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It was only the rational part of me that couldn’t believe myself capable of raising a teeny tiny fragile baby. I could barely look after myself as it was. Some evenings, I was too lazy to cook and settled for microwave popcorn with Smarties scattered throughout it, and just the other morning I’d left my house forgetting to brush my teeth—luckily, I kept a spare toothbrush in my work bag for such forgetful occasions. And not to mention the fact that I would have to raise the baby by myself—
Alex’s face suddenly leaped into my head, but before it could settle, before I could think about what he’d say if he found out, I shoved the image away. I took a deep breath in, not yet glancing at the test, which required three whole, life-changing minutes to reveal its secret— although in my case, it was no longer a secret.
“We should probably get back soon,” said Becks, leaning against the tiled wall with one hand up to cover the yawn stretching her lips apart. “Don’t you have that outpatient this morning? The one Vicki sent you?”
"I do." I sighed, eyeing the very positive pregnancy test—Becks had glanced at it and given me that I-told-you face she wore way too often—before I wrapped it up in toilet paper and tossed it in the sanitary bin. "And he's probably waiting for me already."
Last night, Vicki had called me out of the blue. For a split second when I saw her name on my screen, my heart had raced so fast I thought it might leap out of my chest. I’d been so certain she knew I was pregnant. That she somehow figured out that I had slept with an orthopod at the medical seminar.
But then, Vicki had mentioned her ex-fiancé—I had no idea she’d even had a fiancé, let alone a former one—and how he’d injured his back and needed a consultation, and how he wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say. Thus, I had to be the one to evaluate him.
“I can’tbelieveshe was engaged. Did she give you his name?”
“Nope. She said she would pass me a file about this patient before the assessment, it’s probably on my table now.”
“I am intrigued . . . So, what are you going to do, Soph?” asked Becks, walking behind me as we entered the rehab department. The space was basically a large gym with pale blue walls and motivational posters adorning them, and a faint smell of disinfectant and rubber lingering permanently in the air. They gym had a treadmill, two stationary bikes, parallel bars, a pyramid of stacked yoga mats, and resistance bands in every color. Beyond it was a narrow hallway that led off to a storage room and three private treatment rooms.
“What do you mean?” I asked, scanning the whiteboard with the patient list for the day. Not sure if Becks was referring to the terrible turn my life had taken or Vicky’s ex-fiancé I had to treat. Hopefully neither.
“About the baby,” she replied, sitting down on a red exercise ball, bouncing up and down until her brown ponytail looked likea helicopter’s propeller. “Are you going to tell the dad? Or sperm donor, or whatever you want to call him.”
"Sperm donor," I replied, unable to imagine Alex being a father, or accurately, refusing to. If I did—if I somehow remembered his soft, patient smile, the way his laugh came deep from his belly, the way he had slipped his jacket over my shoulders when I was shivering—, then the guilt for not telling him came swooping in.
What if he wanted to be a dad?
“Well, if you don’t want to involve the sperm donor in your baby’s life, which is perfectly fine, of course, Caleb and I will help you. You can even move into our second bedroom. We’ll raise your baby together—”
"Sophie," said a man's voice behind me. A familiar voice, a voice I had never expected to hear again. A voice that made my skin crawl my toes curl and every inch of my body heat up like a self-igniting spark.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat, and before he could speak again, I turned around to face him, my feet feeling so heavy I could’ve been wading through water.
Alex.
Alex, the ortho god.
“Sophie?” he said again, his brows pulled so tight together you could probably wedge a penny in there. “Are you seriously pregnant?”
My first instinct was to shake my head—profusely, until it threatened to fall off. It was more out of disbelief at seeing Alex here, after more than one month of trying, but failing, to forget about him, than anything else.
“So, you’re not pregnant? Because it clearly sounds like you are.” He turned his head in Beck's direction. Her gaze was fixed on Alex, as if she had stumbled upon something truly remarkable and was unable to move or speak. Then he focusedhis attention back on me, holding my eyes tighter than a vice grip. When I didn’t reply, he took a step forward and winced, his hand going to his back.
It was then that a whole new brick wall came toppling down. My world was spinning. Dizziness clouded the edges of my vision, and a twinge of nausea settled in my stomach. Two shocking revelations in the short span of a minute were like a bolt of lightning so bright it felt like the earth had crashed into the sun—Alex was the ex-fiancé with the sore back. Alex was Vicki’s ex-fiancé.
Fuck!
“This can’t be happening!” I cried, stepping back, my fingers tangling in my hair and tugging at the strands. I hoped the nightmare I clearly hadn’t woken up from this morning would just end and reality would snap back.
“What?” asked Becks, jumping up from the ball, crossing the gym to me but stopping short at the end of the mat when her mind made the connection. I could see the gears of her mind turn behind her eyes, the same way I imagined they had done for me.
“Wait,” Becks said, her finger up, as if she was ready to point at either one of us or possibly both of us. “Is this what I think it is—”
"You're Vicki's fiancé," I interrupted, my voice high-pitched, sounding less like me and more like a stranger. But then again, did I even know this Sophie? The Sophie who had a one-night stand, didn't bother with a condom, and was now pregnant?
"Ex-fiancé," Alex corrected, that deep frown unwavering. "We ended things for a good couple of months ago." His lips remained parted as if he wanted to add something. Probably something like,But it’s been over between us for far longer.
Such a cliché.
I shook my head again, refusing to believe that not only was I pregnant—which was already hard to believe in the first place—but also that I was pregnant with Alex’s baby.
