Chapter 33 - Zach

I walk into my apartment and I realise I don’t remember the drive back to my place at all. I hardly remember leaving the doctor’s office. I drop my keys on the counter and take off my jacket before going to the fridge and grabbing a beer. I crack it open and flop down onto my sofa.

The cold liquid pours down my throat and I sigh in satisfaction. I drink about half the bottle in one gulp, and then open my eyes. I stare at the beer in my hands, peeling the label off slowly.

She’s pregnant.

Three or four weeks, that would put us at the Christmas party.

Is it even mine?

As soon as the thought crosses my mind I dismiss it. I know it’s mine. It has to be mine! Who else’s would it be? The timeline makes sense, and we never used any protection. How could I be so stupid?!

I can’t believe she’s pregnant. As soon as Doctor Mac said the words I couldn’t think or hear or speak. I could hardly focus on the road.

I lay back in the sofa and put a hand over my eyes. I replay the day in as much detail as I can. Harper’s sickness, her hesitation about going to the doctor, telling me she’d take care of it on her own.

What if she planned this?? What if she’s exactly like all the other women that I’ve worked so hard to avoid. I’m usually so careful! I’ve had so many women try to get themselves pregnant just to attach themselves to me. What if she’s just another one of them?

I crack another beer open and feel the anger welling up inside me. She played me. She never told me why she knew she wouldn’t get pregnant, and like a fool I just took her at her word. I assumed she was on the pill, but I never fucking asked! She’s probably been trying to trap me with a kid this whole time!

She’s just like the rest of them.

I bring the bottle of beer to my lips and drink another quarter of it. I churns in my stomach and feeds my anger.

I thought she was different. I was starting to care about her! I thought I was starting to -urgh - love her!!! The thought of it makes me swallow the rest of the beer. Love! What am I thinking. She’s just another gold digging woman looking for an easy way out.

My thoughts come hard and fast, swirling through my head until I’m dizzy. My anger gives way to panic. I’m going to be a father! My panic gives way to uncertainty. She looked just as shocked as I was. My uncertainty turns to anger again. She’s just a fucking good actor, is all.

I drink beer after beer after beer until I can’t see straight and the pain in my chest dulls to an ache, and then I drink some more.

I wake up amidst stale, empty beer bottles. I passed out on the sofa. My cheek is glued to the leather couch and I slowly peel myself off to sit up. My head is spinning, and my mouth tastes like death.

The bottles around me tell a story. I don’t usually drink this much. I don’t usually drink in response to upsetting news. I’m usually able to control my emotions.

Not this time.

I groan as I stand up, walking like a zombie towards the bathroom. I turn on the shower and as it heats up I brush my teeth. I undress and stand under the hot water without moving for an eternity. I open my mouth and try to wash the taste of toothpaste and beer out of my mouth.

Last night, my mind was a torrent of thoughts and emotions and today I’m completely empty. I’m numb. I can’t even string a coherent thought together. I’m on autopilot and I just let my body lead me. I get out of the shower, shave, get dressed. I head downstairs and get in the car. Before I know where I am, I’m back at the office. I was planning on taking a few days off, but the rest of the team will be back from their holidays and I have nowhere else to go. At least when I’m there I can try to forget about yesterday.

I ignore everyone as I make the long walk from the elevators to my office. I get in and close the door. I sit down and put my pounding head in my hands. I shouldn’t have drank that much. T

aking a deep breath, I turn on my computer. Before I can bring myself to focus on anything work-related, my door flies open. I hear Becca protest but Rosie stomps in anyways and slams the door behind her. She balls her fists and puts them down on the desk across from me, leaning towards me. Her eyes are shooting flames at me and her nostrils flare with every breath.

“How dare you,” she spits at me. I lean back. “How dare you abandon Harper like that. You fucking sack of shit!” Her voice is getting more and more strained.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh fuck off, Zach. You’re a fucking piece of shit. You find out you got a girl pregnant, one that you’ve been spending every waking hour with, and the next thing you do is shut down and dump her off at her house by herself?!? She’s a fucking mess, Zach, and it’s your fault.”

Her chest is heaving and I can feel the anger hit me like a wall.

“I didn’t… I don’t..” I can’t answer her. I try to remember what happened yesterday but it’s a complete blur. My head is splitting.

“And the only thing you had to say to her,” Rosie stands up, pointing a finger at my chest. “The only fucking thing you had to say was to ask her if she was going to keep it?!?! You insensitive prick! I always thought you were an asshole and you’ve just proven me right. I thought maybe I had you wrong when I saw how happy Harper was but you’re the worst kind of man. You coward.” She spits the last word at me and without waiting for me to reply she spins around and walks out. My office door slams and I jump in my seat.

I sit back in my chair and bring my hands to my temples. My head is still pounding.

I asked her if she was going to keep it?? Slowly, the memory comes back to me. We were in the car, and I was staring at the sidewalk through the windshield. Rosie’s anger lifts a curtain of fog on my mind. She’s right. I’ve been an ass. Harper needed me and I abandoned her, and made her feel like it was all a mistake.

Oh God, I am a prick. Of course she wasn’t using me! Of course she wasn’t faking it! What was I thinking?! I spent all day and all night feeling sorry for myself and getting drunk off my ass and I just abandoned Harper. She’s pregnant and alone and probably thinks I hate her.

My heart drops. I have to fix this. With trembling hands I pick up my phone and dial her number. It goes straight to voicemail - she’s either turned her phone off or blocked my number. The panic starts rising in my throat as I realise what the past twelve hours must have been like for her. I stand up and grab my coat.

I need to see her. I need to fix this.