My heart shatters into a million tiny pieces. I know what he’s thinking. I hate that he thinks that.
“I’m pregnant.” The words fall from my lips. For a moment it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the car. My world pauses. I wait. Wait for him to say something. Anything.
But he doesn’t.
And when he starts the engine, putting the car into drive, and pulls out onto the street, I feel my world slip from my grasp, bottoming me out hollow.
A tear escapes. A whole lot more want to follow, but I hold them back. Brushing the stray one away discreetly, I stare out the window.
It’s a long fifteen-minute drive back home. In all that time, Jake says nothing and neither do I.
I feel a distance settling between us, widening with each passing minute, to the point where there may as well still be twelve years and an ocean between us.
Jake pulls up on the drive. I get out and slam the door.
I fumble to get my keys out of my clutch as I approach the front door. I wrap my fingers around them, shove them in the lock, and let myself in.
I slam this door too. I’m angry and hurt that he’s said nothing. I want him to know.
I take a step forward, and that’s when I hear his car reversing out.
Moving quickly, I yank the door open and catch sight of the taillights speeding back down the driveway.
Pain tears through me, so fierce that my legs buckle. I fall back against the wall, clutching my chest. I feel wide open. Broken. Devastated.
He’s left.
Hot tears sting my eyes like pokers.
Don’t cry, Tru. Keep it together.
I press my palms to my eyes, forcing the tears back.
He’s supposed to love me. So much so that when he thought I had cheated on him he didn’t want to know.
But I tell him I’m pregnant and he hotfoots it out of here like his ass is on fire, without so much as a word.
Bastard. Motherfucking bastard.
Then I get angry. Really f**king angry.
Fine, he doesn’t want this baby. Then I don’t want his sorry ass.
I march to our bedroom. I grab one of Jake’s holdalls and some jeans, T-shirts, pyjamas, and underwear. I stuff them in the bag.
I get my passport from the safe in our walk-in wardrobe. I get my phone from my clutch.
I need a cab.
I do a quick web search for local cab companies on my phone and call the first one that comes up.
They tell me it’ll be fifteen minutes for the cab.
I go to the foyer, take the handset off the wall, and dial through to the main gate to let them know I have a cab coming.
Ready to leave, I stand a moment, holdall at my feet, handbag on my shoulder.
I’m not really sure what I’m doing right now.
Twisting my engagement ring on my finger, I pause. I lift my hand to look at it.
“Trudy Bennett, I love you beyond any lyrics I could ever write or any words I could ever say. I always have, and I always will. Marry me?”
A tear slides down my cheek, and I pull my engagement ring off.
Taking a slow walk back to our bedroom, I place the ring on Jake’s pillow.
Then I head straight to the foyer, pick up the holdall, swing it over my shoulder, and let myself out into the warm California night.
I lock the front door, and keeping the keys in my hand, start the walk down the long driveway.
Jackson, one of the night security guards, jumps out of the booth when he sees me.
“Ms. Bennett, is everything okay?” I see his eyes go to the holdall on my shoulder.
“Could you give these to Jake when he gets back, please?” I hold out the keys.
His eyes flicker to them, then back to my face. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep hold of them?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I won’t be needing them anymore.”
Reluctantly, he takes them from me.
I start to walk toward the gates, when he says, “If you need driven somewhere, Parker can take you wherever you want to go.” He thumbs back to Parker, the other security guard, who is standing by the door, watching our interaction.
“No, it’s okay. Thanks. I’ve got a cab coming.” It’s at that moment the cab rolls up.
“Bye, Jackson. Bye, Parker.” I give a small wave.
Jackson gives me a sad smile as Parker opens the gates, letting me out.
Without a backward glance, I climb into the cab, settling my bags beside me.
“Where to?” the driver asks.
“LAX, please.”
JAKE…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I’m pregnant.”
Tru’s pregnant. With my baby.
But she’s on the pill. How can she be pregnant?
Jesus f**king Christ. She’s pregnant. With my baby.
I can’t be a dad. I’m not dad material.
I get a smoke out of the pack and realise my hands are shaking.
I clench my hands into fists, trying to ease the tremors. I put a cigarette between my lips, light it, and take a long, slow drag.
Lowering the window, I blow the smoke out into the night, and stare out at LA.
The last time I was parked here, I was seeing to Tru on the hood of my car, and now I’m here after finding out I’m going to be a dad.
Fuck.
I know without a doubt that Tru will want the baby. An abortion won’t be an option for her.
Now I feel like the worst kind of bastard for even thinking it. Thinking of getting rid of a part of myself and Tru.
But what the f**k do I know about being a dad? Nothing. I know absolutely nothing. I didn’t exactly have the best teacher growing up. I may have had Dale for the last part, and sure, he’s a good guy, but the damage was done by that point. I was well beyond repair by the time Paul was gone.