Wrong (18 page)

T
he cab drops
me off outside the main entrance at Baldwin Memorial. The electronic doors whoosh open before me and I pause for a moment on the sidewalk. This is it. I need to talk to Luke and find out exactly what he's thinking. I'm having a baby, his baby. It wasn't in my plans, but it's happening all the same.

I take a deep breath. The sky is clear today, the air crisp with the promise of spring around the corner. It occurs to me how much is about to change. Graduation is in May, I'll be moving off campus, and sometime this fall I'll be a mother. I falter for a second on that thought. I'm going to be a mother—not someday, but this year—and the idea terrifies me.

I will be leaving a hospital, maybe this one, with a newborn baby thrust into my arms. I know I won't be a terrible mother, but what if I'm not a good one? What if I'm just passable at it? What if it doesn't come naturally to me and I make questionable parenting choices? What if I have to do this all alone?

The doors whoosh again and I take in a gulp of fresh air and walk inside. I bypass the welcome desk and head straight for the elevators, intent on my destination. The energy inside the hospital is so different from outside. It's sterile, sure, but palpable. It occurs to me as I hit the call button that I don't know for certain that Luke is here. I'm usually in class on Friday afternoons. Luke is here most of the time, as far as I can tell.

I exit the elevator on Luke's floor and make my way to his office, the smell of antiseptic stinging my nose.

"Sophie!"

The doctor from my stay here a couple of weeks ago approaches. "Sophie," she repeats. "I'm Dr. Kallam. I treated you when you were here," she says, searching my face for recognition. "Are you here to see me or Luke?"

Oh, right, she wanted to see me for a followup.

"Yes, I remember you, Dr. Kallam. I'm here to see Luke, but I guess I need to make an appointment with you? I have no idea what I'm doing," I find myself confessing, touching my stomach. Am I already messing this up? "I…" I pause. "Is it okay?" I look at Dr. Kallam for reassurance. "I'm not supposed to be doing anything special yet, am I?"

Dr. Kallam smiles at me. She's a beautiful woman, about Luke's age. I feel a twinge of annoyance that Luke is surrounded by so many attractive women at work, all more competent than me in this baby business.

"It's still early, Sophie. I'd like you to start a prenatal vitamin, cut out any alcohol and caffeine and get plenty of rest. That's enough for now and you'll need to start regular appointments with your primary OBGYN."

I shake my head. "I don't have one."

"You can make an appointment with my office or Luke can provide you a list to choose from. I'm surprised he didn't explain this to you." Dr. Kallam tucks a piece of perfectly curled hair behind her left ear and gazes at me questioningly.

"We haven't talked much," I offer.

She nods. "He's with a patient right now. I'll let you into his office. I'm sorry I allowed you to leave without us speaking, but Luke was very insistent that you have the opportunity to tell him yourself."

"I didn't know," I tell her as she unlocks his door and we sit in the chairs across from Luke's desk. "I had no idea. I've taken my birth control religiously. He thought I knew?" I look to Dr. Kallam for confirmation.

She pauses then nods. "It was really important to him to hear it from you."

"Why? He's made a career out of telling women they're pregnant."

"He has." Dr. Kallam smiles at my description of his work. "I imagine he didn't want you to feel pressured."

"He wanted me to decide if I would keep it without his influence?"

She nods slightly before speaking. "I've been friends with Luke for a long time," she says before trailing off, leaving me to fill in the blanks.

She gets a page then and stands. "I've got to run, Sophie. Please call my office and get on my schedule or let me know if you need a referral."

She leaves, a whiff of her perfume lingering behind her as the door shuts, and I'm left alone in Luke's office. I tap my fingers on the chair edge and stare at the low bookcases along the wall. Above them is a corkboard running the length of the wall filled with pictures of babies, and upon closer inspection, what looks like thank-you letters from new parents. Gah, I know nothing about babies. I stare at the pictures for a moment. They're so small. How does one even dress something that small? I examine the shelves underneath looking for a baby manual of some kind. It's mainly medical journals but I locate a few copies of
What to Expect When You're Expecting
. They look new, as if Luke keeps them for potentially overwhelmed pregnant patients. He probably doesn't need to read any of this himself, having memorized it in medical school. At least one of us has a clue.

I slide a copy off the shelf and move around to Luke's chair so I can lay the book flat on his desk. Why is this book so big? I'm overwhelmed as I turn to the first page and even more so by the time I reach page twenty. I need to take notes. I glance around Luke's desk for something to write on and, coming up empty, open the desk drawer.

My eyes take in the contents, but my brain is on slow motion trying to process what I'm seeing when there's a tap on the door followed by Gina breezing in like she's entitled. I close the drawer and watch as the smile she had reserved for Luke falls off her face.

"Snooping in Luke's office, Sophie? Have a little class, would you?"

Oh, good, we're going to hit the ground running today. "May I help you with something, Gina? Like the number to a dating service? I'm sure one of them specializes in finding matches for trolls."

"Cute, but save it for yourself. I have Luke." Her face is smug.

"You don't." I shake my head. "You might have once, but you most definitely do not have him now. Because I do, and I'm not giving him up."

Her eyes land on the book open facedown on the desk and I can see a hiccup of terror cross her face. "You're pregnant?" She's stunned. "I can't believe Luke would let this happen, he's so careful."

I want to vomit into Luke's trash can at the knowledge that she knows anything about Luke, much less his proficiency at birth control, but suddenly things start falling into place.

"You had an abortion, didn't you? When you dated Luke, you had an abortion." I don't even need her to confirm it. Everything finally adds up.

"Luke doesn't want children, Sophie," Gina spits. "He's focused on his career, he doesn't have the time or desire for children to slow him down. He's going to dump you and you're going to be fat and alone."

I know she's lying. There's a Wall of Baby with cherubic little faces and handwritten thank-yous from their parents that prove she is lying. The man made a career out of helping women become mothers, the pictures proudly documenting his success. I don't think for a second that he doesn't want that for himself. Yet her words sting, like shrapnel. Even lying words are hurtful.

"I think," I say slowly, "you're a liar. I think Luke is careful with contraception because some troll from his past had an abortion he didn't want. I think Luke respects me and wanted the timing to be my choice. And finally, Gina, I know Luke wants this baby. Our baby. It's over, Gina. This pathetic attempt of yours to guilt Luke about a decision you made by having him treat you for infertility is over. Do you even have infertility issues or was it all a ploy to spend time with him?" I shake my head. "You need psychological help, not a gynecologist. Now get the hell out of Luke's office and my life."

The door slams behind her and I dive back into the desk drawer, running my hand over the contents. I pull one out and run my fingers across the Christmas fabric. Christmas was a month ago—Luke didn't know I was pregnant until two weeks ago. I pull the drawer open farther and teeny-tiny turkeys peer up at me. Thanksgiving was two months ago. He's been collecting a stash of adorable baby socks for at least two months. The kind of socks I'd wear in miniature form. There’s a pink pair, covered in red hearts. Another pair covered in little peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The tiny red and white striped elf socks still in my hands.

That hot son of a bitch wants me to have his baby.

I don't feel duped. I believe what I told Gina. I think he did want the timing to be my choice. I place the socks back in the drawer and slide it shut with a thump.

I look at the six-hundred-page book in front of me and, feeling overwhelmed by everything I don't know, snap it shut and place it back on the shelf. Returning to Luke's chair, I tuck my feet up beside me and wrap my arms around my bent knees.

I'm wondering how much longer I'll be able to sit like this before my stomach prevents such a configuration when Luke walks in. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob, taking me in, sitting behind his desk.

"Sophie," he says, looking relieved to see me, yet wary at the same time. He shuts the door behind him with a click and takes a seat across from me.

"You bought a car that will accommodate car seats?"

"Yes," he replies, his face giving away nothing at my random conversation starter. I expected some kind of denial, so I'm not sure what to do with this.

"You got a baby car before telling me"—I point to myself—"that we're having a baby. That’s wrong, don’t you think?" I say with a hint of ire. "You're ridiculous. We won't even need it for another eight months."

He smiles then, the biggest smile I think I've ever seen on this face. "Seven, actually."

I pause and drop my hand. I don't even know how pregnant I am. I shake my head at him and turn my gaze away from him as Luke moves around to sit on the edge of the desk in front of me.

"Why are you mad?" he asks, caressing my cheek with his thumb. "I know it's scary, Sophie, but everything's going to be fine. Perfect, even."

"You're laughing at me," I protest.

"I'm not." He shakes his head to emphasize it.

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because you said we're having a baby."

"Well, yeah," I answer, confused. "You already knew that."

"I knew you were pregnant." He pauses, searching my eyes. "I didn't know if you'd want it."

"I do want it. But I'm scared. This isn't what I'd planned."

"I know you have plans that don't include a baby just yet, and I'm sorry I put you in this position. But if this is what you want, we can make it work." He stops and searches my face again. "I want it, Sophie. You, the baby, all of it."

I nod. "We'll figure it out."

"Together?"

He holds out his hand and I take it.

S
ophie doesn’t know it
, but today is our fifth anniversary. Five years ago today I took a wrong turn that changed my life. There was construction on Walnut. I detoured and missed my normal stop at Starbucks. I spotted Grind Me and stopped on a whim, desperate for a jolt of caffeine before the clinic.

I had no reason to go back the next week. Or the week after that. Weeks of detours for no reason other than a glance at a barista named Sophie. I had to finish the coffee in my damn car every day since I wasn’t about to walk into a student clinic holding a cup stamped Grind Me.

I never intended to start up anything with her. I knew she was young. I assumed she was a grad student at the very least, but that was still too young for me. It was nothing more than a harmless ego boost at first - watching her pupils dilate when I spoke, her cheeks flush when she handed me coffee. Seeing her eyes follow me in the reflection of the glass every morning as I strode out of the cafe.

Slowly I began to question, Why not her? I could take her out to dinner. Fuck her. Get her out of my system. But hell, she looked like the kind of girl who’d need to be called the next day. She looked like the kind of girl who had baby names picked out and would practice writing Mrs. Miller on scraps of paper. She looked
terrifying.

But I didn’t have any idea what terrifying actually felt like until I realized that I was the one who wanted all those things, and I wasn’t sure she did. That maybe the past was repeating itself. That maybe Sophie might be more interested in a career than a husband and children, with no faith that she could have
both.

I glance at her, sleeping next to me. She’s stirring with the morning sun filtering in. We don’t have long before the girls will be awake and the day begins. I reach over and trace kisses down her jaw to her chest.

"Mmm, good morning to you too, Dr. Miller. Tell me you locked the door?" she pleads.

I release a nipple from my teeth before replying. "Locked, and they’re both still asleep." I part her legs and move between them as I kiss her stomach. "Based on the time we should have at least twenty minutes."

She laughs. "Remember when we had all day?"

"I do." I grin at her.

"I miss the marathons, but I do enjoy seeing how creative you can be on a deadline."

"Do you?" I ask and drop her ankles over my shoulders.

"Uh-huh."

"I enjoy it when you visit me at work after dropping the girls off at the hospital daycare."

"Do you think we're bad parents? Are the other parents using daycare to slip in a middle-of-the-day fuck?"

"If they're not, they should be."

"It was one thing when they couldn't walk, but they're little terrors now."

I pause and raise my head. "You don't want another one?"

"We have two!" she exclaims. "Under five! I just got Christine off to pre-school and I finally have Alessandra out of diapers."

"Well, maybe you'll change your mind?" I raise an eyebrow at her.

"Wait a minute." She sits up and scoots away from me. "Wait, wait, wait." She eyes me, scowling. "Do you think I'm pregnant now?"

"You're three days late."

"You're three days annoying."

"I love the way your insults don't even make sense when you're flustered." I reach for her calf to pull her back to me, but she dodges me and grabs her phone from the nightstand.

I wait patiently while she thumbs through looking for her period-tracker app.

“How do you do that?” She scowls. “You don’t even have the app!”

"Pregnancy tests under the sink," I call out as she stomps off to the bathroom. "I can get a blood draw this week when you stop in for office sex."

"Thanks, babe, that's convenient," she replies sarcastically, and I just laugh.

I hear the stick hit the trash can before she appears from the bathroom with a sigh she doesn’t mean.
I smile and crook my finger, beckoning her back to bed to finish what we started.

Something thumps against the bedroom door and the handle shakes back and forth. "Mommy?"

She sags. "There goes morning sex. For the next decade."

"Just a minute," I call out to whichever kid is in the hallway. "You," I say to her, "get back in bed. Give me five minutes, I'll set them up with a snack and a Disney movie and be right back."

She bites back a smirk. "You're going to distract our children with a movie so we can have sex? You’re so wrong."