“Yesss. I want that.”
He kisses my mouth again. “I’ll be back as soon as it’s over.”
“I’ll be here.” Working. I have plenty to keep me busy. But I’m not complaining. I need something to take my mind off the clusterfuck named Charlotte.
I busy myself with Lawrence’s new design series for a line that she and Lucas are planning to launch in the spring. I absolutely love working on Bohemian Cider Company’s artwork. Such fun designs with their cool hippie vibe.
I’m excited to see what Lawrence thinks of my ideas, so I give her a buzz. “Hey. I have some initial designs for the new line if you want to come over and have a look.”
“Will you be there in about thirty minutes?”
“Planning to be.”
“Okay. See you then.”
I’m glad Lawrence is coming. That will help to take my mind off Porter being with the pregnant clusterfuck.
I print off samples of my work and arrange them on Porter’s desk so we can use mine for a workspace. I smile when I see the framed photo of us on the shelf behind his chair. I’m so glad we no longer have to hide our relationship. Makes life so much easier.
I look up when I hear the light tap on the door. “Hey, girl. Come in.”
I know the minute I see Lawrence that something is wrong. Her eyes and nose are red and swollen. “Goodness, I wouldn’t have bothered you if I’d known you were sick.”
“I’m not sick.”
“Everything okay?”
Tears swell in her lower lids. “I’m sorry. I thought I was done crying.”
I don’t know Lawrence incredibly well, but we’re on our way to becoming friends. “Is there something I can do?”
“No.”
I take her hand and tug. “Come sit.”
I take the seat beside her at Porter’s desk. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nothing’s wrong per se. It’s just that Lucas and I are trying to have a baby, and I thought I was pregnant. But it turns out that I’m not.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Have you been trying for long?”
“Not long but we’ve already been told by doctors that it will probably take a while. It was silly of me to think it had already happened.”
“You never know. It could happen quickly.”
“It’s just very disappointing to think I was and then find out differently.”
See, this kind of thing pisses me off. You have a couple who wants to have a baby and either can’t or will go through problems achieving it, and then you have clusterfuck—supposedly on birth control—who gets pregnant during a one-night stand with a condom. Totally unfair.
She wipes her tears away. “I don’t need to fixate on that. I want to see your designs.”
Lawrence takes my mind off my baby problems, and I take her mind off hers. We’re still talking and laughing when Porter returns from clusterfuck’s doctor’s visit.
“Sounds like y’all are having a party in here.”
“Maybe.”
Porter goes to Lawrence and kisses the side of her face. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Whatcha been up to?”
“Not much. Just staying busy at the cider company.”
“Busy is always good for business.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I’m married to the numbers guy, remember?”
“Yeah. Lucas loves to run numbers, especially when they equal dollars.”
Lawrence gets up. “I’ve gotta get going. I have a lunch date with my husband.”
Porter winks at me. “I’m ready for a little lunch myself. How ’bout you, baby?”
“I could eat.”
“Love the designs, Frankie. Give me a holler when you’re done with edits.”
“Will do.”
Lawrence smiles as she leaves, shutting the door behind her, and Porter pulls me into his arms. “I’m so fucking glad to be done with that.”
I hate to break it to him, but he’s not done. He’s just getting started.
“Was it horrible?”
“No. I’m just not sure why she insisted I go. They didn’t do anything but look at her.”
“They didn’t listen to the heartbeat?”
“Yeah, they did that and asked her some questions.”
“I’m sure she wanted you to hear the baby’s heartbeat.” That’s just one of the many ways she’s going to try to make Porter bond with this baby.
“I can’t believe she had me leave work for that. It was nothing but a waste of my time.”
“Aside from the appointment, how did seeing her go?”
He looks away and grunts.
“What?”
“She was sitting on the table waiting for the doctor to come in and she pulled up her shirt to show me her bump and told me to touch it.”
“Did you?”
“No. I’m not touching her.”
“Did anything else happen?”
“They scheduled her next appointment while we were there and she’s having an ultrasound to find out the baby’s gender. She wants me to come to that.”
“Of course she does. I’d expect no less.”
“I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”
“A father should be there for the ultrasound. That visit is important. But after that, I don’t think it’s necessary for you to go to regular appointments with her if everything is okay.” I don’t think most dads-to-be go to all of the appointments. I only see a couple of men in the waiting area with their wives or girlfriends when I go see my OB-GYN.
“I was hoping you would say I didn’t have to go to any more at all.”
“It’s not my decision to make.”
“I guess I’ll go to that one, but she can forget me coming to any more after that.”
“As long as it’s always your choice.” I won’t have clusterfuck blaming me for Porter missing any milestones in this baby’s life. If he does, it’ll be his decision.
“My choice is to get out of here and start our lunch break.”
“That would be my choice too.”
“I think I feel like fucking you on the kitchen counter today. And maybe I’ll lick peanut butter off your nipples. And jelly.”
“Well, you do enjoy a good PB&J.”
“I bet there’s never been a better PB&J than what I’d lick off your body.”
“Only one way to find out.”
Another month behind us and clusterfuck is at the halfway point of her pregnancy. It’s been easy to avoid her because she hasn’t come back to Porter’s condo. I’m grateful for that but her calls to him are coming more frequently.
He took them for the first couple weeks after her last appointment, but he’s had to resort to telling her only to call in the event of an emergency.
Everything is a fucking emergency.
She vomits and it’s an emergency.
She spots and it’s an emergency.
She farts and it’s an emergency.
But the one that takes the cake is her calling an ambulance because she said her water may have broken. Turned out she just has a nasty vagina and it was vaginal discharge coming out.
But she managed to get Porter out of bed with me to come to the hospital to check on her.
Today is her ultrasound to determine the baby’s gender. We haven’t discussed it, but the day is here now, and we’ve no choice but to talk about it. “Do you want a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you don’t care because you’re afraid I’ll be upset if you show some interest in your child.”
“I’m not acting.” He shakes his head and shrugs. “I don’t feel anything when I think about this baby. And then that makes me feel like a shitty person because I know I’m supposed to have some kind of bond or connection or feelings for my child. But I don’t.”
“You’re not a shitty person. The feelings will come when they c
ome.”
“Maybe I don’t have the dad gene.”
I hate that he doubts himself. “I’ve seen you with Anna Cade and Bennett and Callan and Willow and Keeley. You sooo have the dad gene. It oozes out of you when you’re around children and makes my ovaries ache.”
“I love that your ovaries ache for me.”
“A lot of my stuff aches for you.”
“I love that too. I have ten minutes until I have to leave.”
“And?”
“Let me stick it in you.”
“Porter…”
“Come on, baby. Let me put it inside you. I’ll be fast.”
“Is the door locked?”
“It can be.”
“Lock it.”
25
Porter Beckman
I sit in the chair beside Charlotte in the exam room while the woman prepares the machine for her ultrasound. “I want you to stand by me so you can see better.”
“I can see just fine from here.”
“No, you can’t. Come here.”
Charlotte loves to tell me what I should be doing. A lot. And it pisses me off.
“You won’t be able to see as well over there,” the female technician confirms.
I’d love to tell these two that I honestly don’t give a shit if I see anything or not.
I get up and stand by the table, my arms crossed, and she reaches out to me. “What are you doing?”
“I want you to hold my hand.”
“I don’t want to.”
Charlotte crosses her arms over her abdomen. “You smell like her.”
“Of course I smell like her. I’m always going to smell like her.”
The woman about to do the ultrasound looks over at me and then back at the machine. I’m certain she thinks I’m the biggest asshole who ever walked the face of the earth, but that’s because she’s judging a situation she knows nothing about.
“All set. I’m ready to start. Warm goo on your belly.”
The woman moves the wand over Charlotte’s stomach and points out different parts of the baby’s body for us to see. She says it’s this or that but I can’t make heads or tails of any of it.
“Look, Porter. You can see the baby’s hand and fingers.”
That one I can sort of make out. “Yeah.”
“Let’s see if this baby will show us if it’s a boy or girl.”
The woman moves the wand and takes a still shot of the view between the baby’s legs. She blows it up and points to the screen. “That looks like a girl to me.”
Charlotte squeals and reaches for my hand, this time successfully stealing it from my crossed arms. “Oh my God, Porter, we’re having a little girl. A daughter.”
I don’t want any of this with her.
“We have to start talking about names and picking out the paint color for the nursery and the baby furniture. It’s going to be so much fun.”
None of that is going to be fun.
The technician interrupts Charlotte’s gleeful idiocy. “Have you been feeling any contractions?”
“I don’t think so. But this is my first baby. I don’t know what contractions feel like. Why are you asking?”
“Your cervix looks a little open. I’m going to let your doctor know.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I’m going to talk to your doctor so he can make sure. Stay there and I’ll be right back.”
Charlotte’s eyes dart to mine. “What she just said didn’t sound good.”
“I’m sure everything is fine.”
“I’m scared. What if something is wrong?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m sure she has to report every little thing she sees. Wait for the doctor to tell you if there’s something to be concerned about.”
Charlotte’s doctor comes into the exam room. “The tech tells me she might be seeing a little bit of dilation. Could be nothing, but I’m going to do a very gentle vaginal exam and see if it feels like your cervix is misbehaving.”
I turn my head when the doctor pulls back the sheet to examine Charlotte. She squeezes my hand and looks up at me. It’s real fear I see there.
“Your cervix is soft and dilated about a fingertip. That’s not okay for someone at twenty weeks’ gestation. I’m going to admit you to the hospital and monitor you to see what’s going on.”
“Am I losing the baby?”
“A lot more would need to happen for you to deliver. That’s why I’m putting you in to be monitored. I want to make sure nothing further happens. And if it does, we’ll need to stop it.”
Charlotte bursts into tears. “I knew something like this was going to happen. I knew she was going to upset me so much that something was going to go wrong.”
“Who upset you?”
“Frankie.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “You’ve had no contact with her in almost two months. How could she possibly have upset you?”
“She won’t let you take my calls.”
“That has nothing to do with her.”
“She’s trying to keep you from being a part of the baby’s life.”
She has no idea that the only reason I’m here is because of Frankie. “I didn’t want to come today, but she told me I needed to.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I don’t give a fuck if you believe it or not.”
“Seriously? I’m lying here pregnant with your baby, and I may be in preterm labor and you’re talking to me like that?”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you. I want you to want me. And I want you to want our baby so we can be a family. The family I never had.”
She is delusional.
“I’ve already told you that I love Frankie. She’s the one thing I want and love most in this world. That isn’t going to change because you’re pregnant with my baby.”
Charlotte releases my hand as though it’s burned her. “You are such an asshole.”
We fucked once. I didn’t even know her name when she came to tell me about the baby. Why does she believe I’m going to drop everything in my life to be with her?
A nurse comes into the exam room. “Honey, I’m going to move you to a room in labor and delivery.”
Charlotte is sobbing and wailing the whole way to the room. Everybody we pass is looking at her. And then at me.
Several nurses come into her room, each doing something different to her—which causes even more sobbing and wailing.
What a shit show.
Porter: Not sure what’s going on.
Porter: They’ve admitted Charlotte to the hospital because she may be in preterm labor.
Frankie immediately calls. “What’s happening?”
“The doctor admitted her to the hospital because her cervix was dilated a little bit.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“They want to monitor her to make sure she isn’t in preterm labor. And if she is, they’ll need to stop it.”
A pillow slams against the side of my head, causing me to drop my phone. “You’re seriously talking to her while I’m over here going through all of this? When it’s all her fault?” She’s shouting so loudly they can probably hear her in the waiting room.
“Stop it, Charlotte.”
I see the nurses looking at one another. Wondering. Assuming. Judging.
Presuming I’m a cheating asshole. And it fucking bugs me.
I pick up my phone and walk toward the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I say nothing as I step into the hallway. “Porter, are you still there?”
“Baby, this is a fucking mess up in here.”
“I heard what she said. What is she talking about?”
I was hoping she hadn’t heard that. “She’s blaming you for putting her into preterm labor.”
“What the actual fuck? I haven’t seen or spoken to her in two months.”
“We’re not dealing with a reasonable person.”
“That’s becoming more and more apparent. So what happens now?”
“I guess we see if she’s in preterm labor and go from there.”
“Does that mean you have to stay with her?”
“I don’t know. What is my responsibility to her in this situation?”
“You may be her baby’s father, but you’re basically a stranger. I would think she’d want her family and friends to be with her.”
“Under normal circumstances, I would think so too, but I’m not sure with her.”
“I guess you’re not coming back to work right now. What do you want me to tell people?”
“Let’s just say I went home sick.” That’s not entirely a lie. I feel like I want to puke.
I’m beginning to see this for what it really is. A situation that is far more fucked up than I originally thought.
Frankie is sitting on my living room couch when I come home. I go to her without saying a word and wrap my arms around her. We stay like that for at least five minutes, and I enjoy the calm she instills in me.
So different from the yelling and bellowing I’ve listened to all day.
“I’m so fucked, Frankie.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I think something is wrong with that woman.”
“Like what?”
“It’s as though everything she does is to gain attention and put on a show for someone. Every reaction is over-the-top extreme. And I’m having a baby with her. I’m stuck with that for the rest of my fucking life.”
It nearly sends me into a state of panic when I consider the reality of it.
“Do you think she has some kind of personality disorder or something like that?”
“Odds are good, but I’ve figured out one thing for sure today. She’s obsessed with having me and obsessed with needing you to be out of the picture.”
“That’s not new.”
I haven’t told Frankie all the crazy, bizarre, extreme things she has said.
“It’s new in that I had no idea how severe it was. It’s not rational. It’s scary. Like a Lifetime movie kind of scary.”
“One conversation and I knew. She’s going to be a huge problem whether we allow it or not.”
“I can’t believe I was with her. Fuck, I could kick myself in the ass.” I squeeze Frankie. “Baby, I am so sorry that I have brought this woman into our lives.”