“Jules …” I brush my knuckles along her cheek, and she leans into my touch. “The fight is over. We’re fine.”
Fine …
I inwardly scold myself for saying it. Even if it means nothing to her, it still means something to me. It means we’re not okay yet. But I want to get there. I do.
“It’s not. It’s only just begun.” She takes a step back and holds out her other hand.
It’s a pregnancy test.
And it’s positive.
She’s pregnant. And we both know it’s not mine. So it’s his … the man who left her to go back to his family. A million thoughts race through my mind.
Does he know?
Will he come back to her?
But she still wants me. She still wants me and Roman.
Tears fill her eyes.
“Jules … everything will be fine. We’ll figure this out.” I take her glass of wine. She shouldn’t be drinking wine.
She wipes her eyes before the tears escape, shaking her head slowly. “You don’t even sound surprised. You knew … she told you.”
I squint. “How could I have possibly known you’re pregnant with another man’s baby? And who is ‘she?’ What are you talking about?”
“Oh my god …” Julie whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. The tears win over and break free in a blink. “You … you thought I …” She shakes her head. “I … was pregnant with his baby … and you … you were just fine with it?” Julie laughs. The crazy kind. The painful kind. The kind of laugh that scares me.
I reach for her, my natural instinct to comfort her and protect her, but she takes another step away.
“Only you, Eli … only you love like that.”
“Like what?”
“So completely,” she whispers on a sob, “so unconditionally. You always do the right thing, even if it kills you.”
“Jules, there’s no right or wrong here. I’m just saying I support you no matter what you decide. But I don’t think you should decide this without him. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t want that.”
“Jesus Christ …” She puts her hand on her head and fists her hair, continuing to shake it like this is a reality she’s not ready to face. After a few seconds of her doing something between a sob and that crazy woman’s laugh, she grabs my hand, places the pregnancy test in it, and closes my fingers around it. Her painful smile fades into an expressionless face, drenched in tears, makeup smeared around her eyes. “It’s not my pregnancy test. I’m not the one who’s pregnant.” She lifts onto her toes and presses a kiss to my cheek before grabbing her purse, slipping her feet into her shoes, and walking out the front door.
I open my hand and stare at the positive test. What just happened? It feels like someone just rammed a truck into my brain. Her words are there, echoing over and over. I hear them.
Julie’s not pregnant.
It’s not her test.
Dorothy … no. Julie wouldn’t have her test. It makes no sense, yet it’s the only explanation that makes any sense at this point.
“Dorothy’s pregnant with my baby …”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Guacamole for the Win
Dorothy
“Orville got stuck in Gemma’s dog door again,” Dad says, rolling his eyes after the waitress takes our order.
I convinced them to meet me for late night Mexican. Guacamole and chips makes everything better, even positive pregnancy tests.
“So what’s up? You have exciting news for us?” Mom takes a sip of her huge margarita. “Early job offer? New boyfriend? Promotion at work?”
“Nope.” I take a sip of my water. “Just pregnant.”
Mom chokes on her drink. Dad doesn’t move. Not a single blink.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. There’s not much to say.”
Mom clears the rest of her drink from her throat. “Not much to say? Dorothy, you’re … pregnant? Well … um … do you not get what that means?”
The waitress brings our guacamole and chips. I dig right in. “Yes, Mom. I’m well aware of how babies are made. The developmental process. And the eighteen-plus-year commitment. But I already took the test. I already had my initial meltdown, followed by Dr. Hathaway stealing my pregnancy test and nine hours of denial.”
“Wait … what?” Mom reaches across the table to grab my hand, stopping me from taking a bite of my chip.
So I retell the whole saga.
Then we eat in silence because I know they have no idea what to say or do at the moment. That makes three of us. But I have roughly thirty-five weeks to plan everything out. It’s no secret that I had no intentions of ever having children. Adopting, maybe. But not this.
And yet … here I am. Knocked up by Dr. Hawkins.
“Don’t wait to tell him,” Mom finally speaks as Dad pays the bill. “If Julie hasn’t already told him.”
“No. Trust me. She didn’t tell him. I honestly think she’s hoping I don’t tell him. I mean … she has him back. Now here I am threatening to disrupt all of that, but not really. He can be as involved as he wants to be or not at all. I don’t need him financially. And I’ll figure it out. Right?”