Learning to Heal (7 page)

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t purposely get pregnant, silly. I’m also happy for you. It was such a surprise and I just had to grieve for my loss. It’s something that hits every once in a while, but it’s getting easier.”

“Does Jax know?”

“Yes. He was the first person I told. I had to tell him everything before we started dating. He needed to know what a mess I was. And he was so patient and sweet when I told him. He didn’t look at me differently or judge me like I thought he would.” She smiles softly while wiping her eyes before she looks at me with a serious expression. “Please take care of yourself. I didn’t have the support or the money to do what should have been done. Brian was much smaller than usual and…” she stops and looks down with embarrassment “...sometimes I can’t help but blame myself. If I had only gone to the doctor more and bought the vitamins that were too expensive at the time...”

A need to change the subject sets in because I know her. She’s stubborn and no matter what I say, her feelings won’t change. She has to deal with her regrets her own way. “So since Jax was the first to know, am I the second?” She shakes her head and blows some hair out of her face. “Who was?”

“Benji,” she says somberly, and I feel bad for bringing him up. He’s only been gone for a month, but to me it feels longer. I knew they we’re close, but I didn’t know they we’re that close.

We sit lost in our own thoughts for a few minutes before she speaks again. “Will you answer a question for me?” I can only nod my head because I’m dreading whatever it is.  “Does Professor Wallace know you’re pregnant?”

Shit. Panicking, I keep my outer appearance from showing it. I don’t need her telling my brother about Ollie and me. I put on my familiar front and smile at her like she’s lost her mind. “Why would Professor Wallace need to know about my pregnancy?”

“Isn’t he the father?” She’s watching me closely, and I hate keeping secrets, but I will keep this one.

“Nah. We’ve been over for a while.” I smile like it doesn’t hurt, but I still feel my heart twist when I think of his deceit and my own stupidity for believing him. I’ve been avoiding anything to do with that man and even dropped his class the first of November.

“Who is then? Mason?”

Seems like Mason’s fucked up wish to play daddy is about to come true. “Yeah.” I stare at my hands, unable to look her in the eye while I blatantly lie. “We hooked up one time. In fact, he was my rebound after Ollie and I ended it. It was no biggie.”

“Are you two dating?”

I feel her eyes on me while I pick under my nails and think over the question. “Um, not dating romantically, but we still hang out. He was totally fine with the arrangement—no ties or regrets.” I look up and smile. “He swears he’s going to stick by me no matter what. Even though I told him not to.”

“I believe it. He’s a really good guy and he’s wonderful with his sister.” She looks at her watch before she stands. “Jax and I want to have you both over Sunday for dinner. Okay?”

After standing, I grab her into a hug and squeeze. “I’ve missed you so much, Tru. Thanks for coming by, and I’ll get with Mason about Sunday.” I watch her leave and sigh. I now officially have a baby daddy.

Racing through traffic, I look at the clock on the dash. We still have half an hour before Jax and Tru are expecting us, but since Mason’s mom had to work an extra shift and use his truck, I’m picking him up from her apartment. I told him Grace could come but he says his neighbor will watch her. I’d rather her come because maybe it wouldn’t feel so much like a date with her there.

I look at my reflection and check my appearance. I might have puked a few hours ago, but dammit, I will look good. Smiling real big, I see some pink lipstick on my front teeth and wipe it off just as my GPS tells me to take a right. Barely making my turn, I hear several honks from behind me and really don’t give a crap.

After I pull into the apartment complex, I see several kids playing basketball in the middle of the parking lot and girls playing jump rope. They look happy and carefree, unlike me when I was that age. Hell, unlike me at this age!

My mind drifts to my childhood and how different it was compared to most children.

“But, Momma, I want to play with Lydia and be on her team,” I cried with angry tears running down my cheeks as I watched my best friend and the other kids pick teams for the kickball game that was about to start. It looked like so much fun every time they had a game and I know I would have been be good at it.

Just once I wanted to play. I was never picked, though. Not because the kids didn’t call my name, but because Momma wouldn’t let me play. She said it wasn’t good for me, but I felt fine. I just wanted to play!

“Honey, we’ve been through this.” She knelt down to my level and looked at me with her pretty brown eyes that reminded me of Hershey’s Kisses. “You can’t get out of breath. It’s not good for your heart.”

I stomped my foot and crossed my arms in front of me. I was so angry and felt stupid for even thinking I’d be able to play. I didn’t fit in with anyone, not even Lydia and she loves pink just like I did. When I heard the other kids laughing, I knew they already started the game without me.
Again
. Wiping my snotty nose, I stared at my mom. She needed to know how angry I was because she was being mean. “Well, I hate my heart then. I don’t want it anymore.” I took off to my room, not caring that Mom was yelling at me to slow down. I just wanted to be normal.

A knock on my window has me jumping out of my memory and out of my skin. Looking around, I see I’m parked. I guess I was so consumed by my memory I don’t even remember doing it. I turn toward the knocking and see Mason standing there with a concerned look on his cute face. I step out the car and lock it but don’t make a move to walk toward him because his attire catches me off guard.

Instead of his usual logo T-shirt and jeans, he’s wearing a dark green polo and fitted khaki pants. He’s even sporting some Sperrys on his feet. Now it feels like a date because we are both dressed up … but I always dress like this.

Well, not exactly like this. I mean I don’t always wear something so tight, but I’ll be fat in a few months and won’t be able to fit into it anymore. It’s a mid thigh sweater dress with a swoop neck that’s the same shade of pink as my lipstick. I have a thin brown belt around my waist and matching five-inch high-heeled boots that reach my calves. I decided against the tights, though, because I seem to be having hot flashes lately.

We stand there for what feels like forever staring at one another. How did we go from comfortable conversation to uncomfortable silence? Before I can compliment him on his clothes I hear someone call his name. I look in the direction at the same time he does and see a girl about my age or older with dark, brown hair in a stylish pixie cut walking our way. She’s staring me down with her creepy golden eyes like I’m a threat.
Oh hell no!
I straighten my shoulders and do what I do best—not take shit. I’ve never let anyone see my insecurities except for one person and that will be the last time. People like to play on your weaknesses and I refuse to be weak.

She finally looks toward Mason when she reaches us and smiles sweetly. “Here, idiot. You almost left your phone.” She hands it to him and bumps his shoulder with hers playfully. I see some type of relationship here, but I’m not sure if it’s a romantic one or not. In my opinion he can do way better than her, but I really don’t care.

“Shit. Sorry about that.” He turns toward me smiling and is completely unaware of the bitch stare this girl is still giving me. “Jazz, this is Chanda. Chanda, this is Jazz.” Chanda? What kind of name is that? I internally slap myself for acting like I care … because I shouldn’t … and don’t.

“Jazz? Like a music genre? Maybe I should call you rap or rock. Hey, I know … techno.”

Okay? Maybe I can hate her name after all. Plus only my friends call me Jazz, and I have a feeling Chanda will not be a friend any time soon, if ever. Instead of taking off my boots to throw down, I stick out my hand, gracing her with the manners my parents raised me with, as well as my Gucci white gold tennis bracelet with its chocolate diamonds. “Actually, I’m named after an exotic flower. Please call me Jasmine. Nice to meet you, Chanda.”

Ignoring my polite introduction and protruded hand, she looks at Mason. “Remember, I need to be at work at midnight.” Then she walks away.

“Well, she’s lovely.” I lower my hand and shake off the embarrassment before I get back in my car. Watching Mason walk around the car to get in, I fight down the urge to drive over Chanda while her back’s turned. I have a feeling this won’t be the last time the compulsion crosses my mind with that bitch.

Walking around the apartment that Jazz is looking at to rent, I notice her excitement as she goes from room to room. I felt the same way when she told me about her talk with Trudy and how she said I was definitely the father. I knew everything would fall into place. I know she still needs to fall in love with me, but I’m a patient person. You have to be with Grace.

We haven’t had an official date or anything yet, and I’m tempted to ask her, but I still can’t get a read on her. Actually, I suck ass when it comes to reading girls period. My one and only girlfriend was my sophomore year and I thought she hung the moon. Little did I know she was screwing some older guy behind my back.

Following Jazz, I can’t help but laugh at her animated face while she takes in the two-bedroom apartment that’s in the same complex as Jax. When we went over last week Jax mentioned how a place was available and he had set this appointment up for Jazz to take a look. I’m very happy with this idea. Neither one of us likes the idea of her being alone at the dorm after the incident with Tru a few weeks ago, so I’m glad she’ll be close to them, even though she’ll be farther away from me.

I round the corner to the master bath and chuckle when I see Jazz lying back relaxing in the empty Jacuzzi tub. I shake off the vision of her naked flesh immersed in water that flashes in my mind and sit on the edge of the tub. “What are you doing?”

“I’m checking the size of the tub. Duh! I want to make sure it’s deep enough.”

She’s so small I’m sure the sink is deep enough for her. “Jazz, the bottom will be like an abyss if you fill this thing all the way up. I might have to invest in a life jacket for you.”

“Ha ha, rude ass.” She swats my shoulder and starts to stand. “I’ll have you know there are actually a few people smaller than me.”

“Like who? Cohen doesn’t count either.” I dodge her fist and go into the master bedroom. I notice there is only one way to arrange your furniture with the way the outlets sit on the walls. It’s nice, though. Way nicer than my mom’s place. We walk around and I listen to all her plans for each room. She wants to make the second room the nursery, and while she tells me about how she’ll place the furniture, I lean against the doorframe and watch her every move. The way she talks with her hands or how she’ll occasionally run her fingers through her hair are things I’ve always loved. She’s so full of life and spunk and can light up the darkest room when she walks in.