Avoiding reality and having nonstop insanely hot sex instead is not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Things happen when you avoid reality for too long. Things that make reality suddenly impossible to ignore.
“Are you okay in there?”
I move from the toilet to the sink and stare at my reflection. “Come on in.”
Gavin peeks his head through the door with his hand covering his eyes. “Are you decent?”
I turn on the water and flick some droplets at him. “Yes, dork.”
He uncovers his eyes and comes fully into the bathroom, closing the door behind him as I rinse my mouth.
“Are you sick?”
My gaze meets his in the mirror and I reply, “I hope.”
His face scrunches as he parrots, “You hope?”
Then, the meaning of my response dawns on him, and his face goes slack. “You don’t mean . . .” His eyes move to my abdomen and stay there.
I turn, my voice shaking when I confirm, “My period is late.”
His eyes widen. “That’s bad, right?”
“It’s not good,” I murmur.
“Have you taken a test?”
Shaking my head, I cover my face with my hands. He moves toward me, pulling me into a hug. I sag into him, letting him help hold me up.
“I’m too scared to.”
He doesn’t ask why. The answer is obvious. As long as I don’t know, I can keep looking Trip in the eye each time we’re together.
Stepping away, I wipe at my face. “Please don’t say anything to anyone.”
“I wouldn’t.”
Nodding, I square my shoulders. “We better go.”
He reaches behind him to open the door and then holds it for me. I avoid the eyes of anyone who notices us walking out of the bathroom together. Gavin and I are tight, it’s not unheard of for us to gossip. Hopefully, that’s all anyone will think we’re doing now.
Gavin drives the station van to our filming site. Today, I’m interviewing a local dance instructor. There’s a tango event this weekend to celebrate the birthdate of a famous tango dancer. It’s sheer luck I don’t puke all over his shoes during my on-camera lesson.
I wait until Gavin and I are back in the van to ask, “How bad was I?”
He keeps his eyes on the road when he replies, “You were a bit green. Were you sick?”
“So bad,” I groan.
“Maybe you have the stomach bug that’s been going around.”
I laugh, surprising the both of us. “I’ve never heard someone so excited about a stomach bug before.” I press my hand to my chest. “Sorry. You caught me off guard.”
He glances my way, grinning.
His smile fades suddenly and his eyes move back to the road. “What are you going to do if it isn’t a stomach bug?”
That’s the million-dollar question. “Trip has been clear that he doesn’t want kids, so the one thing I’m sure of is I’ll be on my own.”
“Have you said anything to him?” he asks.
Dragging my fingertips across my window, I watch as we pass the dry cleaner’s and Lola’s diner.
“I haven’t.”
“Reilly.”
His tone is equal parts compassion and judgment. In his eyes, I’ve always been fearless. There was the whole falling flat on my face on live TV thing, but other than that, I’m normally a force to be reckoned with.
He wouldn’t understand why I’m afraid. Morning after morning, I’ve been sneaking out of bed to lose a breakfast I haven’t even eaten. My future went from being this abstract thing off in the distance, to a weight rapidly bearing down on me.
“Don’t scold,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
“Have you told Kacey?”
That is an easier question to answer. “I plan on telling her tonight. We’re meeting for dinner. So far you’re the only one I’ve told.”
He reaches for my hand and I hold tightly to his. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you.”
My voice is thick when I reply, “Thank you, Gav.”
Once we’re back at the station, we work together editing our footage from earlier.
“You should let me take you out dancing sometime,” a voice mutters behind us.
My skin prickles and my spine stiffens as I recognize the voice.
“No thanks, Tad. As you can see, tango isn’t my thing,” I reply, keeping my eyes on Gavin’s computer screen.
“I’m sure I could show you some moves.”
His innuendo is not subtle.
Gavin looks back at him. “Hey, Tad. I heard Stan wanted to talk to you. Have you seen him?”
Tad moves away, muttering something about not having time for this.
Gavin’s attention is fully on me. “If you don’t report him, I will.”
“He’s harmless,” I argue.
“I don’t care. He’s still harassing you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
The clip starts to play in a loop, over and over again. I got myself into this mess with Tad myself. He only continues to pursue me because, at one point in time, I welcomed his attention. Sadly, now that I no longer do, he hasn’t stopped.
I had hoped time was enough. Then, I had hoped Trip and I going public with our, whatever it is we were doing, would be enough. I never wanted to be the person who tattled on a colleague like I was a school child.
“Do you have any crackers?” I ask, changing the subject.
He pushes out of his seat. “I’ll get some from the vending machine for you. Trim the dance clip. There was a spin I got that should fit nicely.”
“Thanks Gav,” I breathe, not only thanking him for getting something to settle my stomach, but for dropping the Tad issue.
I can only handle one crisis at a time. While he’s gone, I search for my spin. Once I find it, I trim the clip, saving the excess to another folder in case he wants to add any more dance footage.
He sets a bag of Cheezit crackers on the desk next to me. “These were all they had in the machine. Want me to run out and get you some Saltines?”
I reach for the bag, quietly opening it, praying the faint scent of cheese flavoring won’t turn my stomach. These snack bags are a joke, there never seems to be enough chips or crackers within to satisfy.
Plucking one cracker from the bag, I nibble at its corner, taking the tiniest bite possible.
As it dissolves in my mouth, I chance another bite before saying, “No, these are great. Thanks, Gav,”
He settles back into his seat and we get back to work. One thing I always loved about this little news station was how involved we each were with every step of the news we reported.
When I was in college, I interned at a much larger station close to my school. There were almost as many producers as there were reporters, and the reporters there rarely took part in the editing process of the clips they filmed.
I’ve struggled with the technical aspect of splicing and seamlessly piecing my clips back together. For too long, I’d let Gavin do all of it. He didn’t mind either way but with his encouragement, I’m finally getting the hang of it.
Someday I want to not only report the news, but help produce the segments we air. Everyone assumes that my goals end with wanting a chair behind the anchor booth. In the beginning, when I was still in school, that may have been my original goal.
But that goal has evolved over the years. It’s the technical, behind the scenes aspect of my job that has been giving me the most fulfillment.
“That’s a wrap.” Gavin moves our completed tango file to the producer’s file folder before lifting his fist for me to touch mine to it.
“I think we’re done for the day,” he says.
“Doing anything fun tonight?” I ask, grateful the crackers have settled my stomach.
He smiles, it’s a hesitant one, shyly toying at the corners of his mouth. “I have a date, or a double date I guess.”
“Shut up!” I exclaim slapping his arm. “T
ell me everything.”
He glances around, blushing. Gavin and I have worked together for ages. He’s dated a few girls in town but nothing serious. If he weren’t so shy, women would be all over him. He’s adorable with his shaggy dark blond hair and brown puppy dog eyes. His main stumbling block is he freezes around girls and ends up coming off as uninterested because he’s so quiet.
It takes time for him to warm up to people, but once he does, his social awkwardness melts away. “Go grab your purse, and we’ll walk out together.”
I smirk but still do as he asks. There are people working around us, so I’m not surprised he doesn’t want anyone listening in.
I meet him by the door. “So?”
He shakes his head. “Her name is Claire.”
Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I prod, “And?”
“She works with Brenda. There’s a picture of us with Mom and Dad on her desk, and Claire told her she thought I was cute.”
“Of course she did,” I agree. “Have you seen her, or is tonight the first time you’re meeting?”
He walks me to my Jeep. “She’s friends with Brenda on Facebook so I’ve seen pictures of her, but tonight is the first time we’re meeting.”
“Oh, no holding out. I want to see her picture.”
Dutifully, he takes out his phone and pulls one up for me. “Gavin, she’s so pretty.”
Nodding, he smiles as he takes his phone back.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“To a movie and then maybe drinks at Brewmasters after.”
A movie is perfect because he won’t need to talk too much. I keep this to myself. He’s probably already nervous enough.
“Kacey and I are going to Aho Jose’s.”
“Shocker,” he teases.
“Be prepared to tell me all about your date tomorrow. We have that flower show to go to, so we can gab on the way.”
He hesitates by my Jeep, so I ask, “Everything alright, Gav?”
He gulps, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Do you think she’ll like me?”
I want to hug him but that will only embarrass him, so I squeeze his arm instead. “She will.”
It’s a good thing Brenda is going with. Knowing his sister, she planned it that way to act as a buffer. She’s chatty and since she works with Claire, she’ll be able to fill any silences Gav can’t.
He gives me a tight smile before turning and heading off to his car. I watch him go, crossing my fingers and toes that tonight goes well for him. He is one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met. He can’t hide the fact that he’s lonely.
Once his car is out of sight, I climb into my own ride and head home. There’s a package waiting for me by the front door. Short of driving an hour out of town, I couldn’t come up with a better way to get a pregnancy test without someone finding out.
When I ordered it and selected the two-day shipping, I had prayed that my period would come before the test did. The brown package is thankfully non-descript. It could easily have dvds or a sweater in it for all my neighbors could tell.
Tucking it under my arm, I head up to my place. I refuse to open it until Kacey gets here. While I wait for her to show, I kill time staring at it.
What am I going to do?
I was right to try and end things with Trip. If we had stopped sleeping together, this wouldn’t have happened. That’s a guess though, since I’ll need an actual ultrasound or something to pinpoint how far along I am.
My phone buzzes and I stop staring at the box long enough to look at it. It’s a text from Trip, asking if I want to sleep at his place or mine tonight.
Since I’m going out with Kacey, he made plans with his partner and some other detectives. I text back, your place.
He replies, if you need a ride text me.
My fingers ghost over his words. When my screen dims, I press it to keep my phone from going dark. I report news for a living, and I have no idea how to share my own news with him.
The window behind me is open so I hear Kacey park. She doesn’t knock, and since the front door and my door are both unlocked, she comes right up.
“Your brother is driving me crazy,” she says the moment she enters the room.
I drop my phone onto the cushion beside me. “What’d he do now?”
She tosses her purse on the coffee table and it slides into the box, pushing it slightly. “He’s set on trying to become friends with my dad.”
Kacey’s relationship with her father is complicated. He pretty much checked out mentally after her mom died. I can understand why rebuilding a relationship between him and Kacey would appeal to Jake, but he also needs to respect the fact that she might not want one.
“How do you feel about that?”
She sinks into my armchair and pulls her legs up, holding them to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “Even if he wants to talk now, part of me is still ‘too little too late.’”
“Even if he apologized and meant it?” I press.
She shrugs. “Jakes all gun-ho, so I guess we’ll see.”
“He loves you,” I reply.
She smiles. “And I love him. Which is why I haven’t strangled him. Anyways, ready to go?”
I pull my hands into my lap and stare down at them as I worry my fingertips.
“Reils?”
Why is this so hard?
“Honey, is everything okay?” she asks.
I shake my head. Everything is not okay.
Her hand moves in my peripheral, coming to rest on my knee. “You’re starting to scare me.”
“I,” I croak then cough before saying, “need to take a pregnancy test.”
She gasps but her hand doesn’t move from my leg. “Do you need me to go buy one?”
I shake my head. “There’s a two pack in the box on the table.”
She moves, coming to sit right next to me, her arm going around me. “I’ve got you.”
Together we stand. She picks up the box and follows me to my bathroom. I pace as she uses a nail file to split the tape and open it.
“Try to relax,” she coaxes, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
“I can’t,” I admit.
She opens one of the packages and pulls out the test strip.
I reach for it but she pushes my hand away. “Let me read the directions first.”
‘You pee on it,’ I want to argue but bite my fingernail instead.
After she’s finished reading, she hands it to me. “It said it’s best to do it first thing in the morning.”
“I can’t wait anymore,” I reply.
She waits with me while I go. We’ve shared enough bathroom stalls during our friendship that peeing in front of her is no big deal. I slip the plastic cap back onto it and set it on the sink counter.
“How long did it say to wait?” I ask while I wash my hands.
“Two minutes,” Kacey replies, her eyes on the indicator window.
I’m too scared to look at it. “Do you see anything yet?”
She shakes her head. I move past her, the walls of the bathroom closing in around me. Walking till my feet carry me to my kitchen, I pull down a glass and fill it with a pitcher of filtered water I keep in my fridge. Lifting the glass to my lips, I down it.
My sink is overflowing again. After the day I cleaned my place from top to bottom, it’s quickly become cluttered again.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper to myself.
The concept of being a mother isn’t what scares me. It’s the idea of doing it all on my own that does.
Kacey’s footsteps on the hardwood announce her approach.
Keeping my back to her, I ask, “Was it positive?”
She waits a beat, then replies, “It was.”
My tongue pushes out to wet my lips before I mash them together, blinking away the wetness that hits my eyes.
She moves closer, her arms coming around me as she rests her cheek against my back. I have a good four inches on her, but even though she’s s
mall, her hug is so giant it pushes some of my fear aside.
“What am I going to do?” I ask.
“What do you want to do?” she counters.
“I’m keeping it. That’s the only thing I’m sure about.”
I’m aware of all of the options out there for me. Keeping this baby is the only one for me.
“Jake and I will help,” she says.
I turn, wiping my eyes. “I’m not sure how to tell Trip.”
“You could always give him the test. It’s pretty self-explanatory.”
I shake my head. “He deserves better than that.”
Standing becomes too much, I lower myself to the floor, my back leaning against my cabinets. Kacey sits down next to me. Fresh tears hit my eyes. I’m not sad. I’m scared and overwhelmed.
When contemplating my future children, I had always pictured a partner to help me raise them. Someone who would help me with the clutter and mess of myself. He would have had a mom that he remembered, or better yet, who was still alive. Through him or her, they would have taught me how to be a mother myself.
“I’m supposed to go to his place tonight,” I whisper.
“He’s a nice guy, Reilly. Maybe he’ll be happy,” she replies.
I cover my face with my hands. “He said he doesn’t want kids.”
“You good?” Walt asks.
My eyes move over Reilly’s text one more time before I shove my phone back into my pocket. “Reilly and I were supposed to meet up later. She canceled.”
Walt takes a swig of his beer. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Shut up,” I grumble before sliding some bills onto the bar and hopping off my stool. “I’m going to take off.”
He sizes me up. “You’re going to her place, aren’t you?”
I don’t look back when I reply, “Yep.”
Her lights are on when I pull up to her place.
She gave me a copy of her key a couple weeks ago. She didn’t want me to wake up Dylan when I came over, and I didn’t want her leaving her house unlocked at night.
“Reilly,” I call, as I make my way up her stairs.
Her back is to me, but she looks over her shoulder as I walk into her living room. Her eyes are red; she’s obviously been crying.
I cross the room to move to her side. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head.
Why Not? (Love Riddles Book 3) Page 7
