The elevator seemed to stop on every floor, and the photos burned hot in my hands. As soon as the doors opened on my floor, I ran down to my apartment and slammed the door behind me, tearing the photos from the folder.
In my haste, they scattered at my feet, like a black and white collage of the day I got pregnant. A CD case fell out last, but I ignored it. Instead, I dropped to my knees and my eyes glued to the top photo I hadn’t even realized had been taken. In my memory of the date, the photographer had never been there. It had just been Ian and me in that room. It had just been Ian on top of me, kissing me, touching me, making me hot, making me annoyed.
I forgot when he made me laugh.
But this photo had his smile buried in my neck, my head tossed back, and my mouth open on a laugh. I looked happier than I could remember. He looked happy. I pushed it aside to reveal the next one; my face tilted up to his, with my eyes closed. He stared down at me with a look of reverence and adoration I hadn’t felt in almost a year.
Tears burned the backs of my eyes again, and I knew I had to find him. I needed to do this with him.
I scrambled through the photos to find the shipping information. It took me three tries to type in the number for the photographer, hoping she’d give me his information. It rang three more times before someone picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Sarah? You may not remember me. My name is Carina, and I was one of your clients. I’m looking for the name of the date that I had—”
“I’m so sorry,” she interrupted. “This keeps happening. Apparently, the person you’re trying to reach—Sarah—isn’t around anymore. She bailed and totally ghosted on her rent last month. I bought the location a couple weeks ago and ended up with the same number.”
My mouth flopped open like a fish out of water. “Ummm…do you know how to reach her?”
“No. But I’m sure the owner of the building sure as hell wished he did. Missing that money.”
“Oh. Umm. Okay. Thank you.”
“Sorry. Hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Me too.”
I hung up and sat there, wondering what the hell to do next.
On a whim, I typed Cincinnati and Ian into Google on an off chance that maybe something familiar would pop up. By the time I had finished scrolling, my feet were numb from where I sat on them.
More tears burned the backs of my eyes, and frustration grew. I shoved the pictures aside and took deep breaths. I wasn’t a weak woman, and I wasn’t going to sit there crying over being pregnant and alone.
I rested my hand on my stomach. “It’s just you and me, peanut.”
Nausea hit me, and I frantically crawled to the hall bathroom and emptied the small lunch I’d managed to eat.
Even panting and sweating, I was confident.
I was Carina Russo. I was going to kick pregnancy’s ass.
Once I picked myself up off the bathroom floor.
4 Carina
Six and a half months later
My stomach bounced under my palm resting there, as the elevator ascended. “It’s just an elevator, baby. No need to get riled up.”
I did that a lot, talked to the baby. I read that it was good for them to hear your voice, and since it was mostly just Peanut and me, he or she would be coming out very familiar with me. I smiled again when another kick landed against my rubbing hand. I’d just reached eight months, and I’d popped.
Thankfully, the black stretchy dress still fit over my bump, and I was able to dress it up with my mustard jacket, that used to be slouchy. Not so much anymore. The doors opened on the top floor of Bergamo and Brandt, and I winced when I stood upright. I needed to invest in a pair of dressy flats. The stilettos made me feel powerful, but now I just felt like a watermelon balancing on a toothpick with each step.
Another kick and I stopped to soothe Peanut. “Time to calm down now. Mommy has a meeting, and the last thing I need is a swift kick to the lungs in the middle of talking.”
In response, more kicks happened in quick succession. I narrowed my eyes at my stomach like Peanut could see me. “I can already tell you’re going to be just as stubborn as me. But we’ll blame any bad habits on your father.”
I felt no shame since he wouldn’t be there to defend himself.
A pinch in my chest still lingered when I thought about Ian, but months of accepting I was doing this alone eased it to a barely there whisper of an ache. I hated that I couldn’t find him, but it was like a needle in the proverbial haystack, and in the end, I would make it through, like I always did.