by Iris Parker
Suddenly, saying that I had a lot to do felt like a wild understatement.
Where was he going to sleep? Some redecorating was probably in order, along with a trip to the paint store for a nice eggshell blue coat for the nursery that didn't exist yet. Or, was blue the right color? There were a lot of colors to choose from, after all. For all I knew, my son wouldn't even like blue.
My son.
The words were as exciting as they were terrifying.
Did Helena have a name picked out yet? Did she want my input on it, or not? If she didn't, would that be a problem? It was technically her baby, and my status with him was even less clear than it had been with Ali.
The situation was incredibly confused, and so was I.
But I simply didn't have time to think about all that stuff. Not here, not now, and not with a to-do list that was growing in my head at an exponential rate.
Besides, I was too happy for angsting, and too worried to boot.
Boot. The word reminded me of booties, as in baby booties. I'd heard the phrase several times in my life, but it only just dawned on me that I had absolutely no idea what they actually were. Were they important? They seemed important. Did Helena have any? Should I buy some? Maybe ones with little cartoon pirates, because, well, booty….
Dear lord, the dad jokes were already starting. How did that even work? Was it some kind of hard-wiring in the male brain, or what?
This was exhausting, and I hadn't even done anything yet!
Yikes.
The nurse came back and went over instructions with Helena, going over basic stuff like staying hydrated, not standing up too quickly, and again reminding Helena to avoid strenuous activities. I did my best to follow along, but the words it's a boy kept echoing in my head and drowned out everything else.
Almost everything.
As Helena and I made our way out of the building, a sudden tension gripped my chest and held it tight. It wasn't the same stress I'd felt in the hospital, but more a sense of foreboding. There was a feeling of danger, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I froze in my tracks, gesturing for Helena to do the same.
Something was wrong here.
Looking through the parking lot carefully, I slowly zeroed in on a woman in the distance. She wasn't heading for the hospital, nor was she walking purposefully to her car. Instead she seemed to be wandering around aimlessly, stopping in front of each vehicle and pausing for a few seconds. I bit my lip, thinking that this couldn't lead to anything good.
"What is it?" Helena asked.
That's when I recognized the woman.
Maggie Talbot.
One of the very last people I'd wanted to see, particularly here and now.
Not that there was anything wrong with the woman. She was diligent and one of the hardest-working professionals in her field. Just, unfortunately for me, that field was news. While she was technically a mainstream reporter, Maggie never let anything get in the way of her story—even if it meant stooping to highly questionable and paparazzi-like tactics.
I didn't even want to know how she had found me. I guessed that one of the guys in the waiting room must've tweeted my picture or something, and she'd caught wind of a scoop from there.
Dammit.
It was mostly luck that she hadn't already found me. I'd taken Helena's car to the hospital, which stopped Maggie from tracking down my own vehicle and setting up an ambush for me when I approached it.
The idea of Ali's face in the news had been worrying, but the idea of the media exploiting a still-pregnant Helena, not to mention the fragile life she was carrying, was infuriating. Helena was staring at me, obviously wondering why I had stopped walking, but there was no time to explain.
"Hey," I whispered. "Change of plans."
Helena
"I think it's safe," I said to Dominick, pulling out of the parking lot after another glance in the mirror. "I don't see anyone behind us."
"That was close," Dominick said with a sigh of relief, taking off the large hat he'd been using to cover his face. "Good. Once we put a good couple of blocks behind us, you can stop at a gas station or something."
"What? Why?" I asked.
"So that I can drive, of course," Dominick said, seeming surprised that I'd asked.
"But why does that matter?"
"Well, the doctor did say to avoid straining yourself. And I feel like a jerk for just sitting here and letting you drive me around."
"It's not like we had a lot of choice, you know. Better than getting hassled by a reporter, and I think you probably would've attracted some attention if you'd tried to drive out while wearing a hat over your face."
"Yeah," Dominick agreed. "Maybe you're right."
"From reporters, the police, whoever owned the cars you'd slam into…"
"I get your point," Dominick said, chuckling softly. "But we escaped, so I can take over now."
"But you live so close, it seems silly to stop now," I argued. "And besides, the doctor said I should avoid straining myself. Lord help us all if a short drive is enough to count as a strain."
"Still…" Dominick said, and I could see that the conversation was going nowhere fast. As relieved as I was that he was still talking to me after finding out I'd lied to him, I didn't want him to start treating me like I was completely helpless.
"You know," I said, getting an idea as I waited for a stoplight to turn green. "The nurse gave me something before we left, and I think you'd like to see it."
"You're not going to get out of this that easily," Dominick said as I rummaged through my bag and found what I was looking for. "I just want to make sure both of you are safe and—"
Found it.
Pulling a single picture out of the envelope, I handed it to Dominick as he was speaking.
He never finished his sentence.
"Is that…," he began.
"A picture of the baby, yes," I said with a smile.
"They—they can do that?" Dominick asked, then shook his head. "Well obviously. I mean, they did that? When?"
"We were in the hospital for hours," I said. "They took an emergency ultrasound as one of the tests."
Dominick was silent for a moment as he stared at the grainy picture, clearly awestruck by what he was seeing.
It was almost enough to make me wish he was driving after all, so I could get a look—but of course that ship had already sailed.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"He—he has your nose, I think," Dominick said excitedly. "I can definitely see that. Pretty and gracious, just like yours. But did you see his shoulders?"
"No," I shook my head. "I haven't had time to look at any of these. Tell me about it?" I asked, careful to resist the temptation to take my eyes off the road.
The last thing I wanted was to send us both back to the hospital.
"Well," Dominick said in a serious tone. "I think the shoulders are mine. Big and bulky and all, that's gotta be my influence."
I tried to hide my amusement. I couldn't believe I thought this about him, but seeing Dominick so adorably naive made me fall even harder for the man.
"I can't believe it! I can actually see his little fingers, and his toes, and his, um…huh," Dominick said, suddenly sounding somewhere between embarrassed and proud. "I guess that's gotta be my influence, too."
A bit ahead of the car, another stoplight turned yellow and I slowed down enough to make sure we didn't make it. Once the vehicle had stopped, I glanced at the picture Dominick was talking about.
"Sweetie, I think that's the umbilical cord," I said, barely suppressing a laugh.
"Oh. I guess that makes sense."
"But it really is amazing to look at him, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Dominick answered.
Opening the envelope once again, I pulled out another picture at random and gave it to Dominick. The awe on his face was no less intense this time than it had been before, and he eagerly went over all the little details of the picture.
Dominick's
unexpected enthusiasm was infectious, but also served to heighten my guilt even further. I'd clearly made a horrible mistake by not telling him about the pregnancy sooner, and I still worried that part of him wouldn't be able to forgive me for my deception.
Because he was clearly interested in the baby.
I just wasn't sure he was still interested in me.
Could I handle going back to those earlier days, when he'd only been visiting to spend time with Ali? Resisting my desire to be with him had been difficult even then, and that was back when it was still largely a physical thing. If I had to do that now….
I tried to focus on the road.
The road and my breathing. Part of me wanted to hyperventilate out of fear, and part of me wanted to stop breathing in despair. I'd really screwed up, and the thought of a breakup now was just awful.
How would I see him every day, or talk to him? How are you even supposed to act around the father of your unborn child, if he breaks up with you and ends your relationship that never actually quite existed in the first place? What did you say to him? Part of me wanted to just beg him to take me back, even though technically speaking we hadn't broken up.
But then, technically speaking, we were never together in the first place.
Not officially, anyway.
My heart throbbed, and it was only the thought of the baby's own tiny heart inside of me that kept me calm enough for the rest of the drive.
"It's a shame the pictures can't make out the color of his eyes," Dominick said as we both climbed out of our seats.
"Why? Hoping he has the same heterochromia as you and Ali?" I asked.
"No, the opposite, actually," Dominick said softly. "I want him to have your eyes, so they can remind me of you."
I took a deep breath and clutched the top of the car tightly, careful to stay steady on my feet.
After all, swooning would've probably just gotten me sent back to the hospital, and I didn't want to ruin the moment.
Helena
The air conditioning in Dominick's apartment building was refreshingly crisp, a welcome break from the sweltering heat outside. Still, my sigh of relief had more to do with what Dominick had said than it did with the temperature change. It had been sweet and romantic, and I hoped it was a sign that maybe our relationship wasn't doomed after all.
"Yeah. No crazy, unruly backyard here, but at least it's cool," Dominick said as we made our way into the elevator and he pressed the top button.
"No risk of heatstroke in my sleep? I'll take that tradeoff," I joked.
Dominick started to laugh, then suddenly looked concerned. "Wait, can that really happen? Maybe we should look into you crashing here when it's hot, or getting you an AC of your own, or something…."
"It was just a joke," I reassured Dominick. Then, feeling impossibly brave because of his comment about my eyes, I threw caution to the wind and kept talking. "And besides, if I'm going to crash in your bed, I hope it won't just be to rest."
The awkward silence that followed made me want to run and hide, but I was trapped in the tiny elevator for another several floors at least. Fear blossomed in my throat, and I wanted to throw myself on his mercy and desperately beg for forgiveness. To tell him I would give anything to just do it over again, to be honest from the start.
That was what I wanted to say.
What I actually said was a little different.
"Ummm," I began, also noticing the way Dominick was avoiding eye contact.
"The doctor said not to do that," Dominick said, so quiet that it was almost a whisper.
A few moments ago I would've found that comment to be infuriatingly ambiguous, but after enduring that painful silence, I was more than happy to take an ambiguous answer.
It was, after all, better than a clear no.
"Right. Sorry," I squeaked.
"I know," Dominick replied. "Don't worry about it."
If only it were that simple.
Just when I thought things couldn't get any more confusing, the elevator reached the top floor and the doors slid open. Dominick stepped a little closer to me, placing his hand gently against my back.
I closed my eyes, reveling in his touch and the—possibly imaginary—reassurance that it offered. Despite the fact that I'd just made an utter fool of myself, I placed my own arm around him and leaned closer. He was solid and strong, and I could feel his hand further along my body, until at last he was cradling me in the crook of his arm.
Maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe he was just being nice.
But as we walked to his apartment with our hands on each other's backs, I finally felt like I could breathe again.
Helena
As Dominick ushered me into his apartment, I felt like I was entering another world. Everywhere I looked, something reminded me of the man I knew—masculine, dependable, and simple. Like the man himself, Dominick's home had an emotional maturity that felt rich while also avoiding being pretentious.
A beautiful wooden table, angled so that all its chairs faced a large bay window. Outside there was a gorgeous view of the city, seen from a height that made everything look small. In the corner sat a large and comfortable looking couch, itself facing a huge and expensive looking television set. Lining the floor was a lush, thick carpet that added warmth and personality, transforming the space from minimalist and modern into simple and rustic.
I smiled, feeling a bit like a kid in a candy store to be so surrounded by Dominick's presence. His apartment was clean, but when I looked for them I found clear signs that Dominick lived here. My eyes drank in the entire scene, reveling in the special intimacy of seeing unfiltered evidence of Dominick's home life. On the side table next to the couch sat a large coffee mug, sitting next to a still-open MacBook. Across the room was a large recliner, with its own side table sporting an iPad that sat upright on its stand, along with a paper notebook that seemed to be filled with assorted writings and scribblings.
"Make yourself at home, I'll go fix us something to drink. Or eat, if you're hungry?"
"I'm always hungry," I said, still feeling a bit nervous as I patted the growing bump on my belly.
"Doesn't surprise me, it seems like it's all going to him anyway. I can't believe I didn't notice before," Dominick said.
"It's not so obvious if you don't know to look for it. You probably just thought I was gaining weight," I said awkwardly, wanting to apologize again but knowing it wouldn't change much.
"Not like that. I mean, you still look amazing. But you also look very tired, and uh—your stomach isn't the only thing getting bigger. Not quite," he said, his eyes drifting up from my belly but not quite far enough to reach my face.
I blushed.
"I'll go get us something to eat," Dominick said, running to the kitchen while I sat myself down on the couch. Dominick returned a moment later, carrying in one hand a plate stuffed full of cherry tomatoes and carrots, while the other hand had a big bowl of hummus.
"Thanks," I said I looked up at him, surprised that he'd remembered hummus was one of my favorite foods. In a flash he was gone again, returning a moment later with two glasses of sparkling water.
"Any time," Dominick said with a smile, sitting down next to me on the couch. "But yeah, you do look tired. At the risk of repeating myself, you do need to get more rest."
"I have the whole summer to take it easy," I said with a shrug. "It's a nice perk of being a professor."
Dominick nodded in agreement. "I can't believe I made you help me do all that work in the yard."
"You didn't make me. I wanted to help," I said quietly, remembering the early days when I'd been so in denial about my feelings that I'd been thrilled to find an excuse to spend time with Dominick, even if that time involved hard physical labor. It had been hard, but it had been worth it, especially after Dominick had said he was doing it for his family.
I shivered, hoping that we could find our way back. A small silence followed, one that I filled by taking a bite of the food. It tasted w
onderful—the creamy hummus complimenting the crisp, crunchy carrots.
Dominick followed my lead, eating a couple slices of carrot himself. Neither of us spoke right away, but we spent the next half-hour casually chatting off and on while I fought to keep the awkwardness at bay, and tried not to make any repeats of my mistake in the elevator.
It was harder than it sounded.
"You know," Dominick said after a long talk about nothing. "My mother and grandmother have been bugging me a lot lately, asking about you."
"You told them about me?" I asked, surprised.
"Not a single word."
"Then how…" I began, trailing off when Dominick shrugged in response.
"They know something is going on, anyway. They assume it's a woman, though I think the full truth is a little more complex than they might be expecting. I think they want to meet you," Dominick said after a pause, and I saw the pain and regret in his eyes as he spoke.
"I could do that," I offered, unsure of how else to respond.
"Now's probably not the best time for it, but we should at some point. They'd never forgive me if I didn't tell them—" Dominick began, then cut himself off mid sentence with a look of panic in his eyes.
I didn't need to ask why, guilt stabbing in my chest as my brain auto-completed Dominick's sentence for him.
They'd never forgive me if I didn't tell them you were pregnant.
"I should probably get going," I said awkwardly, silently wishing that I could get going by finding a hole I could crawl into and die. I stood up as quickly as I could, wanting to run away from here and never look back.
My head was spinning.
And not just from embarrassment, either.
Hadn't a doctor just told me less than an hour ago to not stand up too quickly? Way to go, Helena.
Dominick reacted in no time, his hand grabbing my wrist and allowing me to steady myself on his strong arm.
"Thanks," I said awkwardly, sitting back down until the world stopped wobbling.
"Thanks?" he asked.
