Shaken to my core.
Suspecting is one thing. Confirming is an entirely different scenario.
Hopping off the bed, I stare at the compact machine used to listen to a heartbeat that I never anticipated loving so quickly as I get dressed. Pressing my hands to my stomach, I feel like I’m in a fog as I stride back out to the waiting room.
The doctor speaks, and I nod when necessary, but I don’t think I actually hear a word she says. With another smile, she hands me a card and some pamphlets. Leaving the clinic, I’m not paying attention as I bump into a tall man entering the building from the parkade.
“Sorry,” I mutter as my purse drops to the ground, and the pieces of paper that were in my hand sail down.
He grunts and reaches for some of the things that hit the ground, shoving them back at me before leaving. Dazed and confused about the odd encounter, I dig my car keys out of my bag and hold it a little tighter to my chest.
Sitting behind the wheel of my car, I lock the doors and place my hand on the steering wheel, staring at the craggy cement wall in front of me.
The last few years have been such a roller coaster. Watching my brothers fall in love has given me so much hope. I long for what they have so desperately. Now, I’m going to be a single mom, and I have no idea how or if I should even fill Noah in, but not telling him would be a complete dick move, not to mention selfish. My baby deserves a father. But the idea of sharing the rest of my life with this man without being intimate is nearly unbearable.
The drive home remains dull and quiet, and as I roll into the driveway of the house I grew up in, I wonder what my parents would say if they were alive.
Would they be disappointed that I’m pregnant so young?
Would they be angry that I was reckless?
Or would they tell me they loved me and that we’d get through this, together, as a family?
There are so many thoughts plaguing my mind as I enter the house my brothers left to me when Kol moved out last year. I know that, in my parents' will, the money from its sale was supposed to be split three ways, but the boys wanted to keep it in the family and said I was the ideal candidate because I hold its history in my heart. Whatever that means.
Dropping my purse and the pamphlets on the hall table, I sit on the bottom stair step, staring at the front door.
Feeling lost isn’t foreign to me unless I’m dancing. Otherwise, I often feel like I’m sinking and don’t know how to swim.
I need a plan. Something solid to hold onto. I haven’t graduated from college yet. Not until the spring, so at least, I’ll get to finish school. I’m fortunate in a way that between my small inheritance and my brothers paying the taxes and bills on the house, I don’t need to work yet.
Which brings me to my budget. I’ll have to figure out how to properly set up the next few months, to build up my savings further, so that when it is time to go back to work, I won’t have to worry too strenuously about childcare and other bills. I can’t expect Arsen and Kol to take care of me forever. Especially given I've fought with them to let me pay my own way. They obviously won, spouting that I needed to concentrate on getting excellent grades and making the dean’s list.
They were right, and it’s helped tremendously. I have a nice nest egg, but if I’m not careful, it could dwindle quickly. Working at the rec center since freshman year has helped in saving for my future.
A future that’s barreling closer all too quickly now.
Noah
I’ve turned into some kind of fucking stalker. I’ve been sitting outside Ember’s house all day waiting for her to get home, and as soon as she pulled into her driveway, I was ready to call her name. The thing that stopped me was the slump in her shoulders, the tired way she walked. Her hesitance to enter her home.
I figured out at Kol’s party that something was up, but now it’s confirmed. For as long as I’ve known Ember, she has always had a vibrance to her. A bubbly personality.
I've ruined her.
I promised her the world then smashed her heart to smithereens.
But I can’t fucking let her go. Walking away now that I’m free and clear of past conflicts isn’t an option even close to being on the table.
Reaching over to the seat beside me, I pick up the next note and the small box of salted caramel chocolates from the handmade place downtown I know she loves.
Staying away from her has been excruciatingly painful. I know she asked for space, and I should respect that, but I need her to understand who Cali is. I can’t let her continue to believe I’ve moved on from her or that I’m interested in anyone else.
Striding up to the front door, I knock firmly and wait for an answer. When it isn’t forthcoming, I try again.
A minute later, I hear her voice call out, “Who is it?”
Exhaling a breath, I get the feeling she won’t answer. “It’s Noah.”