Page 300 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

A corner door opens, and a nurse stands there staring at a chart. When she looks up, she calls, “Mr. Devreux.”

Tatum’s got a good sense of humor this morning. I hope she can keep it after whatever news we’re given. The name doesn’t bother me. Today, it attaches me to her as more than just the guy who knocked her up. “That’s me.”

I walk toward her and follow her down the hall. I’m shown to a room to wait by myself. Before I have time to read all about the Heimlich from the poster, a knock draws my attention, and then the door opens. Tatum smiles the second she sees me and hurries into my open arms.

She says, “We’re pregnant.”

My arms don’t leave her, and I don’t look down. I stay still in the moment, closing my eyes and releasing a breath that feels long-held.

Gentle sobs rock her body as she clings to me. I can’t decipher between sadness or happiness from the sound, but I steal a second to savor those two words. I’m not sure what’s going to happen between us, but at this moment, we’re united as one.

When she releases me, she grabs a tissue from the box on the counter. Wiping under her eyes, she looks at me. “What do you think, Harrison? I need to know what you’re thinking.”

Yesterday, I had determined she needed to lead. Today, she needs me. “Have you made a decision you haven’t shared with me?” I ask cautiously.

She plops down on the hard, plastic chair and shakes her head. “I don’t think I should keep anything from you. This baby is yours as well as mine, but it’s growing inside me, so I appreciate you asking.” Her eyes find the anatomical makeup poster of a pregnant woman. Although I think parts of this scare her, I’m not sure what she’ll decide.

Getting up again, she comes to me and leans her head on my chest. “It wasn’t real yesterday. It was shock factor and reaction. I was trying my best not to believe it because what if those tests were wrong.”

I realize we all process things differently, even on different timelines. When I was freaking out last night, she was waiting to have confirmation. I’m not sure that either is right or wrong, but I know that I did a disservice to her last night. What will I do this time?

Looking up at me, she continues, “I’m going to have this baby.”

I reach out for the wall beside me, needing the support. I’m not sure what I expected, but that doesn’t seem to be it. But I can wholeheartedly attest that’s the answer I was hoping for.

It’s strange how life comes at you. It wasn’t but a few weeks ago that she hated me. I couldn’t even get Tatum to make eye contact. If she did, it was full of a rage I couldn’t extinguish. Time has given me a second chance. Life has changed for her and for me. I can only hope for the better for both of us.

I’ve stood too quiet because she asks, “What do you want to do?”

We don’t have any details worked out. There’s not one plan in place. How could there be? All of this is unexpected, but the direction of our lives has changed, and I’ll change with it.I am nothing likehim. Unlike Madison, Tate will not be left to raise this baby alone. “I want this baby, Tate.”

Again, she embraces me, not waiting, not seeking my permission, just full-on hugs me. It’s not something I’m used to in general with girlfriends. But like I’ve always known, Tatum is special.

“What happens now?” she asks.

“Not sure. There’s a lot to think about and plan. But now that we know?—”

“And half of Manhattan because of the surprise party last night.”

I give her that, tipping my head. “I think we take a few days to just enjoy this. You want this baby. I want this baby. There’s a lot to celebrate with this new life.”

The nurse comes in and says, “Okay, you’re all ready to go, Ms. Devreux. We’ve set your next appointment.” She hands her an appointment card. “And we look forward to seeing you then. Congratulations to you both.”

“Thanks,” I say, letting the news sink in.

We hold hands as we leave. I’m not Mr. Devreux, and she’s not Mrs. Decker, but we’re together, happy, and bringing a new life into the world. It might not be a perfect bow to some, but life feels pretty damn grand to me right now.

Just as we push through the exit doors, I ask, “Hungry?”

“Starving. I’m craving French toast. Want to go get breakfast? I know a great diner up ahead.”

I’m pretty sure cravings don’t start this early. I also never expected to hear Tatum request diner food since she’s more the Michelin-starred restaurant type. I’m happy to oblige her every whim if it means spending time with her and enjoying this next stage together.

As we walked down the street, I ask, “When can we tell our families?”

She stops and pulls her phone from her bag. Reading a text message on the screen, she then holds it so I can see it. Her parents will be in Manhattan for one night.

This Friday.

---