Chapter 38
Breezy
I didn’t think the hardest part of being pregnant would be sitting still.
But here I am, perched in a green pleather chair that squeaks every time I breathe too deeply and gripping a clipboard like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded.
The OB-GYN office smells faintly of antiseptic and lavender lotion, and soft jazz hums through the speakers like it’s trying a little too hard to be calming.
But it’s incredibly hard to be calm when you’re newly pregnant and your baby daddy has been MIA since finding out the news.
I haven’t seen or spoken to Tad since Eileen dropped the baby bombshell in the middle of Josie’s coffee shop, and while it’s got me tied up in knots not knowing what he’s thinking or feeling or wanting, I’ve resigned myself to giving him some space.
It’s only been twenty-four hours since he found out. Hell, I’ve only known a day longer than him, and my brain feels like a hamster on a caffeine bender.
So, for now, I’m doing my best to stay hopeful and take this one heartbeat at a time.
Sure, Tad could decide he wants nothing to do with me or this baby.
But unless he Ubered out of Red Bridge overnight, the fact that his truck was still in his driveway before I left for this appointment tells me he hasn’t bolted for the Canadian border.
Silver linings? I’ll take whatever I can get at this point.
Women dot the space all around the reception room, some with bellies already swollen with babies and some without. All of us waiting. All of us quiet. And for a moment, it reminds me of New York. The anonymity. The pretending. The guessing who everyone is without ever really knowing.
I used to love that kind of mystery.
Now, even though I’m in a room full of people, it feels solitary to be sitting here by myself.
I click the pen attached to the clipboard and start filling out the medical history forms the lady at the front desk gave me. I understand why they need all the information, but it has to be one of the top five worst chores of adulthood.
Name, address, date of birth.
Easy enough. I write my answers down.
But when I reach Employer, the pen stills.
For the first time in my adult life, I don’t have one.
I stare at the empty line. Once upon a time, I would’ve written Bishop Galleries in big, confident letters. But that woman is gone.
Now, I’m just…me. A woman who fell into a small town, fell into a man’s bed for two months straight, and wound up pregnant with his baby.
I have no career and no official home. I’m a wanderer. Nomadic. A finder of new experiences and a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pantser.
A week ago, I never would have dreamed my pants would be flying me to an expanding uterus and an appointment with an OB to confirm what three home tests say are true, but I guess life moves fast when you’re a woman without a plan and an eye for the hot sheep farmer next door.
I sigh. Oh Breezy, how your life has changed.
The door by the front desk opens with a squeak, and a nurse calls out, “Jasmine Wilks?”
A glowing woman with a baby-ready belly stands and smiles, her husband rising right beside her. They both look nervous but happy. They look like a team.
I bite the inside of my cheek.
Maybe it’s better if I don’t think too hard about who’s missing from my side of the waiting room. Probably better if I just focus on myself right now.
I didn’t think I’d be doing this by myself—I didn’t think I’d be doing this at all, I guess. But when I called the OB-GYN office Norah recommended, I was more than happy to take a same-day appointment.
You can never be too sure that you’re pregnant, right?
Plus, I can only assume there’s information I need to know about growing another human being.
When Norah was pregnant with Autumn, I remember being shocked she couldn’t eat cold cut subs or sit in hot tubs, and I don’t know the first thing about blood work or glucose tests.
Needless to say, my years of working in the world of art won’t come in handy here.
Norah offered to come with me to this appointment, as did Bennett.
Josie offered too, when she called this morning to see how I was doing and gave me some insight into her pregnancy.
You know, the one Eileen decided to blast all over Red Bridge via the newspaper, right along with mine.
We didn’t have a lot of time to chat because she was in the middle of a Monday morning rush at CAFFEINE, but I know she’s equal parts ecstatic and terrified.
And seeing as she’s spent nearly the last decade thinking pregnancy wasn’t a possibility for her, I’d say it makes sense why she’s been so tight-lipped about it too.
Even Logan offered to be my sidekick to this appointment when he texted me to see if I wanted to meet somewhere in Red Bridge for lunch.
Yes, he’s still here. Insert heavy sigh.
I knew that chat would involve the galleries and our father’s will and all the things I simply do not have the energy to be thinking about right now, and this appointment was my get-out-of-jail-free-card excuse.
But mostly, I thought having anyone else tag along would make me feel lonelier.
Maybe I should have considered it harder.
On a faint sigh, I focus back on the paperwork. I scrawl Unemployed across the line, finish my insurance section, sign a stack of consent forms I barely read, and return the clipboard to the front desk.
I’m halfway back to my chair when the door opens again, revealing the person who didn’t offer to come but I wanted here the most.
Tad.
My heart stutters hard enough to make me dizzy. He scans the room—all quick, searching movements—until his eyes find mine. Relief flashes across his face like sunlight breaking through clouds.
“Breezy!” he says, voice rough, urgent. “Did you see the doctor yet?”
“No,” I say quietly and shake my head. Tears threaten to prick my eyes, and my throat is so tight I’m having a hard time forming words. “Just…uh…” I clear my throat. “Waiting my turn.”
“Good.” He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours. “I was afraid I’d missed it.”
“Missed it?”
“The appointment.” He lowers his voice and pulls me gently toward him, guiding me to a couple of chairs on the far side of the room with a hand at the small of my back.
“I went to Bennett’s house this morning to talk to you, but Norah said you were on your way here.
After she gave me the address, I just got in my truck and drove as fast as I could.
” He lets out another deep exhale of air.
“God, Breezy. I’m so sorry for the way I reacted at CAFFEINE. I… Well, it came as a shock, you know?”
I nod.
“But I’m sure it came as a shock to you too, and I should have stuck around to talk about it. I should’ve stayed by your side because you shouldn’t have to face any of this alone.”
“It’s okay, Tad.” My hands shake, and he reaches out to pancake them with his. Everything inside me settles. “I get it. Really. I’m just glad you’re here now.”
“Are you nervous?” he asks, his voice so earnest I could cry. It’s the care I’ve longed for, the support I didn’t even know how much I needed.
“Yes. I don’t see how I couldn’t be. I’ve… Well, I’ve never been pregnant before, and I sure as heck wasn’t expecting this.”
He nods before looking down at the floor and swallowing thickly. “The nerves will pass soon, and then the excitement will set in,” he comforts. “That first sound of the heartbeat. The first picture of a tiny human inside… We’ll never be the same.”
I want to ask him where he gets his wisdom—how he’s smart enough to recognize the little things in the midst of a scariness neither of us has ever known. It’s a whole other level of the human experience to be responsible for a person other than yourself.
“Beatrice Bishop?” the same dark-haired nurse as before calls from the door by the front desk. It’s a little awkward, walking toward her, knowing Tad is walking behind me while other women in the room watch just as I did with Jasmine before.
But it’s good awkward. It’s new. It’s joyful. It’s fulfilling.
Tad’s right. I have a very, very strong feeling I’m about to be irrevocably changed.
Once we’re through the door, the nurse leading the way, I glance back at him.
For once, I don’t bother hiding how nervous I am.
I’ve commanded many rooms in the last two decades, negotiated million-dollar art deals, and stood toe-to-toe with men who thought I didn’t belong in their world of obscene wealth.
But this feels like stepping into the unknown.
I’m entering into a new endeavor that has a hell of a lot less room for failure and much higher stakes.
Tad reads it all easily, hurrying his step to put his hand on my back and whisper in my ear, “It’s all going to be okay.”
I nod. I know he can’t know that’s true, and I can’t either—but somehow, the comfort of him saying it anyway is enough to settle my stomach.
“Step on the scale for me,” the nurse directs, gesturing in front of her and waiting as I scramble to hand Tad my purse and sweater and coat and scarf.
He takes it all with a gentle laugh. “Definitely don’t get on there with all this shit. It’s at least twenty pounds.”
The nurse smiles, and I step up on the scale.
I expect her to read my weight aloud—like the unbothered nurses in New York always do—but she doesn’t, sending me a wink as she writes it on her clipboard instead.
“All right, we’ll just need a urine sample.
Restroom’s right behind you, and the cups are on the counter.
Label it, cap it, and bring it back out with you.
You’ll be in room number four, and your…
” She looks directly at Tad, and I don’t have a clue what to call him.
When Farm Daddy is the only title that pops into my head, I just about swallow my tongue and start choking on my own saliva.
“Boyfriend,” Tad eventually supplies with a smile that looks completely at ease with the label.
“Your boyfriend can wait in there for you.”