“That’s…” I try and find a word that is adequate enough. This is my worst nightmare and greatest dream come true all in one. I rub at the gnawing feeling in my chest, like my anxiety is trying to eat its way out of my body.
“It’s life-changing,” he says without knowing how damn true it is.
She won’t be on her own, but will she even want me around when she learns that I’m a ticking time bomb waiting to go off?
Chapter 11
Aspen
It’s been a whopping eighteen hours since my entire life was turned upside down. I’ve never been so swarmed by an onslaught of different emotions. Part of me is really, really excited to be a mom. It’s something I thought was years away and yet somehow it snuck its way in. The other part of me is devastated. Because when I dreamed of my family. I was married to the love of my life, someone who loved me back. I dreamed of giving my child a childhood like mine. One with two parents who were madly in love. Mine set my standard for what love should look like, and I desperately wanted that for my kids.
I’ve sat with this all by myself. I half expected Ava to be blowing up my phone, but she’s given me space. I actually haven’t heard a peep from her all day. Either she’s trying to be respectful or she’s gone into labor.
Add utter terror to the list of emotions, because the thought of giving birth makes me feel like I want to vomit. Well, more than usual.
My heart thumps nervously in my chest. I just need to hit Rhett’s contact, call him, and have him come over, but it’s truly terrifying. His life is minutes from changing forever. I know this isn’t what he wanted. He can kiss casual and no strings attached goodbye. Kind of like I can kiss my cookie-cutter, picture-perfect family away.
“Quit being a little bitch, Aspen. Dial his number, rip off the Band-Aid,” I murmur to myself, staring at my phone. I take a deep breath and hit call.
“Hey, what’s up?” His voice sounds a little pitchy.
“Uhm, I was wondering if you could come by my house tonight when you’re done on the ranch. I’ll make dinner.” I stand up off my couch, needing to move and get some of this restless energy out of me.
“Yeah, I can be there in about forty-five minutes. I just need to swing by my place and shower.”
“Perfect, see you then.” I hang up the phone as quickly as I can.
I walk to my bathroom, practicing for the five hundredth time today. Each time, I use a different intro or approach: should I be funny? Should I be serious? I don’t know how to deliver this kind of news.
The anxiety is doing nothing to help with my nausea. I’ve lived on one saltine an hour all day. It’ll keep me alive until I can alleviate one of the causes of this stomach ache.
Dinner is going to leave a lot to be desired, but I have some thawed out meat I can use to make spaghetti sauce. Hopefully the smell of cooking meat doesn’t make me lose my eight saltines. I’ve worked really hard on keeping those suckers down today.
Making dinner helps busy me, and before I know it, Rhett is knocking on my door. I stir the spaghetti sauce one last time. I’d mix the noodles with the sauce, but I know he doesn’t like that.
I swing the door open, and there he stands. Hands in his pockets, and looking about as stressed as I feel. “Come in.” I hold the door open for him so he has a chance to get through.
Every thought out plan leaves my brain as my anxiety rises. “Dinner is just about done, but I need to talk to you first. Like really need to talk.” My words start to fade out as the overthinking consumes me. My heart races, my palms are sweaty, and I think—nope, it’s happening. I’m going to be sick.
I dodge around him to high tail it to the bathroom, holding my hand over my mouth before I get to the bathroom and retch. I lean my forehead against my folded arms that sit on the toilet seat. I take deep slow breaths trying to find a place of normalcy. I’ve quickly learned I do feel better after, but it takes a few minutes, and sometimes the relief only lasts a few minutes too.
Rhett comes up behind me with a cool wash rag and places it on my neck as he leans down beside me and rubs my back. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Deep breaths.”
Tears spring to my eyes, the overwhelming fear of what’s to come and how he’s going to react to the news. “Please, go. It’s okay. I don’t want you to see me like this.” My voice lacks its usual punch, exhaustion kicking in as all the adrenalin leaves my body.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He says it like there’s no arguing. Definitive and concrete.
Those are the exact words I wanted to hear tonight, but not like this and not about this.
Hearing them makes the tears fall harder. This is not how I wanted this to go. But it doesn’t matter, this is the reality of the situation. This is very much happening, and he needs to know.
“Rhett, I’m pregnant.” I keep my head down, wanting to avoid his eyes. I don’t want to see if he’s disappointed or upset at me. If I was better at taking my damn pills this wouldn’t have happened.
“I know, honey. It’s going to be okay. Can I get you something?” His hands rub soothing circles on my back.
Leaning back against the tub, I turn to look at him, and he looks as calm and as steady as ever. “What do you mean, you know?” I ask.
I grab the washrag on my neck and slowly sit up, wiping off my face with it, not needing to add to my current mortification. It’s not like every time a girl pukes she’s pregnant; there’s no way he can know. I haven’t even told the girls yet; I wanted him to be the first to know. Well, the first to know was… “Ugh, Weston. That asshole couldn’t keep his mouth shut for one day.” The wild turn of my emotions gives me whiplash, because now I am mad.
