AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I go to sleep that night in my own bed in the guest house without a single complaint from Connor. While I was showering off, he even brought my pillows and toothbrush back over so I wouldn’t have to collect them myself. I should be relieved to have space, but instead, it felt acutely sad to close the guest house door and draw the curtains for the night. I never would have minded this solitude before, but now that I know what it feels like to sleep beside Connor, I can’t help but think this arrangement is wholly lacking. I don’t find the peace and quiet as restorative as I hoped I would.
I lie still, propped up by pillows with my bedside lamp on, staring down at the ultrasound picture from today. I hold it closer and squint, trying to decipher any potential defining characteristics, but Lindsey was right, it really does just look like a little gummy bear. I smile and set it aside so I can gather my pajama shirt in my hands and tug it up, looking down at my navel. My stomach is still flat. My boobs are tender and seem to be a little bigger than they were a few weeks ago, but there haven’t been any other changes with my body yet. It’s hard to imagine what I’ll look like in a few months. It’s hard to imagine all this is really happening.
It shouldn’t be.
Connor didn’t use a condom at the fundraiser, but that shouldn’t have mattered. I take my birth control pills religiously. I even checked my last pack. Every single pill slot was torn open and I know I took them on time. Pills are 99.7 percent effective with perfect use. I took them perfectly. How did I manage to fall into that .03%?
I shake the thought out of my head. It doesn’t really matter now. That’s not why I have a knot in the pit of my stomach. My pregnancy, while still fresh, isn’t the issue. It’s a gift. I realize that. I know odds are, if Connor and I hadn’t accidentally conceived, there’s a chance I never would have. I’m nearing my thirties, unattached. I work a lot and rarely date. So yes, unplanned or not, I want this child. I want it so much it hurts.
My request for space from Connor stemmed from us, not our soon-to-be child. We need to weigh our options, not just move from casual fling to serious attached relationship with a commitment that stretches out into eighteen years of child-rearing and a lifetime of co-parenting if it doesn’t work out. We owe it to ourselves, and to this gummy bear, to do this the right way. That means we need to have all our ducks in a row. That means knowing what we want now so there’s no miscommunication down the road.
Mostly, it feels like jumping into this thing with Connor wholeheartedly would be too easy, and surely, if it’s easy, it can’t be right. Right?Chapter Twenty-ThreeNatalieThe next morning, I get a call from Noah while I’m brushing my teeth. I consider answering it, guilt heavy on my heart, but in the end, I let it go to voicemail just like I’ve done with his last three calls.
Connor and I have briefly discussed the notion of my brother, and I know he would prefer the truth about our situation came from him, and in person. That puts me in a difficult position, though, because Noah won’t be back in town for a few weeks, so until then, I’ll have to avoid him. It would be too difficult to speak to him on the phone, hear his voice, and not immediately break down and tell him everything. He’s my brother, one of my closest friends, someone I’d rather not have to lie to. So I’d rather just not answer.
I send him a text explaining that I’m late for work and will call him later.
He shoots back a text right away.
Noah: No worries.No worries? All I am is a bundle of worries.
Connor’s already gone when I head inside the main house to hunt down some crackers. My stomach feels queasy and I’m worried today will carry with it a healthy dose of morning sickness. I take small bites of the crackers on my way to work, glad I have time to stop into Boston Beans before rounds.
Gina is manning the register and she beams when she sees me stroll in.
“Hey! I’m glad you came in—I think I finally have that new tea blend just right, and I’m even workshopping a name.” She points up to the blackboard hanging overhead and there, in the corner, is a name artfully written in chalk: Fertile Goddess Brew. “What do you think?”
I blink several times as if I’m a computer with a frozen screen, curser scrolling in an infinite loop.
