“Not too hot,” I admitted. “Feeling sick, sleepy and achy. Sore breasts, nausea, dizziness.”
He checked the vitals that the nurse had jotted down. He laid me down on the table, pressing onto my tummy, which nearly made my stomach rebel yet again. “We’re going to go ahead and draw some blood,” he said before he left the room again.
He didn’t return until the second round of tests was done. He pulled me up into a sitting position. “Well, you’re not pregnant,” he said. “Looks like you just had a nasty bout of the flu. You’re still running a slight fever, and we’ll take care of that. Get some sleep and you should be as good as new in a few days.”
My mouth dropped open. “But I’m three weeks late. I’ve never been late like this.”
“It’s not uncommon to see menstrual irregularities from time to time. Typically you ovulate every single month but different things can affect ovulation and fertility. With birth control, we force an anovulatory cycle, but many things can affect a normal reproductive cycle, like stress, a change in eating habits or a strenuous exercise routine.”
I gulped hard. He had just perfectly described practically the entire month of June for me. “So I’m not pregnant? You’re sure?”
He smiled as he patted me on the shoulder. “We took a urine test and a blood test, and I gave you a thorough physical exam. So rest assured. You’re not pregnant.” He went on about menstrual irregularities, and changing my birth control prescription, and testing again in a few weeks if I hadn’t gotten my period. But I stopped listening after he said I wasn’t pregnant.
For something I had hoped to hear just the day before, the news had me surprisingly down in the dumps when I returned to our apartment. I never thought I’d want a baby, particularly under these circumstances. But as I had researched due dates and window-shopped for nursery items, I had begun subtly making room in my head for the idea of a baby. That idea popped like a balloon when I thought about Valentine’s Day coming and going without my holding a baby in my arms.
I went to the bathroom, where the gift box waited for a positive pregnancy test so I could share the happy news with my husband. I gathered it all and dumped it in the bottom of the trash so I wouldn’t have to look at it.
I escaped to the living room to mindlessly watch TV as I counted the hours for Devlin to return. It was the only thing I had to look forward to now, particularly now that my newly rewired brain had to erase all the pictures it had subconsciously planted there when I thought about the next nine months. I went from giving my husband the best Valentine’s Day ever to simply celebrating yet another day.
Inexplicably the whole thing depressed me. I was in no mood to see Oliver when he showed up at about five o’clock, carrying a paper bag full of food. “What’s this?”
“I knew you wouldn’t eat,” he said with a smile as he walked through the door, uninvited. “We need you healthy tomorrow.”
I thought about Lucy’s wedding, where both Oliver and I had roles to play. He was an usher, and I, of course, was maid of honor. “I’ll be fine,” I said woodenly as I followed. “I went to the doctor. He confirmed it was just the flu.”
“That’s great news,” he grinned as he unpacked the contents of the bag at the dining room table.
I nodded, though the rocks at the pit of my stomach suggested I might be lying. “You were right. I just needed rest.” I hoped he would take the hint and leave. Instead, he disappeared into the kitchen for a couple of plates.
“Told you so,” he said as he reemerged. He plated the sandwiches and the salad, which he brought to the coffee table in the living room.
“Eating in the living room? You’re certainly living on the edge,” I said with a grin. Normally he was strictly a chair and table kind of guy.
He chuckled as he sat on the sofa. “I figured it would be more comfortable for you,” he said, demonstrating–perhaps for the first time ever–that he could put my needs over his love of routine and structure.
“I appreciate it,” I said as I sat next to him.
His blue eyes swept over my face. “You’re looking a hundred times better today.”
I gulped hard. Of course I looked better today. I had only had the flu. It wasn’t like I was locked in for the ride for nine months. Instead my rollercoaster got exactly ten feet and I had to get right back off of it again.
I blamed the stress that had likely caused my missed period on how disappointed I was about everything. I was simply on hormonal overload and it had made my whole body go haywire. Oliver sensed my mood. “You okay, CC?”
I nodded, though I couldn’t look at him. “Just worn out.”
He nodded. “You’ve gone through a lot of changes lately.”
I practically chortled. “Yeah. You could say that.”
His voice was soft. “Are you happy, CC?”
It took me a bit to answer the question. My first knee-jerk reaction was no, mostly because of the news I got at the doctor’s office. But I could never share anything like that with him. “Of course,” I lied.
“It doesn’t bother you that your husband is out of town, leaving you all alone in this big apartment while you’re sick?”
I shook my head. “Business is business.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. He’s got a pretty important job these days.” His eyes met mine. “Some might even say he’s got your job these days.”
I hid myself behind my dinner. “He’s my husband,” was all I could say. “His victories are my victories, and vice versa.”
“Of course,” Oliver said before he dove into his own meal. “Still,” he said in between bites. “It’s gotta hurt that he managed to get your father to agree to something you never could.”
I slid him a cool glance. “Was that the objective?”
“You really think your father is that petty, CC?”
I put the plate on the coffee table. “I really don’t know what to think, Oliver. I show up with a new husband and he hates us. Days later they’re best buds. You tell me.”
Oliver shrugged before he leaned back on the sofa. “Your dad was really impressed by what he found out about Devlin. A lot of people claim he did a lot of good. Important people. People that your father knows personally, so their opinion carries a lot of weight.”
I leaned back on the sofa myself. “Funny that his own daughter wasn’t one of those people.”
“Don’t be like that,” he admonished at once. “Your father was worried about you. You show up after a week in Vegas with a guy like that on your arm, he was just understandably cautious because he wanted to protect you.”
“I’m a grown woman,” I snapped as I rose to my feet. “I can take care of myself.”
“How can we be sure of that when you marry someone you barely know?”
“I knew him in college. Remember?”
“And yet you never talked about him. You never even mentioned his name before now. Which leads me to believe that you didn’t know him very well, or you didn’t know him at all.”
My gaze swung around to meet his. “You think I’m lying?”
He stood to face me. “You tell me.” I said nothing. “You can, you know. You can tell me anything. And if you ever need it, I’ll help you however I can. I do care about you, CC. Maybe I didn’t know how to show it, but I always did.”
I stared at him, praying he wouldn’t cross the few feet between us. I couldn’t handle more groping. Not now. “You know, I’m really tired still. I should probably get some sleep so I can be ready for the wedding tomorrow.”
There was a slight pause before he nodded. “Sure. I’ll go.” I walked him to the door. He turned to face me before he crossed the threshold. “I’m glad you feel better.”
“Thanks,” I said as I braced the door between us. “And thanks for all your help.”
He nodded. There was another pause before he bent down to kiss my cheek. Without another word he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall.
I went back
into my apartment, to sleep alone in my big, empty bed, and dream about babies whose faces I couldn’t see.
CHAPTER TEN
The limo came around two o’clock the next day to pick me up for Lucy’s grand wedding. I managed to get a pass on the “official” rehearsal dinner and bachelorette party the night before, mostly because Oliver had told Sylvia about my having the flu. She wasn’t going to risk an outbreak by exposing everyone to me while I was still possibly contagious, at least before the day of the big event anyway. So I got permission to skip it all. And I used it, since I still felt like utter crap because of the flu.
Well, at least that was why I told everyone I was so miserable. The truth of how I was feeling was a little bit harder to explain, particularly to my bestie Lucy, who certainly didn’t need my drama piled on top of what she was already going through with her mother’s lavish, overblown wedding.
I knew if I told her that I was actually bummed out about not being pregnant, it would rock her down to her core. We were a lot alike in that way. We were much too young to tie ourselves down with that kind responsibility. It was something we knew we’d have to do someday, but it wasn’t anything we daydreamed about. We could still pick up and go to Las Vegas on a whim, or Paris, or Hawaii or Timbuktu. We didn’t have to worry about nannies and schools¸ runny noses or dirty diapers. We could drink or party or simply sleep in without a major juggling act. We could make love to our husbands in every room in the house any time of the day.
Kids changed all that.
And I didn’t think I could look anyone in the eye and admit that after a day solid of thinking how much and how drastically my life might change, I wasn’t as scared shitless as I should have been–or as I would have been before I married Devlin Masters. In fact, I had started to get a little excited about it. It was hard not to. I had been hard-wired as a girl with the romanticized idea of babies. Creating a brand new person simply by loving someone? The idea was downright mystical.
Yes, I was young, but it wasn’t as though security had ever been a problem. Yes, Devlin and I were still getting to know each other… but this was the man I loved, more than I had ever loved anyone. We were married. We were locked in for life. I’d have his babies eventually, up to four if he got his way.
I somehow thought the worst thing I could have seen was a plus sign on that little plastic stick… until I saw it was minus sign instead.
Minus sign, I thought. The symbol of subtraction. It was fitting. That test took something away from me, something I didn’t even know I wanted. It wasn’t the first time in a month that I had to wonder what the hell was wrong with me. Devlin Masters flipped all sorts of switches in me. I hardly recognized myself anymore.
I blamed my fever for my delirious dreams. I blamed my hormonal imbalance for my emotional reaction. But no matter what logical foundation I might have for entertaining these strange, scary new thoughts, every time I thought about the baby I wasn’t going to have on Valentine’s Day, my arms ached. It was as if something was now missing.
Once again I tried to shake it all free. I took a deep breath to steady myself, to prepare for my task ahead. I was about to enter the Lyons' den.
I was one of the first to arrive at the 20,000-square foot estate in Bel Air. It was a madhouse, with dozens of people running around, trying to finalize every last detail. Sylvia Lyon was cool as a cucumber as she herded the peons with firmness, confidence and grace. She really didn’t show a crack in her veneer until she spotted me walk into the grand foyer at the base of the spiral staircase.
“CC! Thank goodness you’re here.”
I was surprised to hear this after my being literally banned from all the events the night before. But I supposed she wasn’t that worried about my infecting everyone since no symptoms would likely show up until after the spectacle wedding was long over. “You need to get upstairs. Lucy won’t even come out of her room.”
“What now?” I asked and Sylvia just shook her head.
“I think she’s got the same bug you did. She’s been vomiting for days straight.”
I nodded before I sprinted up the stairs towards my bestie’s room, the one she’d lived in since we were both kids. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I eased into the room, but it was empty, with the designer wedding dress her mother had picked for her laying out on the bed. “Lucy?”
I heard horrible wretching sounds coming from the adjoining bathroom, so I followed the noise until I found Lucy, still in her pajamas, curled around the toilet, white as a sheet. I grabbed a washrag and dampened it before I joined her on the floor. “You look miserable,” I told her as I bathed her face.
Her eyes met mine. “I look pregnant.”
My eyes widened as I stared at her. “What?”
She nodded before she dragged herself towards the counter, where she pulled open a drawer and withdrew a plastic pregnancy test stick. There, in big bold lines, was the now-coveted plus sign. “What? When?”
She grinned. “Vegas.”
“You’re not mad?”
She shook her head. “No. We decided that we wouldn’t use birth control on our wedding night, just to see what happens. I can’t use that hormonal stuff you use,” she reminded me and I nodded. “And, I don’t know. It just felt right to be together, to trust each other, to trust the future.” She moaned as she slumped against the toilet. “It doesn’t feel right anymore.”
Immediately I wrapped an arm around her. “What are you going to do?”
“What do you mean? I’m going to have it.”
“But… but I didn’t think you were ready.”
She chuckled. “Neither did I. But I don’t know. Vegas was so perfect. It just seemed… right. I mean, I knew our chances were small either way. I figured if it was what the universe wanted, it would send me a sign.”
I thought about her pregnancy test. “Yeah. A plus sign.”
She smiled wistfully as she leaned against me. “It sounds so stupid but I didn’t know how much I wanted to see it until I did.” She grabbed my hands in hers. “Ceece! I’m going to have a baby!”
I hugged her tight, but a part of me was even more depressed than before. Had I not been faked out by my own reproductive cycle, I could have shared my news of upcoming motherhood with her. We would be pregnant at the exact same time, and raise our children to be best friends like we were, kind of like we had always planned when we were kids ourselves.
It made my negative pregnancy tests even more disappointing.
It didn’t help matters when she said, “I thought for sure you’d beat me to the punch, especially with how fast things have been moving between you and Devlin.”
I shrugged. “I guess we have some catching up to do.”
“Maybe we can coordinate for Baby Number Two.”
My mouth dropped open. Since when did she even think about Baby Number One? “What’s happened to you, Lucy?”
“I don’t know,” she mused thoughtfully. “It just doesn’t scare me like it used to. I don’t know. Like I was making it so much harder than it had to be.” She leaned in close. “I’m due February 17th, but I kind of hope I can deliver on Valentine’s Day. Can you imagine?”
I nodded. I could imagine.
“Have you told Gus?”
She smiled. “There was nothing to tell. He’s been in on it from the start. He was the one who watched the calendar and bought the over-the-counter test the second he thought there might be a positive result. And when that came up negative, he bought three more.” We laughed, though my stomach tumbled over itself thinking about all my negative tests. “Honestly, Ceece, he’s been saint. I haven’t been feeling all that well and he’s taken care of everything. He even made the first doctor’s appointment for me, and we went together. He’s going to be such a good dad. He’s so excited. You should have seen his face when we heard the heartbeat the other day. He cried,” she added with a proud giggle. “I didn’t think I could love him more, but I was so wrong. Babies change it,
Ceece. They make everything stronger somehow.”
So it was making them closer. They were both happy and excited, the way anyone would be over a welcomed pregnancy. “I’m so happy for you, Luce,” I said as I hugged her tight.
“Thanks,” she smiled wider. “I’m happy for me too. Now if I can just get down that stupid aisle and get through all the pomp and circumstance without blowing chunks all over my one-of-a-kind dress, I can relax for two weeks on a beach in Maui.”
“You better enjoy it now. You won’t be able to do that after your baby comes.”
She shrugged. That didn’t seem to be a deal-breaker for her. “I guess we’ll just have to take our little butter bean with us.”
It made me think of my own parents, who were pregnant with me within three months of their meeting. They never let my presence stop them from going where they wanted to go, or doing what they wanted to do. I was crossing the Atlantic at least once a year from the time I was six months old.
Little by little, my arguments against having children were being dismantled. And I knew that losing Lucy to the Mommy Set was a huge setback to remaining childless, just like losing her to the Married Set had been a death blow to my own single status.
Pretty soon she’d have a baby, and it would be as though I had one too. That’s how close we were, sisters of choice.
And I was truly happy for her. But I was also envious, too.
Lucy had always led a charmed life. I envied the things she was, but never the things she had. I could envy her joie de vive without jonesing for her look, her man, her love life or her family.
For the first time I was jealous that she was going to spend next Valentine’s Day preparing for her baby, putting him or her in all the fun little clothes I had found, wrapped in sweet little blankets. And I would get to see firsthand how my life might have turned out if my stick had shown a big bold plus sign rather than a defiant minus sign.
But I was also missing the morning sickness, which had bent Lucy nearly in half most of the afternoon. Finally we got her dressed and the stylist arrived to complete her look. Jorge Navarro was a stylist to the stars, and took the gig as a personal favor to Sylvia Lyon, who knew everyone there was to know in show business. He read Lucy like a book the second he entered her room.
Masters for Life Page 14
