by Portia Moore
“How are you, Mrs. Scott?” the doctor asks, sitting on a stool across from me.
“Well, I’ve been better,” I mumble.
“When is the last time you had a normal period?” she asks, her eyes still examining the clipboard.
“About two months ago. Well, three weeks ago I had it, but it only lasted for a day.”
“You told the nurse that you took an at-home pregnancy test and it was positive?” she asks, scribbling on the chart.
“Yes, but I hear that those can be wrong, right? At-home kits aren’t a hundred percent.”
“No, at-home kits are not one hundred percent, but they are pretty close. Most are up to ninety-seven percent accurate.”
“But there’s still a three percent chance that I’m not,” I say quickly.
She finally stops writing, and her eyes connect with mine. “Mrs. Scott, I am going to be honest with you. You seem like right now you need honesty and not vague reassurances from me.”
“Brooks. I’d prefer if you called me Brooks,” I say quietly. I guess I’ll have to get used to it.
“Miss Brooks, a pregnancy test measures for a hormone called human chorionic gonadotropin, the pregnancy hormone. An at-home test uses urine to detect the level in your body. I gave you a qualitative hCG blood test, which measures the exact amount of the hormone in your bloodstream. This test is extremely accurate—it could detect the hormone as soon as a week after ovulation. Pregnancy kit tests are least accurate if you took the test a week after you ovulated, which could possibly have given you false results if you took it too early. But from your statements… in my professional opinion, if you haven’t had a normal period in six weeks, the test was most likely accurate. From the symptoms you’ve described such as extreme fatigue and morning sickness, there is a strong possibility…”
Her voice fades out after a while. I know I’m pregnant because when things are bad, they only get worse.
When I open the door, I see Angela talking on the phone.
“I’ve got to go,” she says quickly and hangs up.
I close the door and lean against it.
“Lauren, I was so worried about you. I didn’t know where to look. Your aunt keeps calling, and I don’t know what to say. You’ve been gone five hours,” she scolds me in a worried tone.
“Eight weeks,” I say simply.
“What?” Her tone softens.
“I’m eight weeks pregnant,” I say, feeling completely numb.
I slide down the door and cover my face. With all of the tears I’ve cried, I’m surprised I’m not dehydrated. I think I’ve literally cried myself out. She doesn’t say anything but sits beside me and takes my hand.
“I went to the doctor’s office down the street. After I found out, I walked around for hours, just trying to clear my head, but it helped,” I say, clearing my throat. “I can’t cry anymore or feel sorry for myself. I’m having a baby, and I’m going to have to deal with it. So many people in worse situations than me have had children, so I can’t just cry about it anymore. But I’m so angry because I shouldn’t have to do this alone. I can do this by myself, but I shouldn’t have to!”
“You’re not going to. You’ll have me, your aunt—”
“He should be here! I need him, and he’s not going to be. I remember the night this happened. When I was going to leave him, he carried me upstairs like I was a six-year-old having a temper tantrum and locked me in my room. That same night, he came home and brought me a dozen pink roses. I was so angry with him, and I still gave in. I still wanted him. He made love to me the entire night and left the next afternoon.” I stand. “That was the night he did this to me. And just like then, he left!”
Angela gets up and walks toward me. “It may seem bad now, but when you hold that little baby in your arms and you see its eyes and its smile, all of this shit you’re going through now will be worth it.”
I hug her. She has been such a good friend to me. Through all of my crazy mood swings and anti-social behavior, she’s never complained and had always listened without asking questions.
I’m going to get through this. I’m going to have to be a better woman, for myself and now for this baby growing inside me. Things aren’t just about me anymore. I can’t cry for Cal another day. My life can’t be wrapped around him or his memory. I guess, in some way, he’s given me a piece of him, and now I have someone else to love.
Chapter 13
December 7th, 2010
Next week I’ll be standing in a church in front of over five hundred guests, most of whom Cal and I don’t really know or care about—even Michael was invited. I don’t hate him so much anymore though. A thousand pictures will be taken as we say our vows for the second time. I’ll be wearing a nine-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown with a diamond necklace that costs even more than that. The wedding will be followed by a grand reception. But that’s not my wedding; well, supposedly it is, but I call it “The Crestfield Affair.”
Cal and I have joked about it. Dexter says it will be good for the company’s image—whatever that is. Cal wanted to blow it off, but Helen begged me. I never thought she’d beg a day in her life. Besides, what girl wouldn’t want two weddings?
But today, on this perfect seventy-degree day on a private beach in Rio, wearing a little white sundress, pearls, and a yellow flower in my hair, with my toes in the beautiful white sand, I’ll commit to spending the rest of my life with the man who swept me off my feet and captured my heart. My tears flow freely as I hold his hand. He’s in white slacks and a matching short-sleeved button-up with a yellow handkerchief in his pocket. He’s displaying a boyish grin, but I know the naughtiness that hides behind it. He squeezes my hand as the pastor—whose English is a little less than perfect—gives him the go-ahead to say his vows. Cal takes a deep breath, and Dexter pats him on the shoulder. He lets out a small laugh, then his expression turns serious.
“Lauren, you know I love you more than anything, more than anyone,” he says.
His voice steady, and I hear Raven sigh a few feet away from me. I giggle, but the weight of his words sends a warm rush over me.
“You’ve made me a better man,” he says a little more softly.
I wipe the tears from my eyes and resist the urge to hug him tightly. He steps closer to me and kisses away the tears on my cheeks. More swooning comes from the women in our audience, which includes Angela, Raven, Hillary, and Helen.
“I’ve never wanted anything more than our marriage, Lauren. You’re the one thing that belongs to me. The only pure thing I have is us. I used to have a different reason for being. It came from a dark place. My motivation changed when I fell in love with you. You’re my strength and my weakness. You’re the reason I fight to be here,” he says.
My face is now in his hands, and I can’t resist the urge to kiss him. I nearly jump into his arms. His lips welcome mine, and I rest in his embrace.
“I love you so much, Cal,” I say quietly when our lips have separated and only he can hear me.
I’m sure the pastor is shooting me a disapproving look for jumping the gun on the kiss, but I don’t care. Nothing has been traditional about us before, so why start now? As long as this ends with me being proclaimed Mrs. Lauren Scott, nothing else will matter—not his secrets, not his past. Every negative echo in my brain has melted away; it just doesn’t matter. Our love will overcome whatever issues we’ll face. I’m sure they’ll come up—every marriage has them—but when I see his gleaming gray eyes that sometimes reflect warm green shades, I know we’ll get through whatever life throws our way. He may not be perfect, but I think I just may have found my super-sexy, leather-jacket-wearing, motorcycle-riding Prince Charming of the twenty-first century.
March 7th 2013
March 7th, 2013
“Haaapppy biirthday tooo you, haapppy birthday too yooou. Happy birthday, dear Caylen. Haappy biirthdayy too youoooo,” Hillary sings.
The rest of us are doubled up, laughing at her dramatic, horrible, over
-the-top singing.
“Screw you all. Caylen liked it, didn’t you, honey?” she says, pinching my little girl’s cheeks.
“Smile!” Angela says quickly, and a flash almost blinds me.
Of course Caylen immediately begins to cry.
“Angie!” Hillary scolds her.
“What? I’m sorry, baby. I just wanted a picture of your beautiful face,” Angela says, running her hands through Caylen’s coal-black hair.
“It’s okay, she’s sleepy anyway. You old people tired her out,” I joke, cradling her in my arms. “I’m going to put her to bed.”
“I’ll help you,” Helen says. She’s been quiet all night, which is unusual for her.
“Meanwhile, I’m going to steal a piece of this begging-me-to-eat-it cake,” Hillary says quickly.
I walk up the stairs, rubbing Caylen’s back—the only thing that quiets her down when she’s fighting sleep. Helen is quietly following me. I open the door to the nursery, which is painted all pink and has white furniture. Helen did a beautiful job decorating and supplying everything in the room. I still can’t believe how different the loft looks since Caylen was born. I look down at my little girl rubbing her eyes, and my heart melts. It is still amazing to me how much you can love a person who didn’t exist in your life for most of it. I hand her to Helen so I can grab a pair of her pajamas.
“She’s grown so much,” Helen says with a sigh.
“Yeah. She has.” I smile, taking off her T-shirt and putting on her pajamas.
“It seems like just yesterday she was in your stomach,” she teases.
“Yes, kicking her way out.” I giggle. I know why I slept so much in my early months—because I barely got any sleep in the later months of my pregnancy.
“And tomorrow, she’ll be a year old. She’s so beautiful, Lauren,” Helen says, admiring her again.
“Raven’s taking her to the zoo tomorrow, so she gets double the birthday fun.” I tickle Caylen before I finish putting on her clothes. I’m thankful she’s not putting up a fight like she usually does.
“You’re going to be a good girl and go to sleep for Mommy, right?” I ask, seeing her little mouth open for a yawn.
When I put her in her crib, she reaches out for me. I lay her back down, placing her blanket over her. I hold her hand until her eyes close.
“It’s amazing how much she looks like C—” Helen stops quickly and folds her hands as if she’s a kid who’s said a bad word.
“You know, you can say his name around me. I’m not going to shrivel up and die if you do,” I joke to lessen the tension in the room.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Helen lies, picking up the stuffed bear Hillary bought Caylen for her birthday.
“Cal. You were going to say she looks just like Cal. You know, the thought has crossed my mind. I’m not blind.” Sharpness that I don’t intend is creeping into my voice.
Helen looks away uncomfortably.
I take a deep breath. “It’s almost been two years. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. You can say his name. I won’t die or start crying.”
I understood how weird it was for her to talk about him when he first left. I remember how angry I was the day after I found out I was pregnant with Caylen. I stormed straight into their mansion and demanded to know where Cal was, because if anyone knew, it was Dexter. He proceeded to say how he sympathized with my situation and how he and Helen would be there for me, but he had no idea where Cal was. After three private detectives came up with nothing on Cal and I was six months pregnant and desperate, I begged Dexter one last time to contact Cal for me. He looked in my face and told me he didn’t know where Cal was. It was the biggest lie he’s ever told. I didn’t speak to him or Helen again until after Caylen was born.
Helen came to the hospital with balloons, teddy bears, and dozens of roses. She practically outdid everyone at my baby shower. I couldn’t be mean to her after that. After all, I couldn’t blame her for the bond that Dexter and Cal had. I could be dying and Dexter wouldn’t tell me where Cal was if Cal asked him not to.
“I’m sorry, I never realized. Well, actually I did, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all that you’re going through, Lauren. If I—”
I cut her off. “Helen, you don’t have to apologize for anything. You’ve been wonderful to me and Caylen. I’m not angry with you. I don’t resent you. I’m not even upset with Dexter anymore. I’ve gotten past that. If he hasn’t told me where Cal is, it has to be because Cal doesn’t want him to. I’ve accepted that now. I can’t blame anyone else for his actions. You tell Dexter that for me. He can come to Caylen’s future birthdays or visit her when he wants. He doesn’t have to worry about me bombarding him with questions or going psycho on him.” I laugh slightly.
Helen smiles. “I’ll tell him that. He’s been dying to see her. I’m glad you’ve gotten over him.” She breathes a sigh of relief.
I look at her and roll my eyes. “Truthfully, I haven’t. I don’t know if I ever will, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to spend the rest of my life waiting around for him. He gave me the most wonderful gift he ever could have, and I’ll always be thankful for that. But I’ll never forgive him for not being a part of Caylen’s life.” I realize I sound more bitter than I intend to. I haven’t said his name since Caylen was born or talked to anyone about him. I guess I can’t help but be bitter.
“You have every right to be angry. I knew Cal could be Cal, but I never thought he’d do something like this.”
“You aren’t the only one,” I say quietly before kissing Caylen on the cheek. She’s finally drifted off to sleep.
“Night, sweetie,” Helen whispers and walks out.
Before I follow her out the door, I switch off the main light and turn on the night light.
Downstairs, Raven is taking off her coat and trying to hold three gift boxes at the same time. “I hear I missed the birthday girl.”
“Raven, you’re here!” I smile widely, giving her a big hug.
“Yes, you wouldn’t believe the traffic. I was supposed to be here two hours ago,” she says angrily, setting down the gifts.
“Raven, you didn’t,” I scold her. She’s bought Caylen so many things already.
“Of course I did. You didn’t really think I was not going to buy my favorite little girl something for her birthday? But since I’m old-fashioned, she won’t be able to open them until her real birthday,” Raven scolds me playfully.
“Well, a Monday isn’t the best time for a party. Everyone has work or school.”
“Tell me there are plenty of pictures.” She smiles, handing me her coat.
I hang it in the closet. “Steven recorded everything. I’ll get him to send it to your phone.”
Her smile fades a bit. Raven hasn’t quite taken to Steven as much as I’d like.
“Steven. Oh yes, where is he?” She tries to sound cheerful, but I can see the disinterest in her eyes.
“He’s setting up Caylen’s new bed,” I tell her.
“Well, that’s nice.” She notices Helen, who has taken a seat on the couch. “Hello, Helen, how are you?” Raven asks politely.
“Hello, Ms. Brooks,” Helen says, extending her hand. “I’m fine, thank you. Lauren, I think it’s time for me to get going.”
“Already?” I ask, disappointed.
“Yes, Dexter and I have an engagement that we just can’t miss.” She groans sarcastically, grabbing her leather jacket.
“Well, let me get you some cake,” I say before she stops me.
“No cake. I’m already on a diet, no need to tempt me.” She smiles and gives me a warm hug.
“You’re in beautiful shape; you don’t need a diet,” Raven tells her seriously.
Helen smiles graciously at her. “Well, thank you, but there’s this certain dress that I’m dying to get into by my birthday, so I’m just going to lose a couple of pounds.” Helen winks.
“I’ll walk you out,” I tell her.
“I’m
going to go peek at the little angel. Nice seeing you again, Helen,” Raven says before heading up the stairs.
Helen nods, and we both head to the elevator in the lobby. “So, Thursday—girls’ day out at the spa. No canceling on me this time!” Helen scolds.
“I won’t. I promise.” I smile widely as she steps in the elevator.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says as the doors shut.
I wave before they close and exhale, shivering and wrapping my arms around myself—they keep the air conditioning on in the hall all year, it seems. She’s right to give me a hard time. I’ve canceled on more than a couple of occasions. I think my excuses are probably getting old.
I walk back into the penthouse. The party is practically over, and my thoughts drift to Caylen, her first birthday, and the fact that her dad’s not here.
“You okay?”
I look up to see Steven staring at me curiously. “Yeah, why?”
He walks closer to me, a concerned look on his face. “You looked a little weird.”
“I-I’m fine,” I say, forcing a smile.
He touches my face gently, and I don’t move it. “You sure?” he asks, looking at me skeptically.
I smile softly. “I am now.”
A movement behind him catches my eye, and I look to see Raven standing at the head of the stairs. I step back from him and fold my arms.
“Lauren, can I speak to you a moment?” she calls.
“Sure,” I say quickly.
“Hi, Ms. Brooks.” Steven smiles and gives her a small wave.
Raven smiles tightly at him but doesn’t say anything back. I give Steven a sympathetic look, but he just laughs, heading back to where everyone else is.
I head upstairs and into Caylen’s bedroom, where Raven is holding her. “She woke up?”
“She’s fine. I have my sweetie,” she says, fanning me away. Raven sits in the rocking chair and cuddles Caylen while brushing her dark locks. “So you and Steven have gotten quite close again since I last saw you two together.”
