Page 62 of Waiting for Tuesday

Tuesday

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It wasquarter to six when I finally made it back to the shop. Becky and I had spent the afternoon drinking tea and talking, but so few words came about my situation. We were both in shock, which was strange, considering I was the one who was pregnant. But things that affected me had always affected her just as much, no matter how far apart we were at the time—ever since we were little girls.

Before I left though, she promised, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would find my baby’s father. She would find Austin, and I believed her.

I opened the door to the back room, where the guys were already packing up for the day. This was how I planned it. Because I couldn’t bear to face John while the guys were here.

He was in the far corner of the room talking to Leo, and I fought to keep my breath even. I didn’t know how to do this. Tell the man I loved, loved more deeply than I ever thought possible, that I was pregnant with another man’s baby. But I had no choice.

He looked over at me out of the corner of his eye, but his lips curved in that crooked smile I loved. He was excited to see me, which would normally fill my stomach with butterflies and excitement but crushed me so much now. Because I knew after tonight, he’d never smile at me like that again. After I told him, he wouldn't look at me like that anymore. It would be different, and I wouldn’t blame him even a tiny bit.

The guys gathered the rest of their equipment, eager to be gone. There were only a few days left of work, and they didn’t want to be here as much as I wanted them gone. Though the closer they got to leaving, the higher my anxiety climbed.

“Night, Ms. Patil,” Leo said, as he made his way to the parking lot.

I nodded like always. “Night.” But tonight was so much different. Because instead of being excited to finally have John to myself, I was filled with fear, panic, and regret. So much regret.

I wrapped my arms around my belly, to the baby that had been growing there without my knowing, and swallowed back the bitter bile that was clawing up my throat.

John leaned against the new stainless steel counter and beckoned me with his finger. It was a game we played, the christening of every single surface of the shop. Every table, floor, chair, and tonight would be the new counters. I walked toward him, my lip between my teeth, but words trapped in my throat.

“Where’d you go?”

I stopped in front of him, shaking my head, and I pulled in a deep breath. I wanted to spit it out, to get it over with, to just say the damn words.I’m pregnant John, and you’re not the father.But I couldn’t. My eyes brimmed with tears, and my chest grew heavy with the words that were trapped inside me. As if my body was trying to protect my heart by incapacitating my vocal chords.

His brows furrowed, and his hand came up to touch my jaw. My head leaned into his palm involuntarily, and I took a deep breath. God, I loved this. I loved the way he touched me, loved his rough hands that were so gentle at the same time.

“Is everything okay?”

I closed my eyes, trying to force back tears that threatened to spill over. He pulled me into his chest, encompassing me with his arms, and surrounding me with his heat. It wasn’t even cold out, but I hadn’t been warm since I heard the news.

“Shit.” He hugged me tighter. “What’s wrong, Tuesday?”

I could feel my heart ripping in two, but I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my ear to his chest to feel his heart beating, and trying to memorize all of it. He was a man who didn’t run from a conversation. He confronted things head on, eyes open, but how could I tell him I was pregnant with another man’s child? How could I face him every day afterward?

I took in a deep, shaky breath and opened my eyes, forcing myself back just enough so I could look at him. He was watching me, jaws tight but eyes soft.

He touched my face again, then his other hand came up so he cradled my head in both hands. He looked into my eyes without words, telling me I could say anything, thatit was okay to be vulnerable because he would protect me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again.

I shook my head, fighting an internal battle between pushing him away and squeezing him tighter and never letting go. I tried to think of the words that wouldn’t be misunderstood. Because if I said I was pregnant, he would think the baby was his, and I’d have to explain. If I said I was pregnant with another man’s baby, he would think I’d been unfaithful. Been with other men when we were together. But this situation was far more complicated than that, and I couldn’t stand either option. Even for the split second before I got to explain.

I looked to the floor then, knowing I couldn’t bear to see what he looked like when I said the words. I wanted the last memory of John to be the way he looked at me when I walked into the room.

“John, I?” I pulled in a deep breath, unable to force the words from my lips. I needed him to know this time between us wasn’t nothing. That being with him made me realize I’d been selling myself short for a long time. I took another breath and started again. “I need you to know something…These last weeks have been the most amazing of my life.”

A tear fell down my face, and he pulled me closer, crushing me against his chest ashe let out an audible breath. “Nothing’s going to change, baby.”

I shook my head, more tears welling in my eyes and spilling down my cheeks. I wished he were right, that we could go on like this forever. But he was wrong. So wrong.

He pushed me back at my shoulders, just enough so he could look at me. Then he lifted my chin with his finger. “Just because I won't be working here any longer doesn’t mean I won’t be here every day.”

His eyes were penetrating mine, honest, and I choked on a sob because I wished, so desperately, that that was what this was about.More than anything in my life. His brows pulled together, and he brushed a tear away from my cheek with his thumb. He searched my eyes then shook his head slightly, as though realizing it was more than that.

My breath slowed, and his lips pressed against my forehead, my nose, on each cheek, kissing the tears away. My chest heaved and I forced my eyes open. In four more days, this job would over. Four more days, so why tell him now?

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