Jay Walking (24 page)

"Yeah. But he's not necessarily sticking around, either."

Amber taps the pregnancy test. "Stop wasting time. Go find out."

I take the box and work slowly to the bathroom. My fears subsided over the past hour, and in only a moment, they all return. The room has never seemed so cold and uninviting before. After I shut the door, I sit on the edge of the bathtub and take a deep breath. I can do this. Take out the stick, pee, wait three minutes, and find out if my life is about to take a crazy turn.

I pull a single test out - I ended up buying a three pack - and tear open the packaging. I glance through the directions like I always do. Yes, it's as easy as peeing on the stick for five seconds, but I want to make sure I'm not missing a step.
 

I can't delay this any further. I uncap it, head to the toilet, and do as the instructions state. Once the cap is back on, I set it on the counter, and sit back on the tub edge. And wait.

These three minutes are the longest I've ever encountered, even longer than when I took my pregnancy test with James. I grip the side of the porcelain, and after thirty excruciating seconds I begin to drum my fingers against the cold finish. My feet are tapping on the floor, my heart is beating faster than ever before in my life, and I can't even swallow. I'm running through all the possibilities in my head. How do I tell my parents? How do I tell Daniel? Will I ever be able to buy my own house now that I'll be supporting two children? This is only a two bedroom place, so if I can't afford a house how will I arrange the kids bedrooms? Will my scrapbooking business be worthless because I won't have any time to work on anything now that all my time will be spent caring for the baby and a toddler?
 

I check my phone and three minutes is almost up. I want to peek, but if I see a negative before I'm supposed to look, it doesn't mean that in twenty seconds it won't be positive. My hands move between my knees and I'm rocking back and forth. I need this to be over. For as much as I didn't want to know before, now I yearn for an answer. I'll figure out the answers to all my questions later. The one thing I am sure of is that if this test confirms my fear, I'll love this child as much as I love James. That won't change.
 

The time passes and I stop rocking. The silence in the room is almost shattering. I cover my face with my hands and slide them down, knowing the moment of truth is here. I release a deep breath before picking myself up and stepping over to the counter. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and exhale again. Upon opening my eyes I see the words: Not Pregnant. Relief filters through my body, and I vow the next time I take one of these tests, it will be because
I'm ready.
And with someone I love.

"Negative!" The door slams against the wall as I sprint out of the bathroom to Amber. "It's negative."

She jumps off the couch and embraces me. When she releases me, I snatch up my phone and do the one thing I can't wait to do. I text Jay.
 

•••

In true Chelsea Wyatt fashion, life hates me, and Jay ended up having to work the entire rest of the weekend so we didn't get to spend any time together. He texted me back he was glad I took the test and relieved at the negative result. I'm disappointed, though, because I don't know when I'll see him next. Are we officially a couple again? Does this mean he's my boyfriend now? He asked for an evening out this weekend (to talk? For romance?), but a few months ago I signed up for a Scrap-A-Thon, and my hotel reservation is non-refundable. My parents will take James while I'm gone, and I plan on making a lot of pages for my business. Jay says we can get together after I get back, but, an hour into my arrival, I'm already doubtful. Maybe things between us just aren't meant to be.

The hour and a half drive to Fond du Lac causes me to almost lose my voice. I never sing in the car, and the entire way I belt out songs from Kelly Clarkson, Gwen Stefani, and Pink. This passes the time, though, and I don't think about Jay as much as I expected to.
 

My hotel room is bigger than I thought from the pictures, with a queen bed, a couch, desk and a large picture window. I don't plan on spending much time in my room, though. The whole weekend I'll either be in the conference room scrapbooking, or soaking in the hot tub. Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly text my mom I arrived, grab my rolling cart of supplies, and head down to the event room.

A fair amount of people are already all set up in their own little areas. I don't know a soul here, so I do a quick overview of the room for someone who appears close to my age. I spot a girl with dark, curly hair and head over by her.

"Hi. My name is Chelsea. Is anyone sitting by you?"

She's gluing something down and is so focused she doesn't even lift her head up. "Nope. Take a seat."

I sit down and unzip my bag, pulling out a stack of photos first.

"I'm Nicole. Nice to meet you." She slaps her hands together to get rid of any glue before offering it to me.

"You too. Is this your first Scrap-A-Thon?" Next I place some paper to the left of me, my scissors to the right, and plant a glue stick in front of it all.

She shakes her head. "No. I go to these all the time, actually. This is my fifth this year. You?"

I'm impressed by her dedication. Even with making kits for other people, I don't think I can commit that much of my time to this. "Only my third one, ever," I say, and Nicole sheds eye contact with me. "I go to small ones where I live a lot. This is only my third big event."
 

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a bunch of completed pages. "I finished all these in the past hour."
 

I flip through them, both impressed and jealous. Nicole is extremely talented. I wouldn't be surprised if I these graced the pages of
scrapbooks, etc.
, one of my favorite magazines. They're sleek, modern, and detailed. "These are incredible. All this in an hour?"

"Thanks." She puts them back and switches them out with a binder. "I have a ton of layout ideas and I simply refer to them based on my photo sizes and how many." Running her hands down the side tabs, she says, "I separate designs by size and quantity."

My mouth drops open, and inadequacy is all I feel. Yes, I may be a great scrapbooker, but I am nowhere near this organized. If I want to run a successful business, I sure can use some pointers from Nicole. I'll be sure to swap ideas with her and probably cell numbers.
 

A screen in the front of the room displays different scrapbook pages from people in the room. Before the event, we all submitted some of our favorite pages, and in the corner, they list our name. I'm excited to be in a room with all these people who share the same passion and to see what things they deem scrapbook worthy. There are photos of children, significant others, dogs and cats, even lakes and flowers. Some come across as amateur, and others are so perfect I can't believe I'm here with them. For the next two hours, I create a few of the best kits I think I have ever created, and I can't wait to get them on my website.

By the time I finish, it's nearing one and I'm ready for a small bite to eat and a soak in the hot tub. Lying back and relaxing should give me a fresh set of ideas when I return to the scrapbooking room.

•••

I return to the event refreshed, and, as I predicted, a pocket full of ideas. Nicole's fascinating portfolio proves I can really make some amazing pieces if I let go of my fears and forge ahead with my designs. I'm used to creating pages for babies, weddings, and birthdays, but I never think outside of the box. People with first homes may enjoy something related to remodeling; others who love movies may revel in a scrapbook containing their favorites; and, some people who consume themselves in holidays may want more than Christmas scrapbooks. What about the Fourth of July, Valentine's Day, and Easter?

Nicole and I acknowledge each other, but she's already deeply involved in her project, and I'm antsy to get moving on mine. The display screen showed two or three of my pages, and I take a moment to view a few others that come up. With no more time to waste, I get to work.

Twenty minutes easily pass before Nicole is nudging me. "Hey, Chelsea - isn't that you?"

I glance up at the screen and see a page with the words "I'll Always Believe In You" and in the center is me crossing the finish line of the 5K. "Yeah. I ran a race last week."

I put my head back down and start cutting up a piece of paper. I don't remember that picture. Someone must have captured it for me. "Wait!" I say out loud. "I didn't make that page."

I turn my attention back to the screen and in the corner it says "Layout by Jay Stafford." The brad I'm holding pokes me in the finger, and I drop it on the table. Where did that come from? Why is a picture of Jay's in the slideshow?

Another layout pops up, again from the race. Then after that, the photo of me and him at the gym. What the hell? Where is the hidden camera? I furrow my eyebrows as I scan the room. No camera. But, then, as if out of nowhere, Jay glides across the front of the room and stands next to the screen.
 

"Chelsea Wyatt?" He asks as he puts his hand to his forehead and reviews the participants in the room. "Chelsea, please stand up."

He stands in front of at least eighty people, handsome as ever in his jeans and pale blue tee shirt. His dark hair is combed back, and a hint of stubble surrounds his cheeks and chin. My clothes are clinging to my body because I'm so sweaty and nervous, and I wipe my clammy hands on my pants. Taking a hold of the back of my chair, I rise.

"There you are!" He waves. "Hi."

Everyone's eyes are on me. Not one person in the room is working on their scrapbooks anymore. I'm back in high school, in speech class, looking like a fool as I hope I don't stumble over my words. I forgot my notecards, though, and I'm afraid of what's coming. "Um. Hi?" I'm so confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Ladies .... " He scans the room and checks for men. "Ladies, I'm here today to proclaim my commitment to Chelsea Wyatt. She came into my life six months ago, and, while it's been an interesting road, it's one I would repeat in a heartbeat. She's made some mistakes, but so have I."

I've screwed up plenty of times since we met, and I'll be the first to admit it. God, please don't tell this entire group of people our history. But what mistakes did he make?

Jay begins to walk toward me, and it's a long way because I'm in the back of the room. My hands keep moving from my sides to crossed in front of me. I want to sit down and bury my head.
 

"Chelsea, the day I met you and I walked out of that coffee shop, I hoped I would see you again. Then when you showed up at the hospital thinking you were dying from that bee sting, I thanked God for creating bees."

The crowd lets out a quiet laugh, and I do too, my eyes moist and lips quivering.

"When I found out about your son, I got scared. And when you reassured me it would all be okay, I believed you because I wanted nothing more than to be with you. That day your mom raced in and showed you those papers, my heart stopped. I didn't want to be in the middle of all this drama. Still, I knew that I also wanted to help you. I couldn't though. So I walked away."

The women in the crowd let out a sigh in unison, and it echoes in the room.

"Dumbest mistake of my life. I kept running into you. I don't doubt it's fate intervening. Then, when you texted me your results, I was so happy but also scared."
 

"Why? It's what we wanted." He doesn't need to be afraid.

"I care for you in a way I've never cared for anyone before." He reaches me and takes my hands. While mine are clammy, his are shaking. "As scared as I am, I've never felt more alone than when you aren't with me. I never want to feel that way again."

God, I hope he doesn't propose. I know I'm falling in love with him, but he hasn't even met James. I'm not ready to make that step yet. He'll be so embarrassed when I say no.

"Chelsea Wyatt," he begins.
 

Oh no. Here it is. I can't stop him. I'm frozen.

"Will you be my exclusive running partner?"

The words take a moment to register in my brain. He didn't propose, but, I think, he just asked me to be his girlfriend. Again. The world around me disappears and I skip between his eyes and his lips and I'm floating on air. The answer is on the tip of my tongue, but I can't speak. I'm in awe over what's happening. This is so romantic and my dreams are coming true. "I ..." I'm trying to reply, and finally I find it. "Yes! All the time yes, Jay."

He lets go of my hands, and my arms fall to my sides as he wraps his hand behind my neck and pulls me in. Our lips touch, and the entire room bursts into applause. I don't care everyone is watching; I'm lost in our tangle of a kiss, our bodies pressing against each other. In what seems to be too soon, we release from our kiss but don't lose our stare. This is an event to remember.

One Month Later

After the scrapbook event, I found out Clint snapped the picture of me and worked secretly with Jay. I'm lucky my friends are so great, and now I'm blessed with such an incredible boyfriend, too. I'm not ready to introduce Jay to James yet, so we text each other a lot and go on "dates" via FaceTime. I want things to work out, but I'm taking my time bringing him into my son's life.
 

Life is still on shaky ground when it comes to custody. My lawyer helped me draft up a few proposals to Daniel and his attorney, but they rejected them both. After much arguing with Mr. Ellis and my parents, they agree to let Daniel and I meet to discuss this face-to-face.
 

This time I tell Jay about the meeting, learning from our past. I'm grateful he's open to it and understanding about everything. In fact, he even coaches me and lets me sample the conversation with him in case it takes many different turns. Daniel and I decide to meet on a Thursday evening after work at the coffee shop.
 

When Daniel arrives, I'm already sipping on my latte. He's dressed very nicely and is clean-shaven, which is a rarity over the past few months. I barely recognize him.