“Blake’s pregnant.”
“You’re kidding,” was all I could think of to say.
“It really shouldn’t be all that surprising, now should it?” he mused. “Blake told everyone we were trying right before all hell broke loose.”
“Right, but I was just thinking that it would take longer to happen. Especially with the kind of stress that she’s undoubtedly in.”
He considered something for a moment. “Look. I’ve known the Snyders most of my life. And I know how they deal with stress. I can only imagine how much sex you and Matthew are having.”
Color immediately crept into my cheeks and I averted my eyes, practically admitting his theory.
“Take your count and double it. That’s what I’m subjected to, but it’s not like I’m complaining.”
My mouth opened involuntarily and my eyes met his, partially out of disbelief. “I can’t believe we’re discussing this,” I said when I was able to form words.
“Face it, Lauren. You and I married the Nympho Twins. Which makes us crazy ourselves.”
“You do realize that ‘nympho’ typically refers to a female, right?”
Chris snorted. “Yes, I do. And you do realize that your husband spent time behind bars? A man like him is a hot commodity.” His voice trailed off, allowing me to fill in the rest of his thought.
“That never happened. Voluntarily or involuntarily. And it’s not funny to imply it, either.”
Chris stared me down. It had long been a point of contention with him that I didn’t know even half of Matthew’s history by choice, when he had lived it and therefore had the upper hand. He waved that around me like a veil of shame, topped off with my reluctance to let go of Eric when everyone, everywhere, could already predict how things would pan out. In Chris’s eyes, I had led Matthew on in the worst way possible. I couldn’t exactly discount his opinion, because deep down I knew it to be true.
“Look, he told me everything the other night. Probably some stuff even you don’t know. And I know what he did to make certain that he was untouchable during his time there. He’s not proud of it, but he did what he had to. And I can’t blame him for it.”
I folded my arms across my chest and watched an incredulous expression creep over his features. I could barely believe those words myself.
“Really? You asked him about it?”
“I figured it was time that I knew.”
“And?”
I shrugged. “And it doesn’t change anything. Other than there are no secrets now, and I can better understand why all of what’s happening hurts him so much. I thought I knew before, but that barely scratched the surface.”
“I’m proud of you, Lauren,” Chris declared.
To my utter shock, he moved closer and wrapped me into his arms. This was nothing like the parking lot hug of the past, fraught with awkwardness and guilt upon making me cry. This embrace was a white flag of the ultimate kind.
“So it takes Matthew and Blake’s estrangement to cause us to become friends?” I asked into his chest.
I felt the chuckle of resignation rise up in him. “Our spouses are severely fucked up people in beautiful packages.”
“Amen,” I agreed as I pulled away, holding him at arm’s length. “Now back to you. You didn’t come over here to talk about me.”
“No, not really.” He moved to a more respectable distance, tracing a pattern on the concrete of my porch with the toe of his shoe.
“I’m sure you’d prefer to speak to Matthew. If you want to come back later, I can have him call you when the coast is clear.”
He shook his head. Playing both sides was difficult. From what Gracie told me, Blake was definitely aware that the lines of communication between Matthew and her husband were still intact. But either Chris didn’t know that, or he felt obligated to keep the contact at a minimum.
“I’m a sorry substitute for your best friend, but I’ll let him know if you want me to.”
“That’s fine.”
“You’re both happy, right?”
“About the baby? Yes.”
“But she’s scared to death, isn’t she?”
He nodded. I watched him swallow down the lump in his throat. Blake wasn’t the only one with concerns.
“How far along is she?”
“It’s very early on. We’ve been to the doctor to confirm, but it’s still too soon to hear the heartbeat. It’s really too early to tell anyone, even though after you tell Matthew, everyone will already know.”
“Gracie knows?”
“Gracie knew before I did.”
I smirked.
“To be fair, Gracie guessed. Blake came into work the morning she took the test and it must have been written all over her face. And she couldn’t lie, because telling her a fib seemed like jinxing the whole pregnancy.”
“And yet she still feels like it’s jinxed,” I pressed.
He sighed. “It’s hard for it to seem real. Especially with our experience before.”
If I could soften towards him any more this afternoon, I did right there. How easily he referred to the miscarriage as a joint problem, instead of hers alone. Even when Blake hadn’t invited him to the goings on of the past when they happened - let alone fill him in on the events for a decade - he spoke of it as though he had been there, holding her hand all the way through it. There was no doubt in my mind that if he had known then what he knew now that he would have been.
“I know that there’s no comparison to what you guys went through, but I’ll admit that my own pregnancy didn’t feel real to me until the first time I was able to feel Sadie kick. I suppose in the back of my mind I was not entirely convinced that I wasn’t just gaining weight, and that the doctor hadn’t slipped in a video of someone else’s baby on the ultrasound screen.”
“I wish you could talk to her, Lauren. She could use some advice from someone who’s been there before.”
“You know I would, Chris. If things were different.”
“But they aren’t, so it’s not worth mentioning. I know she’ll get by; she always does.”
“And don’t forget: she’s got Gracie.”
“Yeah, Gracie, who likens carrying a child to an alien infestation.”
“She means well.”
He smiled, his admiration of our mutual friend evident. I knew when I told Gracie about this encounter, she’d have a hard time believing that years of animosity could be erased in mere minutes. I knew I was.
“I’d better get back home,” Chris said, jerking his head in the general direction of his car, “before Blake sends out the search party for me. And before Matthew is convinced that you’ve run off with the mailman.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “you’d better go. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, then turned to go.
“Chris?”
He stilled, pivoting back to me with a raised eyebrow. I took that as my cue to proceed.
“Is there anything that we can do to make things different?”
He shrugged, a painful motion considering the subject matter. “If I think of something, I’ll let you know.”
With that, he spun around and crossed the distance to his Civic. I stayed on the porch until his taillights were no longer visible. Once I emitted a sigh of my own, I opened the front door to my home and went back inside to further deal with the results of my actions.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Blake
Late morning sunshine spilled through the bedroom window, reminding me it had been approximately three hours since I last used the restroom. With a grumble, I ground the sleep out of my eyes and debated if the urge was pressing enough to leave the confines of my bed.
It was so comfortable here, and Chris had only been home for a few hours after working a late shift. He still slept soundly beside me, though turned away from me. We weren’t the type of couple to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms for the entire night, especially not w
hen I had retired to the bedroom quite some time before he returned home. But right now, nothing sounded sweeter than rolling into him and cuddling up for the rest of the day.
Instead, I prepared myself to relieve my bladder. Flat on my back, I stretched my legs and contemplated the tiny baby bump that had emerged where my once flat stomach had been. Not big enough to scream pregnancy to those that weren’t in the know, it looked more like I had simply had a very large dinner the night before.
I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, not wanting to think about the reality that was yet to come. Months from now, I’d probably struggle to get up in the mornings, but for now, my sense of balance was still intact. Perhaps Chris had been right to force me to get rid of the round bed; he’d just been thinking ahead.
But looking too far forward into the future just caused problems and led to hurt.
I was further along with this baby than I’d gotten before, but I still wasn’t to the point of being comfortable enough to hope or dream for anything but the day ahead of me. It was a cautious existence, fraught with worry that could only temporarily be calmed with the emergence of symptoms like nausea or having to pee.
For all intents and purposes, I recognized that I was expecting a baby, but I was still emotionally detached. It was infinitely safer that way. Even though we’d had a first ultrasound done and I’d seen the baby’s tiny heart beating, it was better if it wasn’t real yet.
“Just an image on a monitor,” I whispered to myself in the bathroom, sliding my hand protectively over my belly.
That’s why I couldn’t talk names, or college funds, or even maternity clothes yet. I couldn’t allow myself to embrace this; I couldn’t feel happy about it yet. More like cautiously optimistic and scared to death, combined into one hormonal body.
Chris, on the other hand, was over the moon. Making up for me, I supposed, because someone needed to. He knew my fears, obviously, and encouraged me to talk about them, but saying them out loud only brought them to life. And I was not prepared for that.
I returned from taking care of my business and climbed into bed beside him. He stirred as I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my front to his back.
“Sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay. If I don’t get up now, I’ll stay in bed all day.”
He rolled over so that he was facing me, chocolate brown eyes instantly searching mine for signs of distress. Finding none, the tension left his muscles and he reached out for me, running his thumb along my jawline and making me shiver.
“Good morning, angel,” came his delayed greeting.
I smiled back at him. “Good morning yourself. Barely.”
“Guess we missed breakfast, huh? What time is it?”
“Almost eleven. That’s why they invented a thing called brunch.”
“I suppose.”
“Want to go out?” I offered. The hunger wasn’t so severe that it wouldn’t wait for me to shower and get myself presentable. And since I wasn’t any help in the cooking department, I figured he’d appreciate me going easy on him.
Shockingly, he shook his head no. Like it was the worst idea I could possibly have come up with. “Nah, let’s stay in.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”
His eyes grew large for just a second, but he recovered quickly. Even though I was joking, it clearly hadn’t come across as such. Either that, or he was afraid that I was starting to look down upon myself.
“I’m kidding,” I declared, shoving him playfully in the shoulder. “It’s okay; I’m not made of glass.”
“I just don’t feel human yet. That’s all. Maybe we’ll go out for dinner?”
I ran my finger down his chest, pretending to consider his compromise. “Okay. I’ll see if I can pencil you in.”
“Let’s do that.”
He leaned in for a rather chaste kiss, then pulled away. I pushed down a little bit of disappointment at him not making more of an advance. Chalking it up to him being tired, I told myself it had nothing to do with me.
“Busy night?” I asked, my way of not letting it drop entirely.
“No more than usual. Friday nights are always bad. But you know that.”
I nodded, because I did.
“You should get up and get showered. I’ll go make us something to eat.”
“Okay,” I relented.
There was still something off about the whole scene, like he couldn’t get me out of bed fast enough. I’d heard rumors about some guys being massively turned on my their wives’ pregnancies, and realistically I’d pegged Chris for one of those. Since the announcement had been made, our sex life hadn’t really changed much. Until right here, right now. Maybe it was the weight gain, the visual reminder of what we’d created?
I shook my head, discounting that theory as I stepped under the spray of the shower. Chris wasn’t like that. A decade long dry spell had made his appetite for me practically insatiable. It had to be something else. The easy explanation would have been that he was afraid of injuring me or our unborn child, but my doctor had assured me that she wasn’t considering this to be anything but a normal pregnancy. Couple that with his medical training, and that excuse was pretty flimsy.
There had to be something else.
I wasn’t ready to think about those possibilities.
I showered and dressed quickly, toweling my hair dry and combing it out. Since I could smell food of some sort coming from the kitchen, I decided not to continue further with my routine. That could come later, especially since it didn’t sound like anything was going to happen until we potentially went to dinner.
Chris kept mum on whatever he was hiding, attempting to distract me with bright and shiny objects. He had one of the parenting magazines we’d gotten at the doctor’s office spread out on the countertop, fake-poring through the pages.
“Look at this,” he prompted upon feeling me approach.
Playing along, I walked up beside him, hovering over his shoulder and pretending to be interested. He’d randomly opened it to a couple of pictures of nursery layouts, which was laughable considering my occupation. Not that I didn’t love myself some good design porn from time to time, but really?
“Those are nice,” I said diplomatically.
“I bet you could do better.”
“I’m pretty sure I have. And I will.”
“That crib’s nice, though.” He pointed to one of the inset pictures and I nodded in agreement. “Think we can find something like that locally?”
“I’m positive. And if not, I can special order. I have connections, you know.”
“Gracie?” he teased.
“Whatever. But we’ve got plenty of time to discuss this. It’s so early on that focusing too much on things now just seems overkill. I’ve got real rooms to design for real people. Not those that aren’t due to make an appearance for several more months.”
“And one day, I’ll enjoy sharing with our son or daughter that you once referred to them as a figment of your imagination.”
I sighed, somewhat releasing the tension that this whole situation had put on me. Chris had nailed it. My fears, my reluctance to admit that this was actually happening. It wasn’t fair to him, or to the life growing inside of me, to treat this like it was a work of fiction. But how could I unfreeze myself to allow that to take place?
Always one step ahead of me, Chris grabbed my hand in a show of support.
“It’ll get easier,” he vowed, “I promise.”
I managed a small smile as I unlinked my fingers from his, preparing to sit at the breakfast bar in order to enjoy my meal.
“Eat up,” he prodded, “I know you’re hungry.”
Which I was. So I dove into the food that he had already plated for me. Conversation was minimal as we both ate. Fine with me. Chris wasn’t one to pry; if he had been, he wouldn’t have allowed a decade to pass before making me tell him the
truth. He would patiently wait for me to come around, providing tiny nudges from the sidelines in order to keep me on the appropriate path.
“Good girl,” he praised as I scraped up the last forkful of omelet. Before I could do it myself, he swept my plate away and stood to put it in the dishwasher. “Go finish getting ready.”
I shrugged, knowing this wasn’t a battle to wage. If he wanted me to do full hair and makeup to sit around the house, then so be it. Maybe he assumed that would help to lift my spirits. He had always made it clear that he thought I was beautiful no matter what, so it wasn’t out of his personal preference. Besides, it would be nice to have a moment or two in order to clear my head.
So even though it was Saturday and I would have been just as happy bare faced and with my hair up in a ponytail or bun, I got out my train case of makeup and set to work while the flat iron heated up. I wasn’t exactly a slouch when it came to cosmetics, but it helped immensely that I had a good canvas to begin with. I’d been blessed with excellent genetics, which had led to a lifetime of near flawless skin. Now, with the pregnancy hormones, my gifts were intensified with that oft-mentioned glow that seemed to radiate from my pores. I’d never been unhappy with my appearance, but even I had to admit that I’d never looked better.
Peering at my reflection in the mirror, it was difficult to tell that I wasn’t on top of the world. My outer self was impeccable, but inside I felt the familiar pain of hollowness. This should be the time of my life: a new marriage, a baby on the way, a successful business. But all I could think about was what I didn’t have. The feeling of emptiness was always a dull ache in my being; I’d lived with it nearly constantly since I was eighteen. Why stop now?
Perhaps that’s what happened when everyone thought you lived a charmed life. The universe had a funny way of pulling you back down to Earth so that you were reminded that you were only human. For a brief, shining moment, I had seemingly had it all. And I had let it slip through my fingers. To what end?
My eyes were drawn to my cell phone, ever present on my bathroom vanity. All it would take was one call to start the ball rolling. One call that I couldn’t bring myself to place. And so it remained silent, with no one wanting to make the first move.
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