Page 22 of Wild Side
ZADIE
Decision made.I pull on a pair of clean, cut-off shorts and a cropped T-shirt. My uniform when I’m not at work is my actual uniform. When I reach for the motel key on the nightstand, I hear a knock on the door.
My entire body freezes.
Who the hell?
And at the same time… What the hell?
Before I can ask either question or even walk over to look through the peephole, I hear his voice from the other side of the door call out my name. My body freezes. I can’t believe I’ve heard what I have.
Maybe I’m just hearing things. Maybe it’s wishful thinking or a hallucination or something. I mean, I did travel all day yesterday, worked myself up and stressed myself out, then had sex against my rental car before I came back to the hotel, ate sugar, and tried to sleep. So, maybe it’s just overtired delirium.
But when I hear my name being called again, it’s almost as if my feet move on their own volition. When I reach the door,I lean forward, looking through the peephole before I make a move to open it.
I’m not sure who I expect to see standing on the other side of the door. I know what Maverick’s voice sounds like, and I know it was him. But I didn’t believe it until my eyes locked in on him.
There, standing right outside my motel room door, is Maverick. I think about leaving him out there, ignoring the fact that he’s standing there, but I decide against it. I was going to go to him anyway. The fact that he’s here means I don’t have to drive around in the dark.
I wrench open the door, tilt my head back, and look up at him. He is smiling, his eyes immediately finding mine. Without a word, he moves toward me, past me, and into the motel room.
“Come on in,” I deadpan as I close the door behind him.
I watch as he spins around inside the room to face me, his lips still curved up into a huge smile. “Don’t mind if I do,” he quips.
Then, wordlessly, he sinks down on the edge of the bed, kicks his boots off, and shifts around so that he’s lying with his back propped against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him.
He’s gorgeous, of course, but I’m still taken aback that he’s made himself at home. When he lifts his hands, laces them together, and places them behind his head, he turns to me, his eyes sparkling as they dance over my face.
“What did you want to talk about earlier?” he asks.
It’s past three thirty in the morning, and he’s lying here in front of me, acting as if it’s the most normal thing in the entire world to do. I stare at him, unsure if this is real life, and pinch my thigh just in case I’m dreaming.
I’m not.
“Zadie?”
And because I’m so taken aback, so stunted in shock, what I do next is not how I wanted it to happen. But unfortunately, the words just spill out of me, like word vomit. Whatever you want to call it, they pour out of my mouth and into his ears.
“I’m pregnant.”
I blink, disbelieving that I’ve said what I have out loud. Watching him, I wait for his reaction. Because it’s out there now, and there’s nothing I can do to take it back. He doesn’t move. I’m not even sure he breathes.
I’m about to ask him if he’s okay when he throws his legs over the side of the bed to sit on the edge. I wait for him to stand up and storm out of the room, but he doesn’t. Instead, he places his elbows on his knees, brings his hands together in front of his mouth, and closes his eyes in a slow blink, then opens them and finds my gaze.
“You’re pregnant,” he says, finally speaking, but the words come out just above a whisper.
“I’m pregnant,” I confirm.
He nods a couple of times, drops his hands to his thighs, then straightens his knees, standing before he sits back down again. It’s as if he can’t figure out what to do, and I don’t blame him because I very much feel the exact same way.
I don’t know what to do.
I’m lost.
And tears fill my eyes, not for the first time. I blink them back, not wanting to cry in front of this man I hardly know. He clears his throat and shakes his head, as if to shake the thoughts from his running mind.
I wish he would say something, anything, and then he does, and I think that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t have actually said a word.
