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Naomi glances at me, her eyebrows arched in admiration. “He’s so hot.”
I can’t help but agree. “Very hot.”
Our attention is riveted to the screen as the next two chefs are announced. The suspense for the culinary battle to begin is nail-biting.
Then comes the moment that turns my world on its head as the next introduction is made. “Chef Deanna Blume, Food and Spirits Chef of the Year, renowned for her elevated American cuisine,” the announcer says.
My reaction is visceral. My neck cranes forward, and my jaw slackens. “That’s her,” I manage to whisper, disbelief coloring my tone. “The woman from the pier that night. He told me she was his manager, but what is she doing competing on a cooking show?” I turn to Naomi, searching for an explanation in her eyes, but she’s just as taken aback as I am.
She gestures at the TV. “Let’s just watch and see what happens. I mean, just because she’s his manager doesn’t mean she isn’t a chef.”
“I don’t understand why he didn’t mention that they were competing in the same competition,” I say as more contestants are introduced.
“It is odd,” Naomi concurs.
The tension in the air thickens as the show goes on. Watching is no fun at all. Deanna’s always standing near him except when they’re cooking. Watching Randy chop, dice, mix, and put his dish together is a lesson in pure mastery. When he tastes his food, adjusting here and there, it’s clear he’s in his zone.
Finally, time’s up. The judges taste his entrée. Guest chef judge Jack Lay, a titan in the culinary world, praises Randy after sampling his dish. “Good to have you back.”
After he says that, a video of Randy’s backstory is played. Mentored by one of the greatest chefs in the world, Randy worked in one of the most famous kitchens in New York City until addiction brought a halt to his rising star. But he’s recovered now and living in the small town where he was born. And according to Chef Jack Lay, he is better than ever, which is perhaps why Randy eventually wins the first competition of the episode.
“How are you doing?” Naomi asks, her eyebrows raised in concern as she checks in.
I nod stiffly. I’m managing okay until the show begins to drop hints about Deanna and Randy’s past relationship. Other contestants express their surprise; one even comments on how beautiful their babies would be. Then when Randy wins the final cooking challenge of the episode. Deanna’s excitement is explosive. She jumps into his arms, and Randy, in turn, lifts her and spins her around.
“Turn it off,” I demand, unable to reach the remote control myself.
Without hesitation, Naomi complies.
“Oh my God,” she exclaims, clearly as shocked and perhaps as disappointed as I am.
We sit there in stunned silence.
“You know, Gina, there has to be an explanation,” Naomi says after a pause. “Especially after what you told me about your final night together.”
“I know you’re trying to help,” I manage to say, attempting to fend off the onslaught of negative thoughts clouding my mind. Someone once said that our minds aren’t engineered for happiness; they’re built for survival. And right now, my mind is in full survival mode, painting scenarios where Randy seduced me that final night, fully aware of my turmoil at seeing him with another woman. It suggests that he wanted one last night with me, achieved his goal, and now there’s more at stake with my pregnancy while he seemingly falls for someone else.
Or worse, was he in love with her all along? If I’m smart, I would protect my heart from him. I would start the process of getting over him five minutes ago.
* * *
The Next Day
Naomi offered to stay the night, but I encouraged her to go home and be with Derek. This morning, I felt utterly run-down, as if I’d been steamrolled in my sleep. Yet knowing the reason behind my morning nausea didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Thankfully, a quick online search gave me some remedies for morning sickness. I found I had peppermint tea in the cabinet and a good amount of fresh ginger root in the refrigerator. Mixing them into lukewarm water and drinking the liquid slowly helped ease my nausea significantly.
Next, I reluctantly made the call I’d been dreading—I called my doctor. I explained my situation to the medical receptionist, telling her about the multiple pregnancy tests and my missed period. I was surprised when she offered me an appointment for ten o’clock this morning due to a last-minute cancellation. I took it. It was a stroke of luck, being that I have no classes today and I’m not due at Calypso until noon.
So now I’m here, wearing only a thin cloth gown, while sitting on my OBGYN’s examination table. It has been nearly a year since I’ve had an appointment directly with Dr. Haskell. When I come in for birth control injections, I’m tended to by a nurse practitioner. But I’ve been a patient of Dr. Haskell’s for as long as I can remember. She’s seen me through some very pivotal moments of my life. Like my first period. Before heading off to university my mom made me an appointment, aiming to arm me with knowledge of safe sex practices and birth control. I remember Dr. Haskell as being unwaveringly pragmatic yet incredibly delicate in her approach, which remains unchanged.
I already took another pregnancy test, this time in a clinical setting, followed by a series of blood tests. While waiting for my results and further examination, I find myself with so much downtime that I actually close my eyes and rest on the examination table.
My mind is crowded with thoughts, with Randy occupying a significant portion. I’ve always made an effort not to be one of those individuals whose happiness is significantly affected by their romantic relationships. Yet here I am, caught in the emotional turmoil Randy has unwittingly caused.
I clench eyes more tightly shut. “Focus, Gina,” I tell myself, trying desperately to redirect my thoughts away from him.
One day, I might actually become a mother. Perhaps, I’m not entirely certain yet. There’s a chance something I consumed yesterday could’ve skewed all my tests toward false positives.
“Let’s just think this through,” I whisper to the silent room, seeking solace in my own voice amidst the uncertainty.
