Mending (2 page)

Her mother knocked on the door. "Stella, you okay?"

Stella leaned on the counter with both hands and closed her eyes. She didn't want to tell anyone but Millie about her pregnancy. It was clear, though, that she was going to have to come clean with her parents.

"Where's Dad?" she asked through the closed door.

"In the den; there’s some football game on."

Stella opened the door and hoped her parents weren't going to overreact. She thought about what she’d put them through the last five years and felt sorry for them. "Let's do this," she said with a weak smile, walking with determination down the hall.

"Stella, baby girl," her dad said as she rounded the corner to the den. He got up and hugged her. "You look…"

"I know, I know…like shit," she interrupted.

"Well, I was going to say sick, but yeah. Like shit." Her dad looked better than he had the last few times she’d seen him, which made her happy; she’d been worried.

She sat down in her "spot" on the couch and pulled off her grey knee high boots. Both of her parents sat down and looked at her expectantly. She didn't know where to begin.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out. Her face showed as much surprise as theirs did as they sat there and looked at each other while several seconds passed. It was clear that whatever her parents were expecting, it wasn't that.

Her dad slapped her leg and laughed heartily. "You remember when you came to tell us you were moving to DC and you started with that same line. Then you said, 'just kidding, I'm just moving to DC.’"

"Yes, that’s right!” Her mother chuckled. “You said you led with the 'I'm pregnant' so we wouldn't be as pissed with the moving part."

"Well, I actually am pregnant this time. That
is
the joke." Stella looked at her hands as if there was something extremely interesting about them.

"But the doctors—" her father said with disbelief.

"Were wrong," she interrupted. "Undoubtedly, I can get pregnant. It's just highly likely that I can't carry the baby to term." Her voice was small; she didn’t want to tell anyone this story. This was a story she wanted to keep between her and the little Fucker, her little fucker.

"Oh, baby," her mother rushed to her and wrapped her arms around Stella.

Breaking in parts that she no longer knew were intact, Stella melted into her mother letting the tears flow, allowing her mother to hold her and rock her.

"What does George say?" her mother asked, rubbing her hair back repetitively.

Her dad's eyes widened at the mention of George. "Yes, Stella. What does George say?"

"I'm not telling him until after the first trimester. The doctors say I'll lose the baby in the next few weeks.” She gazed out the window, avoiding her parents’ eyes. She knew if she saw their reaction she’d lose it. “Once I make it to the 12-week mark, then they’ll start jumping through hoops. Right now, they’re just waiting on me to lose the baby and repair the damage."

A tear fell down her mother's cheek and landed on her grey sweater. Stella watched it all the way from her eye until her mother's sweater soaked up the misshapen circle. Her parents exchanged a glance, but she couldn't decipher it. She was just happy to be held and comforted, and for someone to tell her it would all be okay; like that would make it true.

Stella wasn't used to being pampered, but her mother made her stay in bed the next morning and brought her buttery toast and orange juice for breakfast. Her mother pushed her over in the bed and crawled in beside her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Stella sighed. "Thank you. It's so surreal. Honestly, they told me I couldn't get pregnant, so we weren't using protection. I'm pretty sure I shocked the hell out of Dr. Baxter."

"They really think you'll lose the baby?"

"It's highly likely," she answered, using the same phrase they'd used with her. "I'm not telling anyone. You guys and Millie are the only ones that know. I’m thinking it'll be hard enough to lose the baby, I don't want to have to explain it to everyone." She said the words to prepare her mother, but she’d already decided she couldn’t lose the little Fucker. If she did, it may be the hardest thing she’d endured and that was saying a lot.

"You're not going to tell George if you lose the baby?"

Stella was silent because she'd decided no, but when her mom asked her the question, it sounded preposterous not to tell him. How do you even have a conversation like that?

Stella's mother squeezed her hand. "Baby, I think it would be unforgivable for you not to tell him."

Guilt rushed through Stella. There were so many things she'd done that were unforgivable—what was one more?

Stella crunched through the toast and her mother distracted her with all the Christmas shopping she’d been doing and what she’d gotten Stella’s dad. She’d gotten him all sorts of Duck Dynasty stuff. It was a reality show about a family from Louisiana that makes duck calls. They stayed that way until her father came to the door and looked in on them. His face was sad.

"I didn't come home to make you guys sad. This is so like my life, though, isn't it? What should be something happy is a clusterfuck." She shook her head and took a sip of juice. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for us. We’re sorry you’re having to go through something else. We were hoping that things would be normal…after Jamie.” Stella’s mother tucked a stray wave behind Stella’s ear.

Stella’s heart clenched at the sound of his name and what she’d done.

"Stella, we want to help you through this.” Her dad came over and sat on the bed next to her. “I think you're really going to need your mother."

"Mom, I promise to call when it happens." She couldn’t imagine going through losing the little Fucker by herself. Dr. Baxter told her that she’d have to be in the hospital so they could ensure an extraction without infection. She’d almost puked at the term “extraction.” Stella tried not to cry and looked at her father who was stone faced at the door.

Her mother smoothed her unruly hair back and kissed her forehead. "Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Mom.”

Chapter Two

12 Weeks

Her parents babied her for the rest of her stay and oddly, it was just what Stella needed. Stella smiled as she sat at the airport the Saturday after Christmas and stared at the planes, remembering the chaos of her cousin, Rachel, bringing her criminal boyfriend over to the house. She thought her uncle was going to have a heart attack; she was positive that girl lived to rattle him. Everyone in their family said how they were so similar, Rachel and Stella. She hoped for Rachel’s sake that wasn’t true.

Her phone buzzed with a vox. It was George.

"El, I hope you had a Merry Christmas. I didn't. I missed your face. Naked Christmas decorating wasn't quite the same without you. Thanks for the present." His voice was low and resigned and she hated it.

"Well, I would've helped you decorate if you'd asked," she answered.

"How are your parents?"

"Same old," she answered. "Your family?"

"Oh, we're not really talking at the moment…” His sad voice came through her phone. “Long story."

She paused hearing that he was out of sorts with his family, but dropped it because they were having the first decent conversation they'd had since she'd left. He typically yelled at her and called her a liar. Somehow those conversations were better than this resignation. She wanted him to be pissed, to want her back. This sadsack shit made her heart ache even more.

"We went to Jesse's game; it was amazing. He got us a box and fucking blew it out last night."

"I saw the game. He’s having a great season. You see him any other than that?"

"Yeah, he came by the house for Christmas dinner and hung out with Dad for a few hours. He said he couldn't go home this year because of the game. He told me not to give up on us.” She paused. “I assured him I wasn't."

Silence.

"You did, though,” George’s voice crumbled in emotion, “you did give up."

"NO!" she yelled into the phone. "No, I didn't.
You
are everything to me. There is nothing else. If it’s not you it’s nothing."

"Then why'd you run? You said you wouldn't run."

She shook her head. "I want to talk to you in person, George. I can't do this over Voxer. I love you and want you to see how much. I want you to know that when I left, I thought it was the best thing for you. I'll always do what I think is best for you."

"I'm in South Carolina this week and then headed to Iowa. What about in two weeks?"

"I'll take what I can get," she answered, but figured it was perfect timing. If she was still pregnant, she could tell him.

Silence.

"I love you, George,” she said, her words cracked and she fought tears. “Please don't forget that while you're hating me. Message me the date you’re back and I'll come over. Coop misses you too." One lone tear fell down her cheek as she waited for his response.

He didn't respond.

She took a cab to Millie's, then jumped in the car; she wanted to get Cooper before the boarding place closed for the day. When she picked him up, he was moving slow, probably because he’d just spent four days barking at the other dogs. They climbed the stairs to Millie's condo. Millie wouldn't be back until tomorrow and Stella was looking forward to having a day to herself to regroup. She pushed the door open and walked the few steps over to the couch and collapsed. She was exhausted; this baby was sucking the life out of her. Cooper jumped up next her on the couch and laid his head on her belly.

Stella was nervous, more nervous than she'd ever been in her life. As a matter of fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been nervous. She'd been scared, worried, and anxious, but not nervous. George had told her to come over at 2:00 in the afternoon. She'd analyzed that for hours, so much so that Millie had tired of talking about it. Who invites someone to their house at 2:00? No lunch or dinner, but a midday 15 minute conversation? That's bullshit.

She pulled Delilah into the driveway and walked up the front stairs. She was about to knock when the door opened and there he was. He was wearing a green sweater and jeans, his feet bare and his hair mussed, like he'd just woken up. No dimple in sight.

"Hey," she breathed. Tension filled the air and need filled her entire body. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, have him inside her.

He stepped back to let her in. "Hey."

Stella smiled at the coconut smell of his skin, it was her body wash.
Thank you, pregnancy nose
. She tentatively walked into his house, their house, and stopped at the bar.

He stood on the other side of the room from her glaring at her.

"You hate me?"

George walked over to the couch and sunk into it. He put his head in his hands and stayed that way. Stella sat down next to him, feeling immediately better when her body rubbed up against his.

"This is why I didn't think I could do this, El. I can't be in the same room with you and hate you."

"Well, if I would've known that, I would've forced this meeting earlier." She ran a finger down his jaw line. It twitched under her touch.