“That’s it?” I whisper as the elevator closes behind us.
I clutch the glossy printout of the ultrasound that resembles a blob. I tuck it in my purse in case a reporter is lingering around.
“That’s your baby.” Wilby shudders as he leans against the other side of the elevator. “It’s real.”
“I can’t believe this is really happening. Not how I thought my day was going to go.” I let out a shaky laugh.
The elevator hums as we head downward. I look at my reflection in the mirrored wall and I look pale. My hair is still perfectly blown out, my pink suit still sharp and tailored. I look like I should be walking into a board meeting, not carrying around a secret little heartbeat in my body.
Wilby guides me out to the waiting car, and I slide in and lean my head back. Cal should have been here. He might have wanted to be here.I think about the heartbeat we heard,fast and wild. He could’ve been holding my hand, making inappropriate jokes to calm me down, kissing my temple, and telling me he’s happy.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I say as I look over at Wilby, combing through work emails on his phone.
“Of course,” he murmurs.
My penthouse still feels cold and lonely when we walk in. Wilby kicks off his shoes and pours us both waters. He throws a blanket over the couch and queues up the show he knows I’ve been watching.
“I’m going to get changed,” I tell him.
“I’ll order food!” he calls after me.
A shower sounds damn good.
After I’ve thrown on cozy and comfy light pink sweats, I join him on the couch.
He’s already changed into comfy clothes and is under a blanket, his laptop open in front of him. “I ordered us pasta,” he says. “You need carbs.”
“I’m growing a human. My body deserves carbs.”
“And garlic bread,” he adds.
When our delivery arrives, he gets it and hands me a fork. We sit cross-legged on the big couch. The takeout containers steam between us. I pick the alfredo pasta, and Wilby chooses the penne vodka.
The ultrasound photo still sits on the coffee table, reminding me of the elephant in the room. I can’t stop looking at it.
Wilby glances at the ultrasound and back at me as he reaches for napkins. “How are you going to tell him?”
I trace the edge of the takeout container. “I think I should do it in person.”
He studies me for a second, then nods. “That’s probably a good idea.”
We eat in silence after that. When we’re done and everything’s put away, we watch a few episodes of my show.
When he finally stands to leave, he squeezes my shoulder. “Call me if you need me.”
“I will. Thanks, Wilby.”
He nods and leaves. “See you tomorrow.”
When the elevator doors close, the loneliness rushes in. I carry the ultrasound to my bedroom with me, like it’s sacred.
I change into one of Cal’s old T-shirts that I stole from him when Ileft Coconut Beach. It still smells like him, and I miss him. I crawl under the covers and stare at the ceiling.
I last about five minutes before I sit up again and decide to go take a bath. I wait for the bathtub to fill slowly and steam curls into the air. I slide into the water and let the water comfort me like a warm blanket over my shoulders. I close my eyes and I can almost feel Cal here. That time, he brought me breakfast in the tub before my big day taking over. The way he’d sat with me while I soaked and told me I had this. That I’d be great. The way he kisses me like I’m his. The way he never rushed me, never yelled, never got mad at me. Until the day I pushed him too far.
Wilby was right. I’ll never find a man like him. I know this in my soul. Cal is special. He’s...mine. And I need him. I want him. And the thought of losing him makes me feel sick. I open my eyes and stare at the tile. There won’t be another Cal. And this is just a job. Sure, it’s a powerful one. But it’s just a job. I wanted to show everyone I could do it. It could be mine. And I could be feminine and powerful, and I could do it. I don’t need it. I need him. I don’t need to fight for some stupid male-dominated board’s approval. I don’t need this cold and sterile penthouse. I could sell everything. Liquidate it all. Walk away and go live the good life in Coconut Beach. Chase sunsets with Cal in the sand while holding our baby. Dance in the kitchen while Cal cooks dinner, because let’s be honest, I’d probably burn it down.
I press my hand to my stomach. We could have a good life. That idea doesn’t feel reckless. It feels...peaceful. I make my way to bed not long after, feeling finally at peace.
