I closed my eyes and flopped back down on the pillow. My head was spinning, and no matter what I did, my stomach seemed to hate me. I hadn’t been able to keep down solid food since that night I’d gone out with Elliot to The Chateau, and my whole body ached – even my hair seemed to hurt if I lay in one position for too long.
I’m going to die of a broken heart, I thought melodramatically, rolling over onto my side. Immediately, the nausea was so strong that I practically leapt out of bed and ran down the hall to the bathroom where I had just enough time to raise the lid of the toilet before puking all the water I’d drunk that morning. My jaw strained, and I groaned as tears came to my eyes. I braced myself against the toilet seat with my head hanging down and closed my eyelids, wishing that all of this was over.
After retching for another minute, I lowered myself to the floor of the bathroom. I felt so weak – not being able to keep anything down, it wasn’t a surprise – but that wasn’t all I felt. I felt different, almost like I had been poured into someone else’s skin overnight, and now my body was belonged to someone else entirely. As I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on top of them, I realized that my breasts were tender and swollen.
Oh, shit, I thought, holding myself tightly and counting backward from the date. I hadn’t had my period in over a month and a half – something that normally arrived like clockwork – and my body felt noticeably different.
Was it possible that Elliot had gotten me pregnant?
We hadn’t used protection either time that we’d slept together ... naively, I’d assumed that he’d had a vasectomy or something because of the way he’d went along with it. Now, suddenly, I felt tremendously stupid.
“Mom,” I called weakly from the bathroom. “Don’t call Dr. Gaither, I’ll do it myself!”
The next day, Beth and I stood in a Walgreens near her sister’s place, staring at all of pink boxes featuring stylized, rotund women and their happy babies.
“Don’t cheap out,” Beth said, reaching over my head for the most expensive kind, a test that promised accurate results. “You definitely don’t want a store-brand preggo test.”
A wave of strong nausea came over me, and I gulped, hard. When Beth turned to me, she looked sympathetic.
“Deep breaths,” she said, reaching into her bag and bringing out a water bottle. “And drink some of this. Slowly,” she cautioned when I grabbed the bottle from her hands and began pouring the water down my throat. “You don’t want to puke in the store, do you?”
I was shaking by the time I handed the water back over to my best friend.
“I feel so stupid,” I said softly. “I can’t believe that I’d let this happen.”
Beth made a face. “It takes two to make a baby,” she said. “And you haven’t heard from him since?”
I shook my head solemnly.
“No,” I said. “Not since he said that he didn’t want me.”
Beth looked exasperated for a moment. When her expression softened, she pulled me into a quick hug. When we parted, she kept her hands on my shoulders.
“Annie, you guys had one fight,” she said quietly. “Why not reach out to him? I bet he misses you a lot.”
I bit my lip. “He made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want anything serious,” I said. “And it’s hard to picture anything less serious than a baby.”
Beth didn’t reply. I glanced from one side to the other, as if checking to make sure that my parents hadn’t somehow followed me, then stepped forward and grabbed a couple of boxes off the shelf.
“These are expensive,” I mumbled to Beth.
She shrugged. “Again, trust me – you don’t wanna cheap out here,” she replied.
I picked three different brands, wondering how I was going to summon enough urine to try them all, then walked to the pharmacy counter and paid as quickly as I could without making eye contact with the cashier. She put the tests in a bag, and I snatched it from her grip, then jerked my head to Beth. She followed me out of the pharmacy and down the street, where we climbed into her sister’s car.
“Thanks for this,” I said quietly. “I really appreciate it.”
“Duh,” Beth replied. “You know I’d do anything for you. You’re my best friend, remember?”
Her words were the kindest I’d heard in days and I felt myself beginning to tear up. I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d felt such a lack of control over my own emotions, and I hated it. It’s just because I’m upset over Elliot, I told myself, wiping my eyes on the backs of my hands.
It’s definitely not because I’m pregnant.
“Do you want to come over to Meg’s and take these there?” Beth asked.
I shook my head. Ripping open one of the boxes, I looked down at the instructions.
“It says you’re supposed to do it first thing in the morning,” I said. “And I’d be more comfortable at home,” I added.
Beth nodded. She didn’t look convinced, but the thought of having to make small talk with her older sister while I waited to find out whether or not my life would be irrevocably changed didn’t seem particularly appealing to me.
We drove back to my parents’ house in mostly silence – Beth made a comment here and there, about cars and signs and things like that, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk. She dropped me off after giving me another hug, and I scurried inside and up the stairs to the second-floor bathroom. The bag containing the tests was practically burning in my hands, and even though I knew I should wait until morning, I couldn’t. My stomach was all in knots, and my heart was thudding like mad – if I didn’t take at least one of the tests right now, I knew I’d be panicking over it for the rest of the day.
I yanked down my leggings and sat on the toilet with a cup carefully positioned between my legs. The position was awkward, and even though I really had to pee, it took several seconds of deep breathing and purposefully unclenching my muscles before I could start to go. The cup was filled to the brim almost instantly, and I awkwardly shifted on the seat and put it on the edge of the counter, shaking my hand dry before grabbing a wad of toilet paper and blotting myself.
As soon as I’d washed my hands, I took one test from each box and stuck the sponge end into the cup. Taking a deep breath, I set a timer on my phone for the required three minutes, then sat back down on the closed seat of the toilet with my elbows braced on my knees and my legs spread.
Those three minutes were the longest three minutes of my entire life. I sat with my face in my hands, listening to the sound of my heart thudding in my chest, and wished that I was anywhere in the world other than my parents’ bathroom, waiting to find out if Elliot had put a baby inside of me.
My phone buzzed and shrieked, and I grabbed it with a sweaty hand to silence it. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and got to my feet, then looked down at the three tests soaking in my pee.
All three of them showed a glaring pink plus sign.
There was nothing faint or unmistakable about it.
I was pregnant.
The next few hours passed in a daze. I didn’t remember throwing the tests away or washing the cup or even going to my room and lying down, but the next thing I knew, it was the next morning, and I was lying in bed in my clothes from yesterday. Oddly, I hadn’t felt as nauseous since learning that I was pregnant, but I wasn’t hungry, either. The mere thought of food was enough to make me feel sick again, and when my mother came into my room, I had to take deep breaths so I wouldn’t puke.
“Good morning,” Mom said. She gingerly perched her butt on the edge of my bed. Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes weren’t.
“Morning,” I said listlessly. “I’m not feeling well today, I think I’ll—”
“Annie,” Mom said, and I suddenly shut up. The tone of her voice was serious, as serious as she’d ever spoken to me before, and I felt my stomach drop.
“What?” I asked numbly.
“I found the tests in the bathroom wastebasket,” Mom said. She pursed her
lips. “Honey, what happened?”
Tears came to my eyes, and I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry,” I said in a hoarse voice. “I ... I don’t know what happened.”
Mom exhaled. “Well, I have an idea,” she said. Then, she reached for my hand. “Honey, I’m not mad, exactly,” she said. “But I am a little puzzled ... and of course, I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be okay,” I told her, even though I had no way of knowing whether or not that was true. “Things will be fine.”
“You know, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want,” Mom said. “Dad and I will help out, and—”
“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I can’t.”
And that was just it – I couldn’t. The thought of Elliot learning about my baby – our baby – was too much to handle. He’d feel that I had concealed it from him, tricked him, that I wanted to trap him.
He was a good man, too. He’d step up and take care of his child, dutifully pay child support. Hell, he’d probably even want partial custody.
But Elliot didn’t want me.
And therefore, I didn’t want to trap him into being with me simply because we’d made a baby together. It wasn’t right, not when he’d told me so explicitly that he couldn’t and didn’t want to commit to me.
“Annie, honey, you can always let us help you,” Mom said. Now, she just sounded sad and fresh tears came to the surface of my eyes.
“No,” I said slowly, shaking my head. I looked at my mom right in the eyes and swallowed hard. “I got myself into this mess,” I told her. “And I’m going to step up and do the right thing. Be a responsible adult.”
My mom nodded slowly. I could tell that she was in shock, and as much as I wanted to throw myself into her arms and hug her and let her rock me back and forth, the way she’d done when I was a baby, I couldn’t.
Soon, I was going to have a baby of my own, and it was time for me to grow up.
14
Elliot
After we had our fight, I expected that a few days would go by before I’d hear from Annie again. I was torn – I wanted to reach out, but what was there to say, other than that I was sorry?
Not texting or calling her was straight-up torture. I had been a total ass, and I wanted to apologize. Needed to apologize. I’d behaved horribly, and Annie never deserved that.
Clearly, she had just been a little too emotional that night ... and I was completely out of practice when it came to being honest about my feelings. I knew exactly what I’d say to her the next time I saw her: that I was sorry, that I hadn’t listened to her, that I wanted to try again provided we could take it slowly and not rush things. As long as we took things slowly, that would give me time to figure out how to deal with everything at work. Dating someone as young as Annie would surely be a scandal, but I’d handle it.
She was worth it, after all.
Over the next few weeks, I threw myself into work as hard as I could. I was finally able to be productive again, but Annie was never far from my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about her as the days passed. The summer was growing hotter and hotter, and sometimes I had to pull myself out of a fantasy – Annie in a skimpy string bikini, the fabric barely covering her tits and ass, sunbathing in my back yard, while I watched, like the wanton pervert that I was.
After a month, I couldn’t take it anymore. When Sunday rolled around, I put on a button-down shirt and a pressed pair of trousers, then took a cold bottle of white wine from my fridge and walked across the yard to Annie’s parents’ house.
I cleared my throat before knocking on the door, suddenly wondering if this wasn’t the wrong thing to be doing. It had been a month since I’d talked to her – she hadn’t been answering my texts or calls – but back in the safety of my own home, I’d thought that was easily enough time for her to cool down and get over our fight.
Now, standing on the doorstep outside of her parents’ house, I wasn’t so sure.
I’d barely knocked on the door before it swung open. Cynthia stood on the other side, blinking in surprise at the sight of me. She was wearing obvious Sunday clothes – faded jeans and a man’s plaid shirt, knotted loosely at her waist.
“Why, Elliot,” Cynthia said, stepping back and motioning for me to come inside. “We haven’t seen you in weeks!”
“I know,” I said, as apologetically as I could muster. “But I was hoping my standing invitation was still open.” I held out the bottle of wine. “I’ve been so busy with work that I didn’t even notice so much time has gone by.”
Cynthia took the wine from my hands, but she was still giving me a weird look.
“So, um,” I said casually. “How’s Annie doing?”
Cynthia blushed.
“She’s not here,” Cynthia said, and my heart sank.
“Oh?”
“Yes, well, she recently moved out,” Cynthia said. She gave me a smile, and suddenly, I saw the sadness in her eyes.
“She did?” I blinked. “Where did she go?”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized how inappropriate they were. But it was too late to say anything else. I was so stunned that I couldn’t have helped myself – knowing that Annie was gone made me want to turn on my heel, run into the street, and call her name like a mad man.
Cynthia laughed awkwardly. “She found her own place. Closer to Boston,” she said. “It was ... sudden.”
“I see,” I said. My mind was racing. Annie, gone? I was filled with remorse and regret and frustration – all I wanted to do was see her again, drop to my knees, and confess that I had been a huge asshole. I wanted to beg for her forgiveness, wanted to make her understand that I had been so, so very wrong.
“Well, you’re of course still welcome to stay,” Cynthia said. She gestured to the kitchen. “I didn’t set out the dining room table, and there’s nothing fancy for dinner – just some cold salads, I thought Rob and I would make sandwiches.”
It wasn’t like I could leave – not without arousing far too much suspicion. If I went back home now, I was sure that both Cynthia and Rob would figure out the truth: that Annie and I had been intimate, and that somehow, I clearly had something to do with the fact that she’d moved out.
My heart hurt. This wouldn’t have happened if you were honest with yourself, about the feelings for her that were starting to grow, I thought as I followed Cynthia into the kitchen.
If only I hadn’t been such a patronizing ass, telling her that I knew what was best!
I had driven her away, and all of this was my fault.
“Um, Cynthia,” I said as I settled down in a chair.
“Yes?”
“Did ... did Annie ever say anything about moving back?”
Cynthia paused. She set the bottle of wine down on the table and looked at me, cocking her head to the side.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think she’ll be coming back here, Elliot. She was ... well, she was very determined to move on.”
It was funny, the effect that Cynthia’s words had on me. Back when I had first left Tamara, my heart had been iced over, frozen solid. I hadn’t ever thought that I’d feel anything again, much less intense infatuation and love for a woman so much younger than myself.
Meeting Annie had been the only thing that had begun to melt my heart, make me believe that I would love again. I was so sure, so confident, that I would never go through the same world of hurt I’d inhabited when Tamara and I had split up. Annie had been so sweet and considerate, I’d known that she would never, could never hurt me.
This was all my fault, and I had no one to blame but myself.
15
Annie – Present Day
“Annie!”
At the sound of my boss’s voice, I jumped.
“Yes?” I chirped, practically leaping to my feet and looking at her from inside my cubicle. “What is it?”
My boss, Evie, smiled. “Relax,” she said, then made a show of checking her watch. “You work too hard,
Annie. It’s almost six!”
“Oh, shit,” I said quickly. “I mean, shoot, um, I’m sorry!”
Evie chuckled. “Relax,” she said again. “Seriously, it’s fine. Why not just finish up what you’re doing tomorrow morning? I’m about to leave – no reason you should still be here.”
I nodded. “Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate it. Really.”
Evie smiled again, then turned and walked back to her office, her stiletto heels clicking on the floor of the office. As soon as she was gone, I shut down my laptop and stuffed it into my work bag, along with the sample promotional material that I’d been working on all day. Kicking off my heels under my desk, I shoved my feet into a worn pair of sneakers. I hung my blazer up in my cubicle’s locker and closed it, then slung my work bag and purse over my shoulder. The office was quiet and sun-warmed as I made my way through the rows of cubes to the glass doors that led to the elevators.
The elevator was teeming with people, and there was barely enough room for me to squish in, but I was already running late and didn’t love the idea of scuttling down fifteen flights of stairs.
Hurry up, hurry up, I thought as the elevator took its sweet time descending to the ground floor. I hopped from one foot to the other, eager to get of the building and get on with my day. As soon as the doors opened, I practically bolted out of the lobby and out into the bright, summer afternoon.
Summer was my favorite time of year in Boston. The air was filled with delicious smells – popcorn and hot dogs and pretzels from street carts – and the streets near the waterfront were crowded with groups of tourists. Boston Common and the public garden were filled with people – people lying on blankets with books and snacks in their laps, people talking and laughing with each other, families playing.
Today, though, I barely noticed any of it. I kept my head down and barreled onward, down two blocks and over one, until I reached my destination.
Forbidden First Times: A Contemporary Romance Collection Page 90
