Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Zoe
“I take it this is unexpected,” Dr. Lodge says, her tone serious and professional.
Ya think? I want to say, but instead I smile and mumble, “It’s definitely a surprise.”
“As I said, we’ll confirm with the bloodwork. I’m going to send you for a sonogram to figure out the gestation age and your due date.” She continues talking about the appointments I need to make, but I’m lost in thought.
Pregnant. A baby.
I’m not ready for a baby. It’s not in my six- or twelve-month plan. If I pull out the planner, will the doctor understand that she’s wrong with her assessment? I can deal with more GI issues. That’s something I can manage. A child . . .
“We’ll send a prescription for prenatal vitamins to your pharmacy and call you with the results no later than tomorrow morning. Do you have any questions?”
I nod, half-listening and half-making plans for Maximillian’s demise. “Okay, thank you.”
My head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, and my hands are trembling as I clutch my bag. This was definitely not how I expected my routine checkup to go. Now I have a lot to think about—and even more to figure out.
As the doctor is about to leave the room, she stops. “Zoe?” Dr. Lodge’s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “I know this is a lot to take in. But you have options and support available, no matter what you decide. We can discuss everything in more detail once we have the blood test results.”
I nod again, forcing myself to meet her kind, concerned gaze. “Okay,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”
Dr. Lodge gives me a reassuring smile before leaving the room.
I walk out of the doctor’s office, my legs feeling like jelly. My breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps, and I clutch my chest as if that will steady the frantic beating of my heart. The world around me blurs, and I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision. The weight of the news presses down on me, making it hard to think straight.
I pause outside the building, the cool air hitting my face. I take several deep breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me. Each breath feels like a battle, but I keep at it, determined to regain some semblance of control. There’s so much to process, and the decisions ahead loom large and daunting.
The world outside seems too loud, too vivid, too normal. How can everything look the same when my entire life has just been turned upside down?
I walk toward my car in a daze, my feet moving on autopilot. I slide into the driver’s seat and just sit there, staring blankly out the windshield—a baby.
I’m going to have a baby.
A baby.
I’m becoming somebody’s mom.
The thought makes my stomach churn, and I swallow hard against the rising nausea.
I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, trying to take deep breaths. I need to think, to plan, to . . . I don’t even know. My mind is a whirlwind of emotions and half-formed thoughts.
A sudden knock on my window makes me jump. I look up to see Max standing there, a concerned expression on his face.
Of all people, it’s him outside my window. Seriously? And what am I supposed to do now? Be all casual and say, “Hey, Max,” or just call him my baby daddy, or . . . I can’t talk to him right now .
He taps on the window again, miming for me to lower it.
I can do this. Just talk to him and leave right away. I plaster a smile on my face and roll down the window. “Hey,” I say, hoping my voice sounds normal.
“Hey yourself,” he says, his brow furrowed. “You okay? You’ve been sitting in your car for more than five minutes and look a little . . . off.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “Just . . . life, work . . . my future.”
“You don’t look fine,” he says suspiciously, then points at the building. “You went to the doctor? Did you get some bad news? I can help, you know.”
I open my mouth and close it. Then frown because how does he know?
“It’s a medical building,” he responds to my silent question and grins. Then points to the building across from it. “I work just right there—I’m not stalking you or anything.”
“Oh right. I was there for a routine checkup and stuff,” I try to sound breezy, but I’m pretty sure I’m failing and sound like I’m about to have a panic attack. “You know, just the usual poke and prod.”
Max nods, but he doesn’t look entirely convinced. “You sure? You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I was there for Liam and his family while his grandmother was going through her cancer treatment.”
His voice is so kind and soothing that for a moment, I’m tempted to just blurt out the truth, to let someone else share this crushing weight. But I can’t tell him of all people. Not him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Well, no, I could wait until my baby turns eighteen. Even better, I can make the kid tell his father.
Okay, that’s a crappy thought, and I definitely wouldn’t do it. But right now is not the time to have this conversation with him.
“Zoe, are you okay?” he says the words so slowly you’d think I was a toddler trying to understand quantum physics.
“Fine, all is fine,” I insist.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he persists. “You don’t look well, and you know what—” He opens the car door and pulls me to him. “I’m not letting you drive home.”
“I can’t leave my car here,” I protest weakly.
“One of my guys will take care of it,” he says firmly as he closes the window and turns off the car.
He grabs my hand and leads me to an underground garage where his car is parked. He’s all gentlemanly, opening doors and being so attentive it almost makes me forget my worries.
The drive is quiet, and my mind wanders back to that night with him. Max. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a momentary lapse in judgment fueled by too much Fiji and not enough alcohol. There’s also the loneliness that comes with being perpetually single in your thirties. But now, that one night has turned into something else entirely.
I’m pregnant, and the father is a man I don’t know well enough. A man who, despite our time together, is only part of my life during social occasions .
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I don’t have a job, just a business that has two clients, and only one of them is paying. God, I never thought I’d find myself in this situation. Not now, not like this.
“Everything can be fixed,” Max assures me.
Really? Because this can’t be just fixed. I should tell him, shouldn’t I? He has a right to know. But the thought of saying something and looking at his reaction makes my stomach churn. I can call him later though. But picking up the phone, saying the words out loud . . . I can’t.
What if he doesn’t want this? He definitely doesn’t want this; I know that for a fact. I place a hand on my stomach, feeling protective toward this child.
There’s no way I’m telling Max and letting him reject my baby. And what if he thinks I did this on purpose, to trap him or something? I know it’s irrational, but the fear is there, gnawing at my insides.
And even if he does want to be involved, what then? We barely know each other, and now we’re supposed to, what, raise a child together? The idea is so absurd it almost makes me laugh. Almost.
No, I can’t tell him. Not until I’ve had time to process this, to figure out what I want to do. I need to make it on my own terms.
For now, I’ll keep this to myself. I’ll act like everything is normal and try to wrap my head around this new reality. And when the time is right, when I’m ready . . . then I’ll decide what to do next.
Max parks the car and walks me to my apartment, ever the gentleman. My thoughts swirl as we walk. Should I tell him now? How would he react? What if he sees this as a burden?
We reach my door, and I fumble with my keys, my mind racing. Max stands close, watching me with those intense eyes that seem to see right through me.
“Zoe,” he says softly, and I look up, my heart pounding.
“Yeah?” My voice comes out a whisper.
“You sure you’re okay?” His concern is palpable, and it makes my chest tighten.
“I’ll be fine,” I manage to say, forcing a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Max.”
He hesitates, then nods. “Anytime. You know where to find me if you need anything.”
I watch as he walks away, my heart aching with the weight of everything I’m not saying. Once he’s out of sight, I step inside my apartment and close the door, leaning against it for support.