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One day. Not now. Not like this.
But now that it's happened, I can feel the love grow, just as my child is growing inside of me. I already feel attached to my baby, especially since today, when I had my doctor confirm what three tests have already told me. The tears that were pouring down my face where born out of joy more than fear—though the latter is definitely present as well.
I’m pregnant. And I haven’t told Chase, yet. I found out while we were on the other side of the country, in New England, attending Gabe’s and Ella’s opening gala, and visiting Chase’s mother. Something tells me that she knows, and not only because she found me dizzy with nausea one very early morning. I had to throw up and went down to the kitchen for a glass of water after, still swaying and my face pale. There was concern written across her face when I assured her that I was fine—her eyes resting on me for a little too long.
I woke up feeling sick on the day of the gala. That and the fact that I was already a couple of days late with my period made me lie to Chase about having a Zoom call. I needed for him to leave before me so I could sneak out and get a pregnancy test. I didn’t want to freak him out for no reason, but in the end, I was the one freaking out—and to be honest, I still am. I didn’t expect the test to be positive, not really. I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t pregnant, not prove the opposite.
A slurping sound pierces through the warm afternoon air when I finish the last of my ice tea through the straw. He should be here any moment now. I’ve been waiting for almost half an hour, staring at our driveway, my heart beating wildly every time I hear a car approaching. I wanted to wait until I had my proof, until I had a picture to show him. But now I’m wondering if I’m making a mistake. What if he feels pressured? What if he runs? No, he wouldn’t do that. Chase and I haven’t talked about kids yet, and I feel incredibly stupid about that now. I would feel so much better if I knew what his stance on babies was…
My heart skips a beat when I see his Maybach turn around the corner, and slowly roll up our driveway.
I’m going to tell him today. I’m going to tell him now. I have to get it over with.
With my pulse racing, I get up from my seat, and Pica perks up next to me, her eyes following me as I meander to the end of the patio to welcome Chase. He jumps out of the car with a smile, wearing a white shirt with rolled up sleeves and black pants. I left work a few hours early today for my doctor’s appointment and he promised to pick up some takeout for dinner on his way back.
“I hope kimbap is okay?” he asks, smiling. “I got some vegetarian options, too.”
I muster a smile, when he walks up the stairs and I welcome him with a kiss.
“Sounds great,” I say in a low voice.
“You sure?” he probes, looking concerned. “Is something wrong? You don’t look well.” He places a hand on my forehead. “It feels like you’ve been a little out of it for like a week now. You sure you’re not getting sick?”
“I’m pregnant.”
The words blurt out, before I can stop myself, before I can come up with a better way to say this. I had planned to go easy on him, to slowly approach the subject after I asked him to sit down. He’s not even sitting now. How is he supposed to process this while standing?
Chase freezes, his jaw drops open, and for a few moments that feel like an eternity, he just stands there, staring at me as if I’d just… well, as if I’d just told him that I’m pregnant.
“I’m so sorry—”
“Sorry?!” he blurts out, and then he starts laughing. “Are you fucking kidding me!”
He drops the bag with our food to the ground, and a surprised gasp flees my lips, when he loops his arms around me, to pull me close against his strong chest. His embrace is tight, almost desperate and so strong that it robs me of my breath.
“Chase…” I mutter, and he loosens his grip on me.
He takes my face between both of his hands and looks at me with tears pearling in his eyes.
“You’re… we’re…,” he stutters, before he starts laughing again. “I can’t believe this! This is so fucking great!”
“Great?” I repeat in disbelief. “You’re not mad?”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?”
“Well, I am!” I blurt out, freeing myself from his touch, as I take a step back. “I didn’t plan for this! We didn’t plan for this! We have so much work to do! Do you know what my work schedule looks like for the upcoming year? I have no time for this! I can’t take a break now! I can’t…”
“Easy now,” he cuts me off, his hands now landing on my shoulders. “Yes, you’re right, we didn’t plan for this. But that doesn’t mean we can’t handle it!”
“How? I don’t want to take a break from work now, I don’t want to stay home,” I mutter. “Not now, at least. I’m not ready for this, and I can’t—”
“I’m ready,” he asserts, much to my surprise. “And I get it, you are Miss Career Woman. But you’re forgetting something: You’re not alone in this. I’m going to be a father!”
He has tears in his eyes while the widest smile I’ve ever seen on him spreads across his face.
“I am going to be a father,” he repeats. “And I’m going to be a great father, an involved father, hell, why not a stay-at-home-dad? Yes, I think I would actually like that!”
“You what?” I exclaim, unable to stop myself from laughing.
