Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
BILLIE
Birthday update: lavender bath salts make a fantastic gift for heavily pregnant women.
Not least because they’re soothing my aching body, but they’re also helping to calm my racing mind.
Everything had to go to shit the second Mom left for a last-minute girls’ trip with Maria to Fort Lauderdale.
The baby’s movements have been reduced for a longer period than normal, and because she can’t get a flight back for the next few hours—even if Maria physically flew Mom home—Dad is going to take me for an urgent scan at the hospital.
All I have to do is wait for him to leave work and drive the twenty-minute commute back home, keep calm, and not stay in this bath for too long even though the warm water and lavender scent are all that’s preventing me from spiraling into unhelpful thoughts over what could be wrong.
When my phone buzzes on the shelving unit next to the tub, I reach up and grab it, an influx of mixed emotions hitting me when Tucker fills the screen.
I knew I needed to reach out and let him know what was happening, but I also correctly predicted that I’d be met with his voicemail.
This is him returning my initial worried call—twelve hours later.
I might not be his priority any longer—or ever at all—but his baby should be.
“Hi,” I immediately say after hitting Accept.
Other than brief texts about potential baby names—which we still haven’t agreed on—this is the first time I’ve spoken to him since I left Austin.
My hand shakes as I pull the phone away from my ear to check the call is still connected and that he didn’t butt-dial me by mistake.
“Hi.” Tucker’s clipped, almost-dismissive tone flips my stomach.
“I called to tell you that—”
“What is it you need, Billie?”
When he cuts me off with venom, I physically pull back in shock, water splashing over the sides of the bath. In the past, I’ve witnessed Tucker’s annoyance, but this is different. He’s never spoken to me like this before.
“Because if it’s money, then my parents already made their position clear.”
“Excuse me?” My voice is hoarse and not as strong as I’d like. Clearing my throat, I straighten my shoulders. “If you’d given me a chance to speak, then you would have already known the reason for my call.”
He mumbles something inaudible. It’s not even lunchtime in Austin, but I can tell he’s out. Music and laughter in the background clueing me in.
When he doesn’t speak again, I take it as my cue to continue.
“I called because over the past twenty-four hours, the baby’s movements have been more irregular, and the doctors have asked me to head to the hospital for a scan and monitoring.”
“I don’t see why that’s a problem. They’re getting bigger, so moving won’t be as easy.”
Inhaling a deep, lavender-filled breath into my lungs, I blow out a sigh.
I will not lose my shit.
“Mothers are told to keep an eye on fetal movements and note down any change in pattern. Regardless of whatever you might think, the doctors know best.”
Another mumbled noise.
“I don’t see why this concerns me, Billie. You decided to move back to Brooklyn, so it’s not like I can take you to the hospital.”
It’s not like you ever would anyway.
I fight back a sarcastic retort, eager not to let this conversation descend into a fight, like so many in the past.
“I’m keeping you in the loop as the father,” I tell him, amazed that I have to explain myself.
“Who’s taking you to the hospital?” It’s the first decent question Tucker’s asked me in a while.
My shoulders drop an inch from where they were sitting around my ears. “Dad. He’s on his way over to pick me up.”
The conversation grows even more stilted when a few beats pass with only the sound of music and more laughter, confirming that Tucker didn’t hang up.
“Is that all?” he finally asks.
Anger and frustration give way to upset when I realize that he genuinely couldn’t care less.
“Yes.” My reply is quick, as I’m determined not to reveal the thickness in my throat. “Wait,” I add before he inevitably hangs up.
“Yep?”
I don’t need to be a genius to figure out that our relationship is over.
Still, that doesn’t mean that he gets to avoid an acknowledgment.
I’m done with Tucker Price treating me like something he just stepped in when all I’ve ever done is offer him, and his family, my respect.
I have two weeks until the due date, and I need to find closure so I can move on and piece my life back together.
It feels too juvenile to simply ask if we’re done, and I struggle to find a way to ask the same question without coming off as desperate or needy.
I’m neither of those things despite the picture that’s been painted of me around campus, rumors fueled by the guy who I know is growing impatient on this call.
“Listen, I gotta get to class in, like, two minutes, so can we—”
“When were you going to grow a pair of balls and admit that you don’t want to be a part of my or the baby’s life?
Because I don’t think this was ever about money, Tucker.
I think you freaked out at the prospect of becoming a father before you finished college, and now you’re running away from your responsibilities.
” I prod a finger into the center of my chest. I know he can’t see me, but the action only deepens my determination.
“I mean, you couldn’t even bring yourself to end things with me before you were jumping into bed with other girls.
” I end my speech on a cynical laugh and wait for Tucker to, for once in his life, speak the truth.
After a second, I feel sure he’ll drop the call, although what leaves his mouth next is no surprise.
“I’m not talking about this now, Billie.”
Climbing out of the bath, I risk slipping with only one free hand to steady me.
“Ah, yes, because I’m in the perfect position to bring this conversation up.
” My best efforts to remain calm fail as I continue ranting.
“How about you look at it this way? The sooner you admit that you cheated and that we’re through, the sooner the baby and I will be out of your life for good. ”
“I fucked someone else.”
His immediate response, coupled with the cold way he said it, stops me in my tracks. I knew the truth, but I wasn’t fully ready to hear it. Even if I’d convinced myself that I was.
Setting my phone down on the sink, I switch it to speaker and snag a towel from the heated radiator, wrapping it around me for warmth.
“Do you have any intention of being around for or after the birth?” I ask, opting to skip over his confession. I got my answer as his former girlfriend, and now I need to know where I stand as a mother.
“Billie …” This time, when he says my name, Tucker’s voice is a little softer.
Maybe his empathetic tone is born out of guilt for his behavior or what he’s about to say next, but honestly, I don’t much care. Mom is right; I need to start looking after myself because my ex-boyfriend sure as shit isn’t going to.
“I’ll take that as a no then, shall I?” I’m incredulous, angry, and—for the very first time during my pregnancy—maternal. Rejecting me is one thing, but hurting my unborn child is quite another.
“I never said that,” he argues, background music fading out and replaced with traffic noise. Maybe he is on his way to a class and isn’t a twenty-four/seven bullshitter.
A message drops down from Dad, and I tap the notification.
Dad
Billie, can you call me, please?
“It’s going to be really hard to visit now that you’re in Brooklyn.”
“I’m in Brooklyn because I was left without a choice or any support in Texas!” I bite out, quickly typing out a response to Dad and setting my phone down on the shelf. “And physical distance shouldn’t really matter when it comes to your newborn baby.”
“I have finals this year.” Tucker is considerably less self-assured than when he first answered the phone.
Good. He should be downright ashamed of himself right now.
“So, no then?” I press once more, now adamant that he’ll own his choices.
“Billie—”
“It’s a simple answer, Tucker—yes or no,” I cut him off, anticipating his brush-off before he said it.
“No, all right?! No!” he growls, his true colors inevitably surfacing like a poisonous oil slick spreading across crystal ocean water.
Tucker might like to play the nice guy in college, but I know who he is behind closed doors—a selfish prick who can’t see past his college degree or the end of his small dick.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you?” he chokes out.
Pulling on my bra, I shrug a single shoulder.
This was exactly the closure I needed from him and everything I’d expected, even if it wasn’t what I’d hoped for my child. Because they are my child, not Tucker’s. He lost that right around thirty seconds ago.
“Yeah, thank you for showing me exactly who I thought you were. Thank you for confirming that my move to Brooklyn was precisely the right call.” I pick up my phone, bringing the microphone to my lips.
“And thank you for saving my tears. Because I won’t be crying a single fucking one over a guy who failed to keep it in his pants for his pregnant girlfriend. ”
With trembling fingers, I hit End on the call and immediately navigate to Dad’s contact, adrenaline surging through me as I move into my bedroom and begin getting dressed, propping my cell between my ear and shoulder.
“Bill.” Dad’s voice sounds breathless, and I pause, slowly sinking down on the bed.
“What’s the matter?”
He draws in another breath, this one sounding pained.
My adrenaline spikes again.
“I’ve broken my leg pretty badly.”
That’s when I tune in to the commotion going on around him, voices asking my dad to stay calm.
“What? How?”
He grunts down the phone. “My van tire had a blowout on the way home and I hit a tree. Thankfully no one else is hurt but my leg is … yeah, it’s not good.”
I leap to my feet and tear down the stairs, frantically searching for Mom’s car keys. She didn’t drive to the airport, and I’m on her insurance.
“Where are you? I’ll be right there,” I confirm, eyes darting around as I continue searching.
Dad’s voice is steady and firm. “No, Bill. You need to get to the hospital. Mom’s flight got delayed again due to a thunderstorm, but she’ll meet me as soon as she arrives in Brooklyn.”
“I can’t just leave you,” I plead.
“You can, and you will, Billie.”
“I can’t find Mom’s car keys. I’ll have to take an Uber.”
“Hang on a second.” More voices, and another—much louder—groan leaves Dad. “They’re putting me in the ambulance now. God, Christ, this fucking hurts.”
I’m tempted to crack a joke about how it’s nothing compared to childbirth, but think better of it.
In two weeks, I’ll be the one screaming in agony.
“Emmett is going to give you a ride to the hospital. He just got done with morning skate and has taken a detour from the gym.”
I shoot through to the living area and peer through the blinds just as Emmett’s Aston Martin rolls up to the curb.
“Your best friend is going to take me to the hospital?” I ask, trying to ignore the subtle shimmer of butterflies as they bounce around in my stomach.
That man is undeniably hot, and I look like a freaking horror show, hair everywhere and no makeup.
“He’s the only person available that I trust.”
“Sir, we need you to end the call now, so we can administer pain relief.”
I head back upstairs and into my bedroom. “Keep me updated, okay?”
“Will do, Bill. I promise everything’s going to be all right.”
Dad’s soft words of reassurance manifest in tears that run down my cheeks, and I disconnect the call, snagging my purse from the bed as I close my eyes for a long moment.
“Everything’s going to be all right.”