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17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Daniella

I'm glad I didn't drive myself here, because I don't know how I would have managed to get myself home if I had driven.

I order an Uber and wait on the curb until the driver pulls around. The ride home is quiet except for the faint hum of some show on the radio.

At home, I sit on the couch and just stare ahead into nothing. How can I be pregnant? I guess, in retrospect, that’s a stupid question. Of course, I know that babies come from two people having sex and Lorenzo and I did that…without protection. Multiple times that night.

The taste of consequences is bitter on my tongue.

The pictures of Jeremy and I hanging all over my place haunt me. It’s like they are echoes of all the mistakes I've made these past few weeks. I go into my room, fold a cardboard box open and come back into the living room. Then I take them off the walls one by one.

By the time everything has been brought down and dropped into the box, I'm a sobbing mess, clutching my stomach and kneeling on the ground. The pain is almost too much for me.

I hear the doorbell, but I'm too paralyzed by my emotions to move at first. Finally, when the sound keeps ringing through my apartment, I get up and open the door. I feel listless, half-dead with emotional exhaustion.

“My God, what happened?” Renee runs over to me and squats beside me on the ground. I shake my head and just continue sobbing. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into her.

“It’ll be okay, whatever it is, it’ll be okay.” She pats my back and I sink into the hug. She smells good, like cinnamon and good decisions, unlike mine. I finally calm down and we both sit on the floor.

“I’m pregnant.” My voice is small and raspy from all the crying I've done.

“Oh.” She looks sad for me, and I'm sure she has assumed that the child is Jeremy’s. She probably thinks that finding out made me sad about him all over again. If only.

“Three weeks pregnant.”

Her eyebrows scrunch and she looks down at my belly.

“Three weeks? But…oh. Oh.”

I can't even look at her because I'm afraid of the judgment I'll see in her eyes. But then I feel her hand take mine, giving it a gentle squeeze and when I open my eyes, there's nothing but kindness in her expression.

“It’s going to be okay.” There's a firmness in her eyes. A sort of hardness that I hadn't noticed before. For a split second, it feels like there's so much I don't know about her.

She helps me to my feet and guides me to the couch. The warmth of her hand in mine is a small comfort amidst the chaos of my thoughts. I sit down, and she grabs a tissue, handing it to me.

“Thank you,” I whisper, wiping my eyes and blowing my nose.

Renee sits beside me, her expression a mix of concern and determination. “We need to figure out what to do next. Have you told Lorenzo?”

I shake my head, fresh tears threatening to spill over. “No. I just found out. I don’t even know how to tell him.”

She nods, her face thoughtful. “We’ll figure it out. But first, you need to take care of yourself and the baby.”

Her words are a lifeline, grounding me in the reality of the situation. I nod, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. I need to see a doctor, start prenatal care.”

“I’ll go with you,” she says firmly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

A wave of gratitude washes over me. “Thank you, Renee. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She gives me a small, encouraging smile. “We’ll get through this together.”

As the initial shock begins to fade, a new resolve takes its place. I can’t afford to fall apart. I have a baby to think about now and I need to be strong for both of us.

***

I call in sick again the next day, and the day after that.

I know that it is irresponsible and probably puts my job at risk, but I can’t bring myself to care right now. I cannot imagine going to the club and seeing Lorenzo, looking at him and interacting with him, having to sleep with him, while his baby grows in my womb and he doesn’t know.

How do I tell him? Should I tell him? Does he need to know? How is he going to react? Will he press a gun to my head and ask me to get rid of it? Will he even believe me when I tell him that it is his?

There are so many risks. I could lose my job at the club and with it, every chance I have of finding out the truth about Jeremy. That’s something I cannot allow to happen. But if Lorenzo finds out, there's no telling what he will do.

And then there's the issue of Jeremy. Guilt washes over me afresh, the way it always does when thoughts of Jeremy permeate my thoughts. I stay cuddled up on my couch, beneath layers and layers of blankets. I have packed Jeremy’s pictures away, I have packed practically everything that reminds me of him away, I can't bear to even look at them.

I still cannot believe that I am pregnant. I'm not even twenty-six yet. I press my palm against my belly, expecting to maybe feel something. A pulse? A flutter? A kick? A bit early for that, I guess. I feel nothing. I feel like I AM nothing.

I close my eyes and prepare to drift off to sleep when I hear my doorbell ring. Thinking it might be Renee arriving early to drag me to the appointment she's been begging me to set up, I drag myself off the sofa with the blankets draped over my shoulders. The doorbell rings again, and I suppress a groan.

“I’m here, quit it.” I unlatch the deadbolt and open the door, and I come first to face with Lorenzo.

I stumble backward and would've landed on my ass if it weren't for his hand stretching out to grab me by the waist. He pulls me to him and his scent infiltrates my nostrils and instantly calms whatever nausea I've been feeling. Maybe the baby realizes that Daddy just arrived.

The anxiety spreads through my chest like dark clouds on a rainy day and I try not to let it show how nervous I am, a task I'm sure I'm failing at.

“Are you sick?”

I wish desperately that I could decipher his tone. Is he mad? Is he curious? Is he worried? But his eyes give nothing away.

“Yes.”

“You didn't tell me.”

“I sent an email to Carla. She Okayed my leave. I didn't think there was any need to say anything to you.” Oh yeah, I can definitely read his eyes now. The anger that creeps into them makes me shiver, right down to my toes.

“Tell me, Daniella, if I wasn't clear when I told you what working for me means.”

“Lorenzo, I-”

“What part of it wasn't clear?”

I stumble back, and the blanket drops from my body. His eyes rake over my body, and I remember that I'm only wearing a camisole with no bra underneath it, and very short shorts. I gulp when the heat of his stare causes goosebumps to erupt in my skin.

“I needed a little time away.”

“So you were avoiding me.” It’s not a question for which I'm grateful because I'm sick and tired of all the lying I've had to do with him.

“This isn't a good time, Lorenzo. You could've called.”

“Would you have picked up?”

No. His eyes tell me that he knows the answer already, and I sigh.

“I’ll take you to the hospital.” If I didn't know better, I would think that he actually really cares about me. But no, I know him, and I know that he probably just sees me as some sort of property of his that he has to look out for.

“I already went. I’ll be all right.”

He moves closer to me so suddenly that I don't have the time to move back. He flattens his palm on my forehead, feeling for my temperature. It is such a domestic thing. I didn’t even think he knew how to do that.

I’m frozen in place while his hand goes from my head down to my neck and then my exposed collarbone.

There’s nothing sexual about the way he is touching me, but my body, my stupid, traitorous body, reacts anyway. I feel my nipples harden and I don’t even have to look down at my chest to know that they are sticking out and poking through the thin fabric of the camisole.

His eyes lock onto my nipples, but he doesn’t even react. My face flushes with embarrassment, but I still can’t move away.

“You feel fine.”

Finally, his hands drop away from me, and I exhale.

“I told you I was all right.”

“So, you missing work was just an act of irresponsibility? I didn’t take you for that type or person.”

I am immediately pissed.

“I am not irresponsible. I didn’t come to work because I couldn’t. I couldn’t face you and…” shit.

He raises an eyebrow, silently asking me to continue.

“Forget about it.” I turn around and pick up the blanket. It’s a big mistake because I must’ve misjudged the space between us. My ass grazes his front and…oh. His hardness is delicious. I want him to be inside me immediately. I pick up the blanket and turn back around. His face is still blank.

“Sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.” I wrap the blanket around me again. “I’ll be at the club tomorrow, but…”

“Tell me why you’re avoiding me.”

Again, it’s not a question. It’s more like a command. I think of lying, but I know he’ll see right through me.

“That’s not something I’m ready to talk about.”

“Tell me anyway’.” His expression is so neutral, I’m suddenly afraid of what his reaction is going to be when he finds out about the baby. But as if reading my thoughts, his eyes soften. His lips turn down in something that isn’t a frown but is very close and he takes a step toward me again. It is when his fingers brush my cheek and come back wet that I realize I’m crying. Stupid hormones and shit.

“Did someone hurt you?”

I shake my head and more tears come.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I-I’m pregnant.” I almost whisper it. Again that feeling of vulnerability overwhelms me and it feels like I’m going to burst out crying again.

“You’re sure?” His eyes flick down to my belly and back up to my face, and I nod.

“You’re not happy about it?”

“I don’t know what I feel. This wasn’t the plan. I barely know how to take care of myself and now there’s a whole new person growing inside of me… And you…”

He raises an eyebrow for me to continue.

“I was scared, I’m still scared, of how you’re going to react and what’s going to happen to me.”

He nods and puts his hands into his pockets.

“I’ll schedule a meeting with a doctor for you first. We can talk after that.”

That is so unexpectedly sweet that I feel another wave of tears coming on.

“Okay.”

“Do you think it’s mine?” He sounds angry asking that and then I realize that he doesn’t know for sure if I have been with other men. When I don’t respond, he sighs.

“How far along are you?”

“I…three weeks. Give or take.”

His eyes widen a fraction and his hands come out of his pockets.

“Three weeks?” I nod. His eyes search mine.

“Is it mine?” This time, his voice is the quiet one.

“I haven’t slept with anyone since…yes.”

Something changes in the way he looks at me. His expression is soft and it is full of something I can’t identify. He looks down at my belly again, then slowly reaches out to touch me. His hand lands on my shoulder tentatively and he moves them down my arms and to my belly.

“You’re carrying my child.”

I nod, and the hand that is flat on my belly curls around my waist and pulls me to him. The hug is so unexpected, so sweet, so warm. His hand cradles my head while the other still spans across my waist. I burrow into him and it feels like something that has been missing in this whole process snaps into place.

I grab hold of him and hold on for dear life.

I don’t know how long he holds me for, but I am content to stay there for as long as he lets me. My tears eventually dry up, and he slowly moves away.

“I take care of what’s mine, Daniella. You, and the baby, you’re mine. I don’t care about anything else. Do you hear me? I’m not letting you go now.”

Somehow, I believe him.

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