Forsaking All Others (From This Day Forward Book 2) (3 page)

I’m pregnant. I lie in bed and stroke my flat belly with the palm of my hand. I can’t believe it. I’m still trying to figure out who I was before the accident and now I’m going to be responsible for another person? I don’t know that I’ve ever been as scared as I am right now.

I mean how do single parents do it? Financially, I can barely afford to cover myself and the thought of paying for diapers and daycare is enough to send my pulse racing.
I wonder if the baby will have his blue eyes
. The thought startles me.

David.

My Achilles heel.

I am not certain of a lot of things right now, but the way I feel about him is a done deal. I love him with every fiber of my being, but his betrayal has cut me to the bone. The floodgate of memories of my life with him turned lust into love. I didn’t want to file for divorce, but how could I ever look at him again without imagining him with Jess? How could he look at me and not see me with Landon?

It’s like when you break a glass. You might be able to super glue the pieces back together, but you’ll still be able to see the cracks from where everything splintered apart.

I lie in the dark with the moonlight streaming in from the window above the bed. It feels like hours that I’ve been left alone, stray thoughts running rampant through my head.

Landon.

I haven’t heard from him since that night and I feel as though there’s still a lot to process as far as memories go.

It’s incredibly frustrating being locked outside of your own memories. I gained quite a few when Landon showed up six weeks ago, but there’s this nagging feeling that I’m still missing something crucial.

Lauren seemed patient enough at first to answer my unending questions, but I think even she’s run out of answers for me. I’m on my own.

Despite my best efforts, my body gives in to sleep.

As I choke down a piece of dry toast the next morning, I decide to research pregnancy so I know what’s to come. I Google the word and I’m visually assaulted with site after site, each proclaiming to be the web’s leader in pregnancy and childbirth, whatever the hell that means.

I click on one at random and it immediately asks for the first day of my last period or the date I conceived. I don’t see an option labeled,
“I was just involved in a serious car wreck and suffered amnesia, so your guess is as good as mine.”

I know I wasn’t pregnant right after the wreck. The emergency room doctors ran lab-work for that. I grab the calendar off the desk and flip back to June.

The wreck was the night of June twelfth and I didn’t leave the hospital until June sixteenth.

Possible conception dates…

Well, we didn’t waste any time once we got home—looks like the lucky dates are either June sixteenth or seventeenth.

I type in June sixteenth and a blue box pops up.
“Congratulations, Mommy! Your baby’s due date is March 9th, 2015.”

I’m eight weeks along according to the website’s charts and I could’ve had a positive pregnancy test as early as June thirtieth.

Eight weeks!

June thirtieth!

What in the hell have I been doing for the last six weeks? How did I miss this?

It’s almost August and I’ve been carrying this little person around for the last six weeks without knowing.

I begin clicking at random and a video pops up of what appear to be the cursed mer-people from
The Little Mermaid.

Apparently, it’s meant to be a video of what my baby looks like at this stage. The baby is half an inch long and growing its arms and legs.

I choke back tears as I watch the computer animated embryo dance around on the screen.

We made that.

Regardless of all the shit, he and I were perfect together in that moment and we made this.

If only he hadn’t done the same thing with my former best friend.

The alarm clock won’t stop its shrill ringing. I roll over and try to use my hand and feel for it.

“Beth, turn off your alarm.” I mumble the words before realizing I’m not at home and my wife hasn’t been in my bed for over six weeks now.

I finally locate the clock and mash every button on it, but the ringing won’t stop. My head is pounding and my mouth feels like cotton. I don’t even know if I’m hungover or still drunk from the night before. It’s hard to keep track. I’ve been drinking like this since I was served divorce papers.

Come to think of it, I don’t know if I’ve sobered up enough long enough to experience a true hangover.

The ringing stops and then immediately starts up again. It’s my fucking phone.

I keep my eyes closed and press it against my ear. “Hello?” My voice sounds like a rusted gate, as though it hasn’t been used in a while.

“Where the hell are you?” The female voice is definitely not my wife’s. “You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago, or did you forget that you agreed to come to this doctor visit with me?”

I sigh, “Jess, I—shit, I’ll be there in ten.”

I end the call and finally open my eyes to the destruction before me. There are empty glass bottles everywhere and a chair is on its side. I mean, this hotel room wasn’t five-star to begin with, but this is something else entirely.

You have got to get your shit together, man.

I sidestep the warzone that is the hotel floor and make my way into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I need a shower, but I don’t have the time for it.

My eyes are bloodshot. I look like death warmed over. My beard is poking out in every direction—I look like a bear that missed out on hibernation. As I grab my toothbrush, I can hear Beth lecturing me about the importance of good oral hygiene. God, all these little reminders of her are going to be the death of me.

I walk into the medical building and find Jess sitting in the corner of the waiting room, texting like her life depends on it. I go over and take a seat across from her.

“You’re late.” She doesn’t even bother looking up from her phone.

“Looks like you’re still sitting in the waiting room, so I can’t be that late.”

She looks up long enough to roll her eyes at me before going back to her phone.

Fine with me. We can sit in silence for the entire appointment.

I study her as she continues to tap out texts on her phone. She’s the anti-Beth in every way. She may possess that long and lean look that women everywhere go crazy trying to achieve, but I’m a man. I love that my wife is so tiny when standing next to me and the fact that she has curves for days has never hurt either.

God, I miss her.

Jess notices me staring at her and mistakes it for attraction. She pouts her lower lip out, “I know you feel bad about being late so I’ll let you make it up to me later.” She winks and I resist the urge to hurl onto her expensive heels.

I ignore her comment and begin checking work emails.

We are a match made in Hell.

I’m responding to a request for a bid when I hear it.

“Mrs. Greene if you’ll just wait right in here, they’ll call you back shortly.”

My head pops up and I begin searching the room. The nurse is blocking my view, but I know it’s her. I feel it.

When the nurse walks out, I watch Beth set her purse down while she searches for a magazine and my heart is ready to fucking beat out of my chest.

She looks absolutely beautiful. She’s wearing a simple sundress and flip flops and her unruly blonde hair is piled up on top of her head. I wonder what she’d do if I walked over and freed it from the messy bun she’s confined it in. I just want to run my rough hands through it.

Would she fight me if I took her bottom lip in my mouth? I could carry her right out of here and back to the house…

I don’t even realize I’m leaning forward until Jess kicks me with her heel. “You wanna respect the woman you’re here with, or are you picking out your next conquest, Romeo?”  She follows my gaze and I take pleasure in watching the color drain from her face when she sees that it’s Beth.

“What is she doing here?”

I pause at her question.
What is she doing here?
I’m on my feet and walking towards her before I even stop to think of the consequences.

“David!” Jess hisses after me.

“Beth?”

She starts at the sound of my voice and turns away from the magazine rack slowly. “David?” Her eyes widen, “How did you know where I’d be?”

I swallow, “I’m uh actually here with—” I gesture toward Jess, who is shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

I watch as her shoulders drop, she’s disappointed. “Of course.” I hear her mutter under her breath, “Stupid, Beth.”

“Why are you here? Are you?—” I don’t quite know how to finish that sentence.

She shakes her head rapidly, “No. Just my annual check-up.”

I’m crushed. How fucked up is that? I’m expecting a baby with Jess, and in this moment, I wish more than anything that it was with her.

She gestures to her magazine, “Well, I’m gonna go sit down. Take care, David.” She turns away and goes back to her seat.

I stare dumbly at her.
Take care?
That’s it? Like we’re nothing more than two strangers meeting on the street. I’m about to take her by the arm and find somewhere a little more private to discuss this when Jess’s shrill voice rings out across the room.

“David? They’re ready for us, honey!”

Beth looks up from her magazine and her skin appears to have taken on a greenish hue.

Jess just can’t help herself without getting a little dig in by pretending we’re a couple.

“Beth? You okay?”

She nods and waves me off, but I see a lone tear running down her cheek before I turn back to Jess.

I don’t think there’s been a moment, up until this point, where I’ve felt this low.

Once we reach the back, the same nurse we always see tells Jess to put a gown on. I’m finally going to be present for an ultrasound. I’ve played along with the charade of concerned partner, but I need visual proof. Hell, I need more than visual proof.

I stop the nurse before she steps out. “Is she far enough along to determine paternity?”

Jess makes a cry of outrage and the nurse gives me a death look.

“I know you can do a blood test on her after the eighth week and it determines paternity—”

“David, where is this coming from? You know it’s yours!” She attempts to place her hand on my arm and I shrug her off.

“Surprised that I did more than just drink when you told me? I know that it’s accurate and safe and I want the damn thing done today. You’ve gotta be what— fifteen or sixteen weeks by now?” I spit the words out as though they’re venom.

She opens and closes her mouth and I can see that she is trying to think of a reason why she can’t submit to the test.

It’s the closest I’m getting to an answer and without another look, I turn around and walk out.

“David!” Jess comes after me using the gown to cover herself, “Wait a second. I’ll do the testing, I just wasn’t prepared for you to ask.”

“Jess, I’ve waited long enough for answers—” The nurse walks out into the hall and I look past Jess, “You heard her. She consents. I want that test ordered.”