Chapter Five
“What in the hell are you talking about?” Jones’ eyes widened at once.
“I’m pregnant,” I closed my eyes, the words I was saying finally sinking in. “And it’s yours.”
“That can’t be right,” he shook his head, never taking his eyes from mine. “We used a condom, every time, we were so careful.”
“Not careful enough, apparently,” I shot back, feeling the enormity of the situation overwhelm me like a tidal wave.
“Are you sure it isn’t David’s?” He asked. “It has to be. I mean, you guys have had--“
“It isn’t,” I shook my head. “He-we didn’t have sex for a couple of months before the wedding. We were saving it. We wanted it to be…special.”
As soon as those words came out of my mouth, it seemed like Jones finally accepted what was happening. And that he was pretty damn angry about it.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” He demanded, pacing back and forth next to the bed. “If that’s why you came here, why did you let me…do all that stuff?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you let us do all the dating stuff if you had to tell me this?” He pressed me. “I mean, all this time, you’ve been acting normal, and--” “I wanted to have a chance to actually get to know you,” I replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking up at him.
“So you’re keeping it?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I am.”
“And you want me to, what, pay for it or something?” He stared at me.
“I wanted to give you the chance to be in this baby’s life,” I explained. “It seemed fair. I mean, you would have wanted to know, right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he wrinkled up his nose. “But…just not like this.”
“How was I meant to tell you?” I demanded, exasperated.
“Just…” he trailed off, letting the unspoken words hang in the air between us. I raised my eyebrows at him.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know,” he sat down next to me, turning his back so I couldn’t see his face. “Do you want me to be…I mean, do you want to raise this baby by yourself, or…?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. I didn’t realize how little thought I’d given to all of this ridiculousness, but now we were speaking about it, it was becoming clearer, more blatant.
“Why not?” His voice was small and a little accusatory, and I snapped my head around.
“Because you…the life you lead, it’s not exactly conducive to raising a baby,” I pointed out.
“What does that mean?”
“You’re dating a bunch of people, you play football all the time and you have training and shit for that, the paparazzi follow you around…” I reminded him.
“It might seem normal to you, but…”
“You don’t know if you want your kid raised around that. Our kid,” he corrected himself.
“I guess.” My voice was small, the future between us spreading out terrifyingly in front of me.
“Then why tell me about it at all?” He stood up again. “Why not just fucking have the thing and raise it by yourself?”
“What?”
“If you don’t want me raising this baby, you shouldn’t have come here at all,” he snapped. His expression was scattered -- part anger, part fear, part confusion, part something else I couldn’t put my finger on.
“I had to give you a chance!” I exclaimed. “I had to get to know you before I could make this decision!”
“Oh, and you got to know me by fucking me, right?” He snapped back. “And that’s your decision made?”
“I don’t know, I just need more time, this is all such a mess,” I ran my hands over my face.
“Maybe you should take some time away from me,” he suggested, his voice cold. “Maybe you should go.”
“You’re kicking me out?” I asked, my voice incredulous.
“Is it safe for you to travel?”
“I guess, I’m only a couple of months along,” I replied. He turned to me, and reached over to put a hand on my stomach. His touch made me jump. He quickly withdrew, and turned away from me once more.
“Then I think it would be best if we both took some time to think about everything that’s going on,” he suggested. “I think you should…go. Now.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” he responded firmly. “I just…fuck, I can’t believe you kept this from me as long as you did. I have every right to be pissed, but I don’t think you should be around to see it.”
I got to my feet defiantly, wobbling slightly, and strode over to the bag I’d dumped in the corner of the room when I’d first arrived.
“Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll be out of your hair. Call me a taxi and I’ll get down to the train station and you never have to hear from me again.”
“Never?” He looked up at me, and I could see a flicker of panic in his eyes, a flicker that told me his mind was far from made up yet. I wanted to sit next to him, to lay my head on his shoulder, to talk through with him how we were going to deal with this.
But if he wanted me gone, I would be gone- the ball was in his court, and he had firmly batted it back in my direction. I had been prepared for this. It was time for me to put my money where my mouth was, and get the fuck out.
“Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?” I replied curtly, stuffing my clothes into my bag and swinging it over my shoulder.
Before he had a chance to say anything else, I strode for the door, not even bothering to wait for him to call me a taxi-I would find one sooner or later, and I needed some time to clear my head as it was. As soon as I heard the penthouse door click shut behind me, the tears began to fall and I I wondered how in the hell I was going to face all of this alone.