Authors: Liz Crowe
The look said everything to Sara.
You won't either.
She seemed to accuse already.
You'll work too many hours, I'll be a latchkey kid, and an evil, pot-smoking adolescent and we will do nothing but fight.
Then, that goofy smile-like thing Sara knew was likely gas lit the girl's face.
But it's okay.
The child appeared to say.
I'll love you anyway.
A fresh surge of panic gripped Sara's throat as the child nursed a bit more, then slept, as if a light switch had been turned off. Sara stared at her, watched a bit of thin-looking milk drip from the girl's mouth as she dozed. Feeling like a cliché, she held on tight, unsure of what the hell do to next. Would her coach show back up? Give her a high-five and send her to the showers? Waves of emotion pounded in her brain, as her pain level ramped back up now that endorphins had stopped flowing.
"Sara?" She looked up, distracted as Jack's tall frame filled the doorway. He had on jeans and a soft cotton button down, and his face looked gaunt, worried. She sucked in a breath and glanced back down at the girl who'd fallen asleep at her breast.
"Oh my God, Jack." She tried not to wake the child. He was at her side in a split second, holding tight as sobs racked her. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm crying." She managed to choke out. Jack plucked a tissue from a nearby box, tried to hand it to her. She shook her head. "I'm afraid to let go of her," her voice cracked. He shrugged and wiped her nose.
"Blow." She grinned up at him but his face was utterly serious.
She did as he said. He disposed of the tissue and climbed up on the bed beside her. She snuggled into his side, relief nearly making her giggle.
Dear God my hormones
.
"You look like hell, my dear." He put a tentative hand on the baby then drew back as she stirred. Sara stiffened. "What, honey? Everything's okay. Baby's good. You made it, thank God." He pressed his lips to her temple. "We weren't sure there for a while. Although a shower is probably a good idea..."
"I can't do this." She whispered, still gripping the child close. "I can barely take care of myself. What made me think…? Oh Jesus." Tears kept leaking down her face. Jack sighed and held her closer. "Ow. Sorry, I hurt all over." He reached back down to move the pink blanket aside. The baby startled. Sara saw something like fear flicker in his eyes. "So much for all those Lamaze hours huh?" Her arm was getting sore from staying in one position for long. But, having Jack here, holding her, felt more right than anything and she didn't want the moment to end.
"Huh, yeah. Time wasted all right. Way to scare everybody, drama queen." He stayed quiet for a while. "Listen, Sara, you can do this. You made it through months of crazy medical bullshit, worked, bought a new house, moved. All of it. You'll be fine."
"But Jack," she hated the sound of her own whine. "I don't know what do with her. I mean, how do I get her home? How does she sleep? Where does she sleep?"
"Damn Sara, you have like a library of how-to books. Didn't you read any of them? And. if I remember right, painting this kid's nursery nearly cost us our friendship. So I'm pretty sure she has a place to sleep."
Sara tried not to let the word "friendship" bug her too much. She'd asked for it this way after all. "Well, I sort of skimmed..."
"They're saying you guys can go home in a couple of days. I'll help, if you want. I mean, you know…" He ran a shaking hand through his hair, stared at the baby, that weird look in his eyes again. Sara sighed.
"Blind leading the blind, eh Gordon? Who would have thought a baby would scare you?" He glared at her, then sighed. She cursed herself for ruining a perfectly nice moment.
"Something like that. But I gotta go. Hospitals make me antsy and you've got a virtual arsenal of people out there dying to get in here and help you. None of them too happy about my being here it seems."
She let familiar anger grip her, pushing the abject terror at going home with the human being in her arms out of her head for a minute. "Go on. I'll call you." He stood, shoved his hands in his pockets.
"You wanted it this way, remember? Just you."
"I know," she looked down to hide the tears that kept forming. "So go." She looked up at him, the man she loved but refused to admit it, and bit back the urge to beg him to stay with her. "Thanks for the pep talk. But I got this."
He sighed, then looked up at a knock on the door. "Come in." Sara called out. "Jack was just leaving." By the time he had walked out Sara realized too late that she never even asked if he wanted to hold the baby.
Chapter One
Seven Months Earlier
Sara stared out the window and willed the ever-present nausea away. Blake put a hand on her shoulder, making her jump. "Don't do that." He slipped his arm over her shoulder and she resisted the urge to step away, needing space.
"Sure you don't want me here for this?" She nodded, biting her lip, watching for the two familiar cars to pull into her condo community lot. When they did she gasped, and made a dash for the bathroom, dry heaving for the millionth time that day. She rinsed out her mouth, listening to Blake greet both Craig and Jack, their deep voices mixing, filling her small condo.
Glancing in the mirror over the sink, she sighed. "I'd give anything to be somewhere else right now." The reflection mocked her with its unhelpful silence. A soft knock made her open her eyes to see her brother standing in the doorway. "I'm coming." Blake gave her a quick hug, then gripped her arms and stared into her eyes.
"You can do this. You know Mom and Dad understand. They get it. We are all behind you. Now go out there and tell them both to back off. It's the only way. You've been avoiding them both since the end of the year. Time to man up."
She nodded, and leaned into him. Blake had always been there for her. She really wanted him to stay right now, but she had to do it – have this conversation – alone. "I could crawl in the bed right now and sleep for hours." She pulled back, ran a hand over her eyes. "I feel like an alien version of myself. I hate it." He put an arm around her shoulders and guided her out to the living room, kissed her forehead and slipped out the front door.
She paused, watching the two men as they sat at her small dining room table. Jack Gordon, tall, ruggedly handsome in his dark suit, staring at his smart phone, blue eyes glittering with concentration. Craig Robinson, his easy, loose-limbed body draped over a nearby chair, in khakis and a wrinkled button down, deep brown eyes staring right at her. She gave him a weak smile and stepped into the room.
"I'm pregnant."
They both stared at her. She sat, put her shaking hands on her knees, and stayed quiet. Saliva flooded her mouth, announcing an impending bout of puke, but she kept it at bay. Jack spoke first.
"Who is the father?" He glanced at Craig then back at her. "I assume we are both here so you can fill us in on that minor detail."
Craig leaned forward on his knees. "How are you feeling?"
She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. God these men were so predictable. She directed her first response to Jack, fighting back to urge to throw herself at him, to be enveloped in his arms, turn the whole thing over to him and let him take care of her. "I don't know which of you is the father." She turned to Craig, felt the sunny warmth of his concern, but kept her voice firm. "I feel like warmed over shit most days, thanks. On the other days, I want to die. Being pregnant sucks; so far anyway."
Jack stood, started pacing the room. She tried to keep the anger out of her voice. "Look, I don't want this either but..."
"You aren't doing anything... permanent about that are you?" He stared out the window as he spoke.
"If you are asking me if I'm considering an abortion Jack, the answer is no. Not anymore anyway." He stopped midway across her small living room and turned. His gaze held something she refused to acknowledge. It bordered on relief. She tore her eyes from his. "But the bottom line is, as you have likely sorted out by now, either of you could have... could be..." she gulped back a surge of nausea so strong she had to stand and rush from the room.
A few minutes later, she leaned on the doorjamb of her bathroom and tried to will away the creeping exhaustion that gripped her again.
How in the hell did I get here? All those times without condoms? Fucking careless and stupid.
Her self-flagellation ended when she heard him.
"Sara?" Craig peeked around the corner. She tried not to cry at the look on his face. "Oh honey, I'm, sorry I guess. Or whatever. I don't know." He shrugged but pulled her into his arms. She sucked in a breath of him – chlorine, cotton, a whiff of the clean linen of his cologne. Before she knew it she clung to him as he led her back towards the table.
"It's okay Sara. It will all be fine." He soothed, stroking her hair, her back. She tried to dry up the waterworks, sensed another presence in the room. She forced herself out of the comforting circle of Craig's arms, wiped her hand across her eyes. After taking a breath, she looked at them both.
"I'm doing this. On my own."
Craig stepped back. Jack crossed his arms. "And you mean what by that exactly?"
"I mean that I won't be getting a paternity test. I don't care who did this." she stopped and tried to sound less angry. "Which one of you knocked me up is irrelevant. It's my body, and my baby. I'm telling you both now, we can be friends, but that's it. I will handle this from here on out. Period."
She brushed past them, heading straight for the kitchen, suddenly thirsty. After gulping down a large glass of water, she turned to face them both. Her men. The light and dark. The yin and yang of her entire existence. Was she doing the right thing? Was it fair to them? Or, was she letting her family railroad her into taking this stand? She suddenly had no idea what she was doing anymore. But the words were out of her mouth now, and the two men continued to stare at her, a similar incredulity lining both of their faces.
"I'm sure you realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?" Jack stood, feet apart, arms crossed, the posture she remembered well from their brief and ill-fated foray into life as an engaged and living-together couple. His fighting stance. She tried not to rise to the bait. She looked at Craig, hoping he would defuse it, but he stayed silent. "Right?" Jack's voice dipped low, making her scalp tingle with remembered need to do as he said. She shook herself. This was not some sex game. This was her new fucking reality.
"Honestly, Sara, Jack may be right." Both she and the tall man in the suit stared at Craig. He ignored Jack and kept his gaze trained on her. "You can't pretend that we don't care. I mean, I know if it's me I would be…you know, take some responsibility."
"Yeah." Jack sputtered, his face getting red. Sara frowned. "I have, I mean, we, well, one of us has some rights here."
A crisp, clean and likely irrational fury made her vision blur. "Really. And what right would that be, Jack? The right to hold my hair while I puke my ever-loving guts out twenty-four seven? The right to help me waddle to the bathroom and back later? To learn how to Lamaze breathe with me? The right to change shitty diapers and do midnight feeding duty?" She sensed how unreasonable she sounded but had somehow lost the ability to be logical. Jack took a step towards her but she held out her hand, and he kept his distance. Her voice rose. "I am doing this on my own. Period. I'm just giving you notice so when I get huge in the coming weeks you don't panic. Or get territorial. This is my baby. The end." She turned from them, gripped the edge of the kitchen counter. "You can go now." In her head, she begged them to stay.
The sound of the slamming door made her wince.
****
As was typical of many winters, this one seemingly had no end. By the time Ann Arbor hit mid-March people were cautiously optimistic. But St. Patrick's Day dawned cold, grey and threatened snow. Sara sighed and sat on the side of her bed, marveling at the glorious lack of nausea she'd been experiencing for a few weeks. She ran her hand over the hard lump that had appeared under her shirt, tucked the whole mess in the back of her brain, and focused on the busy day ahead.
Jack was considering taking the job as General Manger of the Stewart Realty Company and had become distant, moody and difficult. That suited Sara fine and kept her from the temptation to let him back into her life. But that morning she had a meeting with him; one he'd called with a bunch of other agents. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she wanted to go work. Those crazed hormones roiling through her system had let go and were going to let her pretend she was normal again.
By the time she'd made it to her downtown office, snow had started falling. Pretty, but not in March. She stomped her feet at the back door, smiled when Craig poked his head out of his cubicle. "Hey."
"Hey yourself." He ambled over to her, his dark eyes taking her in from head to toe. "You look like a million bucks. Got a closing?" She brushed the dampness from her hair.
"No, a meeting at admin. But thanks. I feel pretty good for a change too. Amazing." She sighed and grabbed a coffee cup, remembered her vow to cut back on the caffeine and filled it with water instead. A strange energy surging around made her antsy, unable to settle at her desk. It was like she had reverted to her old self. The "before preggers" Sara she wished like hell she had back most days.
How fucking clichéd could you get anyway? Knocked up. Jesus. How lame. It was the twenty-first century.
She really had no excuse. She stood, then dropped back into her chair, her mouth hanging open.
"Oh my God." She gasped.
Craig barreled into her space. "What," he demanded, his voice low. "Are you okay?" His dark eyes flitted over her body a minute, then back up to her face. She gaped at him, not sure it had actually happened. Then it did it again. A bizarre, fluttery sensation in her stomach. Like an eyelash or something equally light, swiping against the inside of her skin. An impossible feeling to describe but one she immediately identified.