Wrong Page 18

  "No." I shake my head. "No, I don't want his money. I'm not my mother." The back of my eyes burn and I will myself not to cry.

  Everly hops off the counter and hugs me. "I know, bitch. I know," she says, rubbing my back. Only Everly can call me a bitch at a moment like this and make it comforting. "Sophie, you're the most conscientious person I know. No one will think you got pregnant on purpose."

  I spot a shiny new Land Rover parking out front as I pull away from Everly. I can't believe he's stopping in for his Tuesday morning coffee run like nothing has happened. I duck into the back and leave Everly to deal with him, busying myself unpacking a shipment of paper cups.

  I don't stop until Everly appears, leaning against the door jamb. "You're so stupid," she says in way of greeting.

  "I know," I agree, slumping.

  "No, dumbass, about Luke." She points her thumb in the direction of the street. "He traded in a sports car for an SUV."

  "Everly, I don't want his money. He can buy three cars for all I care."

  "I cannot believe you're the smart one," she mutters. "First of all, that's a luxury Land Rover, not a car. And secondly, it's a Land Rover, Sophie—that's the equivalent to a minivan for Luke. Jesus, he probably has a baby name site bookmarked on his laptop. You two are gross," she finishes and walks back into the shop.

  I chew on my bottom lip while I think about what Everly is saying.

  "He asked about you," she calls out as she walks away.

  * * *

  The next two days pass in a blur. I attend class, study and send out resumes. Boyd leaves me several messages about meeting to talk, but my energy level is so low all I've managed to do is text him back. Being an incubator is exhausting.

  I'm confused. Everly and Jean haven't been with Luke these last few months. They haven't heard the reminders about taking my pill at the same time every day, the refills being handed to me. The inquiries about my period. I don't think Luke wants a baby. At least not this second, or maybe just not with me.

  I'm back at Grind Me on Thursday working when I look up to find Boyd across the counter from me.

  “Hey, Boyd,” I greet him.

  “You’ve been ignoring my calls, little sister.” He smiles as he says it. “I’m sorry.” I pause. “I’ve had a lot going on.”

  “Yeah. I remember college life. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than return family phone calls.”

  “I wish it were that simple.” I groan.

  Boyd frowns. “Listen,” he says, tapping an envelope I’m only now noticing on the counter. “I have to leave town for a bit for work, and I wanted to take care of this before I left. Can you take a break? Or we can meet after your shift?”

  We sit in a corner booth and Boyd slides the envelope across to me.

  “What is this?” I ask, holding it between my fingertips.

  “Your inheritance.”

  “What?” I drop the envelope on the table in alarm.

  “Your inheritance,” he repeats. “From our father.”

  “That’s yours, Boyd.” I shake my head. “I don’t want it.”

  Boyd shakes his head at me and runs a hand over his jaw. “He meant for you to have that, Sophie.”

  I barely refrain from snorting. “He never even bothered to meet me.”

  “I talked to my mom,” Boyd says. “She knew.”

  I slump in the booth. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. I’d hoped she was oblivious to the fact that her husband cheated on her. But why did I wish that? So I didn’t have to feel guilty on my mother’s behalf? How stupid.

  “I’m sorry, Sophie.”

  Wait, what? “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

  Boyd laughs. “Why?”

  “My mom had no business messing around with your dad. He was married.”

  Boyd tilts his head and gazes at me for a minute. “Is that what you’ve been carrying around in your head these last few months? Sophie, we have nothing to do with anything that happened over twenty years ago between our parents. And if either of us should feel guilty for our parents’ actions, it’s me, not you. Your mom was barely an adult, yet as far as I can tell, she’s the only one who responded like an adult to a bad situation.”

  “What do you mean?” I’ve never really looked at my mom that way before.

  “My mom knew about the affair, Sophie. And she lived in fear, not of losing our dad, but of having her sham of a marriage exposed. She didn’t want to end up on the covers of the newspapers as yet another scorned political wife.”

  “Can’t say I blame her, Boyd.”

  He ignores me and continues. “When she learned your mom was pregnant she threatened to cut off our father’s campaign funding if he didn’t end it with her. Discreetly. Our father had a decent net worth by the time he passed,” he says, nodding to the envelope, “but my mother’s family has the real money. The kind of money you need to win a campaign.”

  “So he chose his political career,” I fill in.

  Boyd nods. “But I dug around some more. He never meant to write you out completely. Not financially at least. You”—he nods to the envelope—“were supposed to receive that when you turned eighteen.”

  I center the envelope on the table in front of me. “Why didn’t I?” I ask, looking up at Boyd.

  “My mother,” he answers with a grimace. “She had it buried. She knew with our father’s death that no one else knew about you. She didn’t count on a paper trail that would come back to haunt her.”

  I blow the air out of my lungs. “I’m a mess, Boyd. I’m pregnant,” I blurt out and continue in a rush. “I’m pregnant. I’m just like my mother. I’m repeating the cycle! I’m gonna have a baby just like me. And half this baby’s family will pretend it doesn’t exist.”

  Boyd leans back in the booth and tilts his head. “Are you pregnant with a married senatorial candidate’s baby?”

  “No. Don’t be ridiculous. Luke’s the only affair I’ve had. The baby is Luke’s.”

  “Luke’s married?”

  “No!”

  Boyd shakes his head. “Do we need to have a come-to-Jesus moment, little sister? How are you anything like our father and your mother?” Boyd asks, leaning his elbows on the table top.

  “Because it wasn’t planned, Boyd. Luke doesn’t want a baby. And his family hates me.”

  “Is that what Luke said?” Boyd scowls. “Is that what he said when you told him?”

  “Well, no. He knew before I did.” Boyd’s eyebrows rise at this. “And technically he’s the one who told me.”

  “And then he offered to set up a trust fund for the baby’s eighteenth birthday and kicked you out?”

  “No! Then I left before he had the chance.”

  “Oh.”

  “I just, I feel like a burden. He didn’t ask for this.”

  “Neither did you, Sophie. But you got in this together and you haven’t even given him the courtesy of discussing it like the adults you both are.”

  Hmm. He has a point.

  “You don’t need Luke, Sophie. If he’s not interested in participating in this baby’s life, you’ve got plenty of options in that envelope right in front of you, and you’re graduating in a couple of months. You don’t need anyone to take care of you. And no one is running you off except for you. Talk to Luke.”

  Chapter 34

  The 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.

  Epilogue

  Luke

  Sophie 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.