Unexpected Oasis (18 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

W
ithin thirty minutes my phone rings. I can't grab it quickly enough. It isn't Trey though. It's Jim. I get the feeling my mom called him right after I hung up.

I let voicemail pick it up.

When the phone rings again an hour later, I experience the same fleeting burst of elation before my caller ID tells me it's my mother.

Voicemail again.

It becomes a wicked pattern. The phone rings, goose bumps dot my skin, all the small hairs on my body stand to attention, only to have it all smashed by disappointment.

It's almost always either Jim or my mom. I swear they've both decided to call me more now than they ever did in the last seven years.

A few days pass before I finally listen to messages. Or rather, skim the messages. They're the same over and over—Jim insisting we just need to
talk
and my mom insisting I talk to him. She also reminds me to "take it easy", for the baby's sake.

Which is exactly why I don't answer my phone.

After a week of purposefully missed calls—none of which are from Trey—I realize I can't keep it up forever. I try not to be disappointed Trey hasn't contacted me. I fail miserably, but at least I try. Maybe it's better this way. Now, he can forever be relegated to fantasy. There's no hope, chance, or expectation that way. I can simply remember him as the man who gave me the best sex of my life, wonderful memories I can cherish, and hopefully (if everything goes well), a beautiful baby.

When I do finally answer the phone, my mother's voice pours through the headset like an overflowing faucet. Every shrill note makes my teeth hurt, but I listen patiently as she abuses me for ignoring her—and Jim.

"All I'm saying is you hear him out," are the last words of the tirade.

I've been pacing Sarah's small living room since I picked up the phone. Silence filling my ear, I'm finally able to relax and sink into the red armchair closest to me. I rub my now aching forehead. "I already heard him."

"You dismissed him without even considering what he had to say."

"You mean taking him back."

"Of course!"

"Didn't we already discuss this?"

"You dismissed me just as quickly as Jim." Her tone is indignant. My mother… Never one to let her opinion fall on deaf ears, even if she has to scream to be heard.

"I'm sorry." I don't mean it but I say it anyway. Mom needs her hurt feelings pascified. "Why do you think I should hear him out?"

"I know Jim screwed up, but I also know he's truly sorry. Every marriage goes through tough times. Your father's and mine certainly did. I never told you this, but your father cheated on me. With his secretary."

"Dad?"

I wonder what he would think of mom dishing on their personal life. I can envision him perfectly—sitting in his leather recliner, watching news, a Busch Light in one hand. A private man of very few words, I'm sure he'd be horrified.

"Yes, but we worked it out. And our marriage was even better for it."

I'm still trying to wrap my brain around my perfect, true family-man father, hooking up with his secretary.

"And lucky for you we did, otherwise you would have never been born."

That makes more sense.

"Which is why you should at least try to work things out with Jim," she continues. "Think of this as a bump in the road to a lifetime of happiness."

"More like a boulder."

"Just tell me you'll at least talk with him."

She's never going to rest until I say yes. "Sure. Fine. Whatever. I don't want to talk to him on the phone though. Tell him to come by tomorrow afternoon." I don't wait for her response, clicking off the phone and tossing it haphazardly onto the coffee table.

Sarah comes into the living room from where she's been not so discretely eavesdropping.

"Are you really thinking about taking him back?"

"No." I sigh. "I don't know."

God, am I actually considering it? It must be the hormones…

"I was happy when I was with him, right?"

She sits of the sofa next to me. "You always seemed happy. I mean, I was kinda jealous of your relationship."

I grunt. "Do you think I could be happy with him again?"

"I don't know. Some couples seem to recover from infidelity, some never do."

Could my mother actually be onto something? Should I at least give it a chance?

"What would you do?"

"Well, I have an opinion but it really doesn't matter. In the end, it's about your happiness. It's your life and ultimately, you have to do what's best for you. I think you should sleep on it and make your decision tomorrow. Whatever you decide, you do know I'll support you no matter what, right?"

"I do." Gratitude and love filling my heart, I slide over to the couch and hug her. "You're such a good friend. Thanks for everything—letting me stay here, listening to me ramble… I really do appreciate it."

"No problem. That's what friends do." She rises. "Let's go grab dinner. I'm starving."

~

We avoid talking about anything Jim or baby or Trey related during dinner, which is good because I'll have plenty of time to dwell on it later. Sarah chats about people and places we both know and things that happened while I was away. Content to be distracted, I'm happy to simply listen while the words flow as easily from her mouth as the wine flows in.

Later that night, in the quiet and solace of Sarah's guest room, I pull out my laptop and scour old photos—the same photos I perused at Merritec Village when trying to detangle my feelings for Trey.

As I look through all the picture of Jim and me, in spite of all the smiles and happy faces, I feel nothing. In fact, as I drift through memories of my marriage, my mind continuously skips to memories of Trey—the dust storm, drinking scotch by the reservoir, the week of amazing days and nights at Merritec…

Those memories fill me with longing and regret more intense than anything I've ever known. Certainly more intense than whatever I feel looking at the photos of my life with Jim.

Decision made. I can't be with Jim. I don't have it in me. Not after knowing the true happiness I felt with Trey. I may never find happiness like that again, but I can't pretend with Jim. And I don't want to.

I sleep surprisingly well. 

Sarah, acting as my moral support army, volunteers to hang out while I break the news to Jim. "Just in case you need backup…" she says.

We await Jim's arrival in the kitchen with tea and minimal talking, like we're expecting some huge altercation and we're on pins and needles. Jim is the last guy who would ever cause any type of altercation, so it's kinda ridiculous. Still, even though the knock on the door doesn't surprise me, it makes me jump and my heart pause.

It isn't going to be an easy conversation, no matter how you slice it. I feel strong even if I'm weak. I can do this and I will be fine.

Sarah gets the door—just to give me a few more minutes to mentally prep.

"Um, Andrea?" she calls from the other room. There's a weird waver to her voice. What on earth could she be seeing that would make her sound like that? I'm suddenly very nervous. "I think it's for you."

Of course it's for me.

With a deep breath I rise, taking a second to wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on my shorts and shake the nerves from my body before entering the living room.

When instead of Jim's slender body standing on the porch, Trey's massive frame takes up the entire doorway. I stumble, my knees literally buckling.

Shocked doesn't begin to describe how I feel. I'm well beyond shocked. Astounded, flabbergasted, stunned…? It's hard to come up with the right synonym since my brain has quit working.

My mouth drops open and I think there are words in there somewhere. They aren't budging though.

Somehow my knees become strong enough to walk all the way to the door, where Sarah steps aside for me. Once there, I grip the jamb like my life depends on it. 

His smile is tentative. With rapid, rushed hands, he pulls off his sunglasses. I'd nearly forgotten how gorgeous his brown eyes are, and for a brief instant, I'm transported back to a moment of perfection where we're laying on a rock hard mattress in post-coital bliss.

I swallow to shake off the memory. Trey looks at me expectantly and I'm aware I should say something, but I can't. I can only stand there and stare at him.

Finally, he clears his throat. "I thought this might be better than a phone call," he says.

"Um," Sarah mumbles. "I'm going to grab something from the kitchen." She gestures vaguely toward the back of the house, gives Trey a thorough once over, and then gives me an,
oh my God,
look as she passes.

I can relate. I'm still completely speechless.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Trey clears his throat again. Clasping his hands together, he cracks his knuckles. "I realize you must be surprised to see me, but I can't deny I was hoping for a little more 'happy' and less 'holy fuck'…"

Finally, I find some words but they're the wrong ones. "I just can't believe… How did you know where to find me?"

His expression goes flat. "It's not difficult if you know where to look."

"Oh."

"Look, I know things got heavy at Site J and then the car bombing, and I understand why it might have freaked you out."

"It wasn't just that." Once again, they are the wrong words.

"Okay," he says slowly. "What was it then? Why'd you take off? Without telling me. Without saying goodbye."

It's time for the truth. I suddenly feel incredibly guilty and vulnerable. "I did freak out, but it wasn't just my life I was scared for." I bite my lip. "I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant?" After he wipes away the surprise, his face curls up into a broad smile. "Andrea, that's wonderful! So, the doctors were wrong?"

"It seems so."

His smile slowly drops and I realize he's putting it all together. He takes a step back. "Wait…" He looks at my non-existent belly and then at my face and then back to my stomach, where his gaze lingers. It snaps back up to mine. "It's mine, isn't it?"

Oh God, I don't know how he's going to take it. Will he think I tricked him into becoming a father? I nod slowly. I know I must look like a deer caught in massive, blinding headlights.

His expression swiftly moves through several emotions, bewilderment, happiness, and finally settling on anger. "What the hell. Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"I—"

"Andrea?"

Jim stands on the sidewalk, staring at us. I notice his Prius parked out front. I didn't hear it pull up. Sneaky, silent hybrids…

Trey turns, gives him a
once-over
and then turns back to me. "Let me guess…Jim." There is no shortage of disgust in his tone.

"Yes, but—"

He holds up a hand, effectively cutting me off. "Forget it. I know what's going on. I guess you got what you wanted."

He heads for the road, not even pausing as he passes a dumfounded Jim, who looks like a little kid next to Trey.

Jim stares at him and then at me. "Andrea, what is going on?"

His accusatory tone snaps my brain out of hibernation mode. The physical contrast between them is only slightly less enormous than the contrast in the way they make me feel. Maybe I thought my life had been perfect before Jim betrayed me, but that was only because I hadn't tasted true perfection.

Jim always found things that were wrong, whereas Trey found things that were right. Jim left me for another woman, Trey traveled half-way around the world to see me. I can't let him walk away. Not now. Not ever.

"Wait!" I call, leaping from the porch and bounding down the sidewalk.

"Andrea?"

I ignore Jim and focus on reaching Trey before he has a chance to drive off in the truck he's about to climb into.

"Trey, wait!"

He has one leg in the cab when I reach him. I grasp his arm. "Please. Don't leave. It isn't what you think."

"How do you figure?"

"It just isn't. Please. Trust me."

I see his ribcage expand in a deep sigh. Finally, he turns.

"I should have told you," I say feebly.

"Yeah, you should have. I get it though, I'm just the fling."

"That's what I thought."

His expression turns dark.

"I mean, that's how I thought you felt," I quickly explain.

He snorts. "You didn't give me the chance to feel differently."

"I didn't think it was something you wanted. I mean, you said you tried living a normal life and hated it. Why would I think that had changed? I was the one who was supposed to be infertile. You didn't ask for this. I was worried you'd feel obligated to 'do the right thing' even if you didn't want to. I didn't want to put you in that position."