Ripping Pages (17 page)

“Fuck, Sweetness. I’ve missed you so much,” he said as he kissed his way down my neck as I bucked my hips over and over bringing us both to the brink.

Feeling sexier, and more in touch with my femininity, I decided to drive Van crazy and use some of that dirty talk on him.

“Yeah, Van. You like that, baby. You like when I ride you?”

He growled and moaned as I thrust my hips even harder and leaned down to push my breast into his face. “Fuck, yeah, baby. I like my dirty girl.” He swirled my nipple into his mouth as I clamped my inner walls around him, a trick I learned while reading a magazine. Took me a while, but I finally perfected it.

He came then, loudly and animalistic. I followed soon after.

We lay there panting as Van placed kisses all along my body.

“Wow, if that’s my welcome home every time I leave, I’m leaving more often. Damn, baby.”

I giggled and playfully smacked his rippled stomach. “You better not. I missed you too much.”

“I know. Me, too. I can’t wait until this tour is over.”

We fell asleep like that, and I woke up and ran to the bathroom for my morning puke fest of nothing since I rarely ate anymore, because every single thing made me gag.

I didn’t hear Van come in behind me.

He stood in the doorway leaning against the frame, gauging the scene in front of him.

I wiped my face and looked at him self-consciously. This wasn’t how I planned to tell him, but I guess he was expecting me to say something.

“Sweetness?” he asked as he slowly walked toward me.

“Are you? Is it? Are we?”

A laugh escaped me at the scared, but excited look on his face. When he reached me, I brushed my thumb across his cheek and nodded as the tears welled up.

The expression on his face turned to pure elation as he looked down at my stomach and back up to meet my eyes.

“We’re having a baby?”

I smiled up at my beautiful rock star that made every worry I had dissipate with that small question. “Yes, Van. We’re having a baby.”

He kissed me then, and I knew we would never be the same and that peace that mom was talking about overwhelmed me, and I knew there was no going back. Van was the one and we were creating our family.

Thanksgiving was wonderful. Van wouldn’t let me make anything else. He wanted me to prop my feet up and relax and “Grow my baby. That’s your only job from now on.” It was sweet and adorable the way he doted on me and took care of me. I ate our thanksgiving dinner while he talked to my flat stomach and kissed it. He left the next day with the hugest smile on his face, but not before giving me strict orders to do absolutely nothing. “I mean it, Sweetness. Like I said before, you grow my baby. That’s it. Don’t overdo it. Promise?”

I saluted and threw him a “Yes sir” before he smacked my ass and left to go make the women swoon while onstage.

It was two weeks before Christmas and three weeks after I found out about our little peanut. The show was over, and the rehearsals for the new play weren’t starting until after the holidays in mid-January. With Van’s urging, I quit my job at the café. Van said he was taking care of everything for his baby and I need not worry. I hated to be dependent on him, but the way I was throwing up—All. The. Time. It was hard to get out of bed, let alone serve food. I don’t know how I made it through the last few weeks of the show, but I did. The nausea was unbearable and I had been to the doctor for my first visit. The medicine they had prescribed really didn’t help. They said the baby looked fine, although, I was too early in the pregnancy to hear the heartbeat quite yet. So I just dealt with my daily puke fests and did the best I could. I had to admit that it was really nice to be able to sleep when I wanted to, which was all the time, and it was nice not to worry about where I would throw up should it hit me at an inopportune time.

It was a snowy Tuesday night. I had decorated Van’s apartment, with Tatum’s help, wall to wall with Christmas decorations. It was my favorite time of year, and the first without my mother. I missed her so much, but I was starting my new family, and Van would be coming home in a week to spend Christmas together. I always had my Carpenters Christmas album playing softly through the penthouse from my iPhone with cinnamon candles lit. It was very seasonal in there. The Wal-Mart Christmas section did wonders with those expensive digs.

After a video chat with Van, I had passed out on the couch in his living room. He also insisted I stay in his penthouse where he could make sure his security team could get me anything I needed. I thought he was making a mountain out of a molehill, but I obliged because I missed him, and being in his apartment made him feel closer. Tatum, who didn’t know I was pregnant, had been having nightly company, and I was lonely and sick of listening to her squeals and moans of delight.

I woke up around four a.m. with a start. Something wasn’t right. I had been sleeping on my left side, as the doctor had recommended in order to increase blood flow, and the inside of my leg felt immensely wet. I jumped up and screamed at the sight of blood on Van’s couch and across my lap.

I immediately panicked. I didn’t want to call Van and worry him while he was on tour. They had played Dallas that night, and I knew they were on their way to Houston. I really didn’t want him to scrap his tour and disappoint his fans. I tried to call Tatum, but she didn’t pick up. Then I tried calling Sloan, but remembered she was on Vacation with her parents and boyfriend in St. Barts. The only other person I could think of to call was James. I slowly tapped his number as the realization hit me that I was losing my precious peanut.

I started to sob uncontrollably and that’s when James picked up. His voice raspy from sleep he asked, “Tinley? Are you all right?” I hadn’t told anyone about my pregnancy for fear of this happening. I was trying to make it past the first trimester. Now I understood why people waited.

“James,” I wailed, “Can yo-you c-c-come help me?”

“I’m on my way. Can you give me the address where you are?”

Somehow, I blurted it out and hung up the phone. I started packing a bag for the hospital crying the whole time. I cleaned myself as best I could and changed my clothes. The door buzzed, and I headed downstairs to see a worried James pacing back and forth across the marble lobby.

He stopped and looked me up and down when he saw me.

“What’s wrong, Tin? You’re scaring me.”

I walked out to the waiting cab that had just brought James. I sat down in the back seat and started to cry even more. I couldn’t tell him.

I told the cab driver to take us to the nearest hospital and when we arrived, James looked at me confused.

I just got out and he followed me, and he didn’t ask me anything more.

I checked myself in as James waited in the lobby for me. I walked to where he sat and took a seat in the sterile lobby chair.

I looked up at James and managed to croak out a small. “Thank you.” Before bursting into tears again.

When they called my name about thirty minutes later, James stayed where he sat and patted me on the knee as I stood up. “I’m sorry, Tin, I really am.”

He must have figured it out or heard me say it to the nurse.

I looked back at him as I walked toward the double doors to triage. “Thank you, James. For everything.”

I smiled a small smile and walked back to the room.

The nurse did some tests, and they told me that since I was only eight weeks along that there was nothing they could do. I had lost the baby.

They didn’t have to do a D&C, because they said my body was “getting rid of it” on its own. I shivered at that term. I hated my body, at that moment. My little peanut was gone, and there was nothing to stop it.

They gave me some huge pads and sent me on my way, telling me they would bill me. I really didn’t hear anything else they said. I walked out the doors and past James. I hailed a cab, and he followed me, sitting next to me as I gave the driver the address to Van’s apartment. I was in a sad, daze. I just wanted Van… and my peanut.

I lost my peanut on a Wednesday, and it was now Sunday. Van would be home in a few days for Christmas which was the following Tuesday. I hadn’t talked to him much. I hadn’t really talked to anyone.

After we arrived at the apartment, James walked me up, even though I insisted I was fine. He made sure I had everything and he even left and came back with my favorite foods he remembered from the times I had suffered from the flu while we were dating. Oreos and Milk, and summer sausage, pepper jack cheese, and crackers. He really was amazing. He kissed me on the forehead and asked me if I was all right for the millionth time, and then he left.

I didn’t leave the apartment or answer the phone for anyone but Van, and that was especially hard. He had two more huge shows to do before he came home, and I didn’t want him to bail on his band or his fans. I kept the conversation light and told him I wasn’t feeling well and that I was probably coming down with the flu or something. He would ask how the baby was and if I was taking it easy. Each time, I would stifle my crying and assure him that all was well. I hated lying to him, but I was not going to mess with his career. This was their comeback tour, and they were only half done. I didn’t want them to get bad reviews, and then later when their album dropped and they did their world tour, everyone boycott them or something.

I wanted Van home. He deserved to hear it from me. I just continued to lie in bed for the rest of the week until the day Van was scheduled to fly home. I decided I should probably shower and brush my teeth and look halfway presentable for him. I made myself get up and get ready. I was so nervous to see him. I hated to relive the past week. He needed to know, obviously, but I didn’t want to crush him. He had been so excited, and sometimes he seemed more excited than I was. My stomach was in knots. I had stopped bleeding, but the doctors told me I shouldn’t have sex for a few weeks just to make sure. I really didn’t want to, anyway. I wanted to be with Van, and I wanted to feel the passion that he made me feel constantly, but it was all still fresh, and I couldn’t even think about that right now.

Van was taking a cab from the airport and was scheduled to land at around one in the afternoon.

He had texted me and told me that they had landed and that he was heading my way. I made sure the apartment was spotless. I managed to get the blood out of the couch with a little help from my favorite pinning website, thank God. I hadn’t even noticed it was there after coming home from the hospital until I went to sit down and came out of my sad daze for a bit.

The door clicked open a while later as I lay on the couch watching Pretty in Pink.

I got up and walked over to Van. He looked so happy, and so content that I instantly broke down in tears. With a horrified look on his face, he dropped his bags and cupped my face looking me up and down and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me.

“Baby? Sweetness, what is it? Is the baby ok? Are you ok?”

I looked up at him through the blur of tears pouring from my eyes, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him that I had lost it. I had failed to do the one thing a woman was supposed to do. I lost our peanut.