To Say Goodbye (25 page)

“Always.”

“What can I do?”

She dropped her gaze to the floor. There was no point keeping up the façade, not with Stella. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered, her voice sounding scratchy. She didn’t cry, and her tears had dried by now. She was empty, empty of emotion, empty of tears, empty of everything.

“What?” Stella asked, her voice underscoring her shock.

“I’m pregnant.” She turned her head back to Stella, staring into her deep blue eyes. She waited for judgment. She waited to see how Stella would react. She waited for Stella to tell her how to react, how to feel.

Because she was just so damn conflicted.

There was the guilt. She felt like she’d cheated on Tim, abandoned him for a dream with another man. She felt all of those reasons pulling her back into sorrow. She also felt foolish. She’d been so adamant she should end things with Jackson, but she ended up pregnant. She should have been more careful with her heart and with her body.

In spite of all of these negative feelings, though, she also felt happy. A baby. She’d always wanted this. Suddenly, she realized there would be someone in her life, someone there. Someone to live for, to get out of bed for. Suddenly, she didn’t see her life as a string of dates on a calendar.

Most of all, she was terrified. The last time she was pregnant...

Plus, she was terrified about how people react. What would Jackson say?

Everything had been complicated. Now it was just more complicated.

“Soph, that’s great. How far along are you?” Stella took her hands in hers.

“Six weeks.”

Stella hugged her. “This is good news.”

“Yes. I guess.” Stella pulled back to look Sophia in the eye.

“I know it’s not how you imagined it.”

“Not at all.”

“I know. But it’s a miracle. It is. And Jackson loves you. He only left because you made him. He’s going to be ecstatic. It’s not too late, Soph, to get your life back with him. You’re going to be so happy, even if you can’t see it now.”

“I don’t want to be with him just because of this.”

“You won’t be. I don’t care what you say. You never stopped caring for him. And he still loves you.”

“This is just all so messy. I didn’t expect this. I miss Tim. I love him. I wanted this dream with him.”

“I know.”

“You’re right, though. I do love Jackson, too. I do. But how can we just move on together? How can we forget that this was once my dream with Tim? How can I just replace him?” Suddenly, the tears she thought were gone came back. Stella held her for a long time.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

“I don’t know.”

“I do. Listen. Life, it’s fucking crazy.”

Sophia paused, grinning a bit at Stella’s typical bluntness. She wiped the snot from under her nose as Stella continued.

“It’s chaotic and weird and strange and unexpected. But you can’t sit here feeling sad and sorry for yourself. You can’t let your sadness overshadow this amazing news. A baby, Soph. You’ve always wanted this. I know you’re scared and worried. I know this isn’t how you pictured your life. But that’s the thing. This is your life. Roll with it. Soak it in. Be happy. It doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten Tim. It doesn’t mean you’re moving on completely, forgetting him. It means you’re going to live your life and be happy. He would want that for you. And honestly, if he had to pick someone for you to be with, don’t you think it would be his best friend?”

Sophia scrunched her eyebrows. “Um, no. Think that might be a bit much.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. Too far.” Stella laughed, putting her hands up. “Seriously, though. You’re having a baby with a guy you love. No one can judge you for that. And if they do, I’ll kill them.”

Sophia laughed, nodding. “Maybe you’re right. I can’t change things that have happened. I
can
decide where my life’s going. And I want it to be happy.”

“Okay. Great. So when are you telling Jackson?”

Sophia blew her bangs out of her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean? What happened to the carpe diem attitude?”

“I’m serious. I don’t want us to reunite just because I’m pregnant. I don’t want him to feel obligated.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I will tell him. Eventually. But I want to think some things through first.”

“You’re so damn frustrating.”

“So are you.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment. Now listen, go brush your scuzzy ass hair, wipe off your mascara, and get some real clothes on.”

“Why?”

“We’re going out to celebrate. I’m going to be a godmother. This is big news. Let’s go get ice cream. Don’t preggo women like that? Do you want pickles with it?”

“Oh my God. You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“God help Larry when you’re knocked up.”

“Ha. That’ll be the day.”

Sophia shook her head. She suddenly had an image of Stella holding a pink-haired baby dressed in a black lace shirt and a studded necklace.

She smirked.

“What?” Stella asked, appraising Sophia’s weird expression.

“Nothing. Just hoping that wasn’t a vision of the future. Let’s go get ice cream. But no pickles just yet.”

“Deal.”

She ran a brush through her hair, feeling better about everything.

Good friends did that for you. They made you realize when you were being ridiculous, told you when you looked ratty. Most of all, they told you it was okay to be happy.

For the first time in a while, Sophia believed it.

_______________

“Will you be wanting pictures?”

“Absolutely,” Sophia replied, exhaling deeply as she tried to calm her nerves. The table beneath her was cold, and the technician was even colder, staring at the screen intently.

Sophia’s heart was full and warm. The clinical feel of the room, the oatmeal-colored walls couldn’t bring her down.

She was going to see her baby for the first time.

It had been a little over a week since she’d broken the news to Stella. A week to get used to the idea, to let Stella’s reassurance sink in.

A week, though, to decide she couldn’t tell Jackson, not just yet. She would eventually. She wasn’t the kind of woman to keep it to herself, to hide something this important. But, as she had told Stella, she also didn’t want to be the kind of woman to make their relationship about a baby, to make him feel obligated. She wanted to do this on her own, for now, to figure it out, to find the right way to tell him.

So here she was, her first sonogram.

Granted, the baby would probably look like a grain of rice on a splotchy screen at this point, but it didn’t matter. She was going to get the first look at her child.

Her child.

It hadn’t taken her as long as she thought to get used to the idea. Sure, things were still a mess—hence her attending the first sonogram alone, as the technician aptly pointed out,
several times
, when she asked,
several times
, if she was sure no one else was coming for this moment.

Looking at the ceiling—also oatmeal colored... these people needed a lesson in interior design—she thought briefly about the fact she was, in fact, all alone here.

“The baby’s there,” the technician grumbled, pointing to a dot on the screen. This lady was clearly unhappy with her job.

Sophia couldn’t bring herself to care about the technician’s harsh tone. All she could care about was that she wasn’t here all alone; she wasn’t alone at all.

Her baby. The baby growing every day, the baby she would raise, would love, was on the screen.

Her eyes teared up. “Hi, little one,” she said.

The technician gave her a look as if to say
Crazy.

Sophia grimaced. “You know, my pregnancy book says babies can hear and determine their mother’s voices in the womb,” she said pointedly.

The technician, true to her mousey nature, said nothing.

Sophia’s gaze returned to the screen. She couldn’t stop staring.

Looking at the scaly, scratchy picture, though, her heart ached a little.

Actually, her heart ached a lot.

She realized she did want someone else to be here, to be by her side, holding her hand, making her laugh in the face of this horrid technician. She wanted someone else here to break up the oatmeal color, to radiate with her at the sight of the baby.

It wasn’t just anyone holding her hand she wanted, no needed, now.

It was one person. One man.

Jackson.

She smiled, a wide, toothy grin.

She didn’t have to go this alone. She didn’t have to feel guilty. The answer, the one she’d been looking for, was on the screen. It was in her heart.

She was ready to say hello to this new life, to shout carpe diem after all. She was ready to crawl out of the black, dark hole of grief and let joy come flooding back in.

SOPHIA

S
ophia scratched her nose with the back of her arm, sneezing as she did. In her rolled up purple sweatpants from high school—which had a mystery stain on the thigh—and a holey red T-shirt, she was quite the sight.

Call it early nesting, call it being in a good mood from the sonogram appointment, call it realizing her house was a freaking disaster; it didn’t matter. She was spring-cleaning, organizing, and just plain getting the filth out of the house—and she wasn’t looking very good doing it. She wasn’t a domestic goddess, although she never had been.

Tim had made fun of her for her lack of domestic charm. He wasn’t sexist, doing his share of laundry and dishes, too. He just loved to tease her about her cluelessness in the cleaning aisle, by the washer, and in front of the stove.

Now, she was determined to make the place shine, even if it was just for her and Henry. She was in better spirits today even though she typically hated cleaning. Pandora blasting in the background, she continued on to the living room with her yellow duster, prepared to tackle some dust bunnies in hibernation.

When the doorbell rang, she thought nothing of it, yelling, “One second,” as she headed to her wallet for some cash. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation of the General Tso’s chicken waiting for her at the door. Hey, she was in a better mood, but she wasn’t crazy. She wouldn’t tackle cleaning the whole house without some amazing Chinese cuisine to get her through.

Adele came on the station, and Sophia was tempted to belt out the first note. She reminded herself Mike—she did frequent the Chinese takeout restaurant quite often, elevating them to a first-name basis—was at the door and probably didn’t need or want to hear her off-tune rendition of the singing goddess. She flung the door open, a ten-dollar bill in hand.

But Mike wasn’t at the door, and her General Tso’s chicken was nowhere in sight. Instead, a familiar face, lined with stubble, greeted her. Her heart clenched in icy panic. What was he doing here?

And shit, she was wearing the mystery stain pants in the grape hue with her red shirt.

And she hadn’t washed her hair in a few days.

And she was covered in cleaning solutions.

“Um, hi, do you need something?” she asked, stumbling over her words, taking in the sight of him, the scent of his cologne floating on the breeze toward her.

He had a handful of daisies, her favorite. She couldn’t help but ogle them.

Her chest clenched again. What was he doing here? Stella had to have told him. She must have spilled...

“Can I come in?” He interrupted her thoughts, grinning, his eyes sparkling. He was the same Jackson she’d said goodbye to a month or so ago. Somehow, though, he was different. It was more than the stubble. It was the confidence in him, the chin up feel of him. It suited him, she had to admit.

At the moment, all she could think about was how this was a chin down moment for her. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face all of this just yet, despite her sonogram revelations. She was just starting to feel okay; she was just convincing herself of this. She was just looking for one day of mindless dusting and belting out tunes before approaching the father of her unborn child.

However, looking at him in his jeans and Johnny Cash black T-shirt, she realized she did want to talk to him right now. She wanted him here, wanted him looking into her eyes. She missed their walks, their deep conversations. She missed the feel of his hands on her.

She gestured toward the living room, Adele still blaring in the background. God this was a long song. And the symbolism in it couldn’t be ignored, to her chagrin. She hoped he didn’t notice.

He smirked. “This seems fitting, huh?” he said. Yep, he noticed.

He walked into the kitchen, heading toward the cupboard with her solitary vase. He pulled it down, put the daisies in, and filled it with water. It was natural but intimate. It was the move of a man who lived here.

“So,” she said, trying to assess where this was going, not really believing he was actually here.

“So.” He took a few steps toward her, and she was again reminded of how gross her hair was and how she looked terrible. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.” Her heart danced in her chest. Her palms and armpits were sweating as if she was a high school girl about to be prom-posed to.

“I’m a military man, right? So I don’t believe in pussyfooting around. I’m going to get straight to the point. This, Soph, is goddamn ridiculous.”

She was taken back by his harsh words. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but she knew she hadn’t been expecting this. She froze, afraid to speak, wondering where the hell he was going with this.

“I love you. I know you love me. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care if this is complicated, hard, and guilt-ridden. It’s all of those things, I know. But, Sophia, I love you. No, I didn’t expect this. I didn’t want this, not at first. I just wanted to be there for you and, selfishly, I wanted you there for me. I felt like you were the only one who understood me, who knew what it was to lose everything. Then, when neither of us was looking, it blossomed into something else. I hate how it took a tragedy for us to find each other, I do. But we can’t change it. No matter how it happened, I love you. I want to be with you. Not Chloe. Not anyone but you. This past month has been the worst month of my life, and I’ve been through a lot of stuff. I’ve given you space. I’ve given myself space. But I’m done. I know what I want. I want you, every single piece of you. The broken shards, the guilt-ridden pangs, the memories, wishes, and what ifs. I want the girl who loves Swedish Fish, the girl who prefers sneakers to high heels. I want the girl who watches
Bridesmaids
once a month, who cannot sleep with socks on. I want every single part of you. And dammit, I’m here to get you back, whether you want me to or not.”