He looks back at me like the answer should be obvious. “I’m going to jump in the shower really quick.”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Jason?”
“It’s just to wake me up a bit. It’s the middle of the night, and I have to drive a car. Just give me five goddamn minutes, alright?”
Tears spring to my eyes and I do my best to push them back. I’m scared, I’m tired, I have more water trickling between my legs and I just want to get to the hospital where I know people will take care of me. I know I’ll feel relief as soon as I’m around the doctors and nurses that do this for a living. Sure, I read a ton of books and attended all the newborn, breast-feeding and child care classes I could, but anticipating what’s ahead, and being in the moment, are two very different things. I can’t contain the fear and nervousness in my heart right now, no matter how hard I try.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I feel the baby in my belly move and place my hand there to connect with this wonder inside of me, feeling grateful that somehow this simple act calms me down a bit. I don’t know yet if it’s a boy or a girl. I want to be surprised and Jason never seemed to be curious about the sex. He never asked or suggested that he would like to know. This is one of the few genuine surprises we get in life, and I want that. Many surprises in my life have been hell and this will not be, so I feel a unique eagerness and excitement.
Meeting the little person that has already stolen my heart is something I’ve been imagining for months. Will he or she look like me? Have my dark hair and hazel eyes? Or will he or she have Jason’s blonde hair and blue eyes? Whenever I imagine the baby I’ll hold in my arms, the appearance is slightly blurry; the features not defined. I’m anxious for the mystery to be revealed – no matter what it is. I will be happy for ten fingers and ten toes. None of the rest matters.
I’ve put up with all of Jason’s shit because I know that once he meets our son or daughter, it will change everything. How could it not? How will he stare into the tiny face of a person he helped create, and not feel something? So many times during my pregnancy I’ve felt alone. I’ve gone alone to doctor’s appointments, and experienced the baby’s first movements by myself. Every class and shopping trip spent buying tiny outfits and diapers, or hunting second hand shops and garage sales for gently used items for the baby’s room, has been done in solitude. There have been many times I wished so hard for him to hold me, rub my belly, kiss it and tell me how much he loves me, and our child. I kept hoping he would attend just one appointment and ask the doctor a question with excitement in his eyes, and anxiousness in his voice. But, to no avail. The loneliness has been suffocating at times, and I can ache so badly for his attention that it physically hurts. But, I keep holding on. I know he will come around.
I hear Jason step out of the shower and dry off. When he’s finished he walks into the bedroom naked in order to get clothes from the closet. Seeing him nude used to immediately make my thighs clench. I’d feel desire deep in my belly and shiver all the way to my toes. Somewhere along the way, that’s disappeared. I’ve read that some women’s hormones and lust during pregnancy are off the charts. Not mine, at least, not with Jason. However, there was this one guy I saw at the grocery store one time, and lord, I had to hide myself behind the stack of bananas to keep myself from jumping him. Although, bananas weren’t exactly a great diversion when sex was on the mind. I felt ridiculously guilty when a feeling of heat washed over me out of nowhere making my nipples tighten and need clench in my belly. I stood and shook for a long time watching his every move, feeling a mixture of relief and regret when he walked away.
Shaking my head trying to push the thought away, I admit to myself that somewhere along the way, things changed with Jason and I hope like hell this baby brings us back together in every way.
Finally, Jason emerges dressed and begins putting his shoes on. He looks at me, raising a brow, “You ready?”
“Are you kidding?” He just sighs and I roll my eyes and nod my head, then follow him out of his apartment into his car.
I’m glad I stayed the night at his place. I haven’t been doing that much lately. Stupidly, I thought he would ask me to move in before the baby comes, or at least give me a key or something, but he never asked and I never suggested it. Part of me didn’t want to let go of my place anyway – maybe it has something to do with trying to hang on to the little bit of independence I still have before my life completely changes. Maybe it’s because I’m not ready to move out from the place I share with Tyson, even though he’s not there. I’m not really sure. I just know I’ve never pushed it, but now on the way to the hospital to have this baby, I can’t help but be nervous about what will happen when I walk out of the hospital. Will I go to Jason’s place or mine? Will he stay with me? We haven’t really talked about that. Will I really know how to take care of this baby? Will I be a good mother? Will Jason and I become the parents and family to this child that I never had?
How does a woman that’s never truly had a mother or family of her own be that for someone else? I’m scared - so scared. I don’t want to fail at this. It’s too important to me. There have been times during my pregnancy that I actually wished for my mother. I almost laugh out loud at the thought. Maybe a child never truly stops wanting and needing her mother, I don’t know. Tyson and I left her five years ago, and never looked back. She’s rarely been a thought in my mind since - until I became pregnant. Then, thoughts of her – and her words - would come at the most random moments.
When we pull into the hospital, Jason pulls right up to the curb down the sidewalk from the emergency room and sits there not looking at me. Looking at him in confusion I point to the road turning right just ahead, “The maternity center is on the other side, down that way.”
He clears his throat, “I know, but the parking garage is here,” he points to the covered parking tower ahead. “Just go on inside. I’ll go park the car.”
Sighing, I murmur, “Okay.” Arguing isn’t going to make a lick of difference.
Unbuckling my seatbelt I glance at him and momentarily think about leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. When I see his clenched jaw, the impatience as he white knuckles the steering wheel, I change my mind. To aid my decision, my stomach tightens with a contraction. As soon as I stand up I feel a sizable trickle slide down my leg and grimace. I look over my shoulder at Jason, “See you in there.” He still doesn’t look at me – he just nods and drives away as soon as I shut the door.
Shuffling my way to the entrance, I can tell I’m full on waddling. The water that continues to fall between my legs does not make this comfortable. I’m glad I had the foresight to put on dark sweats. Hopefully I won’t have to wait long to get into a hospital room.
Stepping through the doors, I realize it’s busy. Several people are occupying the seats available in the waiting area and there are more than a few nurses behind the registration desk. Low murmurs and a buzz of activity fill the space. Deciding to take a seat while I wait for Jason, I try to make myself comfortable and relaxed on the stiff chair. You would think that they would make these seats more comfortable considering people who wait here are generally hurt or sick. I close my eyes, think of my happy place, and take breaths like I practiced in class.
Calmer, opening my eyes and looking around the room, I take in everyone sitting around me. No visible blood or bones to be seen, thank goodness. While I’m trying to be patient, I feel my stomach tighten into a hard ball as a contraction begins. It’s short and doesn’t last very long, but they are definitely coming a little faster. It’s okay, I tell myself. Jason will be here any second and we can go to the maternity ward.
“Tommy! I told you to keep the cloth on your cut. Now you’re getting blood all over yourself and the chair. Can’t you listen?”
Swallowing thickly at the mother’s words, I wonder how I’d deal with something like that when it comes to my own child. Would I speak like that? I’ve never been one to handle blood well, not even my own. One time when I fell
down and busted my knee open, I couldn’t even look at it without feeling bile rise up in my throat. Tyson took me home and cleaned it up and bandaged it for me. A small smile curves my lips at the thought. Tyson was always taking care of me. He is someone who will make a great daddy someday. I know he’ll be the best uncle. Me, on the other hand? I wonder if God is upstairs laughing over this one. Maybe he needs some entertainment or something. Perhaps the angels are getting boring, all that singing and playing of the harps becoming repetitious.
“Mr. Hansen?” a nurse calls looking around the room for the owner of the surname. A gentleman that looks to be in his mid thirties walk towards the nurse. He’s holding his arm close to his body and winces in pain as he walks.
Another contraction comes and this time it takes my breath away just a little. When it’s over I feel angry at myself for not looking at the clock when it began. I’m supposed to be timing how frequently they come and how long they last. People continue to get called back one by one. Meaningless conversations continue all around me and I start to worry about Jason. Where is he? What’s taking so long?
Taking my phone out of my purse, I check to see if he texted or called to say something happened, but the screen is blank. Calling him, the phone rings over and over. When the voicemail picks up I leave a message, “Jason, where are you? My contractions are picking up. Please hurry.”
Hanging up, I feel another contraction and this time, I glance at the clock, checking the time it began. Trying to think about things that bring me peace, I think about the songs the birds sing outside my bedroom window in the morning. How sunshine feels on my face and how I love the smell of rain. I think about how in a matter of hours this child will finally be in my arms. Looking at the clock when it’s over, I see that it lasted almost a minute.
Picking up my phone I try again to call Jason. And again. And again. Each call goes straight to voicemail. Getting up I shuffle out of the hospital doors and look towards the covered parking garage. Nope. It’s still standing. No accident. Nothing appears to be a problem.
The man I saw with a hurt arm a while ago, now leaves the ER with his arm in a sling. He nods at me as he passes and I make my way back inside, once again sitting in the chair. My contractions continue to come five minutes apart. Distracting myself by looking around the room, I realize that everyone is different. No one from when I arrived is still here.
The big hand on the clock keeps moving and I’m still sitting here… alone. I try his phone, again. “Hi, this is Jason. You know what to do.” Lowering my arm slowly, I place my phone back in my bag.
It doesn’t take this long to park the car.
He’s not coming back.
No man will ever stay.
He doesn’t want me, or this baby.
No one will ever love you.
He left both of us.
You’re not worthy.
My mom’s words haunt me once again.
“Motherfucker!” I put my hand over the top of my eye and immediately pull it back seeing blood covering my fingers. It continues to fall like rain down my face and I glower up at the asshole that’s to blame.
“Dude. I’m so sorry!” Zane flinches from the look on my face and runs to the bench to grab a towel. When he returns he presses it against my eye.
“Ow, fuck. Don’t touch me!”
“We need to stop the bleeding.” He keeps pressing the towel against the cut he gave me.
“What the hell, man? We’re just supposed to be sparring and you nearly took my head off with that hit.”
“I know! It was an accident.” Zane looks at me with guilt in his eyes. “Levi!” Zane yells. “Get me a wet towel.”
“Get it yourself douche!” Levi yells back.
“We have an injury out here,” Zane yells back.
I keep myself from rolling my eyes – barely. Fucking adolescents. A few minutes later, Levi comes sauntering into the room with a wet towel in his hand. He takes one look at me and starts laughing. “What the fuck happened to you?”
I want to smack the look of amusement off his punk ass face. “Zane got in a good right. Ow!”
“Sorry, but I need to clean the blood off.” He continues to swipe and poke at me with a towel covered finger. “It’s deep man and is bleeding like a bitch. I think it’s going to need some stitches.”
“What? No. Just butterfly bandage it and let’s move on.”
“A butterfly isn’t going to hold it. It’s too deep and wide.”
“Aw man, Zane. You are going to scar Jax’s pretty face. That alone is going to deserve an ass kicking.” Ryder obviously can’t contain making a sarcastic comment as well as he walks over from the other side of the gym.
“What the hell? Is this a group event? If so, I’m selling tickets for ten bucks each.” The guys laugh and all peer at my face making me feel like I’m going to suffocate. “Alright, everyone back the hell up. I’ll go look at it myself.”
Passing Cole and Dylan on my way to the office, I give them the finger when they smirk at me. Pricks. Some group of friends I have. Looking in the mirror, I take the towel away. Blood immediately starts flowing again and I curse as I see the guys are right. It’s going to need stitches. Dammit. Well, at least we are here after closing time, so all I have to do is kick them out and not worry about getting anyone to close up for me.
“What’s the verdict?”
Turning to Ryder I take in his concerned expression. “Zane’s right. I need stitches.”
“Don’t worry, Stone. The ladies think scars are sexy.” I scowl at him and he smirks. “I was just heading out, but I can take you to the ER then back here to get your truck afterwards.”
“No,” I shake my head, “it’s cool. It isn’t far and I can drive.”
“How are you going to drive and keep pressure on the wound at the same time?”
“I’ll manage.” Brushing past Ryder I yell to the guys, “Alright assholes, practice is over. Get your asses out of here so I can get to the hospital.”
Zane, Ryder, Dylan, Cole, and Levi all gather their stuff and walk to the door, while pushing and shoving each other like a bunch of idiots, and blaming Zane for breaking up practice time.
“Jax, let me take you to the hospital, man. I feel like shit for getting you.”
“Nah, it’s late. Who knows how long I’ll have to wait there. I’ll be fine.”
Zane looks at me helplessly, “You sure?”
“Yep.”
“Whatever dude,” Ryder takes the keys from my hand and after Cole turns out the lights, he locks the door. “Don’t let him off that easy. He should be your bitch at the gym for at least a week or so.”
“Yeah, I second that idea,” Levi chimes in.
“I may be on board with that myself,” I confess. I probably won’t really make him do that, but I don’t think there is anything wrong with making Zane suffer a little longer. When I reach my truck and unlock it, I throw my bag in the back being sure to hold the towel to my head at the same time. Giving a nod goodbye to the boys that makes my head ache a little, I head on out.
When I take in how busy the emergency room is, I mutter a curse under my breath. I’m going to be here forever. Giving my name to the registration clerk, I explain why I’m there and pay my co-pay, then try my best to wait patiently until I’m called in.
Fortunately, I don’t need more than a few stitches when it’s all said and done. The doctor agreed that a butterfly bandage wouldn’t have done the trick, so I guess it’s good I came – pain in the ass as it is.
Checking my phone as I walk out, I see a text from Zane asking how I’m doing. I can’t help but smirk to myself knowing he’s feeling bad. He should. Sparring means holding back with the punches, not going all out like it’s a real fight. I text out a reply telling him I needed three times the amount of stitches I really did, and that they’re monitoring me for a concussion, because he deserves it. Smiling to myself I shove my phone into my back pocket, and as I round the corner, I loo
k up to see a very pregnant woman standing up from her seat. When she suddenly bends over and cries out, I run to her.
“Whoa, whoa!” I immediately grab her elbow and hand to help support her into a standing position. She continues to breathe rapidly while looking at the ground and squeezing my hand. After a few minutes, she appears to calm herself. Taking a deep breath, she finally looks up at me and I’m surprised by the instant reaction I have to her when she looks into my eyes. It takes my breath away.
She’s beautiful. Huge green, or are they brown, eyes. Long dark hair. A smattering of freckles cover her nose, and her long lashes make her eyes look big and dark. Her lips are full and pouty and currently parted as she takes rapid breaths in and out which draws my gaze to her chest. Realizing I’m looking at her full breasts, I look back at her face just in time to see her lick her lips. My eyes automatically follow the movement and it makes my dick twitch in my pants. Realizing I’m lusting after a pregnant lady, I put my focus back on her eyes. What the hell, Stone? What’s wrong with you?
Tilting my head, I narrow my eyes - she looks familiar. “Are you okay? Do you need some help?” Before she can respond, I look over to the registration desk and see a male nurse standing there staring at us like an idiot. “Dude! There’s a woman in labor here. Can we get some help?”
He runs into action and comes around the corner within seconds pushing a wheelchair. “Ma’am, what are you doing here? If you’re in labor, we need to get you to the Family Place, where our maternity services are.” He’s coming across kind of harsh and I feel an immediate possessive and protective feeling run through my body making me scowl at him. He must feel the heat of my stare because he glances up at me and immediately adjusts his tone. “How long have you been in labor?”
She lifts her head and looks at the clock on the wall, “Um, my water broke about three hours ago I guess.”
Fighting Envy Page 2
