“I’ll have the police come myself, Griffin,” says Dr. Wells, “if you don’t get a grip. At the moment, I don’t feel like your wife is safe with you.”
“She’s pregnant, Jane. Fucking pregnant and it’s not mine. So arrest me for being angry that my wife is carrying another man’s fucking child.”
I hate her at that moment, all of them…all women.
“Selena told me she met you ten days ago. She asked if the baby could be her ex-fiancé’s, since they practiced the rhythm method as a means of birth control. Apparently, you two had a whirlwind romance that landed you both married as of last week. Selena isn’t trying to hide anything from you.” She looks sternly at me. “In my medical opinion, this pregnancy is ten days post conception. Selena and I have gone over her menstrual history while we were waiting for you. According to her previous cycles, she was ovulating when she met you. She also threw up the emergency contraception and has been nauseous ever since. If you ejaculated in her vaginal canal during ovulation, and were relying solely on emergency contraception, this baby is yours.” She gives me an evil glare.
“I’m going to want a paternity test if she doesn’t choose to terminate today,” I say flatly, still an asshole.
“It’s unlikely the baby belongs to her ex. Selena stated that she and her ex-fiancé did not have sex for two weeks before the wedding so he could ‘save up his sperm.’ His words, apparently.”
“He was cheating on her, he wasn’t saving shit.” I blurt out.
“But he wasn’t having sex with her. Pretty hard to conceive a baby without intercourse. Now, I'm going to go and call the social worker and check on Selena. I need you to stay here in my office, or I’ll have to call security.”
“This is between the two of us,” I say, backpedaling a little. “She doesn’t need a social worker.”
Dr. Wells shakes her head, and I feel like trash.
“I think Selena’s been coerced into marriage. This clinic is going to provide her with options in regard to this pregnancy,as well as housing support and legal resources should she need them.”
“How long do we have before she can’t have an abortion?”
The doctor looks at me coldly. “She said she doesn’t want one, so termination probably isn’t an option. I can have you both speak with the social worker about agencies and paths to adoption. I will also be requiring that you both attend marriage counseling, unless she decides to terminate your agreement.”
“There is no way that—”
“There is no way you are going to do anything except leave my office,” Dr. Wells tells me. “Now. Or I’ll call the police. Selena doesn’t need any more stress today.”
She stares me down until I turn on my heel and walk out. I am too angry to go home and have my driver just…drive.
Two hours later, I get a phone call from the clinic. They tell me they’ve admitted Selena to the hospital for observation. She’s emotionally distraught since and she has an elevated heart rate; they want to monitor her. The social worker has said that I’m not allowed to see Selena or call her until further notice. I want to fight with Dr. Wells and the social worker, but truthfully, it’s probably best for Selena that I calm down and give her some space.
All of this has just made me hate myself. That poor, beautiful woman should not be suffering this badly, and it’s all on me. All of Selena’s heartbreak is because of what I’ve done.
I call Beckett and ask him to meet me.
“Scarlett and I always watch Morgan Park on Thursday nights. She’s going to hate me. I know better than to fuck with a pregnant woman, Grif. You may never—”
“Selena is pregnant!” I yell into the phone.
“I’ll meet you at Cole’s.” And he hangs up.
I arrive at Cole’s, and Beckett is already there in our favorite booth. I join him and order whiskey. I also order onion rings, French fries, and fried shrimp because when I get stressed, I eat crap.
“Shit,” Beckett says. “So what happened?”
“I guess I knocked her up on that first night. She never told me she barfed up the morning after pill, but that’s what happened. Dr. Jane says she was ovulating...” I throw back my whiskey and order another one.
“Fuck.” Beckett takes a drink of his. “Kids aren’t the end of the world. Griffin, you need to ease up on her.” He’s my age and is trying to speak to me like a man, but I’m a monster.
“I’m not you.” I clap back.
“Yeah, I wasn’t me when Scarlett gave birth to Rayne, trust me. I was just as selfish as you are.” He has a point.
“It’s not self-centered to not want to raise a child. Lots of people decide not to have kids. It’s a choice.”
“Not when your wife, who you coerced into marrying you so you can make partner, is pregnant. Where is she now? Just sitting in your gigantic, nearly vacant loft, wallowing?”
