Made For Us, page 14
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replies, confused, before she turns around and goes back to playing. Instead of returning to the table, I walk inside and go to the bathroom. The door is still closed, giving me the time to pull up the calendar and start counting down the weeks. The blood rushes to my head as I count the weeks from July when we were on vacation to today.
“Could this be?” I ask myself as I hear the water turn on in the bathroom and then the door opens.
She jumps back, shocked to see me there. “Oh, you scared me,” she says, putting her hand to her chest.
I look around for a second before I walk to her. “I think we should talk,” I state as calmly as I can. My insides feel like a hurricane and a tornado are coming together, if that is even possible.
“Yeah, sure,” she says. “What’s up?”
“I don’t think we should talk here,” I suggest and turn my head toward the hallway entrance when I hear voices. “I think we should do it privately.”
“Um, I don’t really think we need to,” she replies as she moves her hand from her chest to her stomach. I can’t even see a bump because of the baggy sweater.
“Did you drive here?” I ask, afraid for a whole different reason. What if the baby isn’t mine? Then what? The need to just ask her if it’s my baby is so strong, but I know this conversation can’t be done here. Even if it’s not mine, I want her to know what our night meant to me.
“No, Michael picked me up,” she says, and I nod.
“I have to go drop off Penelope and see if I can get a sitter, and then I can come to you,” I tell her so she knows that we are definitely having this conversation.
“We really don’t have to do this today,” she says softly.
“It’s not up for debate,” I state. “I’m going to try to get a sitter, and then I’ll call you.”
“Okay,” she agrees right before she puts her head down and walks away from me, leaving me alone in the hallway.
I lean my head back and look up at the ceiling, the tears stinging my eyes. This isn’t happening to me again, is all I can think. The guilt inside me comes to the surface, and I can’t even catch it in time to push it away.
I live my life with the guilt I missed Penelope’s first everything. The guilt goes straight to my stomach as it starts to eat at it. I walk back into the yard and search for Penelope, finding her sitting in the grass, looking up at the sky, talking about the shape of the clouds. “Hey,” I interrupt, and she looks over. “Time to go.”
“Okay,” she says, getting up. “Can Parker sleep over next weekend?”
“I have to see the travel schedule,” I inform her because right now, I don’t even know what day it is. The only thing going through my mind is fifteen weeks.
“Okay,” Penelope chirps. She’s always been good at getting ready when I tell her it’s time. I often see kids ask their parents for five minutes more, but she’s never done it.
I don’t bother going back to the table because, for one, I don’t trust myself to not just ask her in front of everyone the question that has been eating at me since she told me she was fifteen weeks, since I counting the weeks on my phone calendar. I do stop and thank Matthew for inviting me and, of course, kiss Allison goodbye, even though Matthew always pushes me away from her.
I grab a pair of flip-flops out of the basket at the door because after Abigail threw up on my sneakers, I tossed them in the trash. We walk outside, and the only thing I can think of is calling Roxanne and asking her to come over.
When we make it home, Penelope walks up the stairs. “I’m going to go read,” she says. “Then after, do you want to watch a movie with me?”
“Yeah, I might have to go out for a bit later.”
“Can I come?” she asks, and I just shake my head.
“Not this time,” I say, and she turns and walks up the stairs. “Movie in twenty minutes?”
“Okay,” she says, rushing up the steps. I pull out my phone and call Roxanne, who answers after two rings.
“Hello,” she answers, and I can hear cars honking in the distance.
“Hey, Roxanne,” I greet, “it’s Tristan. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I was wondering if you were free?”
“I’m in New York,” she replies, and I close my eyes, remembering she went to visit her sister for the weekend and will be back on Tuesday.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologize, sitting on the couch. “I totally forgot.” I put my head back. “Have a great trip, and I’ll see you when you get back.”
I hang up the phone and close my eyes. Besides Roxanne, I don’t have another sitter, only because, if I’m not traveling, I’m home with her. I lost two years with her, so I promised her she would never be without me unless I was working. I think about maybe calling Xavier and Vivienne, but then I’d feel like a dick for lying to them.
I close my eyes when the pounding starts in my head as I pull up my calendar and start counting down again to make sure I didn’t fuck up, and each and every time, it lands on fifteen weeks.
Penelope comes back down and over to the couch, sitting with me. “Ready?” she asks as she grabs the remote and lies down on her side. “I love this movie.”
I take my phone and put it on my stomach, waiting for it to ring, knowing that if it doesn’t ring by the time Penelope goes to bed, I’ll be making my own call. It’s time for a one-on-one that has been a long time coming.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ABIGAIL
I walk back to the table after leaving him in the hallway, the whole time expecting my legs to give out on me. I knew that the minute I said how far along I was, he would have questions. I just didn’t expect him to have questions at that moment. Arriving at the table, I sit down and grab the water bottle.
I listen to the chatter and wait for him to come back, but he doesn’t. “Okay,” Franny announces, getting up, “time to get going.”
Wilson follows her. “I’ll get the baby.” He turns to walk away and go to the little play area where the kids are.
“I guess I’ll go too,” Gabriella states, getting up. “I think I need a nap.”
“I miss napping,” Franny sighs. “It used to be my all-time favorite thing to do.”
“I thought sex was your all-time favorite thing to do?” Vivienne teases.
“It’s a close tie.” She laughs. “Definitely a nap after sex.” I can’t help but laugh at her as she comes over to kiss me goodbye and touch my little bump.
“We should head out also,” Vivienne declares, looking at Xavier.
“Can you guys drop me off?” I ask, and they both nod at me.
“I’m coming too.” Gabriella gets up, and we start the process of leaving.
At this point, it takes an extra thirty minutes before you get through hugging everyone. I take a look around for Tristan when I’m saying goodbye, but I don’t see him or Penelope.
The drive takes them no less than five minutes, and I laugh as I see the trail of french fries still there. I kick off my sneakers at the door and walk over to the fridge, grabbing the bottle of water, wishing it was something stronger. Gabriella walks in and looks at me, leaning against the counter, and instead of coming to me, she walks over to the cabinet and takes out the Patrón.
I watch her like a hawk as she grabs a shot glass from the other cabinet and then goes to the island stool. She places the tequila on the island and then pulls out her stool. “What…?” I start to ask, and she holds up her hand to tell me to wait a second. She pours a shot of tequila and then takes it. She hisses and then looks at me.
“The things I do for you.” She wipes her mouth. “Now, you can talk.”
“Talk about?” I just stare at her, and she gives me a come on look. “Let’s talk about why you moved to Dallas?” She just looks at me knowing I’m deflecting off myself and onto her, “Shall we talk about the fact that you are brokenhearted but pretend everything is okay?”
“There is nothing to talk about.”
She avoids looking at me and takes another shot of tequila, “But we can talk about the fact Tristan asked you how far along you were?” She taps her finger on the counter. “And are we going to discuss that he followed you to where you went and never came back?”
“I think he knows,” I finally admit, and I have to put my hand on my knees because I think I’m going to have a full-on panic attack.
“Shocking,” she deadpans as she pours herself another shot of tequila and laughs.
“It’s not funny.” I look up at her, blowing the hair out of my face.
“I’m not laughing,” she says, leaning back in the chair her voice as calm as can be. Right now, she knows that she has to be the calm one because she knows I’m freaking the fuck out.
“He asked me how far along I was,” I tell her as if she wasn’t sitting at the table with me. As if she wasn’t the one holding my hand.
“Why didn’t you just lie?” she asks what I’ve been asking myself the whole time.
“Because I was in front of everyone.” I throw my hands in the air. “What the hell was I supposed to say, ‘oh just a couple of months’? Then knowing our family, they would all sit down and be like, ‘wait, didn’t you tell me.’” Then they were going to sit down and start doing math.”
She just shrugs. “Well, now you get to tell him the truth.”
I roll my eyes, but the pain in my chest kicks in, along with the stinging of tears, one escaping down my cheek as I use my index finger to wipe it away. “What if he doesn’t want me to have the baby?”
Her eyes go into slits. “Then we cut his balls off and call Uncle Matthew and Uncle Max.”
“This isn’t funny,” I hiss at her.
She shakes her head. “You already decided you didn’t care if he wants to be involved or not.” She reminds me of the conversation we had when I found out I was pregnant. “You sat down and we went over this. You were like, ‘It doesn’t matter if he is involved or not,
I don’t care.’”
“I don’t.” I put my hand on my stomach. “I’m willing to do this by myself.”
“Never by yourself.” She smiles at me. “I mean, it’s almost as if it’s my child since we are twins.”
“Almost.” I smile at her, the sound of my phone ringing from the front door has my whole body going cold and stiff.
“My Spidey-Senses tell me that it’s the baby daddy,” she teases, pushing off from the island. “I need a shower.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “Everything will be okay.” She takes a couple of steps up, stopping. “And if not, I’ll dust off my black clothes.”
“For what?” I ask her, the sound of ringing now stopping, giving me a couple of minutes to get my nerve up.
“Well, if we are going to kidnap him and kill him, I’m not going to wear flashy clothes,” she huffs. “You would think after all the Dateline that our family has made us watch, you would know this already.” She shakes her head going up the steps, and only when I hear the water come on in her room do I push off from the counter and walk over to my purse.
“What are the chances that it’s not him?” I ask myself as I grab my purse and search out my phone. “Like fifty-fifty?” I ask the walls, but my head screams out it’s one-hundred-percent him.
I turn the phone over, and sure enough, his name is there with a missed call notification. “What if I don’t call him back?” I look at my phone. “Like, what if I didn’t get this call?” I try to convince myself. “It’s technology. Sometimes things go into the cloud, and this could be one of them.”
I look down at the phone, and it starts to ring again, this time in my hand. “Well, now you’re just showing off.” I look up to the universe, and I press the green button to accept the call.
“Hello,” I answer, walking over and sitting on the bottom step.
“Hey, it’s me,” he says, and a smile just fills my face, “I have a bit of a problem.” I sit up, worried that something is wrong. “I called Roxanne and she’s in New York. So I can’t come to you. Do you think you can come over here?”
“Now?” I ask him, putting my hand on my forehead to see if maybe I’m getting a fever, and then I won’t have to see him.
“Whenever you can. I just put Penelope to bed.”
I take a deep breath in. “Might as well get this over with,” I mumble. “I can leave now.”
“I’ll send you my address,” he tells me
“I have it,” I confirm to him and close my eyes. “Roxanne came to the game once, and you guys took off for the away game right after. Well, her car didn’t start so I drove her home.” I quickly add, “Not that I’m like stalking you or anything.”
“I’ll see you soon,” he says and hangs up the phone.
“Could you be more of an idiot?” I ask myself.
“Yes,” Gabriella yells from her bedroom and then walks out, wrapped in her robe with a towel around her hair.
“Who asked you?” I look at her while getting up.
“Well, I felt sorry for you talking to yourself so I figured I would help you out.” She folds her arms over her chest. “You’re welcome. Now go declare your love to him.”
“I don’t know why I tell you anything,” I grumble, grabbing my bag.
“I would tell you to be safe.” She snickers. “But it’s way too late for that.”
“Don’t think I forgot about our fight. You will have to tell me what happened in LA one of these days.” I don’t wait for her to answer. Instead, I just slam the door shut. Pulling open the car door, I sit inside and press the red button. I turn the air-conditioning on right away before I buckle myself in. “It’s going to be fine,” I reassure myself. “It’s going to be like, ‘am I the baby daddy’? I’m going to say yes, and then it’ll be over.”
I take my time driving over there, even making sure I go under the speed limit. When I pull up to his house, I park on the street. “This is a good idea.” I look at the light at the front door. “This way, I can leave whenever I want.” I grab my bag, getting out of the car and closing the door.
I don’t think I could be more nervous, and the more I keep pretending I’m not, the sicker I feel. I walk up the driveway, making sure I don’t trip over my feet. Stepping up the one step, I reach the door. I lift my hand, and I'm about to ring when I remember he told me that Penelope was sleeping. Instead of ringing, I bring my hand up and softly knock on the black door. My stomach lurches up and then down again, as if it is doing the wave, and my neck starts to get warm with nerves. I listen to hear if maybe I’ll hear footsteps, but I don’t hear anything. “I can just say I came, and he wasn’t home,” I mumble to myself.
I’m about to turn around and do just that when the door opens, and he stands there wearing shorts and a T-shirt. His hair looks like it’s wet from the shower. “Sorry I didn’t hear you ring.” His tone is different than I’ve ever heard before. It’s curt and tight, making my nerves kick up even more.
My stomach now fills with flutters. All the words are stuck in my throat as I just stare at him. I clear my throat. “I didn’t ring,” I say softly, “I was afraid to wake Penelope.”
He moves aside. “Come in.” His hand is still on the door. I take a step up into his house, the smell of him floating all around me. “Where do you want to do this?”
In your bed? On the couch? Against the door? “Wherever you like,” I finally say. “If it’s not too much trouble, can I have some water?” I ask him, and all he does is nod at me and everything inside me shifts.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TRISTAN
“Wherever you like,” she finally says, and I can see her gripping the purse in her hand so tight that her knuckles are white. “If it’s not too much trouble, can I have some water?” All I can do is nod at her. I’m so afraid I’m going to snap. The whole time I’ve been trying to calm myself down, telling myself that it’s not what I think. But then the only thing that kept going over and over in my head is she didn’t tell me.
“We can talk in the family room,” I suggest to her as we walk from the front room, past the stairs, and into the family room attached to the kitchen. “Have a seat, I’ll get you water.” I walk to the kitchen and turn around mid-step. “Do you want juice instead?”
She looks over at me, and fuck, if she doesn’t always take my breath away. “No, I’m good with just water.” She stands there in the middle of the room, she doesn’t move. I want to tell her to make herself at home, but the anger in me stops me.
I grab the bottle of water from the fridge and then walk to her, handing it to her. I make sure I don’t touch her because I know that one touch will change everything. She’ll touch me and I’ll forget it all. Instead, I walk to the couch and, sure enough, she follows me.
I sit on one side of the couch that faces the other side and she sits down at the corner of the seat. This is so much different than how I thought it would be. I somehow always pictured her here with me, but the situation was different. “Should we start?” I ask as she takes a sip of water, and I can see her hands shake. She’s a nervous fucking wreck, and if I had my head on straight, I would keep that in mind, but I’m just as fucking nervous.
“Sure,” she finally says, taking a sip of her water . I don’t even know how to start this conversation. “We should start.” She laughs nervously, and I love the sound of it. It literally gives me butterflies. “Well, I’m pregnant.”
I nod at her. “So I’ve heard,” I say tightly, and I have to squeeze my hands together when I ask her this next question.
“Am I the father?” I figure might as well just get it out of the way. If she says no then my heart is broken for a whole other reason. If she says yes, then my heart also breaks.
“Of course, you’re the father,” she mumbles. “I can’t even believe you are asking me this.”
“Well, how was I supposed to actually know,” I answer back to her question and then my head hangs down and the tears come to me. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask as she looks at me with her own tears in her eyes. She opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. “How could you keep this from me?”
