Expect Me (Rivers Edge Book 3) (4 page)

The car makes its stop on the top floor and the doors open. I consider pushing the down button and just forgoing this entire trip. I don’t need to tell him, do I? I can just raise the baby by myself and be just fine. But then the thought of living on Matty’s couch or moving home with my parents enters my thoughts. No. I need to tell him. It’s the right thing to do.

I step out of the elevator and turn towards his apartment. I stop when I reach four oh eight. It’s now or never.

I raise my hand, take a deep breath, and knock on the door.

I broke ground on the new house yesterday. The foundation is now dug out and graded, and ready to be poured. I’m actually way ahead of schedule. My original plan was to start this later in the summer, but ever since that night with Josselyn a couple of months back, I find myself restless, edgy. So, I figured I could put all my extra energy into starting the house.

I just got back from the building site - checking to make sure everything is set to start the foundation next weekend - and am stepping out of the shower when I hear a knock on the door. I’m not expecting anyone since I will be seeing my entire family in about three hours when we gather at my parent’s house for our regular family dinner on Sunday nights.

I wrap a towel around my waist and step out into the hallway. I’m about to run to my room and at least throw on a t-shirt and shorts when I hear the aggressive knock a second time. By the time I throw on some clothes, the visitor might give up and leave.

So, I walk into the kitchen and approach the front door. I gaze through the peephole and my heart stops beating. Literally. Standing on the other side of my door is the one woman I can’t stop thinking about, can’t stop dreaming about, and can’t get out of my head. Josselyn.

I release the deadbolt on the door and slowly pull it open. My eyes instantly seek out those hazel ones that have haunted my thoughts and dreams for two months. Her eyes are round with surprise as if the sight of me standing in front of her shocks and effects her as much as it does me. Then her eyes roam down. She gasps as she takes in my wet, towel clad body. Her eyes return to mine and that’s when I see it - lust.

We both stand there staring at each other for what feels like forever, but in reality is probably only a few seconds. I can’t believe she’s actually standing before me. She’s wearing her brown hair in a high ponytail on her head, blue jean capris, and a red tank top. She looks every bit as amazing as I remember.

  Josselyn clears her throat, breaking me out of my thoughts. Thoughts that are consumed by her beauty and strength.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she says finally breaking the silence. “I didn’t know your number or I would have called first.”

“It’s okay. You’re not interrupting. Come on in,” I finally get the words out of my mouth. I step back and hold the door open wide for her to enter. She takes another quick peek at my towel clad bottom half and looks away with a soft pink blush. It’s cuter than shit.

Closing the front door, I turn my attention back to the woman standing before me. “I’ll just run back real quick and throw on some clothes. Why don’t you go into the living room and make yourself comfortable.” Josselyn shakes her head up and down fast and walks into the living room.

I head back to my bedroom and shut the door tightly behind me. I lean back against the door and close my eyes. What is she doing here?

The morning after the best night of my life, I woke up alone. I checked my kitchen for a note but found no trace of Josselyn except for a missing t-shirt that I assume she had to wear home since I destroyed hers. After brunch with my family, I took to the internet to see what I could find on my mystery girl. I knew her name and that she lived in St. Charles, but that’s as far as my knowledge went.

I found her on Facebook but her page was set to private so all I could see was her profile picture. I thought about sending her a friend request for about two seconds, but I didn’t want to seem like a crazy weirdo who spends the night with a girl and then stalks them until I find out more info. I also thought about calling the catering company and seeing if I could get some contact information from them. It all seemed to leave me feeling like a crazed stalker, so I decided to let the cards fall where they may. If she was meant to be, I’d see her again someday. And now here she is in my living room.

I grab a t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts from my dresser and throw them on quickly. I don’t want to leave her waiting too much longer for fear that she’ll bolt again before I get some answers to the questions I’ve been asking myself for the past couple of months. Ultimately, why did you leave?

When I step into the living room, Josselyn is sitting on my couch with her head between her knees. She’s breathing deeply like she’s trying to calm her nerves. “Are you alright?” I ask as I approach her.

She startles and looks up at me. Josselyn’s pale as a ghost and her skin has a light sheen of sweat over it. She opens her mouth to talk, but immediately drops her head back between her knees.

I’m kneeling in front of her in a second. I start to rub light, soothing circles on her back as she continues to breathe in and out, in and out. Suddenly, she bolts up and runs around me towards my bathroom. She slams the door behind her, but doesn’t lock it. I’m inside a moment later and watch helplessly as Josselyn dumps the contents of her stomach into my toilet.

I walk over to the cabinet and grab a washrag, running it under the cool tap water. I set it down on the edge of the sink and squat down next to where she’s kneeling. Thank goodness I have a damn strong stomach.

When it appears that the heaving has subsided, I reach up and grab the cool washrag. I turn her so that we’re sitting on the floor side by side in front of the tub. She’s weak from the upchucking and goes easily into my arms. When I have her tucked against my side, under my arm, I lay the cool washrag on her forehead.

We sit there for several minutes before she finally talks. “I can’t believe I just threw up in front of you. Could this get any worse?” Her words are still labored, small, and full of embarrassment.

“Are you feeling okay now? Can you get up?”

“Yeah, I’m better now. The worst has passed.” She tries to stand up on her own, but I won’t let her. I stand up quickly and help her up, keeping her hands inside of mine. It’s the first time I’ve touched these hands in two damn long months. They’re still as soft as they were that night.

I lead her back into the living room, sitting her down on the couch, and head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Once I’m back in the living room, sitting next to her on the couch, I hand her the glass. She takes a couple of timid sips as if to make sure that the water isn’t going to make a return appearance too.

“Better?” I ask as I gently rub her back again.

“Yes. Thank you,” she whispers softly without looking up at me.

“So…” I let the word trail off, not really knowing what to say, what to ask next. Why is she here now?

When she doesn’t say anything I realize that if I’m going to get answers, I’m going to have to drag them out of her. “Are you sick? Do you have the flu or something?”

She snickers an incredulous little laugh before turning to face me again. “No, I don’t have the flu, Travis.” Her eyes appear to be greener today with specks of gold, and they never leave mine. She waits a few breathless moments before she drops a live grenade straight into my lap. “I’m pregnant.”

There’s a distant ringing sound in my ears and the air instantly becomes stuffy and thick making it impossible to breathe. Did she just say pregnant? No, she didn’t. I’m being punked - pranked. Someone is about to jump out of the closet and yell “Gotcha!” But I can tell by the panicked look on her face, in her eyes, that it’s not a joke. Josselyn is pregnant.

When the words finally come to me, I can’t stop the stupid questions from spewing from my lips. “What? How? When?”

She gives me a surprised look before responding. “Well, it happened that night after the wedding and I’m pretty sure you can figure out how.” She gives me a pointed look and takes another sip of her water.

“Yeah, I know how, but we used a condom.”

“Read the box. They aren’t one hundred percent.”

How can a condom not be one hundred percent? Isn’t that the sole purpose of a condom – the main reason for existing - to prevent awkward and surprising conversations just like this one?

I don’t want to say the words that are about to come out of my mouth. I know that as soon as I say them, I can’t take them back, but I have to know. “And you’re sure the baby’s mine?” I then brace myself for the blow.

“Yes,” she whispers in a small voice. “I’m one hundred percent certain.”

Sure, now something’s one hundred percent.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a dick or upset you, but I just felt like I had to ask.”

“You were the only one I’d been with. I hadn’t been with anyone for several months before that night, and I haven’t been with anyone since, Travis.”

Is it weird to say that pride actually swelled in my chest at that moment? I know I’m a bastard but the thought of Josselyn being with me - and me alone - actually makes me happier than a kid with a slice of chocolate cake.

I look around the apartment, not sure what to say or do. “Oh, my goodness, I didn’t even think. You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?” Josselyn says, exasperated and looking a little green again.

“What?” I ask. “I’m not seeing anyone. Why do you say that?”

“That picture,” she says, pointing to the picture sitting on the end table of me and Avery from her birthday last summer.

“That’s my sister. She was the one who got married that night. I’m not see anyone, I swear.”

“Okay, not that it matters to me, I just realized that I’m showing up here and dropping this on you after two months. You probably went on with your life and everything,” she says meekly.

She has no clue that I have not gone on with my life. In fact, my life has been stalled since I woke up that morning alone. Two long months ago. “So, what’s next? When is the baby due?”

“I…I’m not exactly sure. I looked at the calendar and I’m guessing around the first part of November.”

“Wait, why don’t you know? What did your doctor say?”

“I haven’t been to the doctor yet,” she mumbles.

“Why not? You might not even be pregnant.”

“Seriously? You just saw me puking my guts up in that bathroom, Travis. I’ve been puking for about six weeks now. My boobs are sore, my body is achy, and I’m exhausted all the time. Besides, I took a home pregnancy test and it came back positive.”

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to say the right things right now.” My mind is fucking mashed potatoes. “So, when do you see your doctor?”

“I don’t have an appointment yet.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’ve been moving and so sick lately. Plus, I don’t really have one.”

“Why are you moving? Where are you going? Wait, you don’t have a doctor?”

“Travis, just give me a minute to breathe here. I want to answer all of your questions, but right now, I just feel exhausted and worn out.” Josselyn stands up and sways a little on her feet. My hands are on her upper arms, holding her up, a split second later.

“Why don’t you lay down on my bed for a bit and take a nap. We can talk in a little while.”

“I can’t. I should head back to St. Charles.”

“No,” I exclaim, the urgency to keep her here filling my panicked voice. She can’t drop a bomb like this on me and then just leave. “Why don’t we both go back and lie down,” I start but she gives me a knowing look. “No, just lay down. We can talk for a bit and try to get this figured out. Just talk. I promise.” I hold my breath for a few seconds while she mulls over her options. I just pray she doesn’t choose the unsaid option and leave.

“Just to talk,” she reminds me.

“Just to talk. Promise.” I give her a friendly smile and lead her back towards my bedroom.

After we’re both lying down on my bed - on top of the covers - facing each other, I start to ask the questions that are tumbled around in my brain like a towel in the clothes dryer. “So, let’s start with why you’re moving.”

Josselyn exhales deeply and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, her hazel eyes appear sad and distant. “Well, I sort of lost my jobs recently and without them, I couldn’t afford my rent,” she says in her small voice.

“Why did you lose your jobs?”

She smiles at me, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “That night, I lost the catering job because I voluntarily left the job to tend to your injury.”

“Wait, what? You lost your job over that? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t your fault, Travis. I chose to leave with you and come here. I knew exactly what I was doing - what I wanted that night.”

Knowing that Josselyn knew what was going to happen when we reached my apartment that night and still chose to be with me - over her job, her income - was a heady feeling. “You said jobs. What about the other?”

“I was a waitress as a café in St. Charles during the day. When I started throwing up all the time, I started calling in sick. They let me go after missing three consecutive days of work.”

“They can’t do that! It’s illegal!” I exclaim, fury raging through my body.

“They can do that, Travis, and they did. It’s okay, though. There’s more jobs. That’s the good thing about waitressing. There’s always something else. Bars. Restaurants. Cafés. There’s plenty of openings for waitresses if you just look.”

“So tell me about your apartment. Why are you moving?”

“Can’t pay rent without a job. Yesterday was the last day before I was forcefully evicted. Matty and I loaded up all of my stuff and put it in storage.”