I can’t handle that type of pressure.
“If you’re scared, we can go home.” Teller shrugs, as if he hasn’t put us in a very dire situation. “We’ll wait to see what happens at your doctor’s appointment next week. That’s five more days of not knowing if our baby has three heads, but whatever.”
I bounce up and down on my toes. “Teller, turn the damn alarm off!”
“Do you want to keep going up?” His hand drifts above the bright red stop control. “Or we can go down.”
“Up!” I shout, slamming my palm against the emergency button. “I want to go up.”
Shaking with laughter, Teller embraces me from behind as my heart rate soars, and he says, “You’re acting like the cops are going to break in here to save us. No one is watching the elevators, Smella.”
I elbow him and mumble, “Jerk.”
Everyone in Imaging is too preoccupied with X-rays and cat scans to notice us slipping through their organized chaos toward the empty ultrasound room down another hallway and to the right. Everything’s prepared for our arrival just like Teller said it would be. I’m speechless at the sight of the monitor and the transducer probe. It’s a machine I’ve used countless times, but one that’s never been used on me before.
“Is this happening?” I ask breathlessly.
“Absolutely.” Teller lifts me from my feet like I weigh nothing at all and sets me on the exam table. Disposable paper crinkles and bunches up beneath me as I lie back.
“Do you need me to show you how it works?” I lift my shirt up to expose my abdomen.
Teller looks at me with raised eyebrows and chuckles. “Shut the fuck up before I squirt gel in your face.”
I lock my lips and throw away the key as Teller takes a seat on the rolling stool and settles into his role as doctor. His posture changes, and his motions are deliberate and well-studied. He’s vigilant when prepping the ultrasound machine, and he’s gentle when caring for me.
“This will be a little cold, baby,” he warns me with expertise.
My eyes swarm with emotion, and I smile to keep from weeping. “It’s okay.”
Daring me to fall deeper in love with him, Teller applies the ultrasound gel in the shape of a heart on my belly. I almost don’t want him to spoil it by dispersing it across my skin with the probe, but I want to see our baby more.
We have our entire life to draw hearts on each other with lube.
With his eyes on the monitor, Teller moves the transducer in small circles across my pelvis and lower abdomen, applying the slightest pressure in search for our baby. I see the flickering heartbeat before he does, but I’m too caught up with emotion to even say so.
Teller circles the probe once, twice, three times before he finally sees what I do and stops.
“Is that it?” he asks, zeroing in on the beanlike shape.
I cover my mouth with my hands and whisper, “Yes.”
Focusing on the tiny fluttering image in the center of the screen, Teller adjusts the contrast between light and dark until the picture is clear. Every single thing I know about fetal development abandons me, and I’m reduced to nothing more than a mother seeing her child for the very first time.
“Tell, turn on the sound.” I wave my hand toward the ultrasound machine and point to the sounds controls.
Teller turns on the volume, and the thumping sound of the baby’s heart fills the tiny examination room from wall-to-wall. It’s perfectly swift and vivacious, and this is my favorite thing. This is absolutely it.
“Gabriella,” Teller says with bated breath. “We did that. We made that.”
With tears running down my cheeks, I’ve never felt such affection and pride in my life. It billows inside of me, swelling my heart until it’s big enough to hold how massive this feels. I don’t have to worry if I’m capable of loving Teller and our baby at the same time anymore, because loving them both is as thoughtless as breathing.
It’s supposed to be, so it is.
“I am so sorry, Teller,” I cry out, hiding my eyes in the bend of my elbow. “I am so, so sorry for how horrible I’ve been to you.”
“Baby, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” Teller says. He freezes the frame and prints the image of our conception. “This is so good. This is fucking fantastic.”
He rolls his chair closer to me, leaving the frozen picture on the monitor. I take his face in my hands, wiping his tears away with my thumbs. “I was so stupid. I almost ruined everything when I left.”
He shakes his head, turning his face to kiss the inside of my palm. “I was never going to let you go for long, Ella.”
“Let’s do it. Let’s get married,” I say, nodding in assurance when he looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I don’t want to be without you again. We won’t survive it.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“I’ve known I wanted to marry you since the day we met, Tell. There’s only one other thing I’m as sure of.”
The next day, we gather everyone at Em and Nicolette’s apartment. Teller and I stand at the front of the living room, recognizing their confusion but excited to share our news. The Reddys and Maby and Husher sit shoulder-to-shoulder on the sofa, swallowing every inch of sitting space. Emerson and Nic linger to the side. I’m concerned about how close they are to the kitchen—to the knives, but we’re closer to the front door—to safety, should things turn sour.
Six sets of expectant eyes stare at us from their posts. Maby winks, in on the secret. Husher smiles kindly, supportive and nonjudgmental. Theodore Reddy is wildly out of place in his tailored suit and thousand-dollar shoes. He checks emails from his cell, prepared to act unsurprised if his son disappoints him again. Mili quietly asks her husband to put his phone away. When he doesn’t, she snatches it out of his hands and holds it hostage. Nicolette picks at her manicured nails, indifferent. And my brother pockets and unpockets his hands, overflowing with anticipation.
“I have fifteen minutes, Teller,” the first Dr. Reddy advises. “If need be, come to the house this weekend for dinner and we can have a full—”
“This part won’t take that long, Pops,” Teller says. He’s riding so high, not even his habitual critical father can bring him down. Excitement bursts from Tell, making him warm to the touch and fidgety.
Or it can be tobacco withdrawal.
I suddenly feel nauseated, and it’s not the baby spinning in my stomach. What we’re about to tell these people will change their lives, and it’s a lot of pressure to shoulder. Besides Phish, not even one of us has a pet, but we’re supposed to care for a human?
What if I need Maby to babysit for an afternoon and she forgets the baby is in the back seat of her car while she shops, and a stranger breaks the window to save my offspring? What if this Good Samaritan calls the authorities and Maby is arrested? Then Maby will have an arrest record. Surely, she’ll fall into a heavy depression because she’s now a felon, and it’ll all be because I didn’t refill my birth control prescription.
Theodore won’t have any interest in his grandchild. He isn’t fond of his own children. He’ll tolerate the small person with the same last name as his, but the fact that my kid will have a subpar mother and a grandfather who will merely endure them is devastating.
“I—I need to,” I stammer, looking for a way out.
Teller seizes my hand and keeps me steady and in place. “Keep it together, Smella.”
Nicolette sighs. “If you brought us here to announce you’re back together, I’ll have you know we took bets on how long it would be before this happened. None of us thought it would take this long, but we’re not surprised.”
Dr. Reddy pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please, tell me you didn’t invite me across town because you’re in a relationship with Gabriella, son.”
“For heaven’s sake, Theodore. They wouldn’t do something like that,” Mili argues. She crosses her legs, turning her face away from her other half.
“Wouldn’t they?” Nic scoffs.
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Anxiousness swiftly somersaults into irritation, and under different circumstances, I’d have no problem flipping the coffee table over to make things interesting. I’d give them a reason to complain about their commute over here.
“Can you let them get a word out?” Maby comes to the rescue, dismissing her parents’ bickering and Nicolette’s constant pessimism. “The comments are unhelpful and rude.”
Emerson takes a step closer with father-like concern stamped on his face. There isn’t a tense muscle in his body. Instead, he’s receptive and forgiving. If things go bad, he’ll be there for me like he always is. Emerson will scoop me up in his arms and protect me from the big bad world. He’ll take the big hits to spare me from the bottom of anguish.
“What’s going on, Ella?” he asks with his arms wide open.
“It’s all right, you guys,” Maby says.
It’s not until she says this that I realize it is all right. Continuing to assume that the people I love are going to leave me because I’ve failed them is something I need to unlearn. That frame of mind has given me nothing but grief, and as I look around the room, I only see the faces of my family who’ve stayed by my side through every hardship and complication I’ve thrown their way.
They are to be trusted.
Sliding my arm across Teller’s lower back, I stand by his side with my chin held high and say, “I’m pregnant.”
The small space erupts with cries, gasps, and applause. Maby bounces up and down on the sofa, slapping her hands together with unadulterated cheer. Tears flood her green eyes, and the smile across her face is contagious.
Nicolette comes forward to sit on the coffee table with her hands over her mouth. “I’m going to be an aunt? Really? Really?”
I nod, and she jumps up to hug me, driving us into unfamiliar territory. Nicolette is the look but don’t touch type. An awkward pat on the back is her go-to move when someone needs comfort, and I can count on my hands how many times she’s embraced me in the last seven years.
“I don’t know if I’ve held a baby before,” she admits, retreating from our hug. Nic’s hands tremble as she wipes away tears from under her eyes. A truly rare sighting. “My parents only had me. I don’t have any cousins I’m close with or anything. I’ve never held a baby!”
“Get some fucking practice before you go near mine,” Teller says. He smirks. “You’re mean. Don’t be mean to my kid, Nicolette.”
She doesn’t show Teller the same regard I was given. Instead, she punches him on the arm and says, “You’ve finally done something right, dummy.”
Teller rubs his arm and takes her comment for what it is: the best compliment he’ll get from the ice queen. “Thanks, Nic,” he says.
The entire room is on their feet, facing different levels of excitement and shock. But no one is disapproving or hurt with our pending birth. They might be worried, but those opinions are kept to themselves and it’s happiness all around. Even from Theodore Reddy.
“Congratulations, sweetheart.” He kisses my cheek, tickling my skin with his mustache. Dr. Reddy pats his son on the shoulder before pulling him in for a short hug. “I’m happy for you, Teller.”
Teller pats his pockets for a pack of cigarettes he dramatically crumbled in his hand and vowed was the last one. Quitting cold turkey is a terrible idea, and he hasn’t had a chance to buy the nicotine patch or gum yet. I give it about twenty minutes before the crazy in his eyes invades his entire body and he transforms into an oversized green monster who smashes things.
“I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” Teller says honestly.
Theodore looks at his watch and says, “I only wanted you to be successful, son. You’ll be a doctor next year, and now you’ll have a family of your own. If that isn’t success, I don’t know what is.”
“Thanks, Pop,” Teller replies.
“I have to run. Come over this weekend and we’ll talk.”
“Wait,” Teller says loud enough for everyone to fall silent. “You can’t leave. You’ll miss the wedding.”
“What wedding?” Mili asks, coming forward to stand beside her husband.
Teller takes my hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of the ring he slid back onto my finger after we saw our baby for the first time.
“Our wedding,” he says as if it’s the most natural thing to ever exist.
And it is.
Now
The bomb Teller dropped about our nuptials isn’t received with the grace the baby was. Everyone remains on their feet, but instead of gasps and applause, we’re answered with groans and looks that kill.
“You’re joking, right?” Maby asks. Her cheeks are red, both hurt and angry she wasn’t let in on this part of the secret. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s happening really fast, Maby,” I try to explain.
Teller laughs out loud, still searching for a nonexistent pack of Marlboros in his pockets. It’s a nervous habit he may never grow out of. “Who the fuck are you to talk? You gave us a month’s notice before you married Husher.”
“It’s not the same thing,” she replies between gritted teeth.
“This has been fun, but I need to go.” Theodore retrieves his phone from Mili and strides past us toward the door. Teller walks with the same style, bold and untouchable.
“Dad, your meeting is not more important than this,” Teller says. They’re two parts of a whole and not as different as they like to think. Teller’s audacity matches his father’s, and it hushes the entire apartment as senior and junior come to a standoff. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, Pop. Now, I’m asking you to skip your fucking meeting to watch me get married.”
Dr. Reddy pushes his wire-rimmed glasses to the top of his nose, and he exhales deeply, averting his eyes from Teller. He chuckles. “You’ve done everything I asked? Is that what you call refusing Stanford, inking your skin, and getting arrested? Because, to me, son, that sounds like bullshit. That sounds like you feel sorry for yourself.”
“Stop,” I whisper, resting my hand on Teller’s arm so he knows I’m here. “It’s okay.”
He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “No, Ella, it’s not okay. We’re getting married. We’re not going to the fucking prom.”
My heart breaks for my man, because while Teller pushed back and fought every step of the way, he followed Theodore’s plan. He went to UCLA instead of Stanford, and he wears dark denim instead of tailored suits, but Teller’s on his way to achieve everything his father has. Despite this, he’s waiting for approval from the only person who refuses to give it to him.
“Where is this wedding taking place?” the critical dad asks.
“The Beverly Hills Courthouse,” Teller answers with the same confidence as if we’re tying the knot at the Four Seasons.
“For fuck’s sake,” Theodore voices under his breath.
My own father was an easygoing man who took advantage of every opportunity to apologize for his shortcomings and vocalize his pride in Emerson and me. He didn’t understand how to raise a daughter, but he let me know I was the prettiest girl in the world. There’s no doubt, if he was alive, he’d happily attend my courthouse wedding.
“Can I wear this?” Emerson asks, breaking the spell everyone is under. He’s dressed in athletic pants and a white T-shirt. “I can change into something nicer. It’s not every day I get to walk my sister down the aisle.”
My brother and Nic got married in Las Vegas without telling anyone what they were doing. I didn’t know how he’d react to my pregnancy, but I knew he’d understand why Teller and I want to skip the commotion and get straight to forever. Even if his complexion is on the pale side.
“It’s not so much an aisle as it is just a few steps,” I admit. Besides revealing my pregnancy, I’ve let this conversation go on without my input. But this is my life, my happiness, my family—it will happen with or without their blessings. Setting my attention to Dr. Reddy, I say, “I know this isn’t an ideal situation, and
I’m very aware of the grief Teller and I have given you all, and I’m sorry for that. We love each other, and we’re going to have a baby. Please understand that we want to make this official as soon as possible because of those reasons and those reasons alone.”
Mili comes forward, holding her hands like a prayer in front of her. “We can put something nice together in no time at all like we did for Maby and Husher.”
Lacing my fingers between Teller’s, I look up at him and say, “No, thank you, Mili. I want to be Teller’s wife today.”
“What time is your appointment?” Maby asks. She checks her cell phone for the time.
“We have to be there in two hours.” Teller brushes the back of his fingers across my cheekbone.
Despite Maby’s request to do full hair and makeup on me before the ceremony, I arrive at the courthouse in the jeans and sweater I dressed in this morning. My left shoe is untied, and my hair is more frizzy than wavy. Nicolette braids it while we wait for the couple before us to finish up, and Mili buys me a bouquet of flowers from a street vendor outside to hold during the nuptials. Husher takes pictures with his phone, and Maby designates herself as my matron of honor. Theodore waits patiently beside his son, and Emerson still looks chalky.
This is the best day of my life.
“Last chance to back out,” Teller says as he approaches me. He kisses my forehead.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, prick.”
“Our family would be so fucking relieved if you did.” He laughs playfully and presses his lips to the spot on my neck where he can feel how fast my heart beats. “Those insufferable bastards.”
“Because they have no cause for worry?” I ask sarcastically and roll my eyes. “We can only hope our kid doesn’t do to us what we’ve done to them.”
Sever (Closer Book 2) Page 15
