Page 102 of Tempted To Be Mine

By the time we pulled up to my building, it was fully dark. I thanked the driver, grabbed my bags, and trudged up the stairs to my apartment. Everything felt heavy.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside. I breathed a sigh of relief. Home. My safe place. The last time I’d been in my apartment, I had been a woman setting off an adventure with her client and the guy she was falling for.

It felt like a lifetime ago. It felt like someone else’s life. How crazy that everything changed in three minutes. Two pink lines and everything was different.

I dropped my bags in the entryway without bothering to unpack. The suitcase could wait. Everything could wait. The only thing I wanted was my bed.

But first, toast. And then I remembered I’d been gone a week and didn’t have bread. I rummaged through the pantry and almost wept with joy when I found some Saltines. A little stale but it was something in my stomach. The old lady on the plane had told me the secret to battling morning sickness was never letting my stomach get empty. I saw a lot of Saltines in my future.

I stripped off my clothes on the way to my bedroom. Thank goodness I was anal about leaving my apartment clean when I left on work trips. I pulled back the blankets and fell face first. The sheets smelled faintly of the lavender detergent I always used. Familiar. Comforting. Nothing like the pine and fresh air scent that had clung to Jeremy’s skin.

The tears came then. I’d been holding them back for over twenty hours, through airports and airplanes and uncomfortable conversations with strangers. But now, alone in my apartment with no one to see, I let them fall.

I cried until my chest ached. My eyes were swollen and my throat was raw. I cried until there was nothing left but the hollow emptiness that had been building since I’d written that note.

This was the choice I’d made. I kept telling myself that, like a mantra. This was the choice I’d made. It was for the best. I was a strong, independent woman. I would not be a burden to anyone. Especially not Jeremy.

I couldn’t wreck his life with a baby he didn’t want. He’d made his feelings clear in that interview, and even if he hadn’t meant every word, there was truth underneath it. His career was everything to him. Models had short shelf lives. He had to take advantage of every year of stunning good looks he had. Although I’d met his father and seen his older family members, and they aged like fine wine.

I refused to be the woman who forced him to choose. I would not watch him give up his dreams out of obligation, only to resent me for it later. I’d seen what resentment did to relationships. I’d seen it poison love until there was nothing left but bitterness and regret.

I already loved our little peanut and would not let our child feel like he or she was a burden.

Maybe later, when the dust settled, I’d be able to talk to him about it. Figure out some kind of arrangement. Coparenting from a distance, maybe. Something civilized and mature that didn’t require us to be together.

But right then, I couldn’t bear to have that conversation. I couldn’t sit across from him and watch the happiness in his eyes turn to shock. Would he be angry? I didn’t know which would be worse.

I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to block out the thoughts. They kept coming anyway. Jeremy’s face when he read the note. The confusion. The hurt. Was he angry? Worried? Had he tried to follow me?

Part of me hoped he had. Part of me hoped he’d show up at my door, demanding answers and refusing to let me push him away.

But another part of me, the part that had written that note and booked that flight, hoped he’d just let me go. Accept the out I’d given him and move on with his life.

He’d find someone else eventually. Someone who fit better into his world. He needed someone who didn’t come with complications and consequences and a baby he never asked for.

The thought made me cry harder.

What scared me most wasn’t the idea of telling him. It was the moment right after. I could picture it so clearly. The way his perfect face would go from a cocky grin into something else.

Regret, maybe. Or disgust that he’d let himself get tangled up with the one woman he never should have messed with. Or anger that I’d done this to his life. Not that I did this on my own. He had been a very active participant.

I could survive a lot of things. I wasn’t sure I could survive watching Jeremy Blackwell look at me like I was a mistake.

I rolled onto my side and pulled my knees up, one hand resting on my stomach. It was still flat. Still just me, as far as the mirror was concerned. But I knew better.

“We’ll figure it out,” I whispered to the little peanut.

I didn’t have a plan. I was too exhausted to solve any of it tonight. Tomorrow I would be clearer. Tomorrow, after sleep and hopefully a real meal, I’d know what came next.

I had to believe that. It was the only thing holding me together. A part of me knew the stress wasn’t good for the baby. I needed to get my shit together sooner rather than later.

I must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing I knew, I woke up with a horrible kink in my neck and nausea rolling through me. I stumbled into the bathroom, peed, and only then realized I was still in yesterday’s clothes with mascara smeared across my face.

My phone was still off. I would have to turn it on eventually. Face whatever messages were waiting. But not yet. I wasn’t ready yet.

I splashed cold water on my face and then brushed my teeth. It was silly because I knew I’d be puking soon. But hey, puking mint toothpaste was better than the crackers. I looked like hell. Puffy eyes. Blotchy skin. Hair that had given up any pretense of style.

And because I wasn’t looking forward to nausea, I padded out to the kitchen and found the crackers. I needed to do a grocery order for more crackers and ginger ale.