Page 52 of A Treasure To Keep
It’s been six weeks since I found out I was pregnant. I’m currently sitting in my doctor’s office, naked from the waist down, and anxiously waiting for both the doctor and Andrea to arrive. The clock on the wall says that Andrea is running about ten minutes past you’re fucking late for our appointment. Where is he?
I nervously strum the tips of my nails against each other while I listen to the rattling sound. It’s the only thing I can think of that could potentially calm my nerves. A rhythmic knock appears on the door, and my doctor comes in directly afterward, barely greeting me before Andrea runs through the door. Finally.
“I’m sorry I was late. The bus schedule was running behind today. Please tell me I didn’t miss anything.” Andrea takes my hands in his, kissing them while he stares at me as if I’m the only one in the room.
Dr. Thatcher sanitizes her hands and sits on her stool, rolling her way to me with my file in her hands. “I just walked in. You haven’t missed a thing. Now. I hear congratulations may be inorder! I know you two got some not-so-great news earlier this year, and now you’re here and pregnant. The universe works in strange ways.” Andrea and I exchange glances that don’t go missed by Dr. Thatcher. She scrunches her brows together, flicking her eyes between both of us.
“You never came back for your last shot. I assumed you and Andrea decided to take your chances and discontinue any birth control.” Shit. I missed my last shot. I swear I can feel the blood rush away from my face. I can’t believe I forgot my shot.
“I guess I forgot to come back in the panic of everything. Here’s the real plot twist. We’re not entirely sure it’s Andrea’s baby. I mean genetically. Remember how we spoke last year about how Andrea and I will occasionally have a third person?” I pause, waiting for any judgment from Dr. Thatcher, but she sits there, waiting for me to continue. “There’s been one guy who we were regularly with, and now, since we know I missed my last shot, I guess the shot didn’t fail, but I did.”
I would give anything to disappear from this room. I still wait for the judgment from my doctor. Instead, her usual calm expression stares back at me.
“I’m assuming by that statement that there’s been no other form of birth control, including condoms or the deadly pullout?” She pauses for a second, waiting for a verbal response. “I’m also assuming by your face that’s a no. Technically, Andrea does have a small sperm count, and stranger things have happened with patients of mine. Truthfully, there is a higher chance of you becoming pregnant because of this other partner. That’s not the focus of today’s appointment, though. Let’s move on to the physical part of the appointment. Today we’ll do a vaginal ultrasound, attempting to estimate how far along you are since you are regularly sexually active with Andrea and this other partner. After that, we can discuss any and all options for thispregnancy—” I break her off mid-sentence, answering her before she lists any options.
“We’re keeping the baby. Can we move on?” Dr. Thatcher nods, providing the awkward but necessary ultrasound. Maybe I should have tried to pee again before the ultrasound. This is strangely uncomfortable. She finishes up the quiet appointment, taking off her gloves and sitting on the chair again.
“I’m guessing you’re farther along than you think, or I would have seen you a couple of months ago.” What the fuck does that mean?
“You’re sixteen weeks along. Thankfully, I don’t see any concerns with your baby. I’ll give you recommendations for vitamins and a list of what you should and should not eat and drink during your pregnancy from today on. Then I’ll see you two back in four weeks for another appointment, where we can determine the biological sex of your baby if you want to know.”
The rest of Dr. Thatcher’s words are muffled in the background as I attempt to process everything she said about how far along I am. Sixteen weeks? I’ve had life growing inside of me for sixteen fucking weeks and been oblivious to it? Is that why I’ve been bloated? How many cups of coffee have I had? How many bottles of wine have I shared with my love? Add that night with James when we went out clubbing again. I may or may not have taken something from the sweet girl I met in the bathroom. She said it was a chocolate with THC in it. I know. I know. Don’t take candy from strangers. I blame it on the tequila shots. Andrea said when he picked me up that I was ready to undress him in the middle of the sidewalk. In all fairness, I always want to do that. Whatever. How did I get here? Of course, my internal monologue gets carried away. While I’m trying to figure out where I started, Andrea places his hand on my shoulder, causing me to jump.
“Dr. Thatcher left a few minutes ago. Do you need me to stay while you get dressed?” What did I do to deserve this man?
“No. I’ll be right out, my love. I promise.” I give him a fake smile that I’m fairly certain he sees right through, choosing not to push me on it before walking out.
Andrea quietly closes the doors, triggering my tears. Sixteen fucking weeks. I’m not sure how long I've been crying, only that I’m sure Andrea is waiting for me, and they need this appointment room.
I wipe the tears away, putting on a fake smile as I walk out to reception, make my twenty-week appointment, and walk out with Andrea. We drive home in silence, only the sound of him kissing my hand at stoplights interrupting said silence.
Andrea reaches for the door when I put the car in park once we reach our apartment building. I grab his arm, my insecure thoughts escaping my mouth. “Are you positive you want to have this baby with me? I guess, if you could choose what I did with the pregnancy, what would you want me to do?”
Andrea turns to me, grabs my left hand, and strokes my ring. “The night I proposed to you would have been the night I would have married you if you had asked. If I didn’t want you, for better or for worse, I wouldn’t have proposed. We’ve been given a chance to have a baby together, regardless of how it came into our lives. I can’t wait to love our baby the same way I love you. Now come upstairs and let me hold you two.” I swear this man needs to write a book on phrases to say to your girlfriend that will make her melt.
He walks around the car, opening the driver's side door to offer me his hand. I let him lead me upstairs, stuck in the bliss of the sweet words he said to me in the car. Except when we’re searching for our keys, a man approaches the two of us.
“Eleanora Marie Gallo?” What the fuck?
“Can I help you?”
He hands me a packet, closed and sealed, with one sentence on it. Two names. Mass amounts of audacity.From the lawyer of Alessandro Leone and Marco Cornado.
“You’ve been served.”
Chapter 57
Andrea
At first, El doesn’t move when the man holds out the paperwork for her to take. Instead of reaching out, she takes a step back, shaking her head with her jaw clenched. He reaches out farther, shaking the envelope in his hand. His eyes switch from El to me, wondering who plans to accept the envelope.
Knowing that El has no intention of taking the envelope, I grab it from the man. The quicker he’s gone, the quicker El and I can get back to our lives. The second I grab the envelope from his hands, he walks away. El’s jaw is still clenched, and my hands are shaking slightly. It’s been crickets from Marco since El found out she’s pregnant. Would Marco honestly interfere with our lives that much?
“Mon trésor? Come inside. We can unpack this together.” I unlock the door, offer her my hand to lead her inside, and set the envelope on the kitchen island. The two of us stare at it, practically convinced it’s the monster book in the magic movie we re-watched recently that will wake up and attack us anysecond. All it would take is one of us opening the packet for that to happen.
Instead of being irate, when El eventually speaks, her words are calm. Almost haunting. “Open it.”
I pick up the envelope, staring at Marco’s name as I lift the tabs. The paperwork I pull out is heavy, both physically and mentally, as I read through it.