Page 35 of Jeremy
“I’mokay. It actually explains a lot. But I can’t have him taking care of me now.I’ll tell him when he gets back. I can call a home health care service and seeif they can recommend someone to help me with errands and stuff.”
Agneshugs me. “Let me know. I can’t leave without knowing you’re okay.”
“Iwill. Now, get out of here. I’ll be fine until Jeremy gets back. I know you andAmos have stuff to do.”
“Callif you need anything. I mean it.”
“Ipromise.”
OnceI’m alone and the house is quiet, I try to wrap my head around what I’ve justlearned. I’ve been confused at the way Jeremy seems to keep his distance fromme and care about me at the same time. Now, it makes sense. He cared about thebaby. As soon as he knows the truth, that will be the end of all the houserepairs and baby classes.
That’snot what’s bothering me, though. I can pay for my own repairs and chances are Iwon’t be going back to the classes now anyway. The truth is I like having himaround. Even though he can be a major dick sometimes, there’s just somethingabout him that draws me in, and it’s not just his good looks or lickable body.It’s always been my weakness, being drawn to bad boys, but really, how bad ishe? He doesn’t seem to do much other than work on his house or mine. He’s souptight that when he does let his guard down and relax a bit, it’s veryendearing.
Maybeit’s only the mystery of him I’m attracted to, but it doesn’t feel like it.Yes, I want to know what thoughts go through his surly brain. I want to knowhim better. Mostly, I just don’t want to lose one of the only two friends Ihave, though I know he wouldn’t consider himself a friend.
Friend,yeah. The last few weeks he hasn’t been around much, and I notice there areeven some nights he doesn’t come home. I try to lie to myself that I don’t careif he’s seeing someone, but the jealousy is real.
Gah,maybe I’m crazy, but the thought of telling him a truth I know will just releasehim from his perceived responsibility sends a wave of sadness through me. I’mtotally going to blame the hormones for the brief urge I have not to tell him,to just let him keep believing the baby is his.
I’mnot that type of person though. He’s already struggling after losing someone heloves, and I’m sure guilt has played a huge part in the things he’s done forme. I can’t let that continue.
Damnit. I hate this.
Lyingback on the bed, I take a few minutes to wallow in my misery and feel sorry formyself before I try to put things in perspective.
Yes,I’m pregnant and alone.
Yes,I’m scared and lonely.
ButI’m also free, which is miles ahead of where I’ve been in the past. I’m free tomake my own way and follow my own rules. I can also raise my baby the way I was.With unconditional love and support. My mother died when I was a baby, but myfather was always there for me, and while Kelly and I fought like most sisters,we were still close.
Afterall, I’m not really alone. I have my baby.
Thepep talk I give myself seems to help. I swear, my emotions are all over theplace. Apparently, hormones make me insane. But by the time Jeremy returns,I’ve got myself under control.
“Whatare you doing out of bed?” he demands as he strides through the door, ladenwith bags.
“I’msupposed to stay immobile as much as possible. I can relax on the couch. I’mjust not supposed to be on my feet for longer than it takes to walk to therestroom.”
I’mrewarded with a grunt as he puts away the groceries. He returns to the livingroom, and I hand him a check for the groceries. “Keep it,” he mumbles, lookingaround. “Do you need anything else?”
Anysocial skills I’ve ever learned seem to have flown out the window when I blurt,“It’s not your baby.”
Ittakes a second for my words to sink in, then he whirls around to face me. “Whatdid you say?”
“I’mnot pregnant with your baby. Agnes just told me that she made you think it wasyours. I mean, she thought it was, but I didn’t tell her it was.” Fuck. I’mbabbling. “I didn’t know you thought it was your baby or I would’ve told youfrom the beginning.”
Hischest rises and falls with a deep sigh. “You can’t know for sure. The timinghas to be close, doesn’t it?”
“Jeremy,I’m twenty weeks. We hadn’t even met yet. What do you remember about the nightI spent at your house?”
Hislips press together. “Not a damn thing. I don’t remember being in the bedroom.Or us fucking.”
“That’sbecause we didn’t.”
Theshock on his face would be comical under different circumstances. “What?”
“Wemade out and…touched each other, but when we tried to fuck, you couldn’t keepit up. Whiskey does that sometimes, you know. We were both trashed, so we justfell asleep.”
