Page 31

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Eva

I t’s been three weeks since Roman dropped by my place. We’ve spent every single night with each other since. I decided his half declaration of feelings for me was enough for now.

With the New York renovation going smoothly and Drew doing such a good job of making sure it stays on schedule, I’ve been devoting most of my time to designing the Paris hotel.

I’ve been living in a dream for three weeks. Between designing this hotel and the time I’ve spent with Roman, life has felt like it’s all falling into place.

I may be suffering from a little fatigue from working and staying up so late with Roman, but it’s worth it.

This morning though, I’m feeling like a freight train just hit me. My stomach feels like I’ve been punched in the gut, and my body just wants to sleep. I pull the covers over me, groaning as my alarm clock rings for the fifth time after I pressed snooze.

Ugh, this sucks. I am supposed to get the dimensions of the Paris hotel lobby today so I can start to move past the inspiration phase and get an actual plan together.

I don’t have time for this. I throw the covers off my body and turn toward my nightstand, clicking the button on the side of my phone. The blaring alarm disappears, but I think I turned around too fast.

The contents in my stomach now feel like they are making their way up.

“Shit,” I mutter as I run to the bathroom.

I make it just in time to spill everything out into the bowl of the toilet.

My stomach strains as it contracts in an effort to release everything inside of it.

My forehead is dripping with sweat. I flush the toilet and fall to the ground and lean against the wall.

The cool tiles on the floor feel refreshing against my body.

Once I feel like I have enough strength to get up, I walk out to the kitchen and take small sips of ice water. I should try to eat something.

I glance around my kitchen as I think of what the best idea is. I opt for a piece of toast. I place the bread in the toaster, and my phone alarm goes off—a reminder for my pill.

I need to take my birth control.

My purse happens to already be on the counter. I rummage through it and pull out my birth control pack. When I open it, I realize I’ve already taken my last placebo pill.

That can’t be right. I haven’t bled at all. I always do.

Am I overdoing it at work? Maybe I’m too stressed out. I’ve heard stress can do things to your period.

That must be it. I need to sign up for some yoga classes or something. It’s not easy, starting your own business in New York City.

The bread pops out of the toaster. I grab the butter from the fridge and a knife. As I spread the butter over my toast, I think about what could be stressing me out.

I don’t feel stressed. If anything, I’ve felt more invigorated. I wake up in the morning, ready for the day, and fall asleep with a smile on my face in the arms of a man that I love.

What can it be if it’s not stress?

I place the toast in my mouth and almost gag. Gross. The smell of the butter is making my stomach feel queasy again.

Then it hits me all at once. The toast falls out of my hand and hits the ground.

There’s no way. I can’t be. I take my birth control every single day. It has to be a coincidence. I’m sure I’m just sick. Maybe that’s the reason I didn’t bleed this month.

But … what if … what if I am pregnant?

I start to feel sick for an entirely different reason. I grab my stomach and lean against the counter. A slow, creeping chill spreads through my body. It’s not just at the idea of being pregnant, but I can’t stop thinking about him.

The man who doesn’t believe in love. Who ran into my bathroom and panicked after I jokingly used the word.

How is he going to feel if I tell him we’re going to have a baby?

He’ll freak out. There’s no way this is what he wants.

I won’t be able to focus until I know. I reach for my purse. I’ll just run to the convenience store down the block.

But my body has other plans. I drop my purse on the ground and run back to the bathroom. I can’t believe there is anything left to get rid of, but my body finds a way.

I reach for my phone and send a text to the only person who knows about me and Roman.

I need you.

What’s wrong???

Can you come over here now … with pregnancy tests?

Her response is immediate.

On my way.

I clean myself up the best that I can—brushing my hair and my teeth before I change into fresh clothes. I opt for jeans and a baggy T-shirt.

I unlock the front door, tell Jessie to come on in when she gets here, grab a water bottle, and lie on the couch as I wait.

It’s like time stands still. It’s the longest thirty minutes of my life as I lie here and think of all the worst-case scenarios.

My business crumbling because I can’t keep up with it and a baby.

Roman hating me forever, bitterly sending money, but telling me he wants nothing to do with me or the baby.

Jessie comes dashing through the door, just in time to save me from my self-destructive thoughts.

“I’m here,” she shouts.

“Over here on the couch,” I reply as I sit up slowly, hoping my stomach will remain settled.

She throws the convenience store bag on the coffee table, drops down on the couch next to me, and throws her arms around me.

I blink away the tears that threaten to spill over. If I start now, I won’t stop.

Jessie pulls away. “Okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I woke up this morning and threw up. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. Just figured I was sick. Then my birth control pill reminder went off. When I went to go take the pill, I realized that I had just finished my last placebo pill and hadn’t bled at all.”

“Hmm. That is … suspicious timing when you put both no period and being sick together.”

The tears win out and begin to run down my cheeks. “I know,” I cry. “I don’t know how it could have happened. I’m on the pill. It’s always worked. I take it at the same time every day.”

She places her hand on my back and begins to run soothing circles. “Before we go there, let’s take the test. Okay?”

I nod my head. “I need to finish this water first. I puked up everything earlier. I don’t think I can pee right now.”

“Ugh, I’m going to have to ask you to refrain from puking in front of me. I will be of no help if I witness that.”

I chuckle at her dramatics. “Got it. Just stay out of the bathroom, and you’ll be safe. I’m feeling better now.”

“While we wait, can I get you anything?”

My stomach is empty, and I’m starting to feel hungry. “Can you maybe grab me a granola bar?”

“On it,” she replies, then leaves and comes back with a bar. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

I open the bar and start to eat it slowly, the taste not making me feel nauseous this time.

“What’s been going on with you?” I ask, in desperate need of a distraction.

“I saw your stupid brother at the courthouse the other day,” she says so nonchalantly.

I smile. “You’re the only person I will allow to call my brother stupid. How is my stupid brother doing?”

“How would I know? I walked away when he waved.”

“You’re so dramatic when it comes to how much you dislike him. He’s not that bad.”

“Whatever. He’s got a stick up his ass. Thinks he’s God’s gift to the world.”

I shrug my shoulders. I’m not sure I can argue with that. Walker does not lack confidence in himself. But deep down, he is a good guy. He has his own issues he suppresses. It wasn’t easy, being raised by our parents.

“All right”—Jessie stands after I’ve finished my bar and water— “let’s at least open this box and read the instructions.”

She pulls the instructions out and takes a seat on the coffee table in front of me.

“Okay. So, you place the applicator under a steady stream of urine for five seconds. Then place the cap back on, put it on a flat surface, and wait three minutes. That’s easy.

You think you can pee for five seconds?”

I take a shaky breath. “I think so.”

She hands me one of the tests. “You got this.”

We walk into my bedroom, and she takes a seat on my bed. I walk into the bathroom and close the door. I follow the instructions and put the cap back on when I’m done, then place it on the countertop.

I open the door and lean against the bed. “Okay. Tell me when it’s been three minutes.”

She holds her phone in her hand. “Already started the timer,” she says.

We both watch the seconds go by, no words to be spoken in a moment like this. It feels like the longest three minutes of my life and the shortest at the same time.

The alarm sounds. “Okay,” she says softly, “go check.”

I nod my head, then stand on shaky legs. I brace myself as I walk to the bathroom. No matter what the result is, my heart is on the line. Because truth be told, when I think of having a baby with Roman, a rush of happiness runs through me. If only it were that easy.

“What am I looking for again?” I shout as I stand at the counter, refusing to look just yet.

“Two lines equals pregnant. One line, not pregnant. And it says even if the second line is extremely faint, it’s still positive.”

At first glance, I see one solid line. I pick up the stick to confirm, and then I see it. Another very faint line, but definitely another line.

“Holy shit,” I whisper to myself.

I drop the stick, which clatters in the sink as I fall to the ground.

“Eva!” Jessie shouts, then appears at the door. “Oh my God. Honey.” She is on the floor next to me in an instant, taking me in her arms.

A sob tears through me as my world gets flipped on its axis. I clutch on to Jessie’s shirt as the fear surrounds me, making each breath harder to take.

“It’s okay.” She squeezes me. “I promise. We’re going to figure this out.”

“He’s … going … to … hate me,” I utter through the pain.

“Nooo, nooo. Of course he won’t hate you.”

Even I can hear the uncertainty in her words. I let the tears free themselves, using my body to expend all the energy it has left until I’m limp and broken in her arms.

“Let’s go lie in bed. You need to rest,” Jessie instructs.

She stands first and pulls me up, then holds on to me until I’m tucked in bed. She disappears from my room, only to return with another bottle of water.

“You need to stay hydrated.”

I take the bottle from her and down half of it in one gulp. She lies on top of the covers, facing me. We don’t speak for a while, the reality of it all settling in.

“How am I going to tell him?” I whisper as I stare at the ceiling fan, watching the blades spin in circles.

“You’re not going to tell him.”

I whip my head toward her. “What are you saying?”

“I mean, you’re not going to tell him yet. Not until you confirm with your doctor that you’re pregnant.”

“I just threw up, I missed my period, and the test is positive.”

“I know. I know. But when it comes to something this big, you need to be sure. I say you wait to tell him until you see a doctor.”

The doctor I used for the last nine years is in Chicago. I’m going to need to find a new one here in the city.

“I don’t have one here,” I tell her.

“That’s fine. I’ll give you my doctor’s information. She’s awesome.”

“You really don’t think I should tell him until I see a doctor?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “I mean, you do you. But what if you’re just sick and it’s contributed to all these things? And what if it’s a false positive? Those happen.”

I raise my eyebrows at her, wondering if she’s serious right now.

“I’m not saying it’s likely. I’m just saying that it might be easier to tell him if you get an actual due date and everything.”

I think about going to him and having no answers if he starts rattling off questions. Maybe she’s right. The more knowledge I have going into the conversation, the better.

“Okay. I’ll call the doctor today.”

The good thing about having my own company is that I can take the day to myself and don’t have to answer to anyone. I don’t have any meetings.

After I call Jessie’s doctor, who said they can see me next week, I agree to take a shower, then eat some lunch. She calls her boss and tells him she needs to take a personal day.

That’s how you know you have a real friend. I know she has mountains of work to get done, but she’s willing to cast it all aside for today because I need her.

When dinnertime rolls around, after Jesse and I watched two movies while I cried on and off, I get a text from Roman.

Dinner tonight? I’ll cook at my place.

Sadness hits me like a tidal wave running through my body. A text like this would have put a smile on my face yesterday. Now, it’s just a reminder that no matter what happens, things are going to be different between us.

The tears stream down my face, blurring my vision.

“He wants me to come over. What do I say?” I say through thick emotion.

“You don’t have to reply right now.”

“I want to see him. I want to tell him. But what if I do and he freaks out? What if I’m not pregnant and he can’t get over the scare? I just … I can’t right now.”

“That’s okay. You are protecting yourself. That’s allowed.”

I wipe my cheeks. “I feel like I’m lying to him.”

“You’re not lying, Eva.”

It will feel like lying if I see him. There’s no way I can look into those blue eyes and hold this in. I’d crumble into a ball right there at his feet.

“You have an appointment in four days. That’s not long. You can go four days without seeing him.”

“He’ll suspect something is going on.”

She nods her head. “That’s probably true.

But you have to carry this around, too, for those four days.

This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to order pizza.

We are going to eat, cry, and watch more movies.

You are going to text him and just tell him you’re feeling a little under the weather and you’re going to go to bed early tonight. Got it?”

Her eyes hold mine with such confidence that I find myself bobbing my head up and down.

“Good. All you need to do is text him. I’ve got the rest covered.”

She picks up her phone and orders the pizza while I grab mine. My hands are shaking, making it hard to type out the words. A tear falls down on my screen. I wipe it away and keep going.

When I’m done, I put my phone down on the coffee table and wrap myself up in a blanket.

He was starting to open up to me, to the idea of us. With this, he’ll probably shut down. Pull away from me. I place a hand over my stomach.

I suddenly feel protective over this possible baby that might be growing in my belly. I don’t want to lose him, but I can’t make him be somebody he isn’t.

I think he’ll be a great dad, but if he has one foot in, one foot out, then I would rather do this alone. I don’t want my baby to think they are not worth loving.