Finding Our Forever: (A Defining Moments Novel) (22 page)

It’s been several minutes, and the directions say you only have to wait three minutes. I’m terrified to look. I turn around to grab the test, but Eli is in my way. I can’t even look at him right now. Stepping around him, I pick up the test and take several steps away from him.

The moment I look down at the test, a sob tears from my throat. Eli reaches around me and takes the test from my hands, looking down at it with confusion.

“What? What the fuck does it say?” he yells.

I flinch at his tone before turning and looking directly at his face, not bothering to stop the tears flowing down mine. “It’s negative, Eli,” I tell him with zero emotion. “You’re free to go.” His face relaxes and he reaches his hand out to me, but I push past him out of the bathroom, walk into my bedroom, and shut the door gently behind me. He calls my name, but I don’t respond.

I pad to the back side of my bed, facing away from the door, and sit on the edge. Placing my hands on my knees, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’m not pregnant. I’m numb.

I hear the door open, but I don’t turn before I speak. “I want you to leave.”

“Sara, I think we need to….” He starts to speak, but I shake my head, standing and turning to face him before he can continue. I need him to see and hear the seriousness of my words.

“I want you out of my house,” I tell him as he takes a step toward me.

“Sara—” he says gently.

“Now, Eli,” I say firmly, never breaking eye contact with him.

His eyes roam my face, for what I have no idea, but he must find it because his face falls before he nods and turns for the door.

“I’ll call you later,” he says quietly as he walks out.

I don’t respond. He won’t call, and even if he does, I won’t answer.

IT’S BEEN TWO DAYS
since the negative test and he hasn’t called or texted. I knew he wouldn’t, and although I don’t want to talk to him, it hurts that he handled things so badly and didn’t seem to have much of a problem walking away.

The text that I received that night was from Ramzi, asking how things went. As I’d climbed into bed, I’d texted her that I wasn’t pregnant and that Eli was no longer up for discussion. She’d responded with an apology and a promise to see me in a couple of days with wine and chocolate.

I figure if I haven’t started in a couple of days, which would make me more than two weeks late, I’ll call and make an appointment with my gynecologist. I think I might do that even if I do start. After all that, I think I need to add some sort of birth control to my life. Not that I’ll be having sex anytime soon, but when I’m ready, I want double coverage.

As much as I would enjoy continuing my non-showering-junk-food-eating-while-binge-watching-Netflix-in-my-bed-all-day party, I have to go back to work tomorrow, so I have shit I need to do today. Bills to pay. Groceries to buy. Laundry to do.

I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water is therapeutic and exactly what I need to let go of the pain. In the quiet of my shower, I let the tears fall. I mourn the loss of a relationship I thought might actually go somewhere and the loss of a pregnancy that never was. Until this moment, I don’t know that I realized how deeply I was starting to feel for Eli. We’d spent almost every free day we’d had together over the past several months. He had worked his way under my skin and into my crazy life. That was gone now. I cry and get pissed and cry some more, and when the water starts to run cold, I let all of the pain, tears, and regret flow down the drain.

DAY THREE STARTS
like any normal work day. I clock in, check the patient board, and start out for my rounds. About an hour in, I feel the telltale signs of starting my period and head for the bathroom.

And there it is. Thirteen days late.

After doing what I need to do, I head back over to the nurses’ station to check in with Dr. Hill, and stop dead when I see a huge bouquet of flowers sitting on the desk.

“Sara,” Dr. Hill greets me. “It seems you have an admirer.”

I smile at him as I step over to the bouquet and remove the card, trying to calm my heart rate.

“I love you. Fuck him. I’m coming over tonight for a girls’ night in. BE READY! – R”

I laugh so I don’t burst into tears. “They’re from my best friend,” I tell him.

Dr. Hill smiles politely and nods before turning and striding down the hall.

The rest of my shift drags, and by the time I make it to the parking garage to head home, I’m dead on my feet.

Once I’m home and showered, it’s only a few minutes before Ramzi bursts through my front door carrying grocery bags, an overnight bag, and a bag from my favorite Mexican restaurant.

“Dude. Come help me before I drop this shit,” she yells for me. Diesel gets in her way and she stops moving. I’ll never understand her fear of him. He seriously is the sweetest dog on the planet.

“Diesel, come here, boy,” I call out to him and he moves over to sit beside the couch. I jump up and help her.

“I brought refried beans, chips and salsa, wine, chocolate, more wine, and the first three Harry Potter movies,” she says with a huff as she throws herself onto the couch. “I think I need this girls’ night as much as you do.”

We sit and stuff our faces with the snacks, talking about everything except Eli and Ben. Work. Her new gym. The bar.

We start the first movie and get less than halfway in when we have to pause it for bathroom breaks and refills. The wine is going down smoothly.

While Ramzi is in the bathroom, her phone buzzes and I look down at it sitting beside me and see the text is from Ben.

Benji: I’m going to have to cancel our sleepover tomorrow, babe. Eli is apparently drinking his way through this breakup and I need to make sure he’s okay.

Breakup, huh? I guess that answers the question of whether or not he’ll be contacting me again. I turn away from her phone as she steps back into the room, but she must see the disappointment on my face because she strides directly to her phone and picks it up. Reading the text, she shakes her head and looks over at me.

“Have you talked to him at all?” she asks gently.

I shake my head. “Nope. When he left my house the day I took the test, he said he’d call me later. That was three days ago.” I pause before continuing. “If I'm being honest, as mad as I was at him the other day, I understand why he freaked out. We weren’t ready for that step. Not even close. But the way he spoke to me, with such anger and contempt, was beyond unreasonable. I feel as if after a couple of days of cooling off, we could’ve talked it out rationally. Even if the discussion was to end things. Hearing that my ‘relationship’ is over in a text to someone else wasn’t the greatest way to find out, but it is what it is.” My throat closes up a bit so I drop the subject. I’m done crying.

She looks at me for a second longer before she starts typing something in response, throws her phone onto the couch, and picks up our wine glasses and heads to the kitchen for refills. I can’t stop myself from reaching over and picking up her phone to find out what she said to him in response.

Ramzi: Your brother is a dick and he doesn’t deserve her after the way he acted the other day. Rain check on the sleepover.

I chuckle to myself and put her phone back down. That girl always has my back, and I’m going to miss her so much when I leave in a couple weeks. Her phone buzzes a few more times, but she never even looks at it. I don’t need to see his responses. I remind myself that knowing, no matter what happens in my crazy life, I will always have Ramzi on my side is enough. She’s my person.

She returns to the living room with our wine glasses filled to the top, and we spend the rest of the night watching wizards, snacking, and drinking. We both pass out in the living room in our clothes.

THE NEXT FEW DAYS
drag by. Still no word from Eli, and with my departure for Arizona getting closer and closer, my heart starts to accept that it’s over.

My days are filled with work and my nights with packing and prepping my house to rent while I’m gone. Diesel can tell something weird is going on and isn’t liking it one bit. He insists on following me everywhere, and last night woke up every hour to pace the house. Maybe he misses Eli too.

When the rest of the week passes with no word from Eli, my anger kicks in. I’ve been attempting to cook a lot more in an effort to distract myself. Tonight’s special is carne asada and grilled corn. It turned out amazing, for once, but it’s just not the same when you’re making it for yourself. After a few too many margaritas, I decide it’s a good idea to call him.

It rings twice and goes to voice mail. He declined the call. Ouch.

Over the next thirty minutes, I drink another margarita and wonder about how things would’ve turned out between us if the pregnancy scare hadn’t happened. Guess it doesn’t matter now anyway. I know my determination to stay out of relationships until I’d accomplished my own goals was the best idea I’d ever had. I wish I wouldn’t have strayed from that plan, because look at me now, heartbroken over a guy who couldn’t care less. Who walked away and never looked back. Who declined a phone call from the woman who, just a week ago, thought she was carrying his child. The idea of the non-existent baby continues to make my heart hurt.

And now I know I’ve had enough to drink. Mourning a baby who was never even real is definitely a sign that it’s time for me to go to bed. As I get up to dump out the last of my margarita, my phone rings, which causes me to jump and scare the crap out of Diesel, who in return starts barking and running for the back door.

“Hello,” I answer quickly.

“Hey, it’s Eli. Sorry I missed your call. I was busy,” he says with no hint of emotion in his voice. There’s music and talking in the background. “So, what’s up?”

God, I’ve missed his voice. How can you miss a voice? I mean come on! Just his tone tells me he isn’t feeling the same. Obviously not too torn up about us because he’s out on the town. I’m so stupid.

“This was a mistake. I’m sorry I bothered you,” I say quickly and hang up. I stare at my phone for a moment before deciding to turn it off to keep myself from drunk calling him again.

After brushing my teeth, I get into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin and curling into a ball. My sleep is restless, filled with weird bad dreams, and I wake up tired, cranky, and vowing to never drink again.

My phone chimes several times when I turn it back on. All the texts are from Ramzi, except one from Eli. I read Ramzi’s first.

Ramzi: Just so you know, he’s at my bar with Ben. He’s not out and about screwing everything that moves.

Ramzi: He said you called him and sounded upset. Are you okay?

Ramzi: SARA! Goddamn it. Tell me you’re okay.

Ramzi: All right, I called and it went straight to voice mail. I assume you turned it off. Please call me in the morning. I love you.

I feel like a total bitch for making her worry. It’s only 7:00 a.m. but I text her back anyway so she’ll see it when she gets up.

Me: Sorry, girl. I turned my phone off after I drunk dialed him. I’m never drinking again, but I’m fine. Packing today. Come by if you get bored.