I’m driving to Avalon, knowing the whole way that Laurelyn will kick me out when I get there. It’s her thing—what she does when she’s angry with me. And she’s super pissed right now. There’s no way she’ll let me stay after the way this morning went, but I can’t sit back and do nothing. I have to try.
I enter the house through the kitchen and toss my keys onto the counter. L isn’t in the kitchen or the living room. “Laurelyn?” I’m not sure she’ll answer if she isn’t speaking to me but I call out her name again anyway. “Laurelyn.” No reply—that’s no surprise.
I enter our bedroom and nothing can prepare me for what I find. “What the f*ck happened in here?” There’s a huge pool of blood on Laurelyn’s side of the bed with a trail leading into the bathroom. And a path going out the door down the hallway. I had to have walked through it on my way to the bedroom. How did I not see it?
This is no small amount of blood. Something significant happened here.
I take my cell out and call her. The sound of my personal ringtone echoes from the bathroom. She doesn’t have her phone and I’m further alarmed. I pick it up and look at her recent calls. The last one was made to Addison last night, long before she returned to the hotel, so I dial Addison and get no answer. Shit!
I look at the pool of blood on the floor and begin mapping it out in my head. I smell her body wash so she took a shower. She left a wet towel on the floor, something she never does, so she was either in a hurry or something happened, like a sudden case of profuse bleeding. There’s a trail leading from the puddle to the bed. She must have gone to lie down after it started, hoping it would stop, but from the looks of things, it only worsened.
Oh f*ck! I’m panicking because this is very bad.
There’s a pair of blood-soaked panties on the floor so she has to be miscarrying—it’s the only possible scenario that fits. And it’s all my fault. I did this to her and our baby.
I follow the trail from the bedroom, up the hall, and through the kitchen to the garage. Her car is gone. I wasn’t here to help her so she must’ve gotten into her car to drive herself to the hospital. Why didn’t she call an ambulance? Or me?
There’s more than one hospital so I have no idea which she would have gone to. I take my phone out and start calling. “I’m trying to find my wife. Laurelyn McLachlan.”
I’m put on hold at least a dozen times before I finally speak to someone who can give me answers. “Sir, we don’t have a patient by that name.”
I hang up to call the next hospital and I’m told for a second time that Laurelyn isn’t a patient at their facility. My mind races. Maybe she didn’t make it to the hospital because she passed out from the bleeding. It’s possible. There is a f*ckload of blood on our bed, not to mention what’s on the floor.
Her car. It can be traced. I’m in the process of finding the number to call when I hear the garage door open and then close. I dash to the kitchen and see Laurelyn, safe and sound. I drop my phone and rush to her, taking her in my arms and squeezing. “F*ck, you scared me. What the hell happened in our bedroom?”
I lessen my hold because I’m afraid I’m squeezing too hard but I don’t let go. “Addison started bleeding. Bad.”
“Are she and the baby okay?”
“Yeah, but can we go inside? It’s been a crazy morning and I’d really like to sit down.”
I let go of her and we go into the house. She sits on the couch and kicks off her shoes before putting her feet up on the coffee table. “The doctor says she has a previa. Her placenta attached itself at the bottom of the uterus next to her cervix instead of the top where it should be.”
That doesn’t sound good. “How serious is it?”
“They say it’ll probably resolve itself because it’ll grow up away from the cervix as the baby develops, but they put her on bed rest until that happens since her bleeding was so heavy.”
“And if it doesn’t resolve on its own?” I ask but am afraid to hear the answer.
“They won’t let her go into labor if the placenta is still attached to the cervix. She’ll stay on bed rest the remainder of the pregnancy and get a C-section when her due date comes.”
“Which is when?”
“July twenty-fourth.” I’m trying to do the math in my head but they figure that pregnancy stuff differently. “She’s almost four months.”
“Whoa. She’s that far along and still hasn’t told Zac?”
“She told him and he was happy about it—like, really happy. He proposed—already had the ring and everything. He’d been walking around with it for weeks and was just waiting for the perfect time to present itself.”
I understand that. “And it never did so he seized the moment. Sound familiar?”
“Yeah. It sort of does.”
I don’t want to address the latest shitstorm, but I have to. “We’re scheduled to go in for a paternity test at the end of the week. It’s the soonest we could get in with the doctor my lawyer recommended. He says it’ll take a little longer to get the results since we’re doing a legal paternity test and not a personal.”
“How long?”
“Probably a week.” She sighs and looks up at the ceiling as tears form in her eyes. “Look at me, L.” She lowers her face and tears spill onto her cheeks. “If that boy is mine, I have to take care of him. You know I do.”
“I know and it’s one of the things I love about you. You’d never turn a child away like my father did.”
She’s going to think I’m talking nonsense but I have to tell her how I feel. “But he’s not mine. Don’t ask me to explain how I can be so certain without proof, but I’m not wrong about this, L.”
“You can’t possibly know that,” she argues.
“I don’t feel a connection to him at all.”
“You’ve never seen him. You wouldn’t feel something for a child you’ve never laid eyes on.”
I place one of my hands on her stomach. “I’ve never seen this one and I’m already connected to it. I love this baby with all my heart.”
“So I’m pregnant?” She sounds … I don’t know. Angry? Disappointed? Definitely not thrilled. She’s probably pissed off because I looked, but I don’t regret it. This baby is a goodness I need so badly in my life right now.
“Yes. The test was lying on the bathroom counter staring me in the face. I debated but couldn’t bring myself to trash it without checking the results first.” She looks at my hand on her stomach and a sob escapes, leaving me wondering if it’s one of joy or sadness. “Please don’t cry, L. It breaks my heart in two.”
“This isn’t the beautiful image I had in mind for us finding out we were having a baby. I imagined us having this really special moment filled with ecstatic joy and tears of happiness. I pictured us making love afterward, maybe you’d kiss my belly and tell me how much you were going to love seeing it grow with your baby.”
This isn’t what I wanted, either, but it is what it is. “Listen to me. There’s a part of me growing inside you and he or she isn’t any less special because of what may or may not have happened three years ago. No, this isn’t the way I envisioned it, but we’ve created life, L. We deserve our moment of happiness so please don’t lessen how special our child is because of what happened this morning.”
“Omigod. You’re right. That’s what I’m doing.” She looks at her stomach and puts both of her hands on top of mine. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
I do. Jenna Rosenthal. She’s done a hell of a doozy on us both.
I kneel on the floor at Laurelyn’s feet. I pull her bum to the edge of the couch and push her shirt up so I can kiss her stomach. It’s flat as a washboard but not for much longer. “I love you and this baby so much. I can’t wait to see him or her growing in your belly every day.”
She strokes her fingers through my hair. “I love you and this baby more than anything in this world.”
I feel like I can breathe again. “You don’t know how happy that makes me hearing you say that.”
“But at the same time, I don’t feel like I’m being honest if I don’t tell you how pissed off I am about your past reemerging to disrupt our lives again.”
I really wish I could snap my fingers and make it all go away. “I’d give anything if I could change it. You deserve so much more than the shit I put you through. This is what I was talking about when I said I was terrified you were going to wake up one day and see that I’m not worthy of your love.”
“I’ve told you before … I despise what you did. It’s a hard pill to swallow every time it’s shoved down my throat.”
“I know. I hate it as much as you—and it seems the ghosts of my past are going to keep showing up in our lives—so I need to know if you can handle it.” She said she couldn’t this morning, but she’d just found out about this possible son of mine and she didn’t know she was pregnant. I hope she’s changed her mind.
“I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you, and the decision to have a baby was half mine. I can’t back out now.”
That’s not the answer I was hoping for. “Would you back out on me if you weren’t pregnant?”
“I can’t say what I would or wouldn’t do if that were the case. It isn’t possible for me to know.”
She’s so hurt and angry. I’m inclined to believe she would leave me if it weren’t for the pregnancy so I have to wonder if she’s rethinking her decision. “Our baby is not a mistake.”
“In light of this morning’s events, the timing isn’t perfect, but I would never think of our child as a mistake.”
No child should be viewed that way but it’s all I can think when I consider Jenna’s son being mine. And I’m a son of a bitch for feeling that way. “Will you go with me for the paternity test?”
“Will we be called back with them into the same exam room?” she asks.
“No. I made our appointments an hour apart so I wouldn’t have to see them. There’s no point in having contact with the child if he isn’t mine.”
“Then I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you.” I place my head in her lap and stay that way for a while as I consider how things will go if Jenna’s son is mine. “I’m scared, L. I’m terrified nothing will be the same for us if this turns out badly.” She says she wants to hear my fears and know my demons, but I don’t think she would want to know how I really feel. It could bring up memories concerning the way her father felt about her so I keep it to myself.
Paternity test day is here. I told Jack Henry I would go with him but I want to back out. The whole thing scares the shit out of me. To top it off, I’m nauseated as hell. I lie motionless, waiting for the wave to pass but it lingers. I guess this is what I have to look forward to in the mornings—and it sucks.
We’ve been sleeping in the same bed all week, but we haven’t made love. He hasn’t even tried. I guess I should be glad since it would complicate this whole situation further, but I don’t like living as roommates. I desperately miss the intimacy I share with my husband and the more we grow apart, the more I see how unhappy I would be without him.
He comes into the room and sits on the bed next to me. He cups his hand around mine and produces a crooked smile, but there’s no joy in it or his eyes. “The appointment is in an hour and a half.”
“I know. I was just waiting for this nausea to pass so I could get up and get ready.”
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “I’m sorry you don’t feel well, but it’s a sign of a healthy pregnancy. It means your hormones are climbing.”
“How in the world would you know something like that?”
He shrugs. “Seems I remember my mum saying something like that when Emma was pregnant. Want to try a few crackers to see if it’ll help?”
“I guess you remember Margaret saying that was a remedy too?”
“No. Everyone knows it is.”
I scoot up in bed. “Yeah. I’ll try one or two.”
He returns a few minutes later with crackers and a fizzy drink. “Mrs. Porcelli sent ginger ale. She said it might help.”
“You told her I was pregnant?” I ask. He better say he didn’t or I’m going to be pissed off.
“No—only that you weren’t feeling well.”
“What are we going to do about telling people?”
“I would tell the world if it were up to me, so I guess it comes down to what you want.” I don’t think he’s kidding. I wouldn’t put it past him to run an ad in the paper.
But I’m not ready for anyone to know. “I don’t want to tell anyone yet.”
“Because you want to wait until the miscarriage risk has passed?”
“Yes.” No. That’s not the reason at all. “No. I don’t want to announce my pregnancy and then have it overshadowed by the announcement of you having a two-year-old son with another woman.” I know this hurts him but it’s how I feel. “Can we just agree to get through today, see what the results are next week, and then go from there?”
“I’ll do anything you want. You have all the say-so.”
I bite into the cracker and roll it around in my mouth. I don’t have a clue how eating can make my nausea better because the simple thought of swallowing my own saliva right now makes me want to yack. “I gotta spit this out.” I come up from the bed and run toward the bathroom when I realize there’ll be stomach contents following the cracker.
Jack Henry is instantly by my side helping to pull my hair away from my face and placing a cool washcloth on the back of my neck. “I’m so sorry you’re sick, love.”
“A normal part of it all, I’m afraid.”
“I’d take it from you if I could.”
“Yeah, I know you would.” I have no doubt about his sincerity because that’s how much he loves me.
We arrive ten minutes late for his appointment because of me. I had at least three more dry heaving episodes before we made it out the door. I told him to go ahead without me but he wouldn’t.
He’s scared shitless. I see it in his eyes. And I think I detect nervous trembling in his hands as he flips through a parenting magazine. “Do you feel better?”
“No. I’m still really nauseated. I think I could lie down on this floor and happily die right now.”
“Would you think less of me as a man if I did the same?” I’m actually amused for the first time in days. We’re a sight—two adults sitting in this pediatrician’s office more terrified than any of the kids surrounding us.
“Jack McLachlan.” He’s called back and we’re led into an exam room by a short, round nurse. “You’re here to submit a DNA sample for a paternity test regarding Ashton Rosenthal.”
“That’s correct.”
Holy shit. I’ve not heard his name until now. I think I’ve been pretending he didn’t have one, that he didn’t really exist, but hearing it makes it all too real. “I’m going to throw up.”
The nurse scrambles to grab an emesis basin from the cabinet and hands it off to me just in time. More dry heaving—of course it is. I have nothing in my stomach.
“Looks like you may need to see the doctor while you’re here.” She wets a paper towel and passes it to me.
“A pediatrician isn’t going to help what’s wrong with me.”
“My wife’s pregnant. It’s morning sickness.” He sounds so proud.
“Oh, well, congratulations.” An awkward silence ensues and I’m sure it’s because she’s remembering why we’re here in the first place. I feel the pounding heat of humiliation rising in my cheeks. I shield my face. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”
I look at Jack Henry. “See. That’s why I don’t want to tell people yet.”
He sighs. “I get it, babe, but please try to understand my side. I’m excited about our baby. It felt good to tell someone my wife is pregnant. It makes me proud.”
“You can’t always do something because it feels good! That’s why we’re sitting here in a doctor’s office for a f*cking paternity test.” I’m irritable, on edge, and I could burst into tears at any moment. I have no right to say these hurtful things to him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m being such a bitch. I don’t wanna be.”
“It’s the pregnancy, love, and this situation isn’t helping.” He puts his arms around me. “Just a few more days and hopefully this will be over for good so we can get back to being us.”
Being us. There’s nothing I want more, but it seems these bitches from his past won’t allow it.
The physician comes into the exam room with his nurse. He’s polite—not the best bedside manner in the world—but I assume he’s used to dealing with children. He collects a swab of the inside of Jack Henry’s cheek and places his patient label around it. He holds it up for Jack Henry to verify. “All of that looks correct to you?”
“Yes, sir. That’s me.”
“Good. The lab will send the results to us and we’ll notify you by letter.”
“I prefer to be called,” he requests. “Mail will take at least two days longer and I’m anxious to know the results.”
“Okay, but I’m sure you’ll want something in writing as well. I’ll have the office call so you can come by for the lab report.”
So, that’s it. Now, we wait.
We leave the exam room and wait at reception to check out. “Did you like the doctor?”
That’s sort of a weird question. “Not really. Why do you ask?”
“We’ll be needing a pediatrician.”
“Well, it won’t be him.” Not only was his bedside manner lacking, I wouldn’t want to be remembered as the wife who accompanied her husband for a paternity test. “I want a female doctor.”
“What if our baby is a boy?” he asks. “Don’t you think that would be awkward for him to let a female pediatrician look at his doodle?”
I slam on my mental brakes. “His doodle?”
“Yeah.” Really? That’s what Jack Henry’s going to call our son’s penis?
“I don’t think it would be any more awkward than a male pediatrician looking at our daughter’s tutu.”
“Her tutu? That’s what you’ll call it?”
We look at one another and laugh. “Is this an example of what our vocabulary will be reduced to? Doodle and tutu?”
“I’m pretty sure it is. Three kids in and Evan only speaks fluent buffoon now.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” I turn at the venomous sound of a woman’s voice but I already know it’s her—Jenna Rosenthal. She has her son on her hip and looks none too pleased about my presence. “You’re pretty cheery for a woman whose husband just submitted proof that he’s this little boy’s father.” She points at Jack Henry. “Look at him, Ashton. That’s your daddy and you look just like him.”
This woman is delusional. That child looks nothing like Jack Henry.
“Don’t,” Jack Henry grits through his teeth and then looks at the boy and softens his voice. “Don’t tell him that.”
“The test will prove it. You’ll see.”
“And if it does, you’ll introduce me into his life appropriately, not standing in the hallway of a doctor’s office.”
“Next,” the receptionist calls out and we step to the counter to pay for the visit.
Jack Henry folds the receipt and shoves it into his jacket pocket. “Don’t look back, even if she says something. Just walk out of here.”
“Okay.” He puts his arm through mine and leads me out.
“Ashton, tell your daddy and the wicked step-monster bye-bye.”
He feels me twist in his arms so I can turn to respond, to let that bitch have it good. “Don’t do it, L. It’ll reflect poorly on you if you physically or verbally attack her while she has a child in her arms. It’s what she wants.”
He’s right but it’s hard as hell to let that one go. “I’m fine.” I straighten and hold my head high. “I’m good. Really.”
He releases my arm and I wait until we’re in the car to have my come-apart. “Why you always gotta f*ck the crazy ones?” He looks at me but doesn’t answer. “Damn, McLachlan. First Audrey and now her. Two of the twelve are nutjobs—three of thirteen, if you include Lana. That isn’t a great statistic. What do you do to these women to drive them to the point of insanity?”
“Can we not talk about the others or what I did to them?”
“Sure. I don’t really want to know, anyway.” The topic of his former lovers is beyond old for me and I’m quickly developing the same feelings about this paternity test issue.
“I only want to concentrate on you and our marriage.” He puts his hand on my stomach. “And our little one.”
I place my hand on top of his. “We haven’t celebrated this baby yet.”
He leans over to me in the passenger seat and grasps the back of my neck with his free hand. He pulls me closer until our foreheads are pressed against one another. “Oh God, L. Things have felt so delicate between us this week. I was afraid to try for fear I would make you angrier.”
“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” I embrace his face with my palms. “I’ve been selfish, wallowing in self-pity. I haven’t allowed you to express happiness about the baby because I was punishing you. I’ve been unfair and I see that now. I’m sorry.” I lean in and kiss his mouth. “Let’s go home.”
“Anything you say.”
I’m thinking of all the ways I want to show Jack Henry how much I love him, but they seem awkward knowing our housekeeper will be roaming the house. “Would you want to call Mrs. Porcelli and give her the rest of the day off?”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary for what I have in mind.” He reaches for his phone and makes a call. “Hi, it’s Jack. I have a favor to ask. Would you prepare a picnic for me and Laurelyn?” He gives me a crooked grin, showcasing only one of his beautiful dimples. “Thank you very much. We’ll be home in about fifteen minutes.”
He ends the call and makes another. “Harold, I’m taking the rest of the day off.” He gives me the same crooked grin. “No, everything’s fine. I just want to spend time with my wife so I think it’s fine for you to knock off as well. We’ll pick up tomorrow morning.”
He pulls into the garage and leans over to kiss my mouth. “Stay here while I grab the basket.”
“Okay.”
I wait in the car and he finally returns. He’s carrying two armloads of stuff, including the comforter from the guest bedroom. “Need help there?”
“Nah.” He walks over to the ATV and unloads everything onto the backseat. He gestures toward the passenger seat. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”
“What are you up to, Mr. McLachlan?”
“All in good time, Mrs. McLachlan.”
I join my husband on my chariot and he drives us out to the vineyard. I open my mouth to ask where we’re going but shut it because he isn’t going to tell me. He means for this to be a surprise but I put the pieces together before we get to where we’re going. He’s taking me to the wine cave.
The realization flips a switch to my groin, setting me on ready, and I recall the first time Jack Henry brought me here. I had not yet agreed to his crazy, indecent proposal but he was so determined I would. He used some rather unorthodox moves in order for it to happen. It’s also the day he told me he’d never marry or have children. My, what a difference a year has made. Give us another and we’ll be parents of a … four-month-old.
He parks by the entrance to the wine cave. “You figured it out half a mile back, didn’t you?”
“No.” He looks at me skeptically. “Yeah. But it only gave me time to think about what we’re going to do when we get in there.”
“I recognized your squirm.”
What does that mean? “My squirm?”
“You’re fidgety and restless when you’re turned on but have to wait on me to give it to you.”
This isn’t news to me but I didn’t realize it was so blatantly recognizable to him. “Do you know all my secrets?”
“I doubt it.”
He unlocks the entrance and we enter the dark cave. He flips the switch for the lanterns and our path is illuminated. “I love this place so much.”
“I do too. I’m sorry I haven’t made time to bring you back sooner, but Harold stalks this place, constantly checking to make sure everything is as it should be. He does a top-notch job when it comes to my vineyard but he throws a wrench in me being a caveman.”
That needs to change because it’s been far too long since we were here last. “Then you should give him more time off so we can sneak down here more often.”
“I might just have to do that.”
We walk the corridor and I wrap my arms around myself. The cave is drafty. “Cold?” he asks. I nod and he pulls me into his warm side.
We stop at the entrance to the room where our reception was held. “I still haven’t forgiven you for smearing wedding cake across my face.”
“It was cute.”
I didn’t find a thing cute about it. “It was not. Addison worked on my makeup forever to get it perfect. Do you know what it was like to have her in my face for that long?”
“L, you still looked perfect after I kissed it off.”
We move into the room where he brought me on our first day at Avalon. Fond memories rush back. “I was spread across that table the first time you made me come. Then our wedding guests sat there and ate cake on it.”
“I’m pretty sure your dad sat at the table in the exact spot where I hoisted you up and went down on you.” He enjoys taking a stab at my parents any chance he can. He does it because he hates the way they’ve wronged me, so I’m okay with that.
He spreads a thick quilt on the flagstone-covered cave floor and then the comforter from the guest bedroom so it’s nice and soft. He kicks off his shoes and sits on the linens before he holds his hand out. “Sit with me.”
I step out of my sandals and kneel before lowering myself to sit next to him. He takes a bottle of wine from the basket and removes the top. He pours and passes a glass to me.
“I can’t drink this.”
“It’s just sparkling grape juice.” I take it from him and he pours a second glass for himself. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to drink wine so I wanted to have something else on hand when we found out you were pregnant.” He pats the floor between his legs. “Come sit here.” I scoot over and back until he’s able to cocoon me in his arms. My back is against his chest and he brings his glass to mine. “This toast is to you, my wife and the mother of my son or daughter. You’ve filled my life with so much love and joy this year. It’s something I never thought I’d have. I love you, L, far more than I think you know, and I swear I’m going to do better so I can be the kind of husband you deserve. I’m becoming a better man because of you and this baby.”
Omigod, he is so amazing.
I put my glass down and turn in his arms. “That was so beautiful, I don’t even know how to respond.” There’s only one way I can think of, and it’s not with words.
He puts his glass down when I move to my knees so I can pull my dress over my head. He reaches out and pulls me to him, gently kneading one of my breasts. “Are you sore here?”
“A little.” He unfastens my bra and takes my already hard nipple into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around the tip and the sensitivity echoes in my groin, causing me to tremble. “But that feels good.” He moves to my other breast and mimics the same movement before flipping us so I’m lying on my back.
He plants a kiss over my heart and then moves down the center of my body. He stops when he gets to my belly and places his fingertips against it, rubbing in a circular motion. “You’re already so much more than just a child in my head. You’re a miracle growing right here inside your mum.” He places his hands on my hipbones and presses his lips below my navel for a kiss. “You’re already loved more than you know.”
He moves lower and I lift my hips so he can get my panties off. When they’re discarded, I begin working on the top button of his shirt. “You’re overdressed. Help me.”
He yanks at the waist of his pants and I recognize the sound of his zipper sliding down. I hook my toes in the waistband of both and help him push them to his feet and then off. We’re bare and pressed against one another. His erection is right there, ready to dive in, yet he waits. “This won’t hurt you or the baby?”
“No. He’s in a safe little cocoon.” I bend my knees and part them further before shifting my hips upward to push his tip inside.
I know he’s dying to. I am too. We’ve never gone so long without making love except when we were separated, but I see the hesitation on his face. “We’re fine.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “You’ll tell me if something hurts or doesn’t feel right?”
“Yes.”
He enters me slow and easy, then stops. It’s frustrating as hell. “I didn’t suddenly become breakable because I’m pregnant.”
“I know. I’m just being gentle.”
I can’t take this. “I’m taking control so get on your back. I’m topping.” He pulls out of me slowly and does as I tell him. I climb over and sink down until he fills me completely. “Mmm … see? Doesn’t that feel much more satisfying?”
He puts his hands on my hips and guides me up and down. “You can ride me anytime.” And I do until we both come.
It’s been five days since the paternity test and the pediatrician’s office just phoned to let me know I can come by to pick up the results—but it’ll have to wait. I have more important business to tend. Laurelyn has her first prenatal visit in two hours and I won’t allow a special moment like this to be ruined.
Her morning sickness has reared its ugly head every day this week, so it’s taking longer for her to get up and get going. Her face is so pale and thin—I’m pretty sure she’s already lost weight. That can’t be good for her or the baby. “Mrs. Porcelli mixed a home remedy for you.” She glances at the glass and looks as though she might vomit any minute. “She seemed sure it would help.”
“So she knows?”
“She must since she made this for you, but I didn’t tell her.” She slides up in the bed slowly with her eyes closed. “It wouldn’t be hard for her to figure out since you’ve been sick every morning this week.”
She takes the glass and looks at it. “What’s in it?”
“I have no idea. It just looks like water to me.”
She brings it to her nose for a sniff. “I smell something familiar but I can’t put my finger on it.” She brings the glass to her mouth and takes a tiny sip. “It’s not terrible. There’s a little tanginess with something sweet—maybe a touch of honey.” She takes another sip. “I don’t care if it’s bad if it helps this feeling go away. I hate being nauseated.”
“What about some toast?” I want her to eat because she doesn’t need to lose another ounce. I worry she and the baby aren’t getting what they need.
“Maybe a little later.” Not what I want to hear.
“Promise me you’ll try.”
“I will.” She puts her hand on my arm. “Don’t worry, McLachlan. I’ll feel better in a few hours and I’ll eat something then. I’m not going to let the baby starve.”
I hate not being able to help her. “I can’t control this situation and it makes me feel helpless. I take care of you—it’s what I do—but I’m not able to with this.”
“This will pass in a few weeks and I’ll eat you out of house and home. I’ll probably gain way too much weight and get lots of stretch marks. You’ll wish I had morning, noon, and night sickness.”
“Never. I want you and this baby to have the nourishment you need.”
Laurelyn sips on her drink until she has about half of it down—and it stays. It’s mainly water, I think, but it makes me feel better to see her at least get a little hydration.
It’s a slow process but she gets out of bed to shower and dress for her appointment. We somehow manage to get out the door at a decent time. Despite her present condition, she looks beautiful and I can’t stop looking over at her as I drive.
“What is it?”
“You’re beautiful and I love looking at you.”
“Well, find a time to look when you’re not driving.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We do the necessary paperwork as we sit in the waiting room, but we don’t get called to an exam room for an hour and a half. “Waiting this long is f*cking ridiculous.”
She turns and gives me the shut the hell up face. I know it well. “I’m seeing an obstetrician. She has to leave the office to go deliver babies at the hospital. That’s nonnegotiable so expect delays. We’ll get our turn at making people wait when she comes to deliver this one.”
L pees in a cup, gets weighed, and has her blood taken. All of that happens before she’s even put in the exam room. “What else are they gonna do to you?”
She starts taking off her clothes to change into a patient gown. “I’m sure I’m getting a Pap smear since it’s my first visit. She’ll probably feel around to make sure everything is in good working order and I’m hoping for an ultrasound. I really want to see the baby.”
She sits on the exam table and we wait some more—long enough for the doc to deliver at least a dozen babies. I’m becoming very irritable and L knows it. “Be patient, McLachlan.”
“You shouldn’t have to sit and wait like this. You haven’t had anything to eat and it’s well past lunch now.”
She opens her mouth to reply—or argue—but doesn’t when the doctor finally comes into the exam room. “Hello, Mrs. McLachlan. I’m Dr. Sommersby. I’m really sorry you’ve had to wait so long. I don’t usually run so behind but I had two deliveries this morning and one was twins so it took longer.”
“It’s not a problem.” Yes, it is. I won’t have L sitting for hours like this every time she has an appointment.
They talk a few minutes about things I know nothing about as she feels L’s breasts. That’s awkward, having another woman touch my wife like that, but I guess it would be worse if it were a man. Dr. Sommersby asks L to slide down on the table and her feet are placed in metal footrests. I hear a lot of clanking and keep my place in the chair by her head. I don’t even want to know what’s going on under that drape. “Everything looks good. Now let’s take a look with the ultrasound so we can document how far along you are.”
This makes L very happy. And me. I want to see the baby and know everything is all right as well.
The doctor squeezes gel on L’s belly and spreads it around. She takes notice of her navel piercing. “That’s very pretty but I recommend you change it out to something flexible when you get a little further along. Sometimes these stiff rings leave ugly scars.”
“I expected you to tell me I had to take it out.”
“I’m pretty lax on most things, but I do want it out on delivery day in case of emergency. It’s terrible trying to get those things out when everyone is scrambling around in a mad rush.” An emergency—I hadn’t considered anything like that happening. I guess no one goes in to have a baby and thinks something bad will happen to them.
I take Laurelyn’s hand in mine as Dr. Sommersby adjusts her glasses and straightens the monitor screen of the ultrasound for a better view. She moves the probe one way and then another. I can’t guess what she’s seeing but for me, I see nothing but white noise on a black screen. “I was hoping we could see something with an abdominal scan but you’re too early. We’ll need to do a transvaginal.” She returns the probe in her hand to the machine and exchanges it for one that looks like a huge dildo. What the f*ck is she gonna do with that?
My thought isn’t quite completed when she rolls a condom over it and I find out. “Relax your legs and let them fall apart, Laurelyn.” Her hand and the dildo disappear under L’s gown. “This doesn’t hurt but it does feel full, especially if your bladder isn’t empty.”
L looks at me with large eyes and takes a deep breath before releasing it. She makes a face that tells me she’s uncomfortable and squeezes my hand. “Whew! That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Hang in there, Laurelyn. It’ll get better once I stop moving the transducer … which should be right about … now.”
Laurelyn sighs a breath of relief. Her grip on my hand relaxes but it trembles as she searches the screen, waiting for the doctor to say something. Anything.
“This is just a two-dimensional ultrasound so the picture isn’t the best. I basically only want to document the gestation. We’ll do a three-dimensional when you’re further along and have something to see that you’d recognize.” She finally points to the screen. “Looks like you’re six weeks, give or take a couple of days. This big dark area is your uterus and that white circle is the sac. And if you’ll look right here …” She adjusts for a better look and points to a white area. “There’s your baby.”
Laurelyn squeezes my hand. “It’s amazing. We’re looking at our baby for the first time. Do you see it, Jack Henry?”
It’s truly an incredible sight to behold, this tiny little person inside my wife. Part me, part her, but whether boy or girl, I hope to see more Laurelyn than me in him or her. “I do. It’s incredible.” I’ll be forever changed by it.
We leave the office and Laurelyn can’t stop looking at the ultrasound picture the doctor printed for us. “I haven’t been able to get the bleeding episode with Addison off my mind since I found out I was pregnant, so it’s a relief to know everything looks okay at this point.”
“Everything is going to be perfect. No worries, okay?”
“I’m excited. I decided I don’t want to wait about telling everyone since we got a good report.”
I debate bringing up the test results. I don’t want to taint our good news but I’m certain Laurelyn wants this over as much as I do. “Dr. Gates’s office called this morning to tell me the paternity test results are in. Do you want to go by and pick them up while we’re in town or wait?”
She sighs. “I don’t want to put it off. It’s better to get it done so we can either stop worrying and move forward or begin the process of accepting that boy as yours.”
Laurelyn waits in the car while I go in to retrieve the report. The woman at reception smiles and wishes me a good evening as she places a sealed envelope in my hand. My name is typed across the front in all caps but all I can think is how it should read, JACK McLACHLAN’S FATE.
Laurelyn and I didn’t discuss how we’d do this, but I don’t open the results. I think it’s something she and I should do together in the privacy of our home—mainly because I don’t know what either of our reactions will be—but I’m giving her all the power. It’s her choice to decide when and how.
I get into the car and hold the envelope out for her. “Tell me how you want to do this.”
She takes a breath and her cheeks puff out as she exhales. “I think we should do it at home.”
“Agreed.” I toss the envelope on the dashboard and steer her Cayenne toward Avalon. The drive has never seemed longer.
I pull into the garage and grab the envelope. “I think we should be alone when we look at this. Do you mind if I give Mrs. Porcelli the rest of the day off?”
“I think that’s best.”
I go in ahead of Laurelyn and relieve Mrs. Porcelli of her duties for the rest of the day. L waits until she’s gone to come into the house and I see why when she comes inside. She’s already crying. “I’m sorry.” She cups her mouth with her hand. “I told myself I wasn’t going to be like this but I can’t help it.”
“It’s okay, L. Your hormones are all over the place so you can’t help this crazy emotional roller coaster you’re riding.” I hold my hand out to her and after she takes it, I lead her to the couch. “Is here okay?” She nods and tears roll down her cheeks as I break the envelope’s seal.
She stops me, placing her hand on mine. “No matter the results, I love you. If he’s yours, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stand by you and be the wife you need me to be.”
I’m instantly relieved, and for the first time since my life spun out of control, I feel like my world won’t end by what could potentially be on this piece of paper. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me knowing you’ll be here with me either way.”
“I wanted you to know before so you could be assured that negative results aren’t why I stayed.”
I take the paper out and it isn’t what I expected. I thought it would be a letter stating I was or was not the father of Ashton Rosenthal, but I’m wrong. I panic, trying to decipher its meaning. “It’s the actual lab result.” I search through lots of words and numbers I don’t understand about alleles. One set is for: child. The other for: alleged father. And then I see what I believe to be the results.
Based on the DNA analysis, the alleged father, Jack McLachlan, is excluded as the biological father of the child, Ashton Rosenthal, because they do not share sufficient genetic markers. Combined Direct Index: 0. Probability 0%.
I’m not his father.
“Gah!” I put my hands into my hair and fall back against the couch. “F*ck.” Is it wrong for me to be this relieved when the result leaves a little boy fatherless? I don’t have time to sort that out in my head because I’m pulling L into my arms. “Zero percent probability. Jenna Rosenthal’s son is not mine.”
Thank f*ck. I’ve managed to put another shitstorm behind me.