stopped giving me their unsolicited opinion on my life.
“Okay, you know what? I’ll stop talking about it. Would you prefer that? Maybe we should talk about something else.” She leans towards me now as she speaks, and I can see the depth of her cleavage down the neck of her dress.
For a moment, I’m distracted until I’m once again reminded that she is not Ella. This is not the same. I’m not feeling the same feelings I felt before.
“Yeah, we should talk about something else,” I say and finish the remainder of my Scotch.
She watches me and takes a sip of her cocktail. I can sense she’s thinking about what to say next.
“You know? I don’t live too far from here. Three blocks away. Do you feel like taking a walk? I can see you’re done with your whiskey.”
There’s a twinkle in my eye, and I remind myself I can’t do this all my life. I can’t reject every possible fresh sexual experience because of the way I felt about Ella once.
I pull out my wallet and leave a large wad of bills on the bar counter. Then I stand up, and she smiles at me.
She doesn’t even bother to finish her drink. Instead, she’s already weaving around the tables towards the front door. I follow her there. I can feel a tightening in my chest. Every step I take towards her feels forceful.
When we are outside, she turns to me with her golden curls blowing lightly in the breeze. I know I should offer her my jacket. There’s a chill in the air.
“My name is Becky, by the way,” she says as I take my jacket off and drape it around her shoulders. She holds on to it with her fingers, shuddering a little in the cold.
“Reed,” I reply and she smiles. I can see she’s pleased.
“Thanks, I needed this,” she says.
I push my hands into the pockets of my pants and give her a deep nod.
“Keep it. For your walk home.”
I’m already backing away from her, and Becky’s eyes grow wide in surprise.
“Where are you going?” she asks. I don’t reply.
I turn around and start walking in the opposite direction. I can’t do this.
I can’t make myself move on.
I need to contact Ella. I need to do it right this time. Tell her how I feel.
18
Ella
I am at work, trying to not stuff my face with chocolate bars that I’m crazy craving these days. When my phone buzzes on my desk, I see it’s a private number. I’ve been making many phone calls this morning concerning a piece of historical information I’ve been researching, so I assume it’s regarding that and answer the call.
“Ella?” His voice hits me like a ton of bricks. I have to grab the edges of my desk to keep myself steady. A rush of emotions passes through me, and I force myself to speak.
“Yes.”
“It’s me.”
“I know,” I murmur into the phone and stand up with a jerk.
I need to leave the floor; I need some privacy. So I hurry to the toilets.
“How are you?”
“Good. How are you?” I ask.
“Also good. I think. I don’t know. Life suddenly seems very complicated.”
He has no idea. If he knew about the pregnancy, I don’t know what he would think of life then. But I have already made up my mind. I’m going to tell him in person.
I’m in the toilets now, and I shut the door behind me.
“Yeah, life is pretty complicated for me too,” I admit.
“I’m sorry about the way we left things. I lost my temper that day, and it shouldn’t have happened.”
“I think it was my fault. I may have provoked you.”
I can picture him rubbing a hand over his face.
“I wanted to hear your voice. Is that bad?” he asks.
I can feel my breath catching in my throat. There’s a wide mirror across one wall of the toilets, and I look at myself. I’m carrying this man’s baby. There’s a part of him inside me right now. Right here…I stroke my belly.
I feel protective of this child. Even though things will probably be rough and complicated and there will be a lot to overcome, as each day goes by, my confidence in becoming a mother is growing.
“It’s good to hear your voice too, Reed,” I reply, and I can’t help but smile. It’s more than good. It’s great. He has no idea how happy my heart is right now. Maybe the baby can feel it too.