by C. C. Piper
There was a second call and voicemail, followed by a text. The intensity of the foreboding I felt increased by a factor of ten, and I gave in to my curiosity and read the text.
Emergency. This is Ashley. Jess collapsed and has had two seizures so far. She’s being taken to Mount Sinai Hospital.
“She said you can’t come in.”
Jessica’s roommate’s rejection at the door of her hospital room sent me into a tailspin of frustration. I’d immediately gone to the airport to try to catch a flight, but the storm had delayed or cancelled most of the flights. Once it passed, there were no seats on the flights available, so I had to go on standby and wait.
By the time a seat opened up at last, I’d been at that damn airport for eight hours. It was the next morning, and I still hadn’t departed from Dallas. Then, there’d been another issue at La Guardia, and they’d rerouted us to Newark. The drive had been bumper to bumper, and I’d nearly bellowed at my taxi driver, incensed.
The end result was that I hadn’t been able to get back to New York for a day and a half.
“You’re the one who contacted me, Ashley,” I reminded her, thrusting my hands behind my back to hide the fact that I was clenching them hard enough to turn them white. “At least tell me if she’s okay. If the baby’s okay …”
“They’re under observation,” she said angrily, then lowered her voice. “I reached out to you because she’s been trying to talk to you for ages. But as soon as I told her you were here, she said she didn’t want to see you.”
“I flew all the way from Dallas,” I said, working this from an angle of entreaty. “That’s why I was late getting here.”
“You’re a month late, Trevor,” came Jessica’s alto voice beyond Ashley, and my heart caught. I hadn’t heard that voice in far too long. “You don’t get to blame this on some business trip.”
“Jessica, I—”
“Go,” she cut me off. “You’re not welcome here.”
Not welcome.
Something went wrong inside my chest. It was as if her words had hacked into me like a serrated blade. I’d known she might feel like this but hearing it with my own ears awakened something in me that had been shut down for weeks. I loved this woman. I ached for this woman.
“Jessica, please …”
“Sir.” A deep voice issued from behind me. I turned to see an African American man of about my height but with a good fifty pounds on me staring me down. On his lapel was a badge that said ‘Security.’ “I’m going to have to ask you to vacate this facility.”
I opened my mouth to explain that I loved her and that she’s carrying my baby, but then I realized that none of that mattered. All the decisions I’d been making were from wanting to do the right thing, but in that moment, I took the time to look at things from Jessica’s point of view.
She didn’t know what I’d been doing or why because I hadn’t told her. All she knew was that she’d shared this deep dark secret with me, and I’d frozen up solid. I hadn’t come to visit her. I missed all her doctor’s appointments. From her perspective, she wouldn’t see my behavior as anything but leaving her on her own.
Jesus Christ. What kind of asshole was I?
The security guy was standing toe to toe with me, his expression one of quiet menace, and I knew any further arguments I might make would only go against me. So, I pivoted and trudged my way toward the exit.
I wandered around the outside perimeter of the hospital for the rest of the night, not wanting to leave despite knowing I wouldn’t be allowed back in. Other than finding out that the mother of my child had experienced two seizures and was being observed, I didn’t know much. She’d been well enough to tell me to get out, so I guessed that was something.
But I didn’t know why she’d had the seizures to start with. I’d Googled seizures already and what I’d found hadn’t exactly made me feel better. It was such a dangerous condition. People fucking died from seizures sometimes.
I imagined Jessica thrashing around and then dying before anyone could save her or our child, and I dropped right where was I was, my knees hitting the pavement hard enough to scrape them raw. I hardly registered this, though. My mind filled with images of losing her and the baby, each one worse than the last, and I buried my face in my hands against the onslaught.
I didn’t know how long I remained there.
It began to rain on me, but I didn’t move. The sun came up and the rain ceased, but I didn’t move. My ass went numb, but I didn’t move. It wasn’t until a rotund lady with ebony skin and long braids came by in scrubs that I even looked up.
“Hon, are you all right?”
I was nowhere near the vicinity of all right, but I nodded.
“Okay, but a man in an Armani suit and expensive shoes, sitting on the ground between the parking garage and the entrance isn’t the most routine thing I’ve ever encountered. Are you sick?”
I shook my head.
“Injured?”
I shook it again.
“Drunk?”
This time, I spoke. “I wish.”
“Then, why’re you here, sweet-cheeks?”
“Came to visit someone. She doesn’t want to see me.”
She cast me a knowing look. “This someone your girl?”
“She was.”
With a groan, she sat beside me, her fragrance reminding me of something. Baby powder. Maybe it shouldn’t have inspired my trust in her, but it did.
“Let me tell you a little bit about us women. Forget all that chocolate and flowers nonsense, though those are nice, too. The main thing any woman wants from a man in a relationship is love and trust.”
“What if I already ruined that?”
“Did you ruin the love part or the trust part or both?”
I sighed, my throat clogged with something I didn’t want to look at too closely. “Both.”
“Then you need to do one thing with everything you’ve got.”
“What’s that?”
“Fight for her.”
21
Jessie
All the way home in the cab I’d been dreading ascending those three flights of stairs up into our apartment. I was so glad to be out of the hospital, but Dr. Carrey and the physicians on duty at Mount Sinai had all monitored my condition and agreed.
Bedrest.
I’d be on twenty-four-hour bedrest for one entire month. Even though I felt tired, I couldn’t imagine staying down that long. I was an active girl with too much to do, and I’d told my doctors that. I’d argued my side. They’d listened and then Dr. Carrey had said the thing that had halted my debate in its tracks.
“If you refuse to rest, you could lose this baby.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
Other than getting up to use the bathroom and doctor’s appointments, I was to stay off my feet and away from stress. I was also on a couple of different medications to keep my blood pressure in check. Rather than the bi-weekly appointments I’d originally had, I now had weekly visits on my agenda.
Something to look forward to.
Yay. End sarcasm.
Ashley was beside me in our taxi, picking at her cuticles again. She did this when nervous or bored, so I wasn’t sure which emotion was getting the better of her. My son and I were out of the hospital, which meant we were out of the proverbial woods. Then, as the cab crossed onto our street, she glanced up and narrowed her eyes at something. I followed her gaze.
Not something. But someone.
Trevor.
He sat there on the outside of our building, looking worse than I’d ever seen him. For about sixty seconds, my heart went out to him. The phrase, “what the cat dragged in” came to mind. He appeared, well … bedraggled. The more I studied his appearance, the more I noticed. He was wearing his usual fancy suit, but it looked like he’d slept in it. His dress shoes were dirty and possibly wet, and skin shone out at his knee—his pant leg been torn, too.
Only after Jessica helped me out of the cab did he
lift his head, and then, I couldn’t help but say something.
“Were you mugged?”
His face looked like raw hamburger, red and swollen. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Like he’d been smacked around or was hungover. Or, like maybe he’d been crying. But then I forced myself to cut off any sympathy for him. So what if he’d been crying. He’d sure as hell caused me plenty of tears. Turnabout was fair play, right?
I steeled myself with as much righteous indignation as I could muster.
“No. I just needed to see you, needed to apologize.” He sounded awful. Like he had the world’s worst head cold.
Stay pissed off, Jess.
“We’ve gone pretty far past apologies, Trevor,” I told him, proud at the steadiness of my voice. “You had months to apologize, and you didn’t.”
“I should have.”
Yes. “But you didn’t,” I repeated.
“I need to tell you something important. Something that’ll affect both your life and the baby’s. Will you let me say it?” he asked.
“If I let you, will you go as soon as you’re through?” I volleyed back.
He gazed into my face, his amber eyes fully meeting mine for the first time since I’d told him everything. “Yes.”
I allowed him to follow us up. It took longer than usual because I had to lean on Ashley so much. After getting me situated on our loveseat, my best friend remained nearby. “Need anything else?” She’d already secured me a tall glass of water and an apple.
“I’m good.”
Ashley squinted at Trevor like she might a stain she couldn’t scrub out. “I’m just a yell away,” she told me, then disappeared into her room.
Only after she’d closed her door did he speak.
“I found him. Your mother’s boyfriend. He’s in prison and won’t be alive much longer.”
I gawked at him in disbelief. Of all the things I’d imagined him saying, it wasn’t this. It took me a moment to string my words together enough to manufacture a clear thought. “Do you mean he’s in some state on Death’s Row?”
“I mean I hired the Wish Maker to take him out.”
“Trevor,” I whispered, aghast. “You can’t do that. It’s murder.”
“I had to. I did this for you and the baby.”
“I don’t understand.”
He began to pace, obviously agitated. “When you told me what happened to you, I lost it there for a while. The thought of him being out there where he could hurt you again was untenable to me. I couldn’t allow it. So I’ve been hunting for him and two days ago, found him. Yesterday, I put the wheels in motion that’ll make sure he’ll never pose a threat to you ever again.”
“You’ve spent the past two months searching for him?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted it taken care of up front. I don’t want you to have to worry about him anymore,” he said, as if this were something people did every day.
“That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me. Why you ignored me all this time. You vanished, Trevor, right out of my life.” I patted my big belly. “Out of our lives. Do you have any idea how horrible that was for me?”
He ceased his pacing and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I know you may not accept this, but I love you. I had to protect you before I came back to you. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t realize it’d take so long.”
I shook my head at him. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re not making a lick of sense.”
“I know, okay,” he sputtered out, agreeing with me but sounding argumentative just the same. “I know. I have no excuse for my behavior, except to say that I couldn’t handle what you told me. Picturing that, imagining you like that, I lost my collective shit, Jessica. I snapped, and it was only after I heard your voice in the hospital sending me away that I came back to myself.”
“But …”
“No, please. Let me finish. Then, it occurred to me that concentrating so hard on tracking that bastard down to the exclusion of all else was the wrong thing to do. I should’ve stood by you, been there for you, and I wasn’t. I’m so sorry, Jessica. Beyond sorry. I know it’s not enough. I know it’s too little too late, but I have to say it. Leaving you all alone like I did makes me the same as your mom, and I doubt I’ll ever forgive myself for that.”
His eyes had filled, and his voice broke on his last sentence. He had to pause before he could go on. “I love you and our son more than anything. I want to be a part of your lives. I want us to be a family, and I hope you’ll give me the chance to prove it.”
For a long minute I remained quiet. It wasn’t because I wanted to watch him twist forlornly in the wind, it was because I didn’t know what to say. He’d burned me so badly when he’d gone off on his own like that, but I couldn’t deny that being in a whole healthy family was something I’d always yearned for. Always.
But one thing stuck out to me beyond his declaration, and it had to be addressed. “Did you seriously hire someone to kill Bright?” I didn’t like saying his name. I hadn’t said it in years, but I needed to be crystal clear about this.
“I did.”
“Has it happened yet? Is he dead?”
Trevor scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I think the Wish Maker will inform me when it’s done.”
“Can you stop it?”
“Why?”
“Because I need you to. I don’t know if there’ll be a chance to repair our relationship otherwise. Our son deserves better than a father who’s a murderer.”
His expression became stricken. Instead of saying anything, he pulled out his phone and put it to his ear. “I need to cancel a contract,” he spoke rapidly. “If it hasn’t already been carried out, don’t go through with the hit on Brighton Jennings Caulfield the third.”
He listened, and all my muscles vibrated with tension. The wait seemed to go on forever, and as if our son was responding to it, he kicked me in the bladder. I hauled myself off the loveseat to go to the bathroom. When I came back out, Trevor was there on the other side of the door.
“Did you hear anything?”
He nodded. “She cancelled the hit. It’s over.” He offered me his arm and I took it, letting him help me back to my seat.
We sat there together talking for quite a while after that. There was no intimate touching, no kissing or anything like that. But we both came clean about everything that had transpired during his absence.
A couple of hours later, he hugged me on his way out, telling me he’d be back the next day. And he was. Things were not as they’d once been between us, and I doubted they ever would be. But I did have hope that we might be able to reach a place where we could both find what we needed.
Only time would tell.
22
Trevor
“I have some more suggestions. Drake, Drew, David, and Davenport,” I said, grinning into the phone, even though Jessica couldn’t see it. We’d been talking baby names for a few weeks now and we’d already cycled through the alphabet once. Now, we’d come back up to the Ds, and I perpetually threw an oddball in there just for fun.
“Davenport, huh? I kinda like that one.”
My grin drained right off my face. “No way.”
“Yes, way. He sounds quite dashing.”
“He sounds like a douchewad.”
She laughed and I relaxed at the sound of it. She was yanking my chain, thank God. “You’re way too easy to mess with.”
Slowly, I’d been making inroads into healing our once decimated relationship. It was different than it had been before, more of an open friendship, and I could live with that. I’d have to. Beggers couldn’t be choosers.
Ever since the day I’d called off the hit on her mother’s boyfriend, Jessica had been willing to talk to me. At first, I’d been a brief daily visit. I’d pop in and check on her, bringing her lunch or a special pillow to support her back, or something for the baby. Then,
we added texts and calls to the mix, too. Now, we rarely went more than two hours during the day without some sort of conversation, even if it was just a joke.
I sent her a graphic from an old Far Side cartoon showing a doctor holding a bunny over a pregnant woman in the delivery room. It was captioned: An amateur magician as well as an obstetrician, the doctor felt it was important to bring some humor into the delivery room.
“How you like the cartoon I sent you?”
“I can’t make up my mind on whether it’s lame or funny,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean I want you pulling any stunts on the day in question. Whenever that’s going to be.”
The mother of my son was miserable. Her due date had passed ten days ago, and I knew she was having issues sleeping. I knew because she would text me at three in the morning asking me to send her more jokes. I’d taken to collecting them for this specific purpose. Sometimes, she’d laugh one minute only to burst into tears the next, but I’d learned that it usually wasn’t a crisis unless it went on for longer than a minute or two. Usually.
She’d been off bed rest for the past five weeks now, and she was so disappointed that the contractions hadn’t begun instantly. Dr. Carrey had given us a few options to get nature to take its course faster. So far, we’d tried going on long walks, as well as working out at her gym—low impact and gentle calisthenics only, of course. She’d tried castor oil, but it’d made her feel nauseous to smell it, so drinking the junk was a no-go.
I couldn’t blame her on that one.
We’d also tried spicy foods. Pineapple, both on pizza and fresh chunks straight from the cutting board. We tried herbal teas, and I’d given her several back and neck massages, all with no success. The other options offered were more risqué, so we hadn’t gone that far yet. Though I tended to give her a peck on the lips when I said goodbye, that’s as sexual as we’d been with one another since that godforsaken night when I lost my fucking mind.
