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“Not everything in life happens because you plan it, Holl.”
“It could, if I wasn’t a careless moron.” I was crying, tears rolling down my cheeks as I drove to work after the appointment that confirmed my pregnancy, trying not to lose it completely. “This changes everything.”
“It will change things, yeah. But it will be okay, honey. Carl and I are here.”
“How am I going to tell Oliver?”
She paused, but then she said, “You just tell him.”
“But what if—”
“There’s no what-if. You tell him. Either he can handle this or he can’t.”
“I haven’t even spoken to him in over a week. To call him and just drop this on him…”
“Holland, can I tell you something?”
My silence must have seemed an assent.
“Some of the very best things in my life were unplanned.”
“This is not the time to be cryptic.”
“Carl and I weren’t even engaged when we found out Gigi was on the way.” When she stopped speaking, the silence on the line seemed to echo my surprise.
“Seriously?”
“But our marriage, and her birth? The best things I’ve ever done.”
“You weren’t broken up at the time.”
“Minor complication.”
“Right.” I gripped the steering wheel and sniffed, trying to clear my mind so I could walk into my office without everyone inside immediately knowing that my carefully planned life was falling down around me.
I kept my sunglasses on during my trek through the lobby and up to my office, lowering my chin practically to my chest and doing my best to be invisible. I went through email, returned those that were urgent, and just before noon I took a deep breath and pulled up an empty email. I knew I should call. Better yet I should just walk up to Oliver’s office to talk to him. But I couldn’t get past the memory of the way his eyes had gone hard and cold, the way he’d driven away and not looked back. He was so angry with me already. I couldn’t imagine facing him. I pictured that frightening irate man I’d seen throwing a potted plant across the executive reception area that night when I’d first seen him. I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those plant throws. And if I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to see him like that and know I’d been the cause of it this time.
I typed.
Oliver,
I’m sorry to reach out this way, but I need to share some information with you. I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important. Would you be willing to stop by my place later on your way home? Or I can come to you. Just not at work.
Let me know.
Thanks,
Holland
Short, to the point, hopefully professional. I hit “send” and tried to busy myself with other things, but it turned out to be unnecessary. A response landed in my inbox within minutes.
I’ll stop by at six.
Why did that one line make me feel like crying? I reread it forty times, seeking some hidden bit of emotion, some hint of what he was thinking or feeling, but it wasn’t there. It was one line. Simple and to the point. And now I just had to wait.
By the time Oliver knocked at six, I’d changed into comfortable sweats and worn a path through the cheap thin carpet in my living room pacing back and forth. How was I going to tell him this news? What in the world would he think? First I push him away, now I’m telling him we’re inextricably connected. A thousand different scenarios ran through my mind, and I found it difficult to even decide what it was I hoped for.
The knock pulled me out of my fearful reverie and back to the moment, and I stared at the door for a long second, delaying the inevitable. When I finally pulled it open, my heart flew into my mouth. It was the first time I’d seen him since we’d broken up. It had been little more than a week, but it felt like years. I wanted to throw myself into his arms, bury my head in his chest and stay there forever.
