Chapter 29
“Pssst, Amani,” Adam whispers in the dark.
I ignore him and nuzzle deeper into my pillow.
“Hey,” he whispers again, “I know you’re awake.”
“Only because of you,” I say back. “Shush. Go to sleep.”
He slinks his arm over my waist and scoots in closer. His chest is warm against my back. My personal space heater. “I thought of the perfect name,” he says against my ear, sending sweet shivers down my spine.
Adam has come up with about ten different baby names over the past three days since I told him I’m pregnant. He’ll say it, then take it right back, not liking how it sounds out loud. We’ve gone through Halley, Autumn, Stella, and Madeline. Honestly, I’m fine with any of them.
I haven’t really fixated on what I’ll call the baby, more so what I’ll do with the baby. I’ve been fantasizing about our first dip in the pool. If it’s a baby girl, we’ll definitely have matching swim suits with obnoxious sparkles. I dream about taking my son to the zoo for the first time and watching his eyes light up in wonder when he gets to see the lions, tigers, and bears up close. “Mommy and Me” music classes are a must. I am not remotely musically inclined, so maybe that’ll be mutually beneficial. Basically, I want to experience motherhood without worrying so much about sharing my experience with the world. Pictures will be for me, my friends, my family, and Adam.
“All right, I’m ready to be impressed. Let’s hear it,” I mumble.
“I keep thinking of the name on my mind when you told me you were pregnant… Daisy.”
“As in duck?”
Adam pulls the strap of my tank top to the side and trails kisses over my bare shoulder. “Yeah, my little Daisy duck. What do you think?”
Turning over, I bury my head into his firm chest, his scant chest hair tickling my cheek. I kiss his smooth skin just beneath his collarbone. “I love it. Have you thought of any boy names?”
“Something masculine. Maybe Gunnar or Ford. I’d even consider Thor.”
I know he can’t see my scowl, so I hope a little sarcasm can convey my thoughts. “Are you naming our child, or our Rottweilers?”
He laughs and kisses the top of my head. “Our child. I can’t believe we did it, summer girl.”
“I can’t believe you’re still calling me ‘summer girl.’”
He wraps his arms around me and runs his hands up and down my back. My favorite form of affection. Adam hooked me with his sassy charm. He’ll keep me forever because of his back rubs.
“How about forever girl? Is that better?”
“Much better.”
“See Daisy?” I whisper. “We’re forever girls now.”
Adam chatters for a little longer, telling me stories about his childhood. My man is a little talkative when he’s happy. I love it. My sweet guy who is burning up under my fluffy comforter, but he never once asked me to replace it. Instead, he sleeps with one leg freed from the blanket so he doesn’t wake up sweating. In fact, Adam has made every concession possible since the day we met.
His phone is always on silent when we’re together. Sometimes I catch him sneaking to the bathroom ten times a day to return quick calls and answer messages. But when I’m speaking, I have all his attention. I pick the movies, where we stay, and even when we have sex. I know Adam doesn’t get half of what he hopes for, but he’s never whiny about it. My body has been through hell over the past year with all the treatments. I’m toggling from sick to stressed and anxious. When I’m in the mood, I’m a little demanding. When I’m not, sex is the furthest thing from my mind. Adam never pushes.
In fact, he’s so good to me, I’m feeling like I’m not pulling my weight in this relationship.
“Adam,” I whisper.
“Hm?” he mumbles sleepily.
“Seriously? You woke me up and now you’re falling asleep?”
He laughs. “Sorry.” He clears his throat. “What’s up, baby?”
“Are you happy?”
“Of course I am. Why would you ask that?”
“Because you do more for me than I do for you. I’m not adding much to this relationship. You have the money, the means, and if I’m being honest, I think you’re a little hotter than I am.”
He cackles. “So far from the truth. Chase, Cici, and Alex all tell me you’re way out of my league and I better be on my best behavior.”
“Seriously, though. Is there anything you want from me?”
He wedges his hand between our bodies and presses so gently against my stomach. “Something more than this?”
“Yes, Adam. Something more. We can’t rely on a baby to carry our relationship. That’s a recipe for disaster. What do you need from me?”
“You’re going to think I’m selfish,” he says simply.
I want to reach over and flip on the lamp. His tone changed. We didn’t close the drapes tonight, so I can make out the worry lines on his forehead by a little moonlight sneaking through the blinds.
“No, I’m not. I promise. Tell me.”
“Fine,” he breathes out. “I need you to tell your friends we’re together, we’re having a baby, and you’re staying in L.A. for good.”
I lightly trace the crinkle on his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, and over his lips. “Why do you need my friends to know?”
“Because I know you by now. When you tell your friends, that means it’s real to you. And I’ve been patient, not wanting to rush you. But I need to know this is real. That you’re not going to leave me or lie to me. Or lie about me. I don’t think I can survive one more broken family, Amani.”
I press my palm against his cheek, feeling his slight stubble. I’m so cozy in his arms like this. All I’ve felt since I met Adam was safety and security. He’s taken care of me from the moment we met. He saved me from my bad day, gave me a car, a home, and funded my last chance at motherhood. And I think I finally understand why Adam is trying so hard to save everyone around him. His dad, Chase, and me. He’s trying to lead by example. He needs someone to save him right back.
I put my lips on his, still tasting the remnants of his minty toothpaste.
“Adam, I won’t leave you. I won’t lie to you or about you. I love you, and I’ll call my friends tomorrow morning. Promise.”
“Thank you,” he breathes out. “I love you too.”
Adam falls asleep with my palm still on his cheek. He drifts off quietly, the only tip off is his rhythmic breathing. I slowly turn around and back my butt into his hips, letting him line my body from behind. His chest expands and relaxes against my back as a deep sleep claims him, like he can finally rest now that I’ve told him what he’s been aching to hear.
I’m not sure how my friends are going to react. During our girls’ trip, when I thought my chances at motherhood were over, I told them I was moving home. They were more than relieved. It’s like our dynamic shifted when I left. Like we were almost whole, but not quite. What Quinn, Reese, Addie, Noa, and I have is rare. It’s more than a friendship, even more than family. Our lives are threaded together. We’re one tapestry.
Had I told my friends how much I was hurting, I would’ve never moved to California. They would’ve been so supportive and loving, I would’ve been forced to heal. Quinn probably would’ve helped me get another job. Noa would’ve confiscated my phone had she known how addicted to social media I’d become. Reese probably would’ve fought a few trolls on my behalf. Why didn’t I tell them? Maybe I wanted to be rebellious. A part of me wonders if I was floating through life for so long that I simply wanted to feel, even if it was the bad stuff.
I didn’t want solutions. I wasn’t ready.
It’s true. I stopped having faith in people, but somehow along the line I forgot my girls are the exception. They aren’t just people. They are my heart. And now Adam has big shoes to fill. I know they’ll be happy for me, especially when I tell them what kind of man Adam is… But even so, L.A. still doesn’t feel like home. I want to raise this baby in a place that feels like home. Then again, this baby only exists because of Adam.
Dammit.I breathe out deeply, and Adam flinches, instinctually tightening his grip on my hip. Even his subconscious knows I’m trying to escape. I’m caught in an impossible position.
This is my happily ever after, and yet it still feels a little off. Like a fish that grew lungs and feet. How much longer can I really survive out of water?
I’m interrupted by a gush between my legs, halting all my thoughts about home. A big gush.
Oh fuck.
My breath picks up as panic takes over my body before my brain can catch up. No, no, no. Discharge is normal. Dr. Michel said so. My body is surging with hormones. It’s completely normal. Everything is fine.
Then why am I crying?Because I know. Something is off.
Another gush causes me to reach between my thighs and press against the outside of my soaked underwear.
Please, please, please. I’m pleading as I bring my damp fingers to my face. I could turn on the light to check the color, but there’s no need. Inhaling, I smell the metallic scent.
It’s blood.
So much blood.
“Adam,” I say firmly as I scoot away from him. “Get out of bed.”
“What?” he mumbles, pulling himself out of his deep slumber. I feel him reaching for me. “What’s wrong? Are you hot?”
“I’m bleeding.”
Inhumanly fast, he flicks on the lamp on his nightstand. As he pulls back the covers, he asks, “What do you mean you’re—”
He stops mid-sentence when he examines the sheets. His face falls, and he stares at the wall, trying to compose himself.
I’m too scared to look down. It’s not real until I see it. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Yeah, Amani. It’s a lot,” he says softly. “Are you cold?”
I must be shivering, but it’s not from the cold. “No.”
He’s breathing slowly, his eyes still on anything but me and the blood. After a few more silent moments, he scrambles out of the bed and heads into the closet. Adam returns with a pair of underwear, a dark pair of shorts, and a sweatshirt for me.
“Do you have any pads?”
“What?” I ask, sniffling.
“Baby, we have to go to the hospital.”
I curl into a ball and try to grab the comforter to cover my body. “There’s nothing they can do. It’s too early.”
Adam grabs my hand and finally looks at me. “We have to try, Amani. Please? For me?”
The last thing I want to do is go to the emergency room and sit in a waiting room for hours just for the doctor to tell me what I already know. But judging by the look on Adam’s face—twisted up like he’s trying not to cry—I know I just broke his heart.
It’s the least I can do.
“Pads are under the sink.” I reluctantly sit up as he disappears back into the bathroom and I finally look down.
My pink sheets are a goner. The mattress is probably ruined too. It’s been the longest fucking year for it to end like this. A complete roller coaster of up and down emotions has come to a close. False hope kept half-dangled over a cliff for what seems like an eternity.
Now, it’s over.
I remember something Holly told me back at Piermont about getting help before you need it. I think I understand. There’s a weight pressing on my chest. It’s making it hard to breathe and wearing me thin by the second. The room is suddenly tinted with a shadow, and I’m having the hardest time finding the motivation to move my feet.
I wish I knew what to do. Someone I could call. Tools I could use to combat the feeling of shutting down. It’s like a monster doubled back for his helpless prey. All I want to do is crawl back into bed and sleep. It takes every ounce of energy left in me to stand and stay focused on Adam’s voice as he dresses me.
“It’s okay, Amani. It’s going to be okay. I’m right here. We’re going to be okay.”
He says the words…
But I don’t believe them.