Made For Us, page 15
She shakes her head furiously. “I wasn’t keeping it from you,” she denies.
“But you were,” I point out to her. “You didn’t come to me.” I get up now, the anger almost ripping through me.
She just looks at me. “It really wasn’t like that,” she says softly
“Really?” I put my hands on my hips. “So me finding out through the grapevine is not you keeping it from me?” I run my hands through my hair, and I want to pull it out. How can she do this to me? I just can’t understand how she could do it.
“I just didn’t know how to…” she finally says, and she uses her index finger to wipe away the tears that have escaped her beautiful eyes.
“Here is a thought? How about you pick up the phone and call me?” I pretend to put the phone to my ear. I put my head back and close my eyes. “When did you find out?”
“I was six weeks,” she says softly, and my heart sinks hearing it. I was really hoping she would tell me she just found out.
“Wow,” I can’t help but snap at her.
“And nowhere in the nine weeks after did you think that maybe I deserved to know?” She tries to say something, but everything I’m feeling is just raw. It’s a guilt I never thought I would feel again. “Nowhere did you think maybe I wanted to know?” The tightness in my chest is so strong that it’s making it so hard to breathe. “That’s my child.” I point at her.
“It’s our child,” she corrects me.
“Technically, it’s just your child.” I sit down, but then my legs start to shake again, so I get up and start to pace the room. “You know, since you didn’t think I deserved to be included.” I’m so hurt by this. Hurt I’m in the situation again. Hurt I wasn’t there again. Hurt she didn’t think better of me. “Did you for one second think about how I would feel? Think, hey, maybe I should call Tristan and tell him he’s having another child?” My voice cracks when I ask her the question, and all she can do is roll her lips as the tears continue to pour down her face. “You, out of everyone, know what I went through with Penelope.” The tears now pour down my face. My whole body is shaking with pain and anger. “I missed everything, all the firsts.”
“Tristan,” she says my name in a plea, or maybe to shut me up, but she has to know how much this means to me. “You can be as involved as you want to be,” she assures me and I glare at her now.
“How involved I want to be?” I ask her the question, hoping I didn’t hear it right.
“Yes. This must be a shock to you.”
“A shock to me?” I look at her. “A shock. It’s so much more than that.” I swallow down the rage that wants to come up. “I can’t even put into words what I’m feeling right now,” I tell her, and tears come out of my eyes. I don’t even bother wiping them off at this point. “You have no idea the guilt I carry.” The sob wants to escape, but I push it down. “The guilt that I try to make up for every day.” I shake my head. “I missed all the firsts,” I say, the guilt coming to the surface. “The guilt that eats away at me every time I sit down, and my mind wonders about her, hopefully feeling like I didn’t desert her. Or that she thought I didn’t fucking care.” The thought guts me. “First heartbeat, first picture, first breath. First cry, first smile.” I’m gutted again. “First time she crawled. The first time she took a step. The first time she fell and got hurt, I wasn’t there for her. I missed it all. It was ripped away from me.” I can’t help the broken way my voice is. “And I vowed to myself that the next time it happened. The next time I had a child, it would be different. I was not going to miss anything.”
“I’m never going to keep you away,” she says, her voice cracking too.
“You did, though, by not telling me.” I point at her. “By not giving me the chance to do things right.” I shake my head. “By not coming to me and telling me that we are having a baby. By pretending I’m not the father. By making me find out from everyone else instead of you.”
“I didn’t know how you would react.” She gets up now. “I didn’t know if you even wanted to have more kids.”
I look at her, confused. “What are you talking about? Of course, I want to have more kids. I just thought this time it would be different. I would know I’m doing it.”
“Did you not know you were doing it when we were together?” She glares at me. “I mean, we did the main thing you need to do in order to get pregnant.”
“Don’t you dare, Abigail.” I say her name at the same time my heart squeezes. “Don’t you dare turn this around on me.”
“I’m not turning it around on anyone,” she refutes, her voice going higher and then she looks up the stairs to make sure she isn’t waking Penelope, which just makes me love her even fucking more. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she apologizes softly. “Do you think I didn’t want to tell you?”
“I have no idea,” I tell her the truth. The anger is less now that I told her why what she did was wrong.
“The only person I wanted to tell was you.” She is the one who doesn’t give me a chance to say anything now. “But I was a chicken, okay?” She swallows, and I can see her hands shaking. “I was so fucking afraid I would tell you, and you would tell me you didn’t want the baby. I was so scared you would tell me to get rid of it, and then I would end up hating you.”
“How can you think so little of me?” Her words cut right through me. “How can you think I wouldn’t want a child?”
“I have no idea what to think because we didn’t exactly talk about it.” She gets up. “We went from being really awkward with each other…” She puts her hand on the side of her head. “Maybe I was the awkward one, but whatever, we went from that to jumping each other like lions in the forest.” Her voice now goes a touch lower. “I am sorry I never put myself in your shoes. I am sorry I didn’t come to you when I found out. I can never erase that mistake.” She grabs her purse in her hand. “I hope in time you can forgive me.” She puts the straps over her shoulder. “I hope, even though you now hate me, we can put aside the difference for the baby.” She turns and starts to walk out of the room, my heart going to my throat.
“I don’t hate you,” I say to her. I can never hate you, I don’t say. “But just so you know, this changes everything.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ABIGAIL
“I have no idea what to think because we didn’t exactly talk about it.” I get up, no longer able not to say anything. “We went from being really awkward with each other…” I put my hands on the side of my head. “Maybe I was the awkward one, but whatever it is, we went from that to jumping each other like lions in the forest.” My breathing comes in pants as I lower my voice. “I am sorry I never put myself in your shoes. I am sorry I didn’t come to you when I found out. I can never erase that mistake.” I grab the purse in my hand, knowing I have to get out of here before I crumble. “I hope in time you can forgive me.” I put the straps over my shoulder. “I hope, even though you hate me, we can put aside the difference for the baby.” I turn, getting ready to walk out of the room without letting him know that him hating me is what I was trying to avoid. I start to walk out of the room without letting him know I love him, regardless of how he feels for me.
“I don’t hate you.” His words make me stop in my tracks, but I’m afraid to look over at him. I’m teetering on the edge. “But just so you know, this changes everything.”
My head tells me not to look at him, but my heart, my heart tells me I need one more look at him. So I turn back and look at him standing there with tears streaming down his face. The anguish, the guilt, everything there for me to see. Something I never saw before, something he hid really well. All I can do is nod at him before I turn and walk out of the room toward the front door. My own tears stream down my face one after another, so many I don’t bother wiping them away as I step out into the warm air. I take a deep inhale but the sob rips through me and all I can do is put my hand in front of my mouth. I rush away from his door to the car, getting in and driving away as fast as I can.
My head is spinning, my body feels numb, and when I walk into the house, Gabriella is waiting in the living room for me. “How did it go?” She looks over at me, seeing my face, and she sits up a little bit more.
“So much worse than I thought it would go.” I walk toward the stairs. “I need a shower. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.” She just smiles at me sadly
“I’m here if you need me,” she reminds me, knowing I need to be alone.
I don’t even bother switching on the lights as I step in my bathroom and turn on the shower. I place my hand in the stream of the water, turning it just right before I undress and step in. Only when the water is washing over my face do I let the sob that I was holding in escape me. My body shakes as I put a hand in the middle of my chest, right over my heart. The same heart that literally shattered in my chest. Listening to him tell me all the guilt he had, all I wanted to do was get up and go to him. All I wanted to do was tell him he was the best dad I’ve ever seen. All I wanted to do was take that pain away from him. All I wanted to do was go back to the beginning to when I found out. All I wanted to do was hold his face in my hands as I told him I was sorry, so fucking sorry. All I wanted was to take the pain away from him. To shoulder it, to fight with him and tell him that it’s not his fault—none of it was his fault—not before and not now.
I let the water wash away the tears, if I’m honest, the tears blend into the water. Getting out, my body feels like it’s run a marathon. I slip a shirt on and a pair of panties before getting into bed. Turning on my side and looking out the window, the shade is still open, showing me the soft twinkling of the stars.
I close my eyes and all I see is his face. All I hear are his words. “First heartbeat, first picture, first breath. first cry, first smile, first time she crawled. First time she took a step. First time she fell and got hurt, I wasn’t there for her. I missed it all. It was ripped away from me, and I vowed to myself that the next time it happened. The next time I had a child, it would be different. I was not going to miss anything.”
I can’t help the tears that still come, to know I made him feel this guilt again. Knowing I am the reason is just too much for me to bear. I have to make it up to him, I have to do what I can for him to never feel that way about our child.
I sleep on and off all night long, and when I wake up in the morning, I know what I have to do. Grabbing my phone while I make my breakfast, I send a text out.
I need a favor.
I have no idea if she will answer or if she is on call. I’ll give her an hour, and if she doesn’t answer me back, I’ll go to my plan B.
I pop a bagel in the toaster, getting the cream cheese, when my phone pings. I walk over and grab my phone, seeing it’s from her.
Emmy:
For you anything.
Can you squeeze me in today?
I don’t have a chance to even put the phone down before it is ringing in my hand and I see it’s her. “Hello, Dr. Emmy,” I greet softly.
“Abigail,” she says my name and I can hear that she’s walking. “What’s the matter?” she asks, her voice filled with worry.
“Nothing,” I tell her and take a deep breath. “Everything is good, it’s just.” I stop talking for a second not sure how to say what I need to say. “I’d like to have another ultrasound.”
“I can see you today at two.” She doesn’t even ask me another question. “Unless you want it now.”
“I think two will work,” I reply, looking at the clock and seeing it’s just after eight. “If anything doesn’t, I’ll text you back.”
“See you at two,” she states and hangs up the phone. I take a deep breath before I call the next number.
At this point, I don’t even know if he will answer me. My stomach hurls at the thought. He answers after four rings, “Hello.”
“Hi,” I say quickly and nervously, “it’s Abigail.” I swallow down the lump that is forming in my throat.
“Hi.” His voice goes soft, and I want to know if he had a good night. I want to know how he’s feeling. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I confirm, blinking away the tears. “I was wondering if you’re busy today at two?”
“I have practice this morning,” he says, “but I am free.” The pressure releases a bit from my chest.
“Do you think you can meet me?” I ask him, waiting for him to say no.
“Yes,” he replies softly. “Where?”
“I’ll send you the address.”
“Okay, see you later.”
“See you later,” I repeat back to him and put the phone down, taking a deep breath in and out, “At least he’s still talking to me,” I tell the baby as I put one hand on my stomach while I text him the address to meet me at.
“You’re up early,” Gabriella observes, coming down the stairs dressed in a skirt and a blouse.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I admit, and she walks over to the coffee machine, making herself a cup. She leans against the counter and looks at me.
“Your eyes are puffy,” she tells me, and I put my palm on them.
“I can imagine,” I reply and take a bite of my bagel.
“Everything okay?” she asks. I know this is her way of giving me space, but she’s internally freaking out.
“Not really. But the good news is he wants the baby.” I shrug, avoiding her eyes. “So that’s a win.”
“Did he say anything to hurt you?” she asks softly, and I look up at her.
“No,” I defend him, “he was sad I didn’t tell him.”
“Did you tell him why?” She folds her arms over her chest in defense mode.
“Not really,” I admit, “maybe some other time.”
“I think you should tell him why you didn’t tell him.” She pours herself a coffee in a silver thermos. “He deserves to know.”
I only nod at her. “I’ll see. Where are you going?”
“Work,” she groans as she grabs her camera bag. “I’ll text you later.”
“Have fun,” I say to her retreating back and all she does is flip me the finger.
I finish my bagel while I watch television. I wish I knew what the heck I am watching, but the truth be told, all I can think about is Tristan. Dr. Emmy calls me back an hour later to ask me questions, and I explain to her what I would like to do. I can hear her smile on the phone when she tells me she’ll see me later.
Grabbing a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, I try my best to cover up my swollen eyes. I slip into a button-down linen top on my way out, leaving the buttons open, my little baby bump showing a touch. I make my way to Dr. Emmy’s clinic office, which is different from the hospital one.
When I walk in, the woman behind the desk asks for my name and tells me to sit down. I’m not sitting for more than a minute when the door opens, and he walks in. The smile fills my face when I see him wearing black jeans and a white polo shirt, with a black tracksuit jacket with the team logo on it. A Dallas Oilers baseball cap is on his head as he looks around the room and finds me.
He walks over to me as he tries to take in the office. “Hey, sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not late,” I assure him as he sits next to me and his arm touches mine. His smell makes my body become alive, and I can picture me in his arms. “I just got here.”
He looks around before looking at me. “What are we doing here?”
I take a deep breath in, thinking maybe this wasn’t the greatest idea I’ve had, and maybe, just maybe, I should have asked him before just bringing him here. “I’m trying to make it right.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, his face filled with questions. I’m about to say something when the nurse comes out and calls my name.
I get up, walking toward the cream door, and I can feel him following me. I look over my shoulder and see him checking out everything. The nurse opens the door to the exam room, and Dr. Emmy is in there waiting already. She is sitting on the stool, reading something on the computer screen in front of her. “Abigail,” she says my name with a smile.
“Tristan.” I look over at him as he walks into the room. “This is Dr. Emmy.” His face drains of all color when I say this.
“Is everything…” He stops talking to swallow. “Is everything okay?” He looks from me to the doctor and then back to me. “Is something wrong?”
I take a step forward, slipping my hand in his, and maybe because he’s worried about me, he lets me. ‘Everything is fine,” I assure him softly. “This is me showing you, our baby.” His eyes find mine and I really hope he can see the love I feel for him and our child in them. “I want you to know that I have no idea what we are having.” I walk over to the table and sit down. “I also want you to know that this is the third time I’ve done this.” I lean back on the table, putting my feet up before lifting my shirt a bit and then lowering my pants.
“Do you want to go and stand by Abigail?” Dr. Emmy asks and he doesn’t answer her because his feet are moving on their own. He stands by the table, watching Dr. Emmy turn off the lights. “Here we go,” she says cheerfully as she grabs the white bottle of gel and squeezes some on my stomach. I feel one of his hands hold the top of the table while the other one slips into mine.
“Does that hurt?” he asks, and I just shake my head.
“It’s just a gel,” I tell him, and his eyes are on Dr. Emmy. He watches her take the transducer and place it on my stomach.
“Now in here, you are going to be able to see your baby.” Dr. Emmy points at the black screen.
“Will that hurt it?” he asks when he sees her pushing down on my stomach to get a picture.
“Nothing I do will hurt the baby,” she reassures him and then smiles. “Tristan, meet your baby,” she says, pointing at the screen where you can see the baby just chilling.
