Sweet Nothing (33 page)

“It’s no big deal,” I whispered to Hope.

She still looked frazzled even though Toby had finally passed out.

I’d listened to his pained cries for over an hour before deciding to knock on her door and offer help, even if it was just to take him off her hands for a few minutes before she lost her mind.

I swayed back and forth while he drooled on my sleeve, worried he would wake up if I stilled.

Hope spoke softly, refashioning her bun and then pulling her robe belt tight. As she adjusted the terrycloth, I got a glimpse of her short black nightgown and her bare legs. “You’re an angel, Josh. Really. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t home.”

“You know,” I whispered, “my friend Cinda lives across from my old apartment three blocks down. She’s a professional babysitter. She even watches Dax for me sometimes.”

Hope’s expression fell. “Unless she takes state assistance, I can’t afford her.”

“Maybe she’ll give you a deal.”

“I’m sure the whole building hates us anyway,” she said, tearing up as she looked at her sleeping son. “Avery is probably sleeping with ear plugs.”

“Avery’s still at work. She had to work a double. He didn’t wake her.”

“I just don’t know what to do anymore. I mean, there has to be something wrong with him, right? No baby should be freaking out at three in the morning.”

I shrugged. “I think all babies cry at night. Right?”

“Not like that. He cries like I’m killing him.”

“Avery would be much better at this stuff than I am. You should ask her.”

“Why? Because she’s a woman? I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, and I’m a mom.”

“No, Avery works with babies and kids all the time.”

“Avery is always working,” Hope said. “I don’t think I’m going to be getting advice from her anytime soon.”

“I know,” I said, feeling bitterness seep into my thoughts.

“I’m sorry. It must be hard for you.”

I ignored her. My marriage wasn’t Hope’s business. “Maybe he’s teething.” I glanced into his open mouth.

“You can put him in his crib in my room,” Hope said.

I cringed. “What if I wake him?”

“I’ll help,” she said, walking down the hall and opening her door.

I bent over his crib illuminated by a small heart-shaped nightlight.

I placed him gently on his back. He stirred, and Hope and I froze and held our breaths. After he rubbed one eye with his chubby little fist, he relaxed and his breathing evened out.

I walked back out to the living room, laughing to myself as Hope sat and shoveled Alfredo noodles into her mouth. When she caught me watching, she hurried to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I’m so embarrassed. I probably eat like a rabid animal. I can’t believe how good of a cook you are.”

I sank down on the couch beside her and lifted my plate. “I’m just glad someone is enjoying it.”

When my eyes finally peeled open, Josh’s side of the bed was empty. I reached for my phone on the bedside table, holding it up to my face to see that it was ten in the morning.

“Josh?” I called out before kicking off my covers. The heat was set too high and I was roasting.

My bare feet slapped against the tile in the kitchen, and I looked around. He wasn’t home. I squinted as I checked the thermostat. Josh slept best when it was cold. The heat must have woken him up.

I opened the fridge, seeing a half-eaten Tupperware bowl of Alfredo. I pulled it out, noticing maybe only a small helping was left.

After spooning cold sauce, noodles, and chicken onto a plate and popping it into the microwave, I tapped on my phone to text Josh. It wasn’t like him to leave without a note.

The microwave beeped, but just as I reached for the handle, someone knocked on the door.

I smoothed back my wild bun but gave up after one look at my wrinkled tank top and pajama pants. I peeked through the hole, seeing the new neighbor, Hope, holding an empty dish.

The chain complained against the track as I slid it open, matching the whine of the door hinge.

“Hi,” Hope said with a bright smile. She scanned me from head to toe, surprised. “I figured you’d be at work.

“I traded. Can I, um … what’s up?”

She shoved the plate at me, and it was then that I recognized the design.

“I’m just returning your dish.”

I held it in my hand, confused. “Thanks.”

She waited for a moment and then spoke again, “Tell Josh the Alfredo was amazing. You are one lucky girl.”

“I will,” I said, watching her turn on her heels toward the stairs, a bounce in her walk.

I shut the door and carried the plate to the sink.
What. The. Fuck.

My phone rang, and I lunged for it. Instead of seeing Josh’s name on the screen, it was the hospital. I held the phone against my forehead. “No, no, no,” I whispered. “Please don’t call me in.”

I slid my thumb right across the screen. “Mrs. Avery?” the woman on the other end said.

“Yes?”

“Hi, it’s Evelyn from Dr. Weaver’s office. We’ve got your test results. Are you ready?”

I looked around at my empty apartment, and then at the empty plate. “Y-yes.”

“Congratulations! You’re pregnant. By the counts, it looks like you’re six to seven weeks along. Can you schedule an ultrasound today, or would you like to call back?”

“Um,” I said, scratching my head. “Let me talk to my husband, and I’ll call you back.”

“Great. Talk soon.”

She hung up, and I stood in the kitchen alone, still holding the phone in my hand. The apartment was quiet.

I rushed over to the window, seeing Josh’s Barracuda resting in its spot. I lifted the phone and called him. Instead of ringing, his voicemail answered.

Hi, this is Josh Avery. I’m probably at work or with my wife. Call back. I don’t check my messages.

“Hi,” I said, my voice sounding quiet and unsure. “This is your wife. You’re not with me. Where are you? Call me back.”

I set the phone on the kitchen counter and looked down, placing a hand on my belly. “I’m pregnant,” I said to no one. My bottom lip trembled. “I’m pregnant.”

The bolt lock clicked, and the front door quietly opened. Dee’s tiny nails clicked across the floor as he scampered in.

“Shh, buddy,” Josh whispered as he snuck in. He froze when he saw me standing alone in the kitchen.

His expression thawed, and he closed the door. “Hi, baby. I figured you’d still be sleeping.”

“I’m pregnant.”

He dropped the bag in his hand. “Really?”

“Really.”

He stepped toward me. “How … how do you know?”

“My period was late. I took a home test, but it was negative.”

“What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrugged, feeling more nervous than I’d expected. “I wanted to be sure. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“But you are?” he asked, still in disbelief.

“Dr. Weaver’s nurse just called me. The blood work came back. I’m pregnant. She wants to schedule an ultrasound.”

Josh took three wide strides across the living room and knelt in front me. He wrapped his arms around my hips, holding his cheek to my belly. “They’re really sure? Like,
sure
sure.”

“They’re sure. She says I’m around six to seven weeks. The ultrasound will give us a better idea.”

He kissed my belly once, and then three more times, standing to hug me. His arms were so tight and he was so happy, I could almost forget about the plate by the sink. “Say it again,” he said, his voice breaking.

I breathed out a small laugh. “I’m pregnant.” No matter how many times I said it, it didn’t feel real.

He pulled back. Noticing my expression, his brows pulled together. “Aren’t you happy?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding once. “Yes,” I choked out, “of course I’m happy.”

Josh hugged me again. “Just when I think it can’t get any better, it does. I’m so happy, baby.” He took a step back, holding his fists in front of him. “I’m so fucking happy!” He ran to the window, and yelled, “I’m going to be a father!” Then he ran to the door and jerked it open, yelling into the hall. “I’m going to be a father!”

I smiled and shook my head as he slammed the door and strode over to me, his chest puffed out. He wrapped his arms around me again, lifting me up and twirling me around. When my feet touched the floor again, he planted a hard kiss on my lips.

His smile faded. “You’re not telling me something, I can tell. Did the doctor’s office say something?” He blinked. “Is the baby okay?”

“Yes. I mean,” I said, looking down. “They didn’t really say anything except for how far along I might be. They want me to call back to schedule an appointment, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

He swallowed hard. “About what? Them asking for an ultrasound. Is that normal?”

“Yes.” I looked up, scanned his eyes, trying to see if I could read something more—guilt, innocence, fear. I only saw Josh,
my
Josh, the man who loved me. That hadn’t changed.

“Where’ve you been?” I asked.

Josh let me go to jog across the room, picking up the white sack he’d dropped. It was from JayWok. “You said on the phone last night that you were craving noodles.”

“For breakfast?”

He gestured to the leftover Alfredo on my plate. “Looks like I was right.”

I breathed out a laugh. “Touché.”

He shrugged. “I think it’s kind of romantic.”

I fought a smile. That was the first thing Josh had said to me after the crash, the response that had started it all. “But they’re not open for another hour.”

“I called in a favor.”

“They owed you a favor?”

“We’re good customers. What did you want to talk to me about?”

I glanced at the plate, and then back at him. On our wedding day, I had promised to trust him, just like he’d promised to love only me. He was happy about our baby. I couldn’t jump to conclusions.

“I just wanted to talk to you about your schedule, to see when a good time was to schedule the ultrasound.”

“I work nights, baby. You schedule one, and I’ll be there.”

I hugged him tight, pressing my cheek against his chest. “We’re going to be parents, Josh.”

He exhaled. “No, we’re going to be
amazing
parents. I was thinking that maybe … maybe we should look into buying a house.”

I leaned back. “We can’t afford a house.”

“If I sold the Barracuda, we would have most of the down payment for something small in the suburbs. We’d get a tax break. It’s doable.”

“How would you get to work?”

He shrugged. “Quinn.”

My nose wrinkled. “Quinn is going to drive to Haddonfield?”

Josh twisted his face, unhappy. “Haddonfield? I was thinking more like Devon or Blue Bell.”

I glared at him.

He held out his hands and let them slap to his thighs. “Okay, Cherry Hill.”

“You want to move to
Jersey
?” My voice rose an octave, and I rubbed my temple, feeling another headache coming on.