Page 29 of Reckless
I can’t think of anything worse than everyone around you knowing something this personal before you’ve even had a chance to process.
I know all about needing time to process.
It’s why I’m terrified of telling everyone this news and then losing the baby like last time. Having clothes and toys and plans. Everyone thriving on that excitement, only to have them pour on condolences that I couldn’t even cope with.
If I’m going to grieve a loss again, I want to do it privately.
Biting down on my lip, I try to navigate the software searching for...members.There! With a quick click, a list of names fills the page. I navigate to the miniature magnifying glass in the corner and type inTheo Silva.
Another window pops up with his information. A home address in Emerald Lake, a college lake town in British Columbia. An emergency contact by the name of Loretta Silva, which sounds like the name of a woman who would live on a ranch and is far more fitting for the wife of a bull rider who was an icon on the circuit. (Thank you, Google.)
And then I see it. His cell number. I swipe a pad of Post-its, and scribble the number down before I exit every window on the computer, wanting to make sure it looks like I was never here.
Within seconds I’m rounding the desk on the tips of my toes, like someone might hear, even though it’s completely empty in here.
“Ready. Thank you,” I whisper at Sloane as I draw near to her.
She turns now, having been totally respectful. The perfect accomplice, not pushy or nosy.
“Did you wipe down the keyboard?”
My brows knit together. “What?”
“You know. To clean off the fingerprints.”
“Are you—”
“Looking out for you? Yes. That’s what friends are for.”
I snort, because Ithinkshe’s joking. “No crimes were committed here tonight.”
“You sure about that?”
My mouth twists as I consider it. “I don’t know. I’m a doctor, not a lawyer. It might be a crimelite.”
She laughs as she resets the alarm. “I like that. Hopefully, the police appreciate your branding.”
We walk through the door and it’s my turn to laugh. Except my stomach is twisting inside. I’m not worried about the police, but the reality of what I’m about to tell a man I barely know hits me and I can feel the anxiety building in my chest.
I rub my palm there to lessen it. And even as Sloane and I bid each other goodnight, I continue to push against my sternum.
I don’t stop until I’m seated on my microfiber couch, staring down at the pale-yellow piece of paper.
What have I done? How did I let this happen? We used condoms.
And condoms break.
It’s a peculiar feeling to have all that you ever wanted, but not in the way you envisioned. I’ve been that girl since I was a child. The one who carried a doll everywhere and pushed them around in a tiny stroller. I was thrilled about having a baby sister until my mom ruined it for me.
I’ve wanted a child of my own for as long as I can remember. Desperately, with every fiber of my being. But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it happening like this. Like some sort of cosmic joke.
Clomid. Legs up the wall. Bladder infections. All to no avail.
It’s like my body knew Rob was a piece of shit, even when my brain didn’t.Ha. No. Nice try, honey. We don’t want a baby with this man.
And then I got pregnant. After which, I promptly found out all the ways my husband had betrayed me.
I lost him.
