The Ground Rules: Undone (5 page)

“I love hearing you,” he whispers.

When I’m finally brought back down from the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time, I lay against him. I think about this wonderful husband of mine. He’s been so good to me. He doesn’t deserve this. I’ve been so distant and I can tell he’s been curious. But he hasn’t been angry… he hasn’t pestered me, hasn’t demanded answers. And all this time I’ve been lying to him, keeping something huge from him.

I sit up and look up at him and I realize how much I love him.

He smiles. “Still got it?”

I can’t help but smile. “Definitely. That was amazing.”

I want to make him feel as good as he just made me feel. I want to give him pleasure. I cuddle close against him, still wrapped up in the cozy blanket. “I want,” I start, the words a whisper in his ear, a little strained. My hand finds its way into his pants again and he grins. I bite my lip and shoot him a little smile — he knows what I’m up to. “I want to…blow your mind.” I whisper, my mouth pressed against his neck.

He swallows hard and doesn’t say a word. I think I’ve rendered him speechless. I shoot him a playful smile and slide down his body and bury myself under the purple blanket.

And I give him what he does deserve.

CHAPTER FOUR

…somewhere no one knows us.

T
he car is quiet as we make our way back home. The girls are watching movies on the matching mini DVD players rigged up to the backs of the front seats. Music is playing but I’m not really listening to the words. Gabe is uncharacteristically quiet. On the drive over, he had been talking non-stop.

I never did answer his question — where have I been? I press my hand to my belly and think about my baby. It is only an inch or so long and doesn’t even weigh an ounce. But its body is taking shape, its limbs are already formed, its heart already beating. I’ve grown attached to him (or her). In the early days, a part of me wanted to lose the baby desperately. But now? I don’t know anymore.

One thing hasn’t changed though, I still think this baby could shatter all our lives.

Gabe digs through the snack bag we’ve brought along and grabs a bag of peanuts. He offers me some and I decline, wondering if I should eat peanuts. I read somewhere something about eating peanuts during pregnancy and peanut allergies. I decide to look into it further.
How crazy
… I realize. Part of me worries about such things and another (very small) part is still considering putting an end to this life. Although I really can’t see myself going through with it, but the least I can do at this point is consider my options as Dr. Fisher suggested.

I sigh and close my eyes and lay back for a nap. I’m so exhausted.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Gabe says out of the blue, his tone unusually grave.

I shoot back up, my eyes wide.

He knows.

I swallow hard. My throat suddenly feels so dry. “Yes?”

“I haven’t mentioned it before because I didn’t want to mess up our weekend.”

My heart hammers in my chest.
Does he know?
I can’t help but wonder if he knows. “Yes. What is it?”

“I’ve been talking to this guy,” he starts and I feel my whole body relax — this isn’t about me.

“Yes?”

“Well, anyway, this guy, Robert Williams, owns a chain of high-end furniture stores out west,” he carries on, his eyes fixed on the road. “Really nice stuff.”

“Oh yeah,” I say, intrigued. “How do you know him?”

“We met at a trade show, ages ago. We’ve been friends since.”

I wonder where this is going. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, anyway, he’s looking for a project manager to oversee the running of his stores in California and Arizona.”

I bounce up off my seat, his words finally sinking in. “What?”

“I know, it’s crazy,” he says, shooting me a tight smile. “All of us picking up and moving down south.”

I can’t move down south. “It is. Have you been considering this?”

He winces, his eyes still on the road. “I have…a little. I’m so tired of the winters here, and honestly, I think we need a change.”

I can’t move. Not with this baby. He’s Weston’s too. Weston might want to be part of his life. I can’t drag his child thousands of miles across the country. This nightmare is turning into an even bigger mess.

I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, let him tell me why he wants to do this. “What do you mean, ‘we need a change’?”

“Well, to be honest, I think you need a change. You haven’t been happy. I can see it, Ella.”

He’s right. But he has no idea.

He doesn’t look at me, his eyes still glued to the road. “And this whole thing with Weston…it really has done a number on you. I think it would do you good to move as far away from him as possible. I’d move you to New Zealand if I could.”

My stomach drops at the sound of Weston’s name. It would be so easy to run away. If I didn’t have a part of him inside me, it’s what I would do. I would do it tomorrow.

The tears make their way down my cheeks as I tell Gabe, “But we can’t run away… from our jobs, our friends, our families.”

He shoots me a look, confusion clouding his features. “I’m sorry, Ella. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought…”

I wipe my cheek with the heel of my hand. “I know.”

Every now and then, when Gabe is out of the house, I scurry down to the basement and I open the box of old books I have in storage. I pull out
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
. I’m not sure why I’ve kept it, knowing I wouldn’t be having any more babies. Nostalgia, I suppose. I flip to the second month portion. I’m at eight and a half weeks now. According to my book, the baby is starting to look like an actual human being.

I wonder who he or she will look like. Will he have my dark brown eyes or Weston’s beautiful light green eyes? Will she inherit my freckles or Weston’s chin dimple? Will he be broad and lanky like him, or smaller like me?

I haven’t seen Gwen lately. She’s been too busy hanging out at the beach and playing golf, but I’ve talked to her a lot. I’ve confessed that I still haven’t told Gabe. I’ve even confided that I desperately want to tell Weston — I think he should know I’m carrying his child.

She keeps telling me this is a horrible idea, pleading with me to not contact him, under
any
circumstances.

She is such a drama queen.

I’ve been treasuring the precious moments I have with the girls, feeling like we’re all living on borrowed time. We’ve been playing dress-up, having tea parties, playing board games, and doing puzzles.

A sweet little game of dress-up… this is how this all started. If I hadn’t been in my closet that day, if Claire hadn’t chosen that beautiful pink vintage dress, if I hadn’t decided to go out on a special date with Gabe, I would never be here today, with another man’s child inside me. I would still be here, of course, in
this
house, but I wouldn’t have a care in the world. My biggest worries would be trivial — the girls’ report cards, getting my spring cleaning done, catching the specials at Costco, and getting my taxes in on time.

My world wouldn’t be completely torn apart.

In an attempt to distract myself, I’ve been taking the girls for story time at Hanna’s Book and Treasures, my old hang out. It’s a quaint little coffee shop and book store where I used to work when I first moved here. And I’ve also managed to come here for a cup of coffee and read all by myself, just once or twice. I really need the peaceful atmosphere of this place because I have so much going on sometimes I think I’m literally going to explode. Occasionally I read, and sometimes I just stare off into the distance. My eyes are always drawn to this antique bunny pushing a wheelbarrow. And the vintage plates too, with their serene country scenes; red barns set against fields of flowers. Hanna, the owner, must think I’ve gone slightly bonkers. She’s not far off, if she does.

It’s just another ordinary Tuesday morning when Gwen does an unexpected pop-in and barges into my house. She shoots me a tight smile. “Sorry, I know I should have called.”

I look at her with curious eyes. “It’s fine,” I tell her, welcoming her in. “What’s up?”

She slips off her shoes and kisses both the girls, who are busy doing puzzles on the floor in the living room. “I was wondering if you could find a babysitter,” she ventures as she drags me to the kitchen, maneuvering her way around the puzzles.

“Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”

She laughs. “Believe me, this place is tidier than my house.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Her smile fades. “Uh… no. So you think Caroline could sit for an hour or two.”

I start to really wonder what she’s up to. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just call her.”

As I nurse a cup of tea, I pick up the phone and call Caroline. Thankfully, she’s available.

“Should I change? Are we going to your country club?” I joke.

“You’re fine,” she says, heart-attack serious.

I hop into her sleek little Audi and for the first time in our friendship, I find myself at a loss for words.

“Have you told Gabe yet?”

I shrug, looking out at the landscape ahead. “No.”

“And you haven’t talked to Weston, I hope.”

“Nope.”

“Mirella,” she says as we round the corner. “Promise me you won’t be angry with me.”

And then it all falls together as I spot the Planned Parenthood clinic I’ve walked past half a dozen times. I’ve never been inside, but I know what it’s all about.

Emotion washes over me; anger, fear, sadness.

“How dare you,” I cry, wanting to escape. “Who do you think you are?”

She parks the car in front. “Listen to me, Mirella,” she says with an eerily-calm voice. “I just want you to go in there and speak to someone. I want you to see there are options.”

“But I don’t want—”

She grabs my shoulder, her big brown eyes fixed on mine. “Mirella, no one is forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do. I know you. I know this is something you would probably never consider, but it doesn’t hurt to talk to someone.”

I reluctantly follow her in, reminding myself I’m simply looking at my options, knowing I don’t need to go through with anything if I don’t want to.

The clinic is clean, the walls are covered with posters, and the chairs in the reception area are all in good repair. A display of informative pamphlets sits in the corner. There are only three women sitting in the waiting area. One of them is accompanied by a partner — they look so young — they must be sixteen years old, if that.

Juliet, a warm and friendly middle-aged woman greets us. I wonder if it’s an act or if she’s just naturally this cheery.

I sign in and complete a registration form. The clinic assures me everything will be completely confidential and private. Gwen stays by my side, offering moral support. I glare at her continuously. She will pay for this — I’m not sure how exactly, but she will.

Gwen and I sit in the waiting area for a little while, not uttering a single word to each other. Finally, I’m called into the clinic.

I go over the details of my health and pregnancy with a kind nurse. I imagine she’s the kind of woman who bakes cookies, hugs her grandchildren copiously and gives them little treats whenever she sees them. If I could wish for a mother, she’d be it. Her kind smile and soft voice put me instantly at ease.

We chat for a while, and then comes the not-so-fun part; a standard blood test and a sonogram to determine just how far along I am. I tell her I already know I’m about ten weeks now.

I lay back on the paper covered medical bed and smile at Alicia, another nurse. Or is it sonogramist? I’m not sure what her official title is but she’s friendly enough. I want to tell her I’m not really considering this. I want to tell her my friend dragged me in here against my will. But I don’t say a word.

I undo the fly of my jean shorts, and pull down the band of my panties.

“This will be just a tad cold,” she warns me before spreading the clear gel across my belly. I’m instantly taken back to years before, when Gabe and I were anxiously waiting for Chloe and Claire. Pregnancy was a different experience back then. I had a partner I could rely on; someone who was just as happy as I was to welcome these little humans into the world. He came with me to every single sonogram appointment. I get nostalgic at the memory of the bright, adorable smile on his face when he saw the blobs on the screen. My throat tightens a little and I close my eyes and let my thoughts drift.