Chapter 1 #2
Once the worst passes, I shakily make my way to the sink, and in a niche in the wall, I see a plastic sealed brush and fresh tube of paste. I make use of both and revel in the minty goodness.
Once I spit and rinse and do all the things, I splash some cold water on my face to remove the smudged mascara making me far too raccoonish and face the fact I can't hide away in the bathroom forever—especially when the door is still open. And hazel eyes watch.
I dry my hands. Miss the waste basket and have the indignity of having to bend over to get it to toss it inside this time and finally walk back into Kace's hospital room to find him to be the only occupant. "Where are the girls?"
"I asked Mads to take Dani to get a snack to give you some privacy."
"Oh. That's thoughtful. Thanks."
He waves a hand over his harness-lifted leg and grins. "Sorry I couldn't leave too. That reminded me of my prekid days, before life knocked some sense into me."
He's looking at me again. And obviously not liking what he sees.
"You should probably sit down," he tells me.
I am lightheaded, so I shuffle over to the nearest chair to drop into the seat. I lean my elbows on my knees, groaning softly at the headache beginning to form. "I hope you won't let this…cloud your impression of me. I'm not usually so…"
"Pregnant?"
A huff emerges before I can stop it.
"None of my business but—what's the deal? I got the sense from Mads that things aren't…okay?"
I exhale a breath I didn't know I held and force my head up just as the girls return, and Dani's giggle reaches us first. I use the last of my energy to get myself to my feet and paste on a smile for them.
"Perfect timing! Madi, text me when you're ready to leave, and I'll meet you at the elevator.
No rush though, okay? Enjoy your visit."
"Okay," Madison says, her gaze sliding from me to her uncle in the bed.
"Daddy, look what I got from the machine," Dani says. "I want to mix the Oreos with the orange juice."
I swallow down a wave of nausea at the thought of that mix and hurry toward the door, feeling Kace's curious gaze on me every step of the way.
I stumble my way downstairs to the cafe off the lobby to wait for the girls. I'm out of sorts and still feeling icky, but I get some crackers from the assorted offerings and a tea to settle my stomach. No orange juice and Oreos for me, thank you very much.
Once I'm at a table for two, I open my phone to busy myself, thinking the girls will stay until visiting hours are over.
An email catches my attention, and I frown as I click on it and read.
Crackers and tea forgotten, I stare at the screen and feel my body go boiling hot and then cold. And then blazing hot again.
Have you taken care of the problem yet?
That's it. No words of remorse. No sorry this happened. Not even a signature or his name. Just a demand disguised as a question.
I delete and block the email sender AKA baby daddy and sit back, resting my palm over the problem inside me.
Maybe the baby wasn't planned and is pretty much the last thing I need right now, but it's here, and I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that I'm carrying a child. Maybe I am broke—for now—but I can figure this out. I will figure this out.
"Hey, you're Lindsey, right?"
I glance up to see a tiny woman standing nearby, coffee cup in hand from the cafe. "Yes, I'm sorry… I don't…?"
"I'm Zoey. I was at the bookstore opening today with the Babes. Tessa's my mother."
The image of an older, stylish woman with a pixie cut and perfect makeup comes to mind. "Oh, yes, I remember her. That group is the resident Golden Girls."
Zoey laughed at the comparison. "They are that. Are you okay? I don't mean to intrude, but you look a little pale, and I thought I'd check on you."
Tears spring to my eyes in an instant, and even though the polite thing to do would be to laugh and reassure Zoey that I am A-okay, the lump in my throat doesn't allow it. Instead, I barely hold back a sob that emerges as a choked gurgle that leaves me clamping a hand over my lips to hold it in.
"Oh, Lindsey. May I join you?"
I cover my face with my trembling hand and try to get myself under control. Is this pregnancy? Raging hormones and sickness? If that's all there is to show for it, why do women do this?
Zoey seats herself beside me, moving the chair and positioning it in such a way that she's close enough to keep a conversation private, though she's so small I'd say passersby can see me anyway.
I'm grateful though, because the tears just keep coming. I feel her hand on my shoulder, gently patting and soothing.
"S-sorry. I'm so embarrassed." I don't even know this woman, and here I am blubbering in front of her. Add that to my blunder upstairs in front of Kace, and ain't I just the icing on the cake topped with a rotten cherry?
"There's no need to be sorry or embarrassed. Sometimes tears just have to come out. It's good to let them go. It lets the body release tension."
"It's freaking hormones," I mutter. "And anger.
" I wave a hand toward the phone on the table.
"A lot of anger. I can't believe I ever actually liked that idiot.
"I force myself to take a breath and angrily wipe my cheeks.
I can't sit there and cry over a jerk. I won't allow it. "Can you keep a secret?"
Zoey smiles at me.
"Considering I'm a therapist, yes. Absolutely."
Oh. I didn't know she was a therapist. "Don't I have to be a patient or something?"
"I'll let that slide this time. What's going on, hmm? Anything I can help you with?"
I tap the phone screen. "No, not really. It's just…I'm pregnant."
"I figured as much after the hormones comment. I take it the baby wasn't planned?"
Her tone is soft and tender. "No," I say, tearing up again.
"And I went against everything inside me telling me to not cross the line with him because he was a—a work colleague, but I did—only to find out that he's married.
I didn't know," I stress as I swipe another tear.
"I swear I didn't know. I can't stand women who go after married men. Now I'm one of them."
"You aren't one of them, Lindsey. Like you said, you didn't know." Zoey pulls a tissue from her pocket and hands it to me. "It's clean. I always keep them handy. Job hazard."
I sniffle and accept the offering, dabbing at the tears and my runny nose. "I just got an email from him asking if I've gotten rid of the problem."
Zoey winces on my behalf.
"Yeah, he's that guy. Not only did he lie and pretend to be single, but he already has kids and doesn't want another one."
"Well, legally, what he wants and what his responsibilities will be are very different."
I shake my head firmly. "No, I want nothing from him.
I don't want him in my life at all. I just…
I'm just not sure how I'm going to do this on my own.
It's more than the money aspect—though that's no small thing.
I've never really been around kids or babysat them.
And going home means facing him and the questions from my work, and—I'm just not sure I can do it.
Bronwyn knows, and she says I can stay here but… "
"But?"
I manage to suck in a breath. "She's already been through so much. And she and Gabe… I don't want to interfere in their relationship or be a burden. They deserve this special time as a couple. I'm just a little overwhelmed trying to figure out my next steps."
"What you're feeling is perfectly normal. Of course you're overwhelmed. That is a lot to consider. Not only are you dealing with pregnancy hormones but thinking of a move? Where are you from?"
"California."
"A cross-country move then," Zoey says, frowning.
Coast-to-coast. When I think of the logistics—I can't breathe again. Do I fly back and drive my car here? Sell my car and buy another? What about my clothes? Furniture? I'll have to find a new doctor and dentist. And a place to live and—
"Hey, breathe, Lindsey," Zoey says in her soothing voice. "One step at a time. You don't have to do everything all at once. How about I help you come up with a plan? Hmm? Would having a list ease the pressure?"
I fist the tissue like an anchor and force myself to think. "I don't know. I…guess a list would be the start."
"Great. Here, let's use this. It helps to physically write stuff down on paper.
" She pulls the napkin tucked around her coffee cup and flattens it on the table, then takes the pen from the lanyard around her neck.
"This is in no order. We're just writing down what needs done so that it's contained and not running rampant through your head and overwhelming you. Okay?"
"Okay," I say, swallowing hard.
I can do this. I can be a single mom. Start over. Move across the country.
I can do this.
Starting over sounds good in theory. But in reality?
I can't even see the first step.