by L. B. Dunbar
“Edie, what’s going on?” Elizabeth asked. Brushing a hand over my hair, I blushed despite her inability to see me.
“I thought I was pregnant.” The silence that ensued dropped the bomb slowly. Kerplunk. “But I’m not.”
A pause followed those three little words, and I swallowed the ridiculous lump in my throat.
“Edie,” she said low, soothingly like only a doctor can. “I don’t think that’s possible, and you know all the reasons why. Your period needs time to regulate after the treatments you’ve endured. We’ve discussed this.”
“I know,” I huffed, knowing she was right, and my panic was unreasonable.
“What made you think you could be?”
I snorted into the phone, a nervous huff following.
“I didn’t think you were sexually active,” Elizabeth added.
“I’m not.” It was true, being almost two weeks without Tommy.
“Well,” she giggled. “Then you know it takes two for that to happen. Do we need a refresher in the birds and the bees?” she teased.
“No,” I laughed along with her, feeling foolish. “It’s just…” I stopped myself from speaking. I didn’t have close girlfriends. Not ones that I would share such intimate details with about my newly restored and suddenly vacant sex life. Elizabeth’s pause hinted that I should tell her. I could speak to her, but this wasn’t a clinical thing. There wasn’t a diagnosis for what was going on inside me. I was in love. No doctor could detect that, but my heart was breaking with our separation. I just didn’t see where Tommy and I could go from where we were—two separate places on the map.
“Look,” Elizabeth filled the pause. “You could still get pregnant. You haven’t reached an age where you can’t. But the likelihood is less, and after all your body has been through, highly unlikely.” She paused for more effect. “Is this something you want?”
“No,” I exhaled. It wasn’t. I was at the opposite end of the spectrum. On the verge of being an empty nester, but still, the thirty seconds of thought at a new life, growing inside me again, filling my days, did squeeze at my heart.
“You know, lots of women go through what you’re going through. It’s called adjustment disorder. Things are changing at an increased pace. The divorce. Cancer. Caleb leaving and soon Masie. It’s understandable that you’re having trouble adjusting to the changes. I can prescribe something for that, if you’d like?” My head was shaking before she finished her question.
“No,” I said, a bit too adamantly. I took enough pills as it was. I didn’t need something else in the mix that I’d have to regulate with diet or other medications. “No. I’m okay. Just a freaky false alarm.”
“Okay. Well, if you need something, or think you do, you can call me.”
I nodded again as if she could see me, thanked her, and hung up. Then I noticed I’d missed a text message: What’s this?
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I answered. Hello wasn’t even out of my mouth when he growled.
“What kind of message is that, darlin’?”
My mouth fell open at the accusation.
“Uhm, you were there. I don’t think I need to spell it out, but I wanted you to know you have nothing to worry about.”
Silence followed a moment, and I chewed at my lip. Time had dragged since we’d parted and yet had strangely sped up. The days always seemed like they’d be long, and then I’d been so busy at work the time passed. The nights were unbearably strained, as I missed him too much. I didn’t wish to fight, but I was on edge about our relationship. Did we have a relationship?
“I told you I wasn’t worried.”
“You were,” I interjected, sharper than I intended.
Silence followed once more.
“You okay, darlin’?” I swiped at my growing hair. I’d gotten a cut to shape the growth, and I’d even purchased some new clothes, feeling different about myself after the vacation. But that day, I felt like my old self. A bit frumpy, a lot irritable, and just outright frustrated with life in general.
“Yeah,” I lied, letting my voice fall. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” That wasn’t true either. I usually felt drowsy the day before my period, and I’d fallen asleep early.
“Do you need anything?”
I chuckled without humor. As if he could do something, I thought. He’s in California. I hated my negativity, and hated myself for even starting this conversation. I needed to stop this. “Nope, I’ll be good in a few days. I’m at work, and I’m sorry if I woke you, but I can’t really talk. Talk later?”
I could practically see him chewing his lip, wanting to say more but respecting that I’d mentioned work.
“Okay, Edie.” He hung up, and I cringed at the use of my name. He only said it when he was upset or serious.
Hours passed and around three, the front receptionist called my desk. “You have a delivery.” My brows pinched. I never received packages, so I assumed she misspoke, meaning it was something for Max. I decided to take the three flights down to the front desk, stretching my legs that ached a little and twisting my back which ached a lot. I needed some ibuprofen.
Arriving at the desk, I found a beautiful display of red tulips and a plastic bag from the local pharmacy.
“So, where’s the delivery?” I asked, looking over the counter for a box or mailing envelope.
“It’s there,” Grace pointed, implying the bag and the flowers. “You got flowers and this bag.” She tapped the plastic with her pen. Opening the bag slowly, I found several items inside—chicken soup, a heating pad, a bottle of ibuprofen, a bottle of Midol, and a Kindle gift card.
“What the heck?” I laughed outright, pulling out the contents one at a time. I stared at the collection, and then reached for the card attached to the flowers.
I drew the line at tampons, darlin’. Hope you feel better soon.
I laughed harder as tears sprang to my eyes. My heart raced and I hugged the small card and envelope to my chest. I gathered my things while Grace wiggled a brow at me.
Walking back to the executive office, I set the flowers on the corner of my desk as Max came out of his office.
“What’s this?” he asked. “Special occasion.”
“Not exactly,” I said, staring at the red collection of spring flowers.
“Got a boyfriend?” he asked teasingly in a sing-song voice, like a school boy.
Did I? I thought. I didn’t know how to answer that. Tommy wasn’t a boy, and he was more than a friend. Were we simply long-distance lovers? I didn’t know.
“Just a…” I couldn’t speak. I felt Max’s eyes on me, so I swallowed and added. “A friend.”
The lie made me feel cheap.
Adding to my poor day, minutes before the work day ended, Ivy called me. I decided to take it, worried that something was wrong as she typically didn’t call me during the days.
“Hey, honey,” I started. Ivy’s voice choked on the other end of the phone. “Ivy, what’s the matter?” My heart raced, and I instantly thought of Tommy, worried something had happened to him.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted, and tears echoed through the phone.
+ + +
Ivy and I spoke for nearly an hour while I sat at my desk despite my colleagues leaving the office.
“Gage doesn’t know yet. He’s not going to be happy.”
“Why not?” I asked, my voice rising in surprise.
“The tour is coming. He’s already upset that I said I wouldn’t join him. Ava starts first grade, and I want her to be home, going to a regular school, on a schedule.”
“I see. And he doesn’t like that idea?”
“He doesn’t mind. He sees where I’m coming from, wanting to give the girls a stable life after mine wasn’t, but he still thought I could take her out of school here and there and join him on the road.”
“Ah,” I sighed. Gage had this unnerving need to have Ivy always with him, and while I understood young love, and all that, it was bordering on pos
sessive. He was smothering her.
“I don’t know how to tell him.”
“You aren’t going to do anything rash.” Panic rushed through my voice.
“No, of course not. I want this, it’s just…”
“It’s just what, honey?”
“I thought with Ava going to school, I was one step closer to a little freedom. I was hoping to get a job.” I blinked. Ivy didn’t need a job. Her husband made more than ten heads of household, but before I even questioned her comment, I understood. Ivy suffered that suffocation from Gage.
“What were you going to do?”
“I’ve kept my musical therapist license renewed. I always thought I’d do something along those lines. Work not-for-profit or volunteer. Nothing major. Nothing rigid. Just something more than purple dinosaurs and singing backpacks.”
I laughed knowing exactly how she felt. Ivy had gone from college to marriage, with a baby barely in between those two events. The same thing happened to me.
“Ivy, you can still do this. Hire a babysitter. You need to get out. It will be better for you and the baby, especially if you feel trapped.”
“I don’t feel trapped,” she replied, her voice stronger than normal.
“Okay, trapped might be the wrong word, it’s just—”
“I’m sorry, Edie. I didn’t mean that.” Family always says sorry. “I’m just so worked up about this.”
“I think you should tell Gage everything. Tell him about the baby. Tell him about wanting a job, that you need something for you. You’ll work it out.” I tried to be reassuring. I remembered being her age, being overwhelmed and so young.
“I’m losing myself, Edie,” she whispered, and my heart broke.
“Don’t let that happen. Don’t.” I wanted to reach through the phone and shake her, and then hug her because she needed that hug, and so did I.
+ + +
My boss asked me to join him for drinks at the end of the week. He’d never offered before, and I never would have dreamed of accepting, but I needed that drink. It had been a rough few days. Tommy and I still spoke each night, but it felt different. Time was rearing its evil head. Distance was not making the heart grow fonder.
“I really appreciate your invitation,” I said, looking around me, wondering where the other office staff was. Max said it would be casual—a few people from the office just hanging out at the end of a winter work week.
“I feel like we don’t know each other as well as I’d like,” he said, taking a sip of his double whiskey on the rocks. “I mean, I know about David, and…” His voice trailed off, avoiding the word cancer. “But I don’t know the other things. What do you do for fun? What music do you like?”
I took a large swallow of my wine, gulping more than sipping, as the question caught my breath. It was something Tommy might ask.
“I’m not really good with music. I find I love it, but lack the knowledge to know who sings what.” I laughed off my own deficiency, guilt seeping into the conversation for some reason.
“There’s a concert in a few weeks. Ever hear of The Nights?” I had, and I loved their music. “I have two tickets. Would you like to go?”
I took a deep breath. Should I do this? Tommy and I never discussed being exclusive, but I’d expect the same of him. I wouldn’t want him to take someone to a concert, but he probably did. Not to mention, Max was my boss. My very handsome boss, who I noticed more and more was looking at me in a way that was more than just appreciating my organizational skills.
“You can think about it if you’d like? It’s in two weeks.”
“Thank you. I’d like to get back to you. I just want to check my home calendar,” I offered, trying not to make it an adamant no and hurt his feelings. On that note, my phone buzzed.
Where are you? It was Masie.
Out for drinks. What’s going on?
Out for drinks? You never go out, she reminded me. She was correct, and I was starting to think I needed to change that fact.
Well, tonight I did. I paused a moment and sent another reply. Was there something you needed?
I have a surprise for you. You need to come home.
Soon.
Now, Mom. While texting didn’t inflict tone, I didn’t care for Masie’s.
“Everything okay?” Max asked, nodding toward the phone.
“I’m so sorry. This was so rude. I’m not sure. My daughter’s asking me to come home. I hate to ignore her. It won’t be for much longer that she’s home. She graduates in May.”
Max’s eyes roamed my body. “It’s hard to believe you have a high school senior.”
“I also have a twenty-two-year old son.” I laughed.
“And you had him when you were twelve?” Max’s eyes widened as he chuckled. “I’d forgotten.” His warm smile and roaming appraisal was flattering, but surprising. His roving eyes didn’t ignite me like Tommy’s did, but a flicker burned. He was just being complimentary, I told myself.
“I should probably go,” I said, slipping off the stool and reaching for my wallet.
“This is on me,” he said, reaching for his wallet inside his back pocket. “But you have to promise to do it again.”
My head shot up, and I caught his baby blues sparkling.
“Okay,” I said, my voice unsure, but willing myself to take chances. “Have a good weekend.”
“You too,” he said, and as I walked away, I sensed his eyes on me. I might have swayed my hips a little more than normal.
+ + +
“Tommy?” In all his rock star glory, he stood in my living room, wearing dark jeans and a gray V-neck sweater. My breath hitched, and I wanted to catapult myself over the coffee table and tackle him to the couch. Instead, I exhaled his name, and he stepped around the low table. With Masie as our audience, he simply reached for my hand and brushed his lips against my cheek.
“Darlin’,” he breathed against my jaw.
“Can I spend the night at Daphne’s?” Masie asked, forcing me to flinch under Tommy’s touch. Daphne was Masie’s closest friend and a bit of trouble.
“Are her parents home?” Masie rolled her eyes in response, but a few weeks before the winter break, her parents hadn’t been home. There was definitely drinking and boys involved before Daphne’s older brother broke up the party.
“Mom,” Masie drew out. I looked at Tommy and back at my daughter, torn between being the diligent parent and the sex-craved woman this man had turned me into. I wanted nothing more than him alone in my house, but my need for responsibility gnawed at me.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to leave.” My eyes shot to Tommy and back at her. Tommy nodded, and I realized I’d already missed some conversation. “Is West with you?” The question was insensitive. Masie hadn’t heard from West, and the dismissal stung.
“We just chatted about him. He’s not here, beautiful.” Tommy winked at me, and I turned back to Masie, noticing a bag already packed and at her feet.
“Fine, you can go.”
Once Masie left, I was suddenly nervous. My hands stroked my hips as I stood before Tommy, who had taken a seat after Masie grabbed her bag and left.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, lowering myself to a chair near the couch.
“I have business here. Came to see my girl,” he said, sitting forward, elbows bracing on his knees. “Is that all right?”
“That’s amazing,” I said, swiping a hand over my head. “I’m just so surprised.” In fact, I was absolutely dumbfounded to see him sitting on my couch, in my living room, in Chicago. Quickly, I stood again.
“Would you like something to drink? I have wine.” My voice trembled as I turned for my kitchen leaving him behind. My hands shook. Entering the kitchen, I gripped the edge of the counter, pressing my head forward to rest on the upper cabinet.
“What’s wrong?” His soft gravelly voice spoke directly behind me, and I turned to face him.
“I don’t know.” I laughed anxiously. “I’m so surprised…a
nd…nervous.” With that, he stepped forward, filling my space, cupping my jaw and lowering his mouth to mine. My body slowly thawed. His mouth was molasses drizzled into sweet cookie batter, and I licked at his lips, not wanting to miss a drop. His lips led mine, and he tilted his head, increasing the pressure, accelerating the intensity. My hands rose to his biceps, finding the sweater foreign when I’d seen him so often in T-shirts. Slipping up the hills of his shoulders, I found the curl of his hair at the nape of his neck, and my libido kicked in. I pulled myself to him, pressing firmly against his chest and breathing him in with my mouth. He was oxygen, and I hadn’t breathed in weeks.
“There’s my darlin’,” he chuckled against my lips, returning to kiss me with that aggressive appreciation only his mouth gave mine. “Still got your period?”
Nearing the end of my flow, the question should have killed the moment, and in some ways, it did. It was a reminder of our awkward and brusque conversation earlier in the week. “Why?”
“Always a question for a question,” he teased, coming for my mouth another second before pulling back. My lower lip was nipped between his before releasing me. “Let’s shower.”
The comment surprised me until he stepped back and led me to the staircase. Did he want to…? While I had my period?
“Uhm…” I paused as I blindly climbed the stairs behind him.
“Uh-oh,” he teased, leading me into my room after sticking his head into the doorway of Masie’s and then Caleb’s rooms. “Seems like I have some uncorking to do. My fine wine has been stoppered, and she needs a reminder of how sweet she tastes.”
“Oh, God, you can’t do that.” His brow rose as he chuckled in response. I’d misunderstood. He meant me, as a whole. He turned on my shower, and then stepped back, watching me. His bulk filled my bathroom, and a space I considered a little haven suddenly seemed closed in and tight with his presence. I didn’t move, like I’d forgotten what to do.
