Crank

by Shauna Allen

  He ran a hand down his jeans. “Well, all right, then. Monday.”

  “Cool.”

  We drove on down Sycamore toward town, passing the strip mall and Mario’s. My gaze automatically tracked the restaurant . . . so much of my heart was tangled up in memories there. My mom. Delilah.

  I gunned the engine and made for the sandwich shop. A space opened near the front door and I snagged it, patting Jesse on the back as we headed in. Maybe I was desperate, but I would grab onto any good omen at this point.

  The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted over me, making my stomach growl, as we ordered and found a corner table.

  My heart froze mid-beat when I glanced across the way.

  Delilah.

  Without thinking, I jumped up and headed over. “Hey, baby.”

  She glanced up, then did a double take. “Blake. Hi.”

  I faced her friend across from her, her bright auburn hair shining with the sunlight bouncing through the windows. “Hi, Rachel.”

  She offered me a timid smile then cut her eyes to Delilah like they’d just been talking about me. “Hi, Blake. How are you?”

  “I’m good.” I hiked my thumb over my shoulder. “Jesse and I were just having a quick bite.”

  Rachel’s gaze shot to my table as pink tinged her cheeks. “Jesse? He’s home?”

  “Yeah.” I peered at my wife. “He’s gonna be working at Jack ‘Em Up.” I sought out Dee’s eyes and lowered my voice. “With Jesse working at the shop, plus the new guy we hired to help out, I won’t have to work so much.”

  Delilah stood and picked up her tray with her half-eaten sandwich. “That’s great, Blake. I’m glad for you.” She shot a meaningful glance to Rachel. “Um, we’ve gotta be going.”

  “Can’t you stay?” I fought the urge to reach out and grip her arms, force her to look at me. Really look at me. See that I was trying here.

  Rachel stood with her tray, grabbed Dee’s from her hand, and took both to the trash. Her expression toward Delilah was clearly ‘you’re on your own.’

  I furrowed my brow. “Delilah.” She finally faced me. “Can you stay? Sit with Jesse and me for a little bit?”

  She snatched up her purse, shaking her head. “Sorry. I have an appointment.”

  “Appointment?”

  “Yeah.” She side-stepped me and met up with Rachel, who was by the front door staring at the back of Jesse’s head. “Sorry.”

  “See ya tomorrow?”

  But she didn’t hear me. She was gone.

  I slumped back into my chair across from Jesse and picked up my cup without drinking. Why did it feel like something was wrong? What was Dee keeping from me?

  “She okay?” Jesse asked, nodding toward the parking lot, his gaze locked onto something. Rachel?

  I watched my wife slip into her Corvette and head out of the lot, Rachel following in her Audi. “I guess.” But I couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes or how worn down she looked . . . but she was still beautiful to me. I just hated that any of this screwed up situation between us could be making her ill.

  “So, my folks are having their annual Christmas party next weekend . . . it’s also kind of a homecoming thing for me.” He fiddled with a potato chip. “Why don’t you come and bring Delilah?”

  “When?”

  “Next Saturday. Eight o’clock.”

  I nodded once. “I’ll be there.”

  “And Dee?”

  I faced her empty parking space, my heart heavy. “I don’t know.”

  Delilah

  I drove away from the Sandwich Hut with my heart hammering to rival a racehorse. I would’ve sworn Blake saw right through me, saw I was hiding something from him. At least until our date tomorrow night. I just needed to get this doctor’s appointment out of the way. Ease my anxiety.

  Rachel followed me to Dr. Peterman’s office and parked next to me. I glanced over at my friend. She always looked so put together. Even in grungy sweats. It was just her. But, as she stood, her charcoal gray suit with pencil skirt, white silk blouse, fancy leather heels, and her hair twisted up into a loose French twist, she looked supremely beautiful and elegant.

  She waited until I locked up and started toward the front door to match my pace, not saying a word, just her presence comforting me. I clutched my purse strap and inhaled a large breath. She offered me a gentle smile then opened the glass front door for me.

  Memories assailed me of the multiple times I’d been here. The pamphlets on the tabletops, the TV muted but with the news channel rolling, the smell of cleaner and flowers. I was slammed with the memory of Blake and I, holding hands in the two corner chairs with the first pregnancy. Anxious, excited, hopeful. We had no idea the heartache we were in for.

  Rachel gripped my hand now and led me toward the receptionist. I checked in and sat in the same chair Blake had used. I guess I was hoping for a little of his essence to remain there and wrap me up in his comfort. I picked up a magazine and flipped through it without seeing a thing. I was a nervous wreck.

  Finally, the nurse called my name and I stood, Rachel following me.

  “How are you, Mrs. Travers?” the nurse asked, smiling at me over her shoulder as we walked.

  “I’m fine.”

  She weighed me in, took some vitals and then led us to a room I remembered well. It was the same one Blake and I had been in when we found out we’d lost baby number two. I sucked in a breath, plastered on a fake smile, and sat on the paper covered exam table.

  The nurse went over my health history and I gave her the date of my last period and told her about the pregnancy tests I’d taken.

  She glanced up from my chart with a smile. “Okay.” She stood and reached into a cabinet. “In the meantime, we need you to undress for a pelvic exam.” She handed me a gown. “Dr. Peterman will be with you in a few minutes.”

  “Want me to step out?” Rachel asked, a frown creasing her face.

  “Don’t be silly. You’ve seen everything I have to see.” I yanked off my clothes and wrapped myself in the gown, wishing it were warmer.

  The doctor came in nearly fifteen minutes later, his breezy smile lighting his Paul McCartney lookalike face. “Nice to see you, Delilah.”

  We exchanged pleasantries and I introduced Rachel while he glanced over my chart. “So, you think you’re pregnant again?”

  I nodded. Hoped.

  “Well, let’s do an exam and then we’ll talk before I send you over for some bloodwork.”

  The nurse rejoined us as I laid back and gritted my teeth through the pelvic examination. When he was done, Dr. Peterman washed his hands and sat back on his stool while the nurse helped me to sit back up.

  “Well,” he said. “I think you might be right. You’ve missed a period, tested positive at home and with our urine test here in the office, and your cervix and uterus feel like I’d expect them to at about eight weeks along.”

  My throat tightened up. I couldn’t speak. I shot a look to Rachel and she reached over for my hand again.

  The doctor glanced up after scribbling some notes. “I’ll confirm with the blood work, but I’m fairly positive. In the meantime, I want you to start taking a multivitamin. I’m also going to start you on progesterone injections every week to try and decrease your risk of another miscarriage.” He smiled and handed me some prescriptions. “Congratulations, Delilah.”

  My mouth was gaping open. It was real. Really real.

  “Oh,” he said as he stood. “You probably want a due date, don’t you?”

  “Sure,” I whispered just as Rachel piped in, “Yes!”

  He grinned and spun a small plastic wheel. “Looks like . . . June 29th.”

  The same week baby number one was due seven years ago. I bowed my head and swallowed my tears. “Thank you.”

  Rachel squealed like a little girl once he left the room and gripped my shoulders. “You’re going to have a baby this summer!”

  I peered up and felt the first smile in days tip
my lips. “I am, aren’t I?”

  But, as she tittered over that and I dressed, all I could think was how I’d tell Blake . . . and what would happen to us now.

  The morning sickness hit me pretty hard Friday. I puked first thing when I woke up then felt like nauseated crap all day at work. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was fighting a stomach bug. That evening, as soon as I was off, I went back to Rachel’s apartment, took a long bath, then curled up on the couch in my sweats. And promptly fell asleep.

  A banging on the door startled me awake and I glanced at the clock on the wall. Shit. It was ten after seven. Groggy from such a long nap, I padded to the door, sliding a hand through my messy hair.

  I flipped on the entry light, squinting my eyes as I swung open the door and faced Blake. “I’m sorry, I—”

  His puckered brows smoothed once he saw me, then his eyes softened as he cupped my cheek. “God, you had me worried when you didn’t show and didn’t answer your phone. Are you okay?”

  I automatically tipped my face into his warm palm, loving the smell of his clean skin. “I’m fine. I was just really tired and laid down for a few minutes.” I met his concerned gaze. “I’m sorry I overslept.” I ushered him inside. “If you give me a minute, I can get dressed.”

  He closed the door behind him and studied my face in that serious way of his. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  I swallowed. Nodded. “Sure.” I spun away, but he grasped my elbow. “Baby . . .”

  Slowly, I pivoted and faced him.

  “We don’t have to go anywhere if you’re not feeling good.” A half-smile caressed his lips. “Come on, Dee. I know you. You’re obviously not up for it.”

  Something deep in my heart quivered at how well my husband knew me. Would anyone else ever know me so well? Forfeiting to the weak moment, I collapsed into his arms. He collected me close and rubbed his hand up and down my back.

  We stood like that for probably five minutes, me accepting his comfort, him brushing sweet kisses to my head. “I love you, Delilah,” he finally whispered. “So damn much.”

  I peered up into his eyes. Words and tears clogged my throat. I so badly wanted to go back in time, find a way to erase ten years of being disappointed and hurt, to know, without a doubt, that things would be different. Because sometimes, love just wasn’t enough.

  He didn’t make me speak. Instead, he wrapped me back up in his arms. “How about you come back to the house with me? We can have a nice quiet night at home.” When I didn’t answer immediately, he added, “I’ll cook you grilled cheese and we can watch one of your sappy movies.”

  A laugh bubbled up in my throat. He did know me well. “You’re serious?”

  He tucked a loose hair behind my ear. “Sure. I’ll suffer through it for you.”

  I gaped and smacked his chest when he laughed. “Shut up.”

  “Come on.” He grabbed my hand and tugged.

  “Fine. But I’m picking the cheesiest, sappiest, most romantic movie now.”

  “Bring it on, baby.”

  I collected my purse and keys, but he plucked them from my hand. “I’ll drive you—” When I started to protest, he tilted his head. “—and I’ll bring you back. Promise.”

  I reluctantly agreed and we stepped out and I locked the door behind me. When I turned, Blake made me squeal when he hefted me up in his arms. “What are you doing?”

  He started walking toward the parking lot, his shoulder muscles bunching under my clasped hands as I held on for dear life. “What does it look like?” His eyes twinkled with a hidden smile.

  “Like you’ve gone crazy?”

  “Maybe.” He set me down by the car and opened my door with a flourish. “My lady.”

  Nostalgia nearly crippled me. How long had it been since he’d been so flirty and sweet? Since we’d spent real quality time together? Since we’d been the ‘us’ that was so special?

  I slid into my seat and he closed the door. I inhaled and closed my eyes, bringing his essence deep into my lungs.

  He was quiet when he joined me, revving his car to a start and heading out toward our house. His house, I corrected myself. I closed my eyes and laid my head back on the seat.

  When the car came to a stop, my eyes flew open. The house was dark, my yellow curtains muted. Automatically, I focused on my little flower bed. The Impatiens were wilted with some weeds poking up through the dirt now. Did he water them, tend them now that I was gone? Probably not. Blake never did have much of a green thumb.

  He hopped out and rounded to open my door. I gripped his hand and let him help me up. We went inside and were greeted by a meowing Chevy looking for dinner and a face full of stuffy warm air. Nausea hit me again immediately and I gripped the doorframe.

  “Sorry.” He loped down the hall, murmuring to the cat as he adjusted the thermostat. “Accidentally left the heater cranked, I guess.” Glancing at me, he smirked. “It’s cold sleeping all alone.”

  I averted my gaze and yanked off my jacket.

  “So . . .” He waited until I looked at him. “Dinner?”

  I wasn’t sure I could eat, but I nodded. “Sure.”

  I followed him to the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised to see he’d kept it clean. After fidgeting for a minute, I finally sunk down onto a bar stool while he puttered around the kitchen, feeding Chevy then pulling out the bread, butter, and cheese for our sandwiches.

  He glanced up at me as he grabbed a pan. “Extra cheese like always?”

  I smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

  I watched Blake work, admiring his body like I always did. Broad shoulders, strong arms with just the hint of the tattoos on his biceps showing under his short sleeves, the script on his left forearm the most prominent. Long fingers, rugged, sexy jaw . . . as my body began to thrum, I wondered if I could be having that sex drive thing with pregnancy some women talk about, but I’d never experienced before.

  His dark chocolate eyes glanced up and caught mine. I felt myself flush at being busted checking him out. “So . . .” He winked. “How was your day?”

  “Good,” I said a little too quickly. I released a breath. “Busy.” I told him about my clients, some of my regulars that he already knew of. I thought of Mrs. Henderson and how we’d talked more about her daughter’s divorce today, but I didn’t mention it.

  As our sandwiches sizzled in the pan, he offered me a Diet Dr. Pepper and I took a sip. “So, I’ll bet you were happy to see Jesse again.”

  He smiled broadly. “Absolutely.” He flipped our sandwiches and gooey cheese dripped out. “I can tell his time in prison was rough. He hasn’t gone into much detail, and knowing him, he probably won’t, but I think . . . he’s different.”

  I nodded. “I can imagine.” No need to go into how unfair the whole circumstance was.

  He pulled out a bag of Lay’s. “You know, I kinda think Jesse might have a thing for Rachel.”

  My gaze snapped up. “What? Really?”

  He grinned. “Well, it’s just a hunch. But if the way he stared after her at the sandwich shop is any indication . . . I’m just sayin’.”

  I recalled the blush on Rachel’s cheeks whenever we’d talk about Jesse. “Huh.”

  “He had a thing for her in high school, you know.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “He did not.”

  “Oh, yeah, he did. He loves redheads.”

  We laughed together as he flopped the grilled cheeses onto two plates, added a handful of chips, and served them with a flourish. “Bon appetite. Only the best for you, baby.”

  We ate and it only took a few minutes for us to slide back into our old selves . . . well, us before the business had become his life. Before the grief of losing three babies had stained me. But, tonight, he teased again, I laughed again, we talked about nothing big. It was . . . nice.

  I finished my meal and met his eyes. God, how did he do this to me? He made my stomach roll and a hundred emotions ripple through me like satin.

&nbs
p; He reached up and ran his thumb along my cheekbone. “You sure you’re all right?”

  Yeah. I couldn’t hide from him anymore. I shook my head sadly. “I need to talk to you, Blake.”

  “Okay.” He eyed me warily, and maybe with a touch of apprehension. He picked up our plates and I headed to the living room and tucked myself into the sofa. Maybe the multiple throw pillows would soften the blow.

  I shifted to face him when he sat next to me and tucked my knees to my chest as the cat curled up behind him on the back of the couch.

  “What’s up, baby?”

  I quelled a nervous breath. Why was I so nervous? This was Blake . . .

  “Come on, Dee. Spit it out.”

  I peered into his eyes, not even sure what I was searching for. What I wanted. Then I opened my heart. “I’m pregnant.”

  Blake

  I simply stared at her, unable to compute.

  Delilah tilted her head, her long brown hair brushing her elbow. “Blake?”

  I ran a hand down my face, trying to clear my head. Out of the million things she could’ve wanted to talk to me about, I would’ve never, ever, guessed this. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded and my heart leapt with joy, at the same time a spiral of dread slid down my spine at the look of desolation in her eyes.

  “Wow.” I studied her, smiling as exhilaration and hope and desperate love poured through me. “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, her expression far less happy. “So, you’re not upset?”

  “Why would I be upset? We’ve wanted this for a long time.” Recalling each time she’d brought me this same news, my gut churned. Could this time be different? It had to be.

  “Because, Blake . . . the timing . . . we’re getting divorced.”

  Fear bubbled up in me. “You can’t be serious. Not now, anyway.”

  Her spine stiffened. “What’s different now, Blake? A baby never changed things between us before.”

  “Changed what, exactly? What’s so wrong with our marriage anyway?”