Page 84 of Give My Everything
But they showed me on a little screen what was growing inside of me, a little baby that was almost exactly eight weeks along.
I spent several days waffling between what I wanted to do and what I thought Ishoulddo and what I was expected to do. I went to a clinic. Signed in. Sat at the front, but then left before they called my name.
I moved home just a few days later, preparing to talk to Lucas about it, thinking I would be honest and tell him the truth.
I wasn’t honest.
He didn’t get the whole truth from me.
And I don’t know that anyone ever will.
I need to schedule my next appointment, though I have to be careful because I don’t want anyone seeing me. When I told the doctor in Santa Barbara I was moving, she said I’d need to find an OB right away.
I’ve been here for over a month and haven’t even started looking.
Does that make me a bad person?
Does that make me a bad mom?
I’ve thought about it a handful of times, even picked up the phone and tried to find a place I might like.
But the idea of going in for a prenatal visit, scheduling an ultrasound to possibly hear the heartbeat…it feels like too much—too much to do alone.
I snuggle into my body pillow, holding the ultrasound picture in my hand and wondering if I should reach out to Ben.
He might not be theactualfather, but he’s clearly still up for the job, and he’s told me I don’t have to do this stuff alone.
The idea of calling him today makes my nose wrinkle, though, especially in light of how I acted last night after our tête-à-tête in the staff room at Sheldon House.
I have a hard time understanding what happened to me at the end. All I know is we were having sex and it was amazing and I couldn’t get enough of fucking him.
And then I felt it.
I felt him come, felt the pulse of him inside me.
Only one person has ever done that before in my entire life. And he’s the reason I’m pregnant right now.
I’ve never let someone do it before, and I didn’t realize I would have such a…strong reaction to it, to how it feels, to howdirtyit makesmefeel.
So I shut down. I tuned him out.
After some mind-blowing sex that made me feel like I was walking on sunshine, riding a cloud, tasting the rainbow, or any of those other clichés.
I look at Ben’s number in my phone and wonder if I can summon up the courage to talk to him.
A moment passes. Two.
Nope. Text it is.
Me: I need your help with something. Can we not talk about last night?
There’s a delay in his response, but eventually I see the little bubbles on my screen pop up, then disappear, then pop up again. It happens a few times before he finally sends a message.
Ben: What can I help with? I’m here for whatever you need.
Something tense settles in my chest at his answer. As firm as Ben likes to be, as much as he considers himself to be a man with a plan or whatever, he really is just a solid guy.
Me: I need to make an OBGYN appointment to get a prenatal visit, but I have to keep this shit secret and not go through my insurance or my parents will find out since I’m still on their plan. Any ideas?
