27 Truths: Ava's story (The Truth About Love Book 1) (17 page)

“Uh-uh,” I groan.

He leaves the bathroom then, and I am thankful that he isn’t here to see me. That is, until he swoops me up and carries me to my bed.

“Thomas, no,” I say as he lays me down. “I am going to get sick again.”

“Then you’ll do it in the pot. Rest, Ava.”

“I need to go to work.” I try to sit up.

He grabs my phone and hands it to me.

I can’t even talk, so I send a message to Sandra, one of the partners.

“Can we get you into the SUV and take you home?” he asks.

I shoot him a nasty look and roll to my side.

“All right, then,” he says.

“Go home. I’m going to sleep.”

I hear the door shut and close my eyes.

***

I wake to soft music and a smell that makes me hate food.

I open my eyes to see T walking into my room with a bag in one hand and a bowl in the other.

“Soup for my goddess,” he announces, sitting down beside me.

“Sorry I was short earlier,” I tell him, sitting up.

“You are short.” He laughs.

“You should stick with the drums,” I shoot back, making him laugh.

“Eat.” He hands me the bowl and then reaches into the bag, pulling out a thermometer then dragging it across my forehead to my temple. “Ninety-eight point five. Perfectly normal.”

“Good,” I say then sip the soup.

He pulls out a bottle of ginger ale, and then he smiles and pulls out a pregnancy test.

I nearly choke and then laugh, setting the soup down and lying back.

“It’s worth a try, right?”

“It’s a bit early.”

He looks down.

“T, it’s sweet.”

“Will you pacify me?” he asks, peeking up at me. It’s adorable.

“No.” I laugh.

“Please? I made you soup.” He pushes his bottom lip out and pouts.

“You made this?” I ask. “It’s wonderful.”

“I put it in the microwave.” He smirks. “Good enough?”

I stand up and kiss his pouty lip. “I’ll be right back.”

I make my way to the bathroom, and when I try to shut the door behind me, T says, “Ava, amuse me.”

“Fine,” I relent, knowing if I don’t pee on the stick, he may come in and hold the damn thing between my legs.

When I’m finished, I set the stick on the back of the toilet. When I stand, I feel well enough to shower, so I get in the shower and wash my hair and body quickly. Then, when I step out of the shower, I grab a robe and put my hair up in a towel.

Standing in front of the mirror, I brush my teeth and see the reflection of the stupid pregnancy test. I walk over and grab it, and when I see the plus sign, I am overrun with emotions.

No way
, I think. I just stopped taking the damn pill. No way.

“Ava.” The door begins to open, and something makes me throw the stick in the garbage.

“Hey.” I smile. “I thought I would take a quick shower.”

He looks at the counter and then at me. “Did you pee on the stick?”

“No, I couldn’t. Stage fright, I guess.” I walk toward him, turning off the light.

“You need to drink more; you’ll get dehydrated.”

“I will, but I would really love to lie down and for you to wrap your arms around me. I think I’ll get better faster that way.”

He smiles. “Anything you want.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Ava, I promise.”

I lie in his arms. He is warm and strong, and he loves me.

I close my eyes and allow the thoughts I have been pushing back to flood me.

There is no way that a test would show in this short of time. There is no way I could be pregnant. There is no fucking way. My head is spinning, and I silently sob. Thomas tightens his hold on me.

“If you feel up to it tomorrow, I was thinking about taking you on another date,” he says then kisses the back of my head.

“That sounds nice.” I roll to my back and look at him. “T?”

“Yes?” he says as he strokes my cheek with his thumb.

“I think you’ll get more sleep at your place, and I think I really need a good night’s sleep.”

He cocks his head to the side. “I’m not leaving you tonight.”

“T, please?” I ask, fisting his shirt in my hands and pulling him closer. “Please.”

He nods. “If that’s what you want, when you fall asleep, I’ll take your temperature once more, and if you aren’t feverish, then I’ll leave.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” I bury my nose in his shirt, needing to smell him and love and happiness. I need it so badly right now.

“You all right?” he asks, pulling me more firmly against him.

I nod because, if I open my mouth, I’m going to cry again. I haven’t cried in a full week. I have had no reason to. I have been loved. But soon, I will be alone.

***

I wake up to find the bed is empty. He’s gone.

I sit up and grab my phone. I google pregnancy cycles and due date calendars and conception guesstimeter.

My period ended twelve days before Christmas. I was late, and I didn’t even realize it. The likelihood of me getting pregnant this past week is not good. I try to convince myself that fate couldn’t be that cruel, but it was. It was, and she hates me.

I throw my phone across the room and sob into my knees. I need a tissue because the cry is that ugly, so I get up and walk to the bathroom where I blow my nose before heading to the kitchen to get a drink.

“Why did you lie to me, Ava?”

I jump when I hear T’s voice and quickly turn on a light switch, hoping I am imagining that he is here. I’m not.

He stands up and walks toward me, his fists balled at his sides. “Why?”

I shake my head.

“When is the last time you fucked Luke Lane?”

“T, I …” I shrug.

“Did you fuck him after I fucked you?” He steps towards me and stops.

“No! Of course not!”

His shoulders relax a bit, and I reach out to grab him. I want him to hold me. I want him to touch me. I want him to tell me he loves me. But he steps back and crosses his arms in front of himself.

“When?” he asks. “And I don’t want any more lies, Ava.”

“I love you. I. Love. You. And it doesn’t matter, T. It doesn’t matter, okay?”

I expect him to be happy I told him I love him, but he looks disgusted.

“You think it’s his child,” he accuses.

I shake my head. “No. No. No.”

“Did you sleep with him when you were home for Christmas?”

I cover my face with my hands, hiding from the harsh reality of the truth. “I didn’t sleep with him after you, T. I love you.”

“Did you fuck him when you were home before you and I fucked?”

“We didn’t fuck, T. Stop saying that! You and I made love, and we made a baby, and you love me, and I love you, and we should be happy. We should be—” I try to grab him, but he steps back again. “T, please.”

It’s an awful time to find words for all the feelings I have for him, but there it is. I love him. I love him so much. It is too much pressure, too much for him to deal with, and I know it because it’s too much for me. But he has to be the father. He has to.

“I cannot believe you,” he says as he walks toward the door.

“I do! I love you. Thomas, please don’t say anything to anyone until I figure out what I am going to do. Please.”

He slams the door behind him.

“Oh, God, what have I done!” I scream. “What have I done!”

***

I spend the weekend in bed alone. I don’t bother getting my phone fixed after its run-in with the wall, but I know he hasn’t called because my phone is linked to my computer.

I haven’t showered, and I haven’t eaten anything besides saltines and yogurt. I have vitamins and folic acid delivered to me in one of my many moments that I don’t give a damn if I do this alone; I’m going to do it, and I am going to do it well.

Those moments are good ones. Others, not so good.

I made my bed, so I will lie in it.

When Dad calls, I talk to him through my computer and let him know my phone broke. He makes me promise to get a new one. I tell him I will tomorrow, that I’m getting a new one delivered.

Mom doesn’t call, but I message her, telling her I think I have the flu and ask that we skip this week’s dinner. I get an automatic reply.

On Monday morning, I drink ginger tea, which settles my stomach. Then I wolf down half a dozen saltines and feel better.

When I walk outside, the SUV is there, and the driver, whom I now know is Casey, opens the door.

I am hopeful he is inside until I peek in and see he’s not.

I step back and look at Casey. “I’m going to walk today, but thank you so much.”

“It’s ten degrees outside, Miss Links.”

“I could use the fresh air,” I tell her then start walking the five blocks in the bitter cold to work.

When I arrive at work, everyone is gathered in the conference room. I slide in and take a seat, pulling out a notebook, and then listen to them delegate case work to all of us newbies.

I end up on a case a woman is bringing against a large pharmaceutical company whose drug should not have been approved for pregnant women. As luck would have it, I am asked to do some field work that will take me to Lake Placid, NY. I am to interview five women who miscarried after taking the same medication.

I bury myself in my prep work, and by the end of the day, I am exhausted, but at least work has kept me preoccupied. It also gave me insight into what is safe and not safe during pregnancy.

At lunchtime, I made a list of books I want to buy at the Barnes and Noble after work. There are so many, and I want them all.

Every time my mind goes to T or Luke, I block it. I hide in my own little book-filled world of planning and preparation like I did for seven years. These next nine months are not going to be a problem.

As I ride the elevator down to leave work, I am lost in my head, thinking about all things baby.

I am going to be fine. I am going to be a mom. I am going to … move to east bum-fuck Egypt so I don’t have to face anyone, so I can enjoy this baby who … I have no idea who the father is.

When I walk out, the SUV is there, and Casey is opening the door. I’m pulling my hood up and starting to decline the ride when T gets out.

“Ava, please get in the vehicle.”

I shake my head, walking faster.

I can’t deal with this right now. As much as I want him, I need to allow myself to realize that I will be doing this alone.

I hear the door slam, and then I feel him take my hand. I don’t pull away, but I don’t look at him, either. I just walk as the snow falls down in large, puffy flakes.

T pulls my hand toward a vending cart and orders two hot chocolates, one with whipped cream, one without. He hands me the one with, and I tell him, “Thank you.”

We walk a little farther before he asks, “Have you eaten today?”

“Yes.”

He feels obligated, pities me.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then we stop at a crosswalk where he stands in front of me and looks down at me.

Before he says anything, I tell him, “Please don’t say a word. I’ve had a good day, T. Please don’t make me cry.”

He looks crushed as he leans down and whispers, “You look beautiful, my goddess.”

I shake my head, and he nods his.

Hope is seeping in, and I want it to go away.

“T …” I nod to the crosswalk as people pass us by to cross the street.

“Do you love me, Ava?”

I nod, unable to speak while my body shakes as I try not to cry.

“How lucky am I to be loved by you?”

I don’t know what to say or how to react. Why is he saying this when he was so angry with me before?

He grabs my face and kisses me. His kiss is full of sorrys and hope and love.

I reach up and fist his hair, kissing him back and giving him the same.

“I love you, T. I love you, and this baby is ours. Mine and yours and love’s,” I say, revealing the hope I have in my heart, making me vulnerable.

He kisses me softly, which is exactly the kind of kiss I need. It’s confirmation that those feelings he has are real.

The SUV pulls up to the curb, and we walk to it, hand in hand.

“Home, please,” he tells Casey.

***

Slowly, over the next three days, my belongings start to show up at his place where I go every day after work and sleep while he holds me. I know he is doing this slowly to avoid overwhelming me. I see it and feel it, but that fear caused by doubting those feelings has betrayed me before. It makes me wonder if he really wants this.

We don’t talk a lot about us or the baby or anything at all. It’s depressing, it’s painful, and it’s the truth about our truth, his and mine.

Love hurts.

There isn’t a doubt in my mind that I love him. I do. But it hurts to see him hurt, knowing I have caused his pain, knowing if fate thinks I deserve more pain and this child is not his, then his happiness will be destroyed by me.

When I get into the SUV on Thursday, I hand him a printout of my itinerary for my trip next week.

His lips form a line, and he gives a quick nod. “I have a show this weekend. I want you to come.”

“I really don’t feel up to it.”

“I thought you’d say that.” He leans back, setting my itinerary between us on the seat as he looks out the window away from me.

I know he doesn’t want me to work, but I want to, and now I need to be sure I can support myself. I don’t want to burden him with my doubt. I won’t.

I lean back and look out the opposite window. “I have brunch with my mother on Sunday.”

“That’s nice, Ava,” he says in a way that I know he’s only placating me.

***

On Friday night, he doesn’t come to pick me up with Casey.

“Thomas left for the airport an hour ago. Where would you like me to take you?”

“His place,” I say quickly. “Or did he say I should go home?’

She smiles. “He said to take you wherever you wanted to go.”

“Then, if you don’t mind—”

“I’m at your beck and call, Ava. Wherever you want to go…”

“To my place for a couple hours and then, if you’re available, his.”

“Of course,” she says and closes the door behind me.