But instead of the anger, I feel giddy. I’m going to have a baby. I’ve always wanted children, just not this soon or this way. But, nonetheless, I’m going to be a parent. A single parent.
“But your symptoms have me concerned,” the doctor adds.
Before I can speak, Braxton asks, “Concerned about what? Her or the baby?” He reaches out, grabbing my hand.
The doctor stands as a nurse wheels in an ultrasound machine. “It could be nothing but I would feel more comfortable if we took a look. Is that okay?”
I nod my head, still shocked that my one night in Vegas has led me to this very moment.
The doctor leaves the room and the nurse tells me to get undressed from the waist down before she leaves as well.
I sit there as the silence fills the cold hospital room. I look over to Braxton as he now stands by the window looking out. “Braxton, I…” What do I say?
He turns and walks back over to me. “You don’t have to say anything. I understand,” he says grabbing my hand once again. “Let’s take it one day at a time. Okay?”
I nod my head and get myself ready for the doctor to return. The doctor returns and sits down and I swallow nervously when he explains due to how early the pregnancy is I have to have a vaginal ultrasound. I’ve had a yearly checkup for years and never had a problem with it but the fact that Braxton is in here is making me very uncomfortable.
I think he can sense it ‘cause he looks down at me and gives me a soft smile. “I’ll be right outside the door,” he says.
“I think you should be in here as well,” the doctor says as his nurse starts pressing buttons on the machine. The guy obviously thinks that Braxton is the father.
Braxton looks from the doctor to the door a few times. His hesitation makes the doctor thinks he’s going to stay. He starts to guide my knees apart, and I think I’m about to pass out due to embarrassment. Humiliation can do that to you. I was worried about just being alone with him tonight. Here I am with my legs spread and a doctor sitting between them. At least I have that little blue sheet covering most of Braxton’s view.
My hands are sweaty and my knees are literally shaking. I want to cover up my face but that wouldn’t help anything.
I take in a deep breath as I feel some pressure on my stomach when he starts the procedure. His free hand then presses on my stomach as he looks over to watch the machine.
I forget everything that is happening, the embarrassment and the nervousness, as soon as I look over to the screen and see a black and white video of a circle. I honestly can’t tell you which part is the baby and which part is just me. But I find myself smiling. I told myself that morning after Tate ran out of my hotel room screaming at me, that it would make me stronger. And it did.
The screen goes black after the doctor finishes and I look up at him with a smile. It drops off my face and turns to concern when I see the serious look on his face.
Then he says the words that make my world completely stop. “I’m sorry, Missy…” I don’t need to hear any more words after that. I lost our child.
I allow my hands to cover my face as I start to cry in them.
I don’t know how long I sit in my bed as my mom holds me. Our cries fill the room as my sobs rack my body. I’ve kept this in for so long that I need to get it all out, and I don’t know how long that will take me.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I repeat as she rocks me back and forth.
She stops suddenly and pulls back. Her red-rimmed glasses have fallen down her nose and her dark blue, bloodshot eyes look into mine. “Quit apologizing. I should be the one apologizing.” She swallows. “Please forgive me,” she asks through her tears.
I shake my head. “I don’t understand…”
She places her hands on my face. “I should have been there for you. I’m your mother and I should have been there to help you. Please. Please forgive me?” she cries.
“Why don’t you hate me?” I ask looking away from her. She’s supposed to hate me. I went against how I was raised. I was brought up to marry before sex, not have a one-night stand and get pregnant. I had sex before I was married and I lost a baby that I didn’t tell her about.
“Missy Renee Freeman,” she says, her voice getting stronger and I look back up to her. “I love you. I am your mother. I know your dad and I were strict with you and your brother but I also don’t live in a box. Things happen.” She pulls me in for another hug and I wrap my arms around her. “I love you, Missy. I’ll always love you no matter what.”
I nod my head as I squeeze her tighter, before pulling away.
“Is that why you have been hiding in your apartment for two days?” she asks wiping her tear streaked face.
I shake my head. “I’ve been having stomach pains.”
She stops moving and stares up at me with concern. “Are you and Tate still sexually active?” she asks, and I let out a long breath.
“It’s complicated, mother.”
“No, it’s not. You either are or you’re not.”
I don’t think having sex one time a few days ago counts as active. But I’m not gonna tell her about that part. “Yes. We were but not anymore,” I say softly.
She stands from my bed and grabs her purse off the end of my bed. “Come on. Get dressed.”
“Where are we going?” I ask getting up slowly.
“I’m taking you to the doctor’s.”
I stop walking and shake my head. “I can’t be pregnant mother.” We just had sex again three days ago. And he used a condom.
“Are you on birth control?” she asks and I shake my head. I haven’t been having sex. I haven’t needed it. “Then I’m taking you to get you put on the pill and we will have the doctor look into your stomach pains,” she says matter-of-fact and I sigh.
I’m not going to argue with her. As much as I want to say no, I also want her to be by my side. I don’t want to keep anything else from her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TATE
It’s been three days since Missy ran out of my house. And honestly, I’ve never been more full of rage or hatred in all my life. Parker has stayed clear of me and everyone else hasn’t spoken to me much. Sam called and told me that Missy had taken some personal days off. Her first thought was that I was involved. I told her I had no idea what she was talking about, thankful Parker and Slade have kept their mouths shut about the events that took place between Missy and myself.
I’ve spent those three days in the gym, beating the shit out of some punching bags and lifting weights. It hasn’t helped though. And honestly I’m madder at myself more than anything. How could I snap at her about something she doesn’t understand? Something that she hasn’t gone through? She has no idea about the things that haunt me. And I know that’s no one’s fault but my own. And I wouldn’t put that on someone else even if I could.
I went and bought a new phone since I destroyed the one I threw at my wall. I’ve picked it up to call her a hundred times, but what would I say? The words I spoke may have been harsh, but they were true. We were doing nothing but fucking around. And all those feelings of hope—I have shoved them to the back of my mind. That was just my cock talking. My outburst opened my eyes to that. I will never be more than what I am now. Reckless.
I take off my gloves when I hear my phone ring. I bend down to pick it up off the gym floor.
“Hello?” I growl, somewhat out of breath. I pull my sweaty shirt away from my chest while I wait for them to answer.
“Tate,” comes a woman’s voice who sounds familiar but I can’t quite place.
“Yes. This is him. Who is this?”
“Tate. This is Tricia, Missy’s mother,” she says softly and then the voice makes sense.
“Hello, Tricia,” I say nicely this time. “What can I do for you?” I ask, thinking maybe they need me to work up at the repair shop this weekend.
“I…Well…” she mumbles. “Missy is gonna hate me,” I hear her whisper to herself, and I instantly stand up st
raighter.
“What’s Missy gonna hate?” I ask. “Is everything okay?” I ask reaching down to grab my gloves in order to leave.
She sighs heavily. “No, Tate. Nothing is okay. I need to tell you some things. Can we meet?” Then I hear her sniff.
Fuck! What could possibly be happening with Missy?
I feel my heart pounding in my chest, and I pick up my pace to get out of the gym. “Absolutely. I’m on my way,” I say before she tells me to meet her at her house. I shove the front door open and run through the parking lot to get to my truck. I don’t even have time to go home and shower or change. And I could care fucking less.
MISSY
Do you ever have the thought ‘life couldn’t get any worse?’ Then it laughs in your face and says ‘yes it can?’ Well, that is what has happened to me.
I thought losing a baby and the man I love was as bad as my life was gonna get. I have been trying to fight it, to stay positive and look forward to what lies ahead for me. But nothing good is to come.
My mother had taken me to the doctor to have some tests run. She wanted to know why I was having such horrible cramps. She thought that maybe the miscarriage had caused some serious problems. Come to find out, she wasn’t too far off.
“I’m sorry, Missy, but after looking over the test results, I have discovered that you have uterine fibroids,” the doctor says and I close my eyes, trying to remember what exactly that means. A tumor? Is it deadly? The cramps almost make me feel like I’m about to die.
“Do you know what has caused this?” my mother asks.
The doctor places my file on the counter. “Not really. It could be genetic changes or her hormones. She had a miscarriage and she explained to me that her periods have never been heavier than usual. But several factors could be the cause.”
“What can you do about it?” my mother asks frantically.
Why can’t I get bad news when I’m alone? Why do I have to bring others down with the choices I make?
“I can go in and remove them,” he offers.
“Surgery?” my mom squeaks as her eyes widen behind her red-rimmed glasses.
“Yes.”
“What kind of surgery?” my mother continues to question in horror.
“Well, more often than not they can return. The only way to prevent that would be a hysterectomy,” he offers, and I start shaking my head quickly.
“No way,” I say aloud.
“Or I can put her on some medicine to help shrink them,” he offers. That is something I’m willing to try.
“What would you suggest?” she asks as she fiddles with her purse that sits in her lap.
He continues to look at her as if I’m not the one who gets the final decision. “I would suggest surgery.”
I start shaking my head once again. “You said that meds could help,” I say.
“Thank you,” my mother responds softly. “I think we need some time to decide,” she says to him, as he stands.
Doesn’t matter. I’ve already made up my mind, and they are not going to change it.
I started arguing with her the moment the doctor stepped out. She cried. I cried, to the point that I felt emotionally drained. I just wanted out of there and to be left alone.
“I want you to come home, Missy,” she says as she hands me my jeans.
I shake my head, crawling out of my hospital bed. “No, Mom. I want to go home. My home.”
“What will you do if the pain returns?” she asks with worry on her face.
“I’ll take the meds he prescribed me.” She hates the fact that I won’t have the surgery but she also understands that I someday want to have children. Although the doctor said with my miscarriage and the severity of the fibroids that I may have a hard time carrying a child to full term. But I’m not going to give up on that. Miracles happen every day.
She wipes the single tear off of her cheek and I turn, giving her my back, not wanting to see it. “What about Tate?”
I spin back around to face her. “What about him?” While we were waiting for the doctor to see me, she asked how Tate had felt about the loss of our baby. That’s when I finally told her that only Braxton had known. She was not happy with me after that.
“You need to tell him.” I shake my head. “He deserves to know,” she insists and it surprises me. For some reason, she’s on his side.
“It won’t make a difference. What’s done is done,” I say before grabbing my bag and walking out of the room with her following behind me.
I hear my front door open and close, and I close my eyes with a sigh. “I said you didn’t have to stay here, Mom. I’m fine. Just resting,” I remind her.
Geez, I thought she was never going to leave my place earlier. And when she does leave, she ends up coming back. My father has been calling her, wondering what’s wrong. She told him about the fibroids but kept my past with Tate and the baby a secret. She said he deserves to know as well but will wait until I’m ready.
“Missy…” I hear her voice, but I keep my eyes shut.
“I just need some rest,” I say snuggling up to my pillow, trying to forget everything about my past and not worry about my future. I refuse to have the surgery. I want a husband one day. And I want to be able to give him children. Right now the meds are working and the pain has gone away. I just want to wallow in my heartbreak.
When I don’t hear her speak again I open my eyes and see her standing by my bed, looking down at me. Her cheeks and nose are red and I can see through her red-rimmed glasses that she’s been crying.
I sit up and give her a small smile. If she weren’t here for me, I would be crying as well. But I feel like I need to be strong for her. I’ve had months to move on from losing a child. She just had it thrown in her face today and then my fibroids. I need to take it easy on her.
“It’s okay, Mom. We’ll take it one day at a time. Okay?” I repeat the same words that Braxton had told me. The same words I’ve been chanting daily.
She nods her head quickly before she speaks. “Okay.” Then she looks away from me and her eyes settle on something behind me.
I turn around slowly to see what she’s looking at when I find Tate standing there with a look of pain on his face. His dark blue eyes are also a little bloodshot and staring right into mine. His lips are frowning. He’s in a tank top and sweatpants. It looks like he hasn’t slept or showered in days. “Tate?” I say in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
He goes to open his mouth, but my mother speaks getting my attention. “I’m so sorry, Missy.”
I scrunch my eyebrows together in confusion and she lets out a little sob. I look up at her and she looks away and that’s when I know exactly what she’s sorry for. “No,” I say in shock. “Mom. Please tell me you didn’t?” I ask as I feel my throat tighten.
She turns around and walks out of my room, leaving me alone with Tate. How could she do this to me? How could she tell him something that she knew meant so much to me? “She shouldn’t have made you come,” I say not turning to face him.
He doesn’t say anything but I hear him walk around my bed until he’s standing in front of me. He drops to his knees by my bed and grabs my hand. “She didn’t make me come,” he speaks softly and then swallows nervously. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice cracks and his eyes drop to my stomach.
I close my eyes. I can already feel the tears coming and my heart beating faster. “Why would I have told you?”
My eyes spring open when his other hand lands softly on my face. “Why wouldn’t you have told me?” he repeats in shock. “Because that would have been our child.”
A sob bubbles up my chest, and I can’t hold it in. I jerk away from him. “You wouldn’t have been there for us anyway,” I cry out, and he stands up quickly.
“Missy…”
“No,” I interrupt him. “You didn’t want me. You sure as hell don’t want kids. You wanna know why I didn’t tell you?” I ask my voice rising, finding the anger that I didn’t
know I had. “You wouldn’t even look at me, let alone talk to me. You…”
“I’m sorry,” he yells interrupting me. He spins away from me and runs a hand over his face. He spins back to face me and sits down beside me on my bed. “I’m so sorry, Missy. I never meant to cause you pain.” He swallows and I see his eyes start to fill with tears. “I ran from you because I thought that was the best thing for you. Don’t you see?” he pleads in desperation. “I wanted to protect you from me.” He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, before opening them. “I’m no good, Missy. I knew that I would hurt you. I knew that I would bring you down. I just wanted you to be free from me. From the pain I would cause you in the long run.” His eyes plead with me to understand. For me to see it from his point of view.
Tears run down my face and I shake my head. “I loved you, Tate.” I say the words that have weighed me down. So many things have brought me pain. Him leaving. The baby. How much I loved him. The fact that I still love him. I just want it all gone. “You’re right,” I say swallowing the lump in my throat, refusing to look him in the eyes. “After the baby…” I pause. “I hated you. I hated you for what you made me feel back in Vegas. I hated what I lost.” I cry, shaking my head at myself. I was so stupid. “But I realized it was never your fault. None of it was,” I say still looking away from him. “And I’m sorry for how I treated you.” I did the same thing to him as he had done to me. I ignored him every chance I got. It made me feel better to be the one pushing him away.
“Missy.” His voice shakes as he says my name, and I close my eyes. I’ve caused him pain—on top of the daily demons that he already has to fight. This is why I kept my pain to myself.
He places his hand on my face and gently urges me to face him. “Look at me,” he pleads, and I give up the fight. “You’re sorry?” he asks wide-eyed. “I’m here because…” He pauses as he tries to find the right words. “I’m here because I want a chance to make it right,” he says and my heart skips a beat. “I want a chance to prove to you how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you.” He leans in and places his forehead against mine. “I want to be a better person for you,” he whispers. “I know I don’t deserve anything. But I promise that, for you, I’ll try to make things better.” He pulls back and wipes the tears that run down my face. “You make me feel things that I haven’t felt in years.”
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