“Amy.”
I could hear his soft voice as I woke on a couch, wrapped in a white duvet in my pyjamas. My fluttering eyes closed again as he leaned over, kissing my cheek.
I felt tired, and I didn’t want to get up. Even with his soft caress on my exposed shoulder from the blankets.
I shivered, burying into the warmth of the couch.
“Amy.”
The fire crackled, taking me from the warmth and my eyes opened to his as he leaned over me. His hair disheveled and his facial hair grown out in a neat beard. I gazed at his perfectness and reached out from under the blankets towards him. “Ean.”
He came down to me and kissed me. His mouth meeting mine, his tongue tipping my mouth open and then I heard it. The low building cries of a baby in the background.
“I’ll get him.”
. . . I woke erect in bed and staring wide-eyed across my now dark room. “What the heck was that!” My heart thundered in my chest as I felt a cool sweat bead across my goosebumped skin.
I stared into the darkness around me and felt my tears that quickly morphed into desperate sobbing. I was so upset, and I wasn’t even sure why, other than the dream and being pregnant with his baby.
I sunk back into my bed, still crying and staring at the ceiling, the dream still vivid in my mind.
It had been a dream. A simple dumb . . . dream. All because I had decided to take a nap when I’d gotten home from work.
“Damn!”
I scrambled up, remembering I had the dinner to be at and soon. I glanced at the clock in my new panic; I had ten minutes.
“I’m such an idiot!” I moped my cheeks with a near blanket corner.
I was a mess. A hot, hormone infested mess! And it was all because of him; well, a dream version of him.
If this is what women that let men take care of them had to deal with, I was even more put off than I had been before.
I scurried across my bedroom, ignoring my upset stomach and persistent nausea. Once in my closet, I looked through my organized options. I grabbed a black dress and started to strip out of my warm sweatpants and hooded sweater.
Once shoved into the dress, I walked to my dresser and checked my phone but there was nothing from Beth. Nothing. Nothing in four days, even with my stupid long voicemail on Tuesday and follow-up texts. I was starting to think there was something wrong. I stopped my thoughts as I realized how late I now was for the business dinner.
Adjusting the thin straps on my shoulders, I looked over the tight black cocktail dress as I fluffed my hair.
I turned sideways to check out my status and hoped I wasn’t showing any signs.
I huffed and grabbed my phone and purse, my eyes stopping on the carved box I had discreetly pushed further and further to the side of my dresser over the past weeks.
I trudged out of my room, finding a pair of black heels and hoping my feet wouldn’t freeze on the cool February night. Grabbing a warm coat from my closet in the hall, I headed out, deciding my Beamer was the only option that night.
Five minutes later, I was down in the parking garage and walking towards my lovely white sedan. It’s lights lit up and engine started with a press of a button.
It took me almost half an hour to get to the restaurant, but in reality, I should have just taken me five minutes. However, traffic was something you accepted as a city-dweller, and I had fully embraced it the last fourteen years of my life.
A valet opened my door, and I handed my car over to him. The hostess took my coat, checked my car in and led me to the reserved table at the very back of the restaurant.
It’s where the lights dimmed and moved into a more romantic setting, I wanted to know why Doug had reserved the table where he had, but I figured it was because the place was so busy and getting any reservation at the best of times was difficult.
I spotted him, and he stood to give me a light hug.
“Sorry, I’m late. I took this nap and then I was just—yeah, sorry.” I stopped my momentary rambling.
“You look great,” he said to me.
I lifted an eyebrow as he helped me sit. “Thanks . . .” I noticed the chair across from us was still empty.
“I already ordered for us.” Doug sat, adjusting his white tie along his black shirt.
I paused, “So, where’s Jay-jay?”
“Cancelled.” He adjusted his chair, turning slightly towards me.
My eyes flashed open. “What?”
“Yeah, he must have thought better of it.” Doug laughed.
I was a bit annoyed. He was telling me I could have been in bed, eating and not dressed up like I cared. I did not care, for the record.
“Did he just do this?”
“Yeah, about an hour ago.”
An hour! I fumed and picked up my water glass, sipping it, hoping it would put a damper on my smoldering anger.
“I just figured you were already on your way.”
I glanced at him and sighed. “It’s fine. It’s just been a long week with me being sick.”
Doug nodded. “Sure.”
I sat awkwardly beside him, not knowing what to say, but he quickly brought up work, and I was thankful for that. We talked about some things that needed to be done next week, but that was interrupted as the waitress brought us some bread.
I took a small piece and nibbled, and that’s when Doug turned to me.
“You know, Amy, since we’re here,” he started, “like this.”
“Like what?” I shoved bread down my throat and probably looked like a cow, but I was beyond caring.
He smiled at me; noticing the eating. “Are you hungry? Because I can go, tell them to rush it.”
I put the rest of the bread down in my hand. “No, that’s okay.” Yep, even Doug with his general self-absorbency was seeing past me.
The waitress appeared out of nowhere with our starter.
I glanced down to the small plate of oysters and shot to my feet.
“I need to go to the washroom.” I fled away from the table and got to the toilet just in time, puking of course.
I took a few minutes cleaning myself up and finally returning to the table, sick and wishing I was home.
Doug helped me sit again. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” I brushed him off, “I don’t think I can handle the seafood tonight.”
He grabbed a waitress as she walked by. “Get rid of this.”
The girl paused, picked up the plate and walked swiftly away.
“Amy, look,” He said to me as I tried to think up a reason to go home.
I still didn’t look at him, the bile in my throat growing again. “Sorry, Doug, I just feel like crap still. Don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I lied like a sidewalk.
“Okay, I can take you home.” He offered.
“No, don’t trouble yourself,” I said, standing and collecting my purse.
He sighed.
“I can grab the bill.” I pulled out my wallet.
“No. I got it. Don’t worry. I’ll walk you out.”
“Don’t worry, Doug.” I shook my head at him. “It’s okay; I drove my car. The valet will bring it up. See you Monday.” I tried my best to smile.
“Sure.” Doug nodded as I turned and walked away, relieved on so many levels.
I wrapped my arms around myself and waited for my car. Deciding to push the embarrassment of the evening from my mind, and hoping Monday Doug wouldn’t think much of it. I just couldn’t stand the thought of him knowing I was pregnant. My car rolled up, and my bed entered my thoughts.
I got home a lot faster then it had taken to drive to the restaurant and once back in my apartment, I stripped and wrapped myself in my duvets.
My stomach cramped, maybe from the puking, maybe for reasons I didn’t totally understand but either way, I was happy to be in bed. So happy.
My phone beeped beside me in the blankets, and I picked it up, eyes squinting from the brightness. It was an incoming call, and my heart thumped from the name flashing the call display.
I hit answer and pressed it to my ear. “Beth, is that you?”
“Amy.” Her voice simple but stressed, however to me, her voice brought comfort.
“I’m sorry, Beth.” I began to cry because that was all I was now capable of anymore.