Seven weeks later…
I was having a particularly difficult morning of feeling sorry for myself and feeling ill. Nothing I did seemed to settle my stomach. I couldn’t seem to get any rest. I was queasy and miserable and missed having Devin around.
Devin hadn’t seemed the same ever since we slept together the night of the charity ball. It had been seven weeks, and he treated me more like a stranger than he had even before we were thrown together into this farce of a marriage.
He was avoiding me, I knew it. Knowing it didn’t make it hurt any less. I felt stupid letting myself think he had started to have feelings for me.
I walked away first, but he stayed gone as much as he could. If I saw him once a week, that was a lot. Without him my mornings were miserable. It was difficult to wake up, my eyes didn’t want to open. And when they did open, the world tilted sideways and I had to dash from bed to go throw up. It wasn’t a pleasant way to start my day.
“How are you feeling this morning,” Hannah asked as I finally stepped into the kitchen for a late breakfast.
She pulled a glass from a cabinet and retrieved a cold bottle of ginger ale from the refrigerator. She poured and then handed me the drink.
I sipped the cool soda. The ginger ale helped settle my stomach, I wish it could solve my other problems. I sighed and took another sip.
“I’ve been so queasy lately. This feels so much better.”
“Morning sickness usually passes after your first trimester. You’ll start to feel better soon,” Hannah said.
I set the glass down with a thunk. “What do you mean trimester? I’m just stressed.”
Hannah laughed. “No, Harleigh, I think you’re pregnant.”
I didn’t know what she was talking about. I couldn’t have been pregnant, certain things needed to happen for me to be pregnant. Devin and I had used condoms.
“There’s no way I’m pregnant,” I said.
Hannah raised her eyebrows, and I blushed.
“You’re obviously pregnant, your skin is glowing. You wake up sick as a dog every morning. How are you feeling right now?” she asked.
“I’m tired and cranky and stressed—”
“And exactly,” she said. “In about twenty minutes you’ll be happy and smiling and laughing and thrilled to be talking to me about anything and everything.”
She was right. In no time at all, I would be feeling better, interested in eating food, and happy.
“You’ve been craving spinach,” Hannah said.
I sat and thought about it.
“No, I’m not craving spinach, I like spinach.”
“Hardly. I’ve been a cook in this house since before you left for college. And while yes, you will eat spinach, you’ve never requested spinach, not like you do now. You crave spinach. You come in here to ask what’s for dinner and then ask if we’ll have spinach with that.”
“What if I am pregnant? Oh my god. What should I do?” Panic surged through my veins.
“Haven’t you taken a test yet?” Hannah asked.
I shook my head. “Am I going to have to go to the doctor for that?”
“Well, why don’t you take a pregnancy test first to find out. Next time you’re in town, go to the drug store and buy yourself a box of pregnancy tests. You’re married now. You’ll probably want them just in case.”
I was married, but it wasn’t the kind of marriage that was going to need pregnancy tests. After all, we were both married strictly to fulfill the obligations set before us by my father’s will. The event that led to my condition had been a mistake.
“Hannah, do you really think I am?” I asked in a panic.
She looked at me with a huge smile on her face and nodded. “Yes, Harleigh, I think you are. And I think Devin is going to be thrilled.”
“I don’t think he’ll be happy about it. I don’t think he’s very pleased with me at the moment, I can’t see how this is gonna make him any happier. You cannot tell him, no matter what.”
Devin was gone and I didn’t know where he was. For the moment, that wasn’t a bad thing in my mind. I didn’t want to see him until I knew what was going on with my body.
After breakfast, I headed into town and had my driver take me straight to a drug store. Placing two boxes of pregnancy tests down on the counter in front of the cashier felt too much like the first time I had to purchase feminine hygiene products for myself. I was afraid everyone around would know what was happening with my body, and they would judge me.
The cashier barely registered my face as she greeted me and asked if that was all.
“Um”— I scanned the candy display next to the register and selected a chocolate bar. I grabbed two— “these as well.”
I ate the candy bars on the ride home, wishing I had purchased more than two. They tasted really good, and I wanted more. Once at home, I went straight to my bathroom and placed the boxes on the counter, and stared at them.
With a heavy sigh, I forced myself to open the box and removed two plastic-wrapped objects and a folded set of instructions. I took the paper and went to sit on my bed and read. I wasn’t avoiding the test, I was learning about it.
“I have to pee on it?” I stared at the bathroom door as if I could see the tests from my bed.
I ran downstairs and drank three large glasses of water in quick succession. I wasn’t exactly thirsty, but I wanted to make sure I was properly hydrated so I could get accurate test results. I was procrastinating, no matter how much I convinced myself I wasn’t.
I took the test. I thought the results would be immediate. I had to wait, and watch. After a few minutes, it looked like nothing was happening. I guess I wasn’t pregnant.
I didn’t think I was. Hannah had to have been teasing me. This was my body, I would think that I would know if I was pregnant. I shook off the worry I had been carrying with me all day. Suddenly I felt very tired as if the anxiety was the only thing keeping me awake and moving. I crawled in bed and took a nap, secure in the knowledge that my body would let me know if I was pregnant.
When I woke up, I went to the bathroom. I had left the test on the counter. I picked it up to toss out, but it was different. When I had left it, ignored in my relief of not being pregnant, there had only been one line.
Now there were two distinct lines. Two lines meant pregnant.
Immediately I ripped open a second test and took it. This time I didn’t watch it. I cleaned up and set a timer and then I sat on my bed, nervously twisting my fingers together until ten minutes passed. When the obnoxious duck quacking alarm sounded I was on my feet and in the bathroom.
Two lines.
I was pregnant. I was really pregnant.
“Holy crap.” I sat on the edge of the tub. What was I supposed to do now?
Devin and I were going to have a baby. I looked at my belly. There was a baby in there. It was already more round because of my size. At what point would I look pregnant? Would this change Devin’s mind about how he felt about me? Would he stay and forget about filing for a divorce?
There was a knock on my bedroom door. I sat up. Was it Devin?
I rushed to open it, test in hand. I would tell him right now.
I pulled open the door, ready to show him the test, only it wasn’t Devin. I shoved the positive test into my leggings’ pocket.
“Oh, Jessie, hi,” I said.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s a courier here, and they have a package for you.”
“Oh okay, you can sign for it.” I started to close the door.
“I’m sorry, they won’t give it to me. They have to hand it to you and have you sign for it.”
“That’s odd,” I said as I stepped out of my room.
“I asked to find out if they were serving you legal papers. They said they don’t work for a lawyer, just a courier company. It sounds suspicious to me,” she continued to talk as I followed her out of my room and down to the front door.
“I got it,” I said.
Jessie nodded and retreated toward the back of the house where her office was located.
The courier handed over a large flat envelope the side of a sheet of paper folded in half. There were no markings on it at all.
“Do I need to sign anything?” I asked.
“No ma’am.”
“Then how do you know you handed this to the right person?” I held up the envelope.
“They showed me a picture,” he said. “You’re much prettier in person.”
“Um, thanks.” That seemed odd, showing my picture to the courier. I closed the door and began working at the flap.
I pulled out a stack of glossy photographs wrapped in a sheet of lined paper.
Isn’t this your husband? Why does he still have his apartment? The note was written in almost calligraphic perfect penmanship.
The photos were grainy and taken in low light as if the photographer had been a long distance away.
The first few photos were of Devin leaving his apartment building. He wore different clothes in each image, a suit, his gym clothes, and jeans. I recognized the t-shirt in the last image. It must have been taken the day I left him in the park. These pictures were weeks old.
Devin still having his apartment wasn’t a big deal. I suspected he still had it all along. But I began to doubt all those business trips he took. Had he really just been staying at his apartment?
“Shit,” I said as I continued to flip through the images. These were damning.
I found a chair to sit on before I fell onto my butt. In just a few images my happy little daydream of having a family with Devin crashed and burned.
I never got a good look at the woman’s face, but her figure was life goals. The photographer made sure to focus on Devin so that I could identify him. I kept trying to tell myself this was nothing, this was just a work meeting. He was allowed to have a drink with an old friend. I wasn’t going to overreact. I wasn’t going to jump to conclusions.
But the picture in my hand… the one I couldn’t seem to put down… maybe it was the angle, but it certainly looked like they were kissing.
I didn’t know what to do. Normally I would call Devin, ask him. I couldn’t call him. Could I? What would I say? Hi Devin, are you cheating on me already? Was it even cheating if we both considered this a fake marriage? He had agreed to not see anyone for a year.
If I asked Devin for help he would tell me to call the lawyer.
I went upstairs and found my phone where I left it on my bed. I looked up a number and hit the dial.
“Mr. McGrady?”
