Chapter 51
Addison
Monica sat slumped in a chair, her chin resting on her chest as she slept.
I had told her she could go home, but she had insisted on staying after the doctor told me I needed to stay not one, but two nights to be monitored.
Just to be on the safe side. I smiled sleepily over at her and realized that the hospital bed didn’t seem so bad in comparison to the chair she was in.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling, feeling the baby do somersaults inside of me. I placed my hand gently on my stomach and closed my eyes, soaking in this moment. To know the baby would be earthside soon made me realize these kicks were fleeting.
I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that Daniel was missing these moments. I shook the thought away and tried to focus on something else. Like Monica’s book.
While it was a little weird to hear a version of my story typed in her poetic prose, there was a magic to it.
It wasn’t my reality, but it was a version of it that I had so badly wanted at some point.
She depicted my character perfectly. Stubborn, fiercely loyal, and independent.
And even though she had met Daniel once, she seemed to have written his character effortlessly.
Ridiculously handsome, smart, and scared.
I couldn’t blame him for that last part, which was also why it was better to do this on my own.
As much as I wished we could have a happy ending, there were too many messes that were made along the way.
Too much uncertainty. I wanted to give the baby stability.
While I didn’t really have the financial means, I could at least give him or her the emotional stability.
I could give them love. Unfaltering love.
“Whatchya thinking about?” asked Monica groggily.
I looked up and saw her staring at me curiously with a sleepy expression on her face.
“Just the baby,” I said.
She rubbed her eyes and stretched before looking at her phone for the time. She groaned.
“Christ. It’s barely 4 a.m.,” she said, settling back in her chair.
“I know.”
“Baby kicking?”
“It’s the witching hour.” I laughed.
“At least when the baby is here, I can relieve you so you can get some rest. There’s not much I can do out here.” She pointed at my belly and back to herself.
“Go back to sleep,” I said with a chuckle, settling back in the bed. I turned on my side and shut my eyes tight, willing sleep to come.
But it never did.
Three hours later, a different doctor knocked softly on the door, waking Monica from a deep sleep that I was jealous of. I sat up slowly, hoping I could go home. I looked at him eagerly.
“Hello, Ms. Heartly. How are you feeling this morning?” he asked, clicking his pen and readying himself to write on the clipboard in his hands.
“I’m feeling much better,” I said.
“Any nausea?”
“No.”
“Dizziness?”
“No.”
“Cramping?”
“No.”
He jotted a few notes down before looking back at me.
“Well, it sounds like you’re feeling much better. I was able to go over your charts from the night, and it looks like things are normal.”
“Does that mean I get to go home?” I asked eagerly.
He laughed. “I take it you want your own bed?”
I smiled and nodded.
“I will have a nurse come by with your discharge papers. But before I do, I need to remind you that stress is not healthy for you or the baby. I don’t want to assign you bed rest.”
I gulped. I couldn’t imagine being bedridden for the rest of my pregnancy.
“We’re not at that point yet,” he continued, “but I do need you to take it easy.”
“Yes, doctor,” I said sheepishly.
I couldn’t believe I had gotten myself to this same place again because of the mess that was my life. I wanted to kick myself for putting the baby under any stress. It wasn’t fair.
“I’ll make sure she takes care of herself, doc,” said Monica, standing up and giving him a firm nod.
“Good,” he said. “Now, you do need to schedule a follow-up with your OB. I will make sure to put in my notes that it’s urgent so you can get scheduled in a timely manner.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“I better not see you back here, unless that baby is being born.”
He said it so seriously that it made my stomach drop, but then he gave me a wink, which sent a flood of relief through me.
“Trust me, I don’t want to be back here,” I said.
“Have a good day, Ms. Heartly,” he said before slipping out the door.
An hour later, Monica and I were in a cab back to my apartment. I told her she should go home, but she again insisted she stayed.
“I have my laptop. I’m good. I can write from anywhere.” She drummed her fingers on her laptop case and gave me a reassuring smile.
“Thank you. I don’t think I’ve said it enough.”
“You’ve said it plenty. I’m your best friend and I know you would do the same for me.”
I nodded and rested my head on her shoulder as the cab weaved in and out of the morning traffic of the city. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, we were out front of my apartment. I lifted my head groggily as Monica paid the driver.
“You really were tired,” she said, opening the door and stepping outside.
She offered me her hand and pulled me out of the cab with a grunt. I gave her a grin as I hoisted myself out of the seat.
“I can’t imagine getting much bigger than this,” I said, rubbing my belly.
“You have two more months, missy.” She raised a brow and led me to the door of my building.
Once we were up in my loft, I collapsed slowly onto the bed. Exhaustion hit me hard. Hunger too. My stomach grumbled loudly.
“How about I whip up some pancakes?” asked Monica.
“That would be great.”
She nodded and started opening cabinets in the kitchen, pulling out a bowl and whisk and pancake mix.
I watched as she moved around the small kitchen, feeling so grateful for her.
Fifteen minutes later, she brought over a steaming plate stacked high with four buttermilk pancakes drizzled with syrup. My mouth watered just looking at it.
I eagerly took a bite.
“Thank you,” I said as the sweetness danced on my tastebuds.
“Of course,” said Monica, sitting beside me. “Look, I think I’m going to move in sooner than later.”
I looked at her, confused. We had agreed she would move in after the baby was born to help out and ease the rent. I already felt like enough of a burden to her. I couldn’t let her do more for me.
“Monica,” I said, my voice thick with emotion or syrup. I wasn’t sure.
“You need someone here with you to make sure you and the baby are okay.”
“But…”
“No buts. I’ll gather some of my things today and slowly get the rest this week. We’re officially roomies.”
I laughed, but also felt tears forming in my eyes.
“Hey, hey,” she said, pulling me close. “Don’t cry. We’re in this together. Okay?”
I nodded and wiped a tear from my cheek.
“Now, I’m going to call your OB and see if she can squeeze you in today. ’Kay?”
“Okay.”
Monica spent most of the morning and afternoon making trips from her apartment back to mine.
My loft was small as it was, and having her few things and the baby’s things made it feel even smaller.
Especially when I felt as big as a house.
I knew we would soon outgrow this loft, but for now we would make it work.
I wasn’t much help with the heavy lifting, but I did help her set up a little work station right next to my small desk. A place where she could write alongside me. I felt grateful that I had the freelance job she got me because I knew I would go stir-crazy without having anything to do.
Plus, we needed the money.
I had been avoiding looking at my finances since I had left my old job. My final paycheck had already hit my bank account, and now I relied on the small paychecks from freelancing that weren’t nearly as big or stable.
After I ate my pancakes this morning, I opened my nightstand to grab my journal and saw Daniel’s check folded in the dark corner of the drawer.
It would make life so much easier if I just cashed the check.
But I was stubborn. I didn’t want to rely on him.
I knew deep down the baby needed me to check my ego at the door and accept his help. He was the father, after all.
Until that day, I would just have to figure it out. Day by day.
Monica was able to get me an appointment with my OB at four that afternoon. I felt my nerves creeping up my throat as the cab pulled up outside. Just a few days ago, I had seen Daniel here, and while the chance of seeing him again was slim, I was still absolutely terrified.
“You’re shaking,” said Monica softly as she grabbed my hand.
“Ridiculous, huh? I’m being ridiculous,” I said, looking out the window of the cab, up and down the sidewalks.
“You’re not, but you need to calm down. Okay?” said Monica worriedly.
I nodded and opened the door of the cab. I paid the driver before I heaved myself out of the car. I hated spending money on cabs when I had a perfectly fine subway pass, but Monica didn’t trust me not to go into labor down in the tunnels or the train.
Anxiously, I glanced at the spot where I had left Daniel on the curb before he chased me down the street. I sucked in a deep breath and walked by it and into the building.
My OB didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. The doctor from the hospital had sent over my charts. The doctor from the first hospital a few months ago had done the same. She knew everything about me, inside and out, and the look of concern on her face made me clutch my stomach tightly.
“Addison,” she said, narrowing her gaze and grabbing my hands firmly.
I slowly looked up at her.
“If you want this baby to come out healthy, I need you to rest. Stay home as much as possible. Let people help you. Okay?”
It was like she was trying to tell me something, even though she knew nothing about Daniel or our history.
“Okay,” I said softly.
I tried not to get frustrated by what she was saying. Or when the other doctors had said the same thing. I didn’t ask for my world to collapse around me or for my heart to be shattered.
Still, I promised her and myself that I would do as I was told.