Forever (This #5) (37 page)

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Have you been on Pinterest lately? I’m thinking I need to find some cute way to tell him. There should be a picture of the big reveal to post to Facebook. It’s overwhelming. I’m not crafty like you.”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to be crafty. Put a bun in the oven or something.” My stomach starts to roll and rumble. When was the last time I had food? All I want to do is sleep, but getting my mind to fully shut down has been so hard for the last one hundred and sixty-eight hours. “How are you feeling?”

“So sick. It was easy the first couple of days because I just told him I had a bad case of food poisoning, but it’s getting hard to keep this little secret.”

“Go to the drug store tomorrow when he’s at work and buy Seabands.”

“What?”

I rest my burning eyes. “Sea. Bands. They are for motion sickness, but they use acupuncture pressure points to relieve nausea. See if they help you until you can get to the doctor. Have you lost any weight from the vomiting this week?”

“Nope. I’m mainly vomiting in the morning, but the nausea is all day. The fatigue sets in after lunch, and all I can think about is sleep.”

Given the fact I’ve been at the hospital nearly non-stop for a week, I can relate. My lips part and a yawn escapes. “Don’t say the word sleep or I may fall out on the phone. I’m so tired.”

“Same here. You’re coming to Christmas, right? Because that’s when I’m thinking I’ll tell Bradley. Christmas morning if I can keep it a secret until then, and then we’ll share with everyone after lunch. I can’t imagine you not being there.”

My throat tightens. Joe will be there. And Ryan. Gabe. But Joe makes my insides quiver. “It’s going to be so awkward on my end, Gabby. Gabe, Joe, Ryan…everyone in my life that makes me squirm—either good or bad—is going to be there.”

“Sam, I’m about to have a baby. I need to know you’re going to be here for me. I need to know I don’t have to stress about your feelings with Gabe. I wish you’d give him a chance.”

“Joe said the same thing.” The difference when Joe told me to work it out with my parents was he wasn’t practicing what he preached. His relationship was equally as dysfunctional as mine. But in the last week, he’s working on it. “How is he?”

“He’s a mess, to be honest. One minute he’s like a lost puppy and the next he’s snapping at people.” She hesitates. “Have you spoken to him?”

“If I’d spoken to him, I wouldn’t need to ask my baby sister for updates on him, would I?”

“I guess not, huh. I’m sorry. He’s got a lot on his plate. We all do, though, so I know that probably doesn’t give you comfort.”

A tear leaks from the corner of my eye. “Do you still think your two week rule will prove true?”

“I don’t know, Sam. Give him a little more time. Maybe you two can talk when you come for Christmas if things haven’t smoothed over.”

My chest feels like it’s being ripped open when I think about three hundred and twelve more hours without hearing his voice, getting a text from him, or seeing his face. “I’m coming. I’ll try to be patient with him, but you know patience is a virtue I don’t possess.”

“About Gabe.”

“Gabby, do we have to do this right now? I’m so exhausted.” Rolling over, I pull the covers over me. I swear, it’d be so easy to go to sleep right here, right now.

“Yes, because who knows when we’ll talk again. I don’t know that you have to forget everything he did. I know that’s not easy for you. I’m not asking you to pretend none of it happened. I’m only asking that you forgive him, and let’s try to move forward. For the sake of my unborn child.” I hear her swallow. “My baby is going to have a grandparent that is a blood relative to me, Sam. That means more than anything in the past. This is a new chapter. A new generation.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it. I’ll try, okay?” There was a quote I read once about how you have to fix yourself before you can be emotionally available to someone else. Maybe Joe’s trying to fix himself so he’ll be available. I owe it to him to do the same. “Try harder, I guess. Because I tried at your wedding too.”

“That’s all I’m asking. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now. Let’s change the subject. So, about this surprise for Bradley. What did you have in mind?”

She giggles. “Well, this is new. Us conspiring against him.”

I smile. Bradley always comes to me with his surprises for her. “I have no clue. I’ve been looking on Pinterest some, but honestly, every time I’m still for more than about two seconds, I find my eyes closing and drool seeping out of my mouth like an over fatigued toddler.”

“That first trimester is brutal. I know it’s hard to believe, but it gets better. Hang in there.”

“You have no idea. I have no clue how I’m going to handle classes.” She pauses. “Sam, I’m terrified. What if I don’t finish? What if Bradley turns out to hate me pregnant? What if he starts drinking all the time and turns into a deadbeat dad, and I’m left with this baby all by myself? I promised Mom…”

“Gabby. You know what else is insane during the first trimester? Well, the second and third too.”

“What?”

“Your hormones. You’re making a baby. Another human life. All its cells, organs, every piece of tissue is being made solely by your body.”

I hear her sniff. “I cry all the time, Sam. I go in the bathroom, turn on the water, and pretend to shower while vomiting and crying.”

“Oh, Gabs.”

“I’m so glad I told you. Keeping it to myself would have never been an option, and I’m glad we were together in person and it wasn’t over the phone.”

“So, you haven’t told anyone else?”

“No, Bradley should be the next to find out. And not being able to talk to you all week has made me feel so alone. The secret has been eating me alive.”

“I’m honored. You’re going to be a great mother. Bradley’s going to be the best dad you could ask for, and you’re going to finish school. Or else I’m going to kick his ass myself for all this.”

“So how should I tell him, then everyone else? I know I just said we’d tell everyone on Christmas, but this article on a baby site says I should wait until the end of this first trimester. Should we?”

“I think you should ask Bradley if he wants to wait. That should be something you decide together. Some couples like to have a few months where it’s their secret—their bond. Some worry about miscarriage, since that’s the riskiest time, and wait until they pass that mountain. Others can’t wait to tell the world.”

“Bradley will want to tell the world.”

“I think so too, but let him tell you that.”

“He’s going to be pissed you know first.”

“He won’t be surprised. And if he’s pissed, he’ll get over it.”

“We’ve still not decided how to tell him. And I’m about to fall asleep.”

“Oh my gosh. I have the perfect idea!”

It’s been three hundred and thirty-six hours since I’ve seen Joe’s face, heard his voice, or read his words. There’s a slight part of me that wonders if he’s making me wait to show me what it was like for him after the ultimatum, but that’s just cruel. I really did think I was making the right choice at the time. For him, he probably does too. Christmas is a week away, and I was really hoping we would’ve spoken before seeing each other again that day at Bradley and Gabby’s.

My current attending works me like a dog. I’m so beyond hungry most days, I feel too sick to eat when I finally have the chance. Last week, the exhaustion was a fraction of what it is now. I make my way to the on-call room in hopes of grabbing just a little bit of shut-eye. Rumor has it Ryan’s returned to Macon, but he’s not coming back to work until after the New Year because of his broken legs. Being in this room reminds me of our time together. It should have been more obvious to me we weren’t right. I wanted it to work so badly, but even as much as I did, it’s nowhere near how much I’m craving Joe.

I pull my phone from the pocket of my scrubs like I’ve done so many times before over the last three hundred and thirty-six hours and stare at his messages. The last one I sent about waiting is the most recent text. He never wrote me back.

Asshole.

No matter how conflicted I was, I never ditched him. Well, the night of the ghost tour doesn’t count. He gave me a fuckin’ ultimatum. I’m pissed my language has even changed since I’ve known him. How dare he do this to me? We’re family whether we want to be or not, and he can’t avoid me forever or pretend I don’t exist.

My finger taps the phone icon by his name. It rings twice, then goes to voicemail.

I hang up and call back immediately. Maybe if he sees me calling back to back, he’ll think it’s about his brother. Kinda wrong considering the circumstances, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It doesn’t ring this time. It cuts straight to his voice, which shoots shivers all the way to my core, and I decide to listen.

“Hey. It’s Joe. Leave a message after the beep. But if you really want me to call you back, you’ll send a text because I don’t ever check this damn thing. That’s so nineties.”

My lips curve into a smile and I burst into tears. It’s a delirious, too tired, too hungry, angry, hurt cry. I press end and throw my phone into my lap. “Fuck you, Joe. Fuck. You.” I sob. “You promised if you got me, you’d do everything in your power to keep me. You’re an asshole.”

I bury my head in my hands and let the tears soak the cotton of my scrubs. A few seconds pass and I hear a beep. My hands fumble for the phone.

“Your message has been sent. Goodbye.”

Oh no! My sobs turn to giggles. “Serves him right.”

As I come down from my hysterics, my eyes finally become too heavy to hold open. My head falls backward onto the pillow, and I replay that one afternoon at the lake house until we got the call about Ryan. Then, I drift off to sleep.