby’s arrival.
Even if I was only just over five months pregnant.
“I’m tired of looking at the boxes. I figured it’s time to just rip the Band-Aid off.” I shrugged.
“I’m glad you decided to keep everything. It’s the least the jerk could do,” she said.
“He’s not a jerk.”
“Did you forget what he said at that charity event?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, I didn’t forget,” I replied softly. “I just know he didn’t sign up for this. You know?”
“And you did?”
“We both made choices we might not have thought through, but I’m happy, Monica. Really, I am. I know this isn’t the best place to raise a baby, and my current circumstances seem pretty unoptimistic, but I want to be a mom. I want to be a good mom.”
Monica knelt down and sat beside me on the wood floor. She put her arm around me. “And you will be,” she said with certainty.
I nodded and looked at all the pretty gift bags and wrapped boxes. They made me think of Daniel.
“You miss him, don’t you?” she asked.
“I try not to,” I admitted.
“It’s okay to. I know you really liked him…”
“It was more than that. I felt like I might be falling for him. I had this whole silly vision of us being one big, happy family.”
“That’s not silly. That’s what anyone would want for their baby.”
“But now I know he never wanted that.”
“You don’t need him,” she said.
I looked around at all of the packages and laughed softly. Clearly, I did. I would never have been able to afford all of this.
“Enough of that. It’s time to get into baby prep mode!” said Monica, slapping her hands on her thighs and reaching for the first bag.
She untied the dainty ribbon bow and pulled the tissue paper out. She reached in the bag and pulled out a cream-colored stack of onesies. She unfolded one and held it up in front of me.
“It’s so tiny,” I said, running my fingers over the soft fabric.
I could feel my heart swell. They were perfect. If baby were a girl or a boy.
“These are newborn size,” she said, looking through the tags. She reached in the bag again and pulled out another stack of the same onesies, followed by another stack.
“Oh, he got you 0-3 month too! And 3-6 month!”
I started removing the tags and stickers, and stacking them against the wall as Monica started opening another bag.
“Awwww,” she said, holding up a little pair of white and cream striped pants.
It felt like such a bittersweet moment, folding these tiny clothes and feeling the soft material, ooh ing and ahh ing over the different colors and prints.
I felt excited and scared and sad and happy.
I was a mess of emotions. Most of all, I just wished Daniel was there with me.
Of course, I was happy to have Monica here.
She had done so much more and been there for me.
But Daniel, the father of my baby, was hard to replace, especially now.
“I think that’s it for all the clothes,” said Monica, folding up another gift bag.
I looked at the stack of clothes lined up against the wall and shook my head in awe.
“You’re set for an entire year,” she said, following my gaze.
I placed my hand on my bump and rubbed it gently.
“You are going to be one well-dressed baby,” I said softly as I bent over and talked to the baby.
“Very posh,” laughed Monica. “These onesies cost more than the shirt I’m wearing.”
“That pile of clothes is probably three months’ rent,” I said, shaking my head.
“Ready for the next one?” she asked.
I nodded and she got up and walked over to the biggest box. She grunted as she started to slide it over.
“Do you need help?” I asked, attempting to get up.
“Sit the hell down. Did you not hear what the doctor said?” she said shrilly.
I laughed and settled back on the floor.
She grabbed a pair of scissors and started working at the tape on the box. Finally, she popped open one side and peered inside. She reached in and pulled out a pamphlet.
“Looks like you have a crib,” she said.
“Really?” I asked excitedly.
She handed me the pamphlet that included the instructions. On the front was a picture of a beautiful gold railed crib. I sucked in a breath when I saw it. It was so beautiful.
“Wow,” I said, mostly to myself.
“It’s really pretty, Heart,” said Monica.
“He did a good job.”
“Why don’t you start unboxing the smaller boxes, and I’ll start putting the crib together,” offered Monica.
I gave her a skeptical look. Monica wasn’t exactly the handiest person. Neither was I. But I at least knew the difference between a Phillips and a flathead.
“What?” she asked with a shrug. “How hard can it be?”
I handed her the instructions and she started pulling out the different pieces and hardware. Once she had everything laid out on the floor, I watched as she flipped through the pages, scratching her head.
“I think I might need some wine,” she said.
“Oh, yeah. That’s a great idea,” I said sarcastically.
“Hey, it couldn’t hurt!”
“Top left cabinet,” I said with a laugh.
“As if I don’t know where you keep the booze.” Monica rolled her eyes.
While she was in the kitchen, I opened another gift bag.
This one was from Saks Fifth Avenue and was wrapped beautifully.
I carefully tore open the tissue paper and wrapped inside was a small, white teddy bear.
I sucked in a breath as I pulled it close and clutched it against me.
It was such a beautiful little bear. One that baby would probably keep forever. I started to cry softly.
“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?” asked Monica, walking over with a glass of red wine in hand. She set it carefully on the floor and looked at me intently.
“It’s just. Everything. This bear. The crib. The clothes. It’s all beautiful. Perfect, really.”
“You and baby deserve it,” she said, putting her hand on my back.
“It just all has Daniel all over it. I can’t believe he did all of this.”
Monica seemed to think for a second. “Maybe you heard him wrong.”
I gave her a look.
“I don’t know. A guy who does all of this…” She waved her hand around the room. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“I heard what I heard.”
“Well, maybe it was a misunderstanding?”
“I don’t know how you can misunderstand that.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” said Monica. “You know what will make you feel better though?”
“What?”
“Pizza!”
“Yes, I’m starving.” I wiped tears away from my cheeks.
Monica called and ordered an extra-large pepperoni pizza with jalapenos, and I continued making my way through more baby toys and diaper caddies and different types of bottles.
It was going to take us all night to get through everything, and we still had to assemble some things, like the crib Monica hadn’t even started.
Thankfully, it was the weekend, and we had two whole days to do it.
The pizza arrived just as I had finished unboxing not one, but two strollers. Monica had finally put together about a quarter of the crib and finished one glass of wine. As I brought in the pizza, I started to worry about the size of my apartment and how I was going to fit everything in here.
I set the pizza box on the floor in the middle of everything and we started to eat straight from the box, looking around in amazement.
“Thanks for spending your Friday night with me,” I said to Monica.
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she replied, swallowing a bite of pizza.
After we were finished eating, we laid back on the floor with full stomachs. I was so uncomfortably full and as much as the jalapenos were delicious, they were also making my heartburn flare up. Damn those spicy cravings that I kept giving in to.
I clutched my chest and winced.
“Heartburn again?” asked Monica, looking over at me.
“Always,” I answered.
“You know…I heard that having frequent heartburn means your baby has a lot of hair.”
“Well, it must be a wooly mammoth,” I said.
Monica laughed and sat up. “Do you want me to go get you some antacid?”
“No, I can go.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Remember what the doctor said.”
“I can walk, Monica,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Plus, some fresh air sounds nice.”
“Fine. Well, I’m going to pour another glass of wine and get back to the crib.”
She stood and held her hands out to help me up. I grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter and walked out into the hallway.
Outside, the night air was cool against my skin as I walked to the corner store.
I grabbed a box of antacid from the shelf and stopped by the freezer aisle to grab a pint of cookie dough ice cream.
I carried both to the front counter and waited in line.
As I waited, my eyes skimmed the magazines. That was when I saw him.
Daniel’s face on the cover of one of the entertainment magazines.
My stomach leaped to my throat as I carefully took it from the magazine rack.
He wasn’t alone on the cover. He was with a woman.
The same awful woman he had brought to my office.
It looked like they were on vacation together, sitting together on a white-sand beach.
I ignored her for a moment and only looked at him.
He looked handsome sitting on a beach chair, his skin tan and his toned body shirtless.
My eyes then reluctantly glanced at the woman.
Kiera, I think her name was. She looked like a freaking goddess sprawled out on the chair next to him with perfect beach waves in her hair and a teeny bikini only she could pull off.
The line in front of me moved forward slightly. I had time to flip through the pages to find the full story. The headline read:
A Pre-Honeymoon for the Lovebirds?
I swallowed hard as I kept reading.
It said that the two were spotted at the St. Regis Resort in Bora Bora enjoying a romantic getaway as rumors of their engagement swirled around them. They looked cozy on the beach as they enjoyed a bottle of champagne together.
I looked through the other pictures that surrounded the text of the article. They were all of the same day, on the beach, with a server pouring champagne. I didn’t see any pictures of them holding hands or kissing, but it didn’t mean that didn’t happen. Hell, they were in Bora Bora together.
“Next,” the cashier called, breaking my focus.
I quickly put the magazine back on the rack and handed him my items.
After I paid, I walked out to the sidewalk and felt like I was going to throw up or scream. Instead, I just started sobbing. People passed by me with curious expressions, but I didn’t care. I had just seen the father of my baby, the man I had fallen for, with another woman. I was crushed.
And I had no right to be upset. I was the one who pushed him away. Instead of talking things over, I lied to him in the worst way possible. I should have told him the truth. I should have told him how I felt when I had the chance.