Crazy for You Page 12

  “Oh, okay. Just wanted to check. We can’t have another episode of you fainting on us.”

  “No, I’m eating the right amount of calories, thanks to my trainer.” Charlotte grinned.

  “I’m guessing all is well in lovers’ paradise?” Melanie plopped on the wood floor and stretched her legs.

  “If it were any more perfect, I would pop. He’s seriously the best boyfriend ever. I can’t wait until the season ends in a few weeks.”

  “That’s right.” Tiana nodded. “How are you handling him on the road?”

  Charlotte shrugged, checking her Fitbit results. “I’m fine. Baseball is Jake’s passion, and I would never stand in his way. We make the most of our time when we’re together.”

  Melanie clapped her hands together. “I knew you two were meant for each other.”

  “Like you and Damien.” Charlotte pointed at Tiana. “And Nathan and Tiana. Speaking of which, how’s the wedding planning coming?”

  Tiana gave the thumbs up. “I think we’re finally on the same page. Releasing doves are finally off the table, but he’s going to get his frat brother’s son to herald me in.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess can live with that. Now we have to figure out the music for the first dance.”

  “Well, you have plenty of time, unlike me.” Melanie feigned a shudder. “The rumors are finally starting to die down that we had a rush wedding because I was knocked up. I had to rush order smelling salts for my mother, who swore I was pregnant.”

  Charlotte shook her head and laughed. Damien only gave Melanie a few months to plan the wedding. When Charlotte asked why he was in a rush, he’d told her he didn’t want to waste any more time—they’d already wasted over a decade pretending to be just friends.

  “My mom would’ve done the same thing, and my father would’ve demanded a shotgun wedding.” Her heart ached at the thought of her parents. She still hadn’t spoken to her family since the Zod debacle.

  Jake had encouraged her to reach out, but she’d refused. She didn’t want to open herself up to hurt again. But maybe he was right. Not speaking to them certainly hadn’t eased her pain. Maybe I’ll give Mom a call this weekend.

  • • •

  Charlotte smiled at the receptionist at the OB/GYN and checked into the office. After signing in, she settled into the hard plastic chair and pulled out her phone. A message from Jake lit her screen.

  She giggled at the picture he sent: an Aquaman meme.

  Last night, Jake had decided to surprise her and dressed up as a superhero. Of course, his definition of dress up was ordering a toy trident and plastic seahorses online, and his costume consisted of Jake completely naked in his hot tub. Her laughter fled when she remembered him taking her from behind. The stubble from his beard rubbing against her shoulder sent delicious tingles down her spine.

  “Charlotte Jones?” A tall, dark-skinned woman in purple scrubs smiled when Charlotte waved her hand.

  “Please follow me.” The tech led her into a small room and took Charlotte’s blood pressure and weight. When she stepped on the scale, Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see if she’d gained any more weight.

  After taking her vitals, the tech gave her a small container. “We’ll need a urine sample. Once you’re done, you can wait in Dr. Moira’s office. Third door to the right.”

  “Will do. Thanks.”

  After following instructions, Charlotte waited half an hour for the doctor to arrive.

  “Hello, Ms. Jones.”

  Dr. Moira gave her a tight smile and settled in a chair. Clearing her throat, she adjusted her wireframe glasses.

  “Well . . . ” Dr. Moira took a deep breath. “Lots and lots of birth control didn’t work. Or, you may have jumped the gun and started having unprotected sex before the medication fully activated. What I’m trying to say is . . . you’re pregnant.”

  Charlotte’s stomach dropped to mush on the floor. “What!” Her hands shot to her stomach. “H-how?” She rubbed her tongue against the roof of her mouth to jolt away the numbness. “How far along?” Her fingers trembled against her belly. What are my parents going to think? How will Jake react?

  “Approximately six weeks; you’re due end of May. I know the pregnancy is a shock, but that’s not what I’m concerned about. I took a look at your tests, and your blood pressure is through the roof. You were doing well with your prediabetes, and maybe if you’d waited another six months, you’d be okay. But you aren’t, and I’m afraid the pregnancy will be high-risk.” Dr. Moira took a breath and ran through the list of health issues. “Normally this is the part where I tell you congratulations, but I know this is a shock, and more importantly this is a health risk. I have to ask . . . do you want to consider having an—”

  “No!” Charlotte cut her off. “I w-want the baby.”

  Dr. Moira nodded. “Okay. Now you have to be careful and make sure to monitor your blood pressure as well as be in good blood glucose control during this pregnancy.”

  Charlotte sucked in a breath, overwhelmed by the news. “You said high-risk pregnancy. I know I’m at risk, but . . . is the baby’s life at risk?” She grabbed her stomach, already protective of her unborn child.

  Dr. Moira adjusted her glasses, her green eyes dull behind the lenses. “Yes. The baby is at risk.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Charlotte placed her hand over her belly. Two days since Dr. Moira had dropped the medical bomb, and Jake still hadn’t heard the news.

  Thankfully, he’d planned a guys’ trip with a few of his buddies, and she now had forty-eight hours to figure out how to tell the man she loved—but wasn’t quite sure how he felt about her—that she was having his baby.

  Oh, and the little thing that this pregnancy is high-risk. She gripped the windowsill and took in the fantastic view from Jake’s condo. He’d asked her to housesit, but she knew he’d really wanted her to stay at his place because the building had better security to protect her from the media bloodhounds.

  Pushing off the window, she turned and walked toward his bedroom. How could this happen? She knew darn well how it happened. Sex and lots of it. Dr. Moira said Charlotte had probably already ovulated when she started the pill. Now, instead of popping birth control pills, she was popping prenatal vitamins.

  She shuddered, recalling her adventure to purchase the vitamins. Like a criminal on the lam, she’d slipped on a nondescript hoodie and a Red Sox cap. Who would suspect the girlfriend of the star pitcher of the Yankees to wear a rival’s hat? With that logic, she’d left the condo and hurried toward the nearest train stop. She boarded and rode it all the way to Harlem.

  An elderly woman had crooked her finger and then patted the seat beside her. The woman had a sweet smile, like Big Mama, and instantly reminded Charlotte of front porches, sweet tea, and knitting afghans on late summer nights. Charlotte settled into the warm gooey emotion and the counterfeit Big Mama until the old biddy snatched off the hat. Twisting the cap in her veiny, pale hands, she mumbled something about “damn Red Sox fans.” Then the not-so-feeble old lady tossed the hat to the other end of the train. A few people had even cheered.

  After the biggest part of her disguise was revealed and a few fans recognized her, she swapped trains and returned to Jake’s condo, deciding to order the pesky vitamins online. Her imagination sped through the colorful headlines that would be created if the media found out about the pregnancy. A chill skimmed her skin. She had no desire to be known as Jake’s baby mama. I’m not Denise.

  A little-known actress Jake once dated, Denise had pretended she was pregnant with his baby. His name got dragged through the mud, and people crucified the actress. Charlotte winced, remembering the unkind words. Getting emails early in the AM about the latest blog posts or news article or clip about the duo had not been fun.

  She grabbed a tee and changed, then dropped her tired body on the bed, determined to figure out the best way to tell Jake the news. Should I just tell him? Rip it off like a Band-Aid? She buried her
face in a soft pillow and screamed.

  Some girls dream of their wedding day with lots of lace and white, bawling mothers, and teary-eyed fathers. Charlotte had never dreamed of that. She fantasized about the ever after. The babies. The cute way she’d tell her husband they were pregnant with tiny little shoes and a cute picture with a message. She sighed. But now here she was dumped in the ever after without experiencing the happily part.

  And is Jake happy? A rush of emotions crawled up her throat. Although he seemed to be enjoying monogamy, the former playboy had never been in a relationship. He’s going to feel trapped. The grilled chicken sandwich from lunch turned to lead. Heavy, so heavy. Her stomach bottomed out. Hollow. No, not hollow. There’s a baby in there. Our baby. According to the widget she downloaded, the baby was the size of a lentil bean. Baby Bean.

  She wrapped her hand around her middle. A strength she’d never known infused her body. Telling Jake was the least of her worries. She needed to focus on the baby’s health.

  A ringing phone yanked Charlotte out of her mini-epiphany. Mama flashed across her screen.

  Clearing her tear-clogged throat, she swiped the screen. “Hey, Mama.” She tried to modulate her voice to bright and light.

  “Charlie baby, you answered!” Her mother’s voice shook with emotion.

  Surprised by the tenderness, Charlotte’s breath caught in her chest. And on the heels of her astonishment, guilt wrapped itself like a steel band across her chest. She’d gone two months without speaking to her family.

  “Sorry, Mama. I just . . . needed some time.”

  “I understand, baby. Your father and I have been talking, and we’re really sorry. And I . . . we were hoping you could come home sometime. Maybe in a few months during the holidays, Christmas or New Year’s?

  “I-If you can’t take time off we can come visit. I’ve always wanted to celebrate Christmas or New Year’s in New York. I hear it’s beautiful.”

  Tears welled. “It is, Mom.” She wiped tears from her cheek. “It’s so beautiful, and I would love it if you could come. I just need to let Jake know. My apartment is kind of small, so we’ll have to book a hotel room for you and Dad.”

  A sigh of relief rattled into her ear. “Prissy and Davy want to come, too, if that’s all right?”

  Biting her lip to clamp down on the sigh that attempted to escape, Charlotte searched for the politically correct thing to say. Plain and simple, she loved her sister, but didn’t like her. But family relations weren’t plain and simple. They were exhausting and complicated. Charlotte didn’t much mind David, but Prissy would be sure to send her blood pressure skyrocketing. Maybe Dr. Moira could write me an excuse? She squelched the unkind thoughts.

  Her mother must’ve taken her silence as hesitation because she rushed on. “I know you and Prissy don’t get on, and I understand. But give her a chance. She’s sorry, too, and she’d like to make up for her bad behavior to you and your beau. Entertainment Tonight said you guys are still going strong. And you looked real nice in the red gown you wore to the charity event.”

  The band of guilt tightened around her chest. Her mother had kept tabs on her via entertainment shows. Could be the hormones or could be the moment, but a bucket of tears rushed forward. She hiccupped, took a quick, shallow gasp of air, and then continued crying.

  “Charlotte! Baby, tell me what’s wrong?”

  “E-everything, Mama. Everything!”

  “Honey, I need you to take deep breaths.” Her mother’s tone was soothing, and it made Charlotte homesick for the very first time. She did as her mother instructed and calmed her breathing as she focused on a fond memory. When she was younger, maybe seven or eight, her mother would stroke Charlotte’s hair and cook her homemade soup whenever she was sad or sick. Her breathing settled into long, measured breaths.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

  “I can’t say, Mom. Not until I speak to Jake.”

  “I know we are still working on our relationship, but I’m your mother and I love you. I hope you know that whenever you’re ready, you can count on me.”

  Does she mean it? Can I count on her? Jake deserved to know first, but he wouldn’t be home for days, and she desperately needed advice.

  Gripping the phone, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay, Mama. This is going to sound like a lot but here goes: I’m pregnant.” The breath she held after her confession burned her lungs. Despite being a grown woman of twenty-six years, she felt like a teenager confessing a blunder.

  “Oh.” Her mother inhaled, reminding Charlotte to exhale. “You’re pregnant . . . pregnant. When are you due?”

  “End of May,” she squeaked. Charlotte imagined her mother fumbling to keep a straight face or maybe screaming silently while holding the phone away.

  “My baby is having a baby. My first grandchild.”

  What? Mom’s happy? “There’s more.”

  “You’re having twins?”

  “No. No twins. I, well, I never told you, never told anyone but Jake that is, but . . . I had a checkup a while ago and found out I was prediabetic. I was doing well with the weight loss and everything, but not so outstanding that I was out of the woods. Long story short, it’s going to be a difficult pregnancy.”

  “Diabetes!”

  “Prediabetes. There’s a difference. If I eat well and exercise, I can get better.”

  “And the pregnancy . . . what do you mean difficult? Like bed rest?”

  “It depends on how things go, but Dr. Moira wants me checked out regularly and to take it easy. I should be all right, but I’m not sure about . . . about the baby. There’s a chance that he or she won’t . . . ”

  She couldn’t finish. She couldn’t say that Baby Bean could die.

  A shadow flitted in her periphery. A tall shadow, stiff and stern and, from its crossed arms and shaking form, furious. Her brain finally caught up to the fact the shadow was cast by a man. Jake!

  Her eyes lifted from the hardwood floor to met his dark, dreary eyes, like a looming gray cloud before the perfect storm. Something twisted and twirled in her stomach. Nerves . . . not Baby Bean.

  “I’ve gotta go, Mama.”

  “What? No! I’m coming up there to take care of you. We’ll figure this out together.”

  “No, Mom, I’m fine.” She lowered her voice, taking in Jake’s ravaged expression. “Jake’s here.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  Her mother’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Did he hear?”

  “Think so.”

  “Call me as soon as you can, okay?”

  “Yes. Bye.”

  Hands trembling, she lowered the phone. “What did you hear?”

  Veins protruded from his clenched fist and forearms. “Please tell me this is a joke.”

  Her heart pounded so loudly that she could barely make out his words. She shook her head and licked her dry lips. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Did you do it . . . ” He shook his head and braced his arm against the doorframe. “Did you do this on purpose?”

  She scrambled to her feet. “Maybe I didn’t hear you correctly but did you just accuse me of getting pregnant on purpose? Are you insinuating I’m trying to trap you?”

  “You’ve always had a crush on me—”

  “Yeah. And? I had a silly little crush on you. It doesn’t mean that I would purposely do that to you. My God!”

  “You told me the birth control was safe after a week. And hell, you used to work with Damien to cover my publicity.” He shook his head. “You know I’ve been through this before.”

  “I said about a week. We waited for two. Shit happens, Jake. And yes, I remember the scandal. But the truth was revealed through a paternity test. Of course, if that’s what you need, I can do that for you.”

  “Are you sure you’re pregnant?”

  Nodding, she clutched her stomach. “I’m sure.” The pounding in her ears grew louder. She took in the toppled over carry-on bag near his
feet. “Why are you here?”

  He clenched his jaw and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I wanted to surprise you. I missed you.”

  His quiet admission softened her heart. She moved closer to him. “I missed you, too.” She reached for his cheek. “I—”

  He flinched away. Nostrils flaring, he grimaced as if he’d downed something hot and bitter. “I need some time, Charlotte.”

  “And I need you! We,” she pointed to her stomach, “need you.”

  His face morphed into shock from her outburst.

  All her emotions—fear and pain and anger and sorrow—tumbled over and over like an out of control NASCAR auto. “Don’t make me do this alone. Please, Jake.” Fear and hysteria in her voice scared her. Pacing, she grabbed the ends of her hair and tugged. She hated herself for being so emotional, but she was afraid. Afraid for the life of Baby Bean, whom she already loved. Afraid that something could happen to her and she wouldn’t have a chance to see her child grow up. Afraid the man who held the keys to her heart and soul didn’t return her feelings.

  His eyes, normally vibrant and dancing, were impassive. No intensity, no warmth, just empty and soulless.

  She stopped pacing and squeezed her eyes shut. She viciously sank her teeth into her lips, hoping the physical pain would distract her from her quickly degenerating heart.

  “I-I didn’t trap you. I have dreams, too, you know.” She slid to the floor. “Maybe not as grand as yours.” She pulled her knees into her chest, focused on the floor, and rocked herself for comfort. “I’m not a liar, and I’m not a cheat. You know that.” Her anger spiked. She lifted her eyes to meet his. “And you know me.”

  Then, rising to her feet, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her simple cotton dress and moved closer to Jake, now backing into the corner like a trapped animal.

  She raised her hands in surrender. “I’m not waiting for you to make up your mind about my character, Jake. I have Baby Bean to worry about. Bean, who may not grow to full-term because of my . . . my defect.” Lowering her hands, she injected steel into her spine. “I’m making decisions, and the first thing I’m going to do is whatever it takes to safely deliver our child into the world.”