Ten days after Miles’s voicemail, I sat on the edge of the tub and stared at the plus signs. There were four of them because I hadn’t believed the first test could be right, nor the second or third. But the fourth…the fourth was the kicker.
I was pregnant.
By Miles Haas.
A huge wave of dizziness and nausea rushed through me, and I quickly knelt in front of the toilet until it passed. Then I sat on the cold white tiles with my hands cradling my stomach, sweaty, hot, and shaking.
OK, think. Just think. One step at a time.
First, I needed to make a doctor’s appointment and get a blood test to make sure I really was knocked up. Maybe the tests were defective.
Four tests? And what about the fact that you’re a week late? You’ve never been a week late, not ever.
I looked down at my belly in disbelief. Was it possible that Miles had gotten me pregnant?
Of course it’s possible! You had sex without a condom, didn’t you?
But…but I was on the pill! It always worked for me and Dan! For eight years! Had I fucked up the cycle when I’d switched brands? I knew I’d missed a pill the night I slept at Miles’s house, but I’d taken the missed one right away the next morning. And I’d taken another one that night. I’d done that before and it had been fine!
Moaning, I got off the floor and stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Flattened my hands over my belly. It didn’t feel any rounder than usual, but then again, even if I was pregnant, I wouldn’t show for a while yet.
If I kept it.
Don’t think about that yet. You don’t even know for sure.
But I felt like I did.
Trembling, I went down to the kitchen and dug my phone from my purse to call the doctor.
• • •
The next day, I left my OB’s office and drove straight to Skylar and Sebastian’s cabin. Beside me on the seat was a stack of pamphlets about prenatal vitamins, breastfeeding, and my “options.”
My stomach churned as I thought them over.
I could terminate the pregnancy.
I could proceed with the pregnancy and give the baby up for adoption.
I could have the baby and…have a baby.
I’d already cried buckets in the exam room, but the tears flowed again as I drove up the highway, and I reached into my purse for the wad of tissues I’d stuck there. After blowing my nose, I called Jillian.
As expected, I got her voicemail. “Hey, Jill. It’s Natalie. I’m on my way to Skylar’s for dinner and I know you’re working, but if there’s any way you can head out there when you’re off, I’d love it. I need you guys. The blood test was positive.” My voice was shaky and the entire message was punctuated by sobs, but I got it out.
Last night, I’d called my sisters and told them about the home test results. They both agreed I shouldn’t panic until I saw my doctor, although I could tell by what Jillian said, she thought those home tests were accurate. Skylar had gone dead silent, and I imagined she was picturing me fat as a rhinoceros coming up the aisle in my lavender bridesmaid dress. But maybe that was unfair. Right away, she’d offered to take this afternoon off and go with me to the doctor’s, but I said it was OK, I could handle going alone. I’d probably have to go to a lot of things alone in the near future. The thought brought on a fresh round of tears, and I blubbered into my sopping tissues.
Ten minutes later, I parked in front of the cabin and got out. Skylar ran out onto the porch before I even shut the car door.
“Well?”
I was crying too hard to speak.
“Oh, honey.” Skylar opened her arms and I ran into them, feeling every bit the baby sister I was.
I sobbed on her shoulder, keening so loud Sebastian came out to see what he could do.
I took one look at his big, broad chest and threw myself at him, needing to feel a pair of strong, masculine arms around me, even if they were my future brother-in-law’s.
He was a good sport about it and held me loosely in his arms while I slobbered all over his shirt, patting my back while Skylar stroked my hair. I was glad they didn’t say anything like It’s OK or Don’t worry or Everything will be fine. I needed to wallow in my stupidity and misery for a moment before I faced the facts and made a plan, and they understood.
But after a couple minutes, Skylar tugged on my arm. “Come on inside.”
We went into the living room, and Skylar dropped down next to me on the couch. “So now what?”
“Now I have to decide what to do,” I said, my breath coming in gasps.
“You should tell Miles right away.” Sebastian spoke quietly from where he stood near the door, hands in his pockets. “He needs to know.”
“I know,” I said, reaching for the box of tissues on the end table. “God, I’m dreading that.”
“I don’t blame you.” Skylar continued to stroke my hair. “You think he’ll freak out?”
“Uh, yes. Duh. He’s like a big kid himself. You should have seen his refrigerator. His cupboards. He didn’t even have a spatula!” I wailed.
“What does a spatula have to do with a baby?” Sebastian sounded confused.
I threw a hand in the air. “It’s another sign that he doesn’t have his shit together.”
“Well, maybe he could get it together by the time the baby is born,” Skylar said hopefully. “I mean, if you end up having it. When’s it due?”
Oh, God. A due date. This was so real.
It’s real. Get used to saying it. “March.”
“March what?” Sebastian asked.
“Seventeenth.”
He winced. “Ooh. That’s a bad number.”
“Sebastian!” Skylar glared at him. “This isn’t the time.”
“Sorry.” He held up his hands. “Sorry, Natalie.”
“It’s OK.” I sniffed. “Everything about this is bad, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe it won’t be that bad.” Sebastian perched on the edge of the couch and touched my shoulder. “Sometimes guys are ready for these big things in life and they don’t even realize it.”
“Maybe, but Miles Haas isn’t one of those guys. He flat out told me he never wanted a family. That kids wreck everything fun in life. That he’d never be able to love someone completely and forever.” Miserable, I dropped my face into my hands.
“But he doesn’t know you’re pregnant with his child,” Sebastian said. “That makes a big difference. And I saw the way he looked at you that day at your parents’ house. I think he might surprise you.”
I shook my head. “I doubt it. But I have to tell him, anyway. And then he’ll tell me I ruined his life, and I’ll feel horrible.”
“He would never say that to you,” Skylar said firmly. “Never.”
“How do you feel, Natalie?” Sebastian asked quietly. “You’re talking a lot about his feelings, but what are yours?”
“I don’t know how I feel. It’s just such a shock.” I put my hand over my belly and tried to explain all the tears. “I’m sad, mostly. I’m sad because I’ve always wanted kids but this isn’t how it was supposed to happen. By accident, with someone who won’t want it. And it’s going to hurt when he says that to me.”
“Because you want to keep it?” Skylar asked.
Because I love him. “I don’t know yet.”
“Hey.” Jillian knocked on the screen door and then opened it. “I heard your message. You OK?”
One look at my oldest sister and I burst into fresh tears, getting up from the couch to weep into a third pair of arms for the day, a fourth if you count the poor nurse at my OB’s office.
But I couldn’t help it. Everything about this situation was miserable. If I ended the pregnancy, I’d feel terrible and possibly regret it every day for the rest of my life. That kind of decision was irreversible and terrifying. If I continued the pregnancy and gave it up for adoption, I’d be judged by everyone in town as I waddled around, pregnant and single, Dan would despise me, and I’d always wonder if I’d made the right decision. If I kept the baby, my life as I knew it was over. I’d be a single mother, and that child would be my days and nights for the next eighteen years—probably more. Would I be able to support us? Would I ever meet someone willing to marry me and complete a family? What kind of role, if any, would Miles want in the child’s life? What kind of father was he capable of being?
Maybe they can watch cartoons together. Ride bikes. Build sand castles. Because that’s about all Miles Haas is qualified to do as a parent beyond donate the sperm.
It was an angry thought, but it made me sad too—the image of Miles playing with our child. Because he’d probably never do it. Even if I had the baby, I didn’t see him moving up here to take an active role in a baby’s life. More likely he’d fly in from San Francisco or New York or Amsterdam or wherever he was living and awkwardly pet the baby once or twice a year, and then he’d fly out again, and go back to his free, fun, sexy life.
And it would hurt. God, it would hurt.