Cara
"No, I didnât get robbed." I look around the one-room studio apartment just to make sure, but everything looks to be right where I left it, and I inwardly cringe.
Now, heâs living in an amazing penthouse, just as rich as every other guy Iâve dated. Who cares that my apartment is the size of a shoebox.
"Youâre not staying here."
"Excuse me?"
"You canât stay here. Itâs too damn small. What are you going to do when you have our kid here?"
I should probably start planning for that. My apartment is so small I have no idea how Iâll fit a crib in. I shrug. "Iâll figure it out."
He flashes me a look like heâs just stepped in a steaming pile of dog crap.
"Pack your shit. Youâre moving in with me."
What? He has to be kidding. "No! Why?"
"Because this place is a shithole in an unsafe neighborhood. You can barely walk up the stairs right now and youâve been sick. You canât stay here alone and thereâs no place to put him or anything the baby will need, like a crib." His eyes bounce around the room again. "Where the fuck do you even sleep?"
"The couch pulls out and itâs plenty comfortable. Itâll be fine."
"For fuck's sake, Cara! You can't raise our child here. You barely have any space for yourself. Imagine this minuscule space with a kid."
I'm pretty sure the baby feels we're talking about him/her because besides the bile coming up my throat, I also feel like sobbing.
I do an about-face, run to my bathroom, and barely make it before I empty the contents of the breakfast Aidan had made for me.
"Shit baby. Stop making your mom sick." Aidan whispers while he rubs my back up and down.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just stress." I whisper back because right now my throat feels like he's on fire.
"I'm sorry shortcake."
"It's alright, you're just bossy and I'm stubborn. Perfect combo."
"More like a disaster." He winks.
"Neeh babe, we're a work in progress." I say and I swear all the color drains from his face and before I can say something he mumbles:
"Right, umâ¦well, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow. Keep me posted with the doctor's appointments."
Aaaand he's gone. I just scared a big, scary hockey player just by calling him babe. Hmm, I guess I'm more powerful than I thought I were.
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Aidan
"You have to apologize to her, you dickhead." Jake says. We're just leaving the rink after two tiring hours of practice. Our next game is in three days and all I can think about is Cara and the baby. We talked about her next appointment, but I'm just glad she's not feeling sick anymore.
"I know, I know." I plan on inviting her to our game on Friday. Hopefully she'll say yes.
"You think she'll come with all the food around?"
"Yeah, I think so. She told told her nausea started to disappear soâ"
"Bro, what!? I knew the moment Ella told me about it that you don't know about this shit."
I'm confused as shit. "What are you talking about man?"
"Dude, your baby mama has been having a fever since yesterday. And, she's still throwing up even though she has nothing left in her stomach. Ella drove by and stopped to see how she was doing and found her on that little shit couch all shivering and shit."
"Fuck. I gotta go. Thanks for telling me earlier, asshole."
Jake yells after me: "Hey! I thought you knew!"
"I wouldnât have been here if I would!"
I drive off to my baby mama's apartment.
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"Yeah mom, I'm right there. I know how to make it. Yes. Thank you. Talk to you soon, okay? Love you too."
I'm knocking on Cara's door even though she'll probably take some time before letting me in. I called her when I was on my way here to see if she has everything she needs. No answer. Ella said she talked to her a few hours ago and that she wants to take a nap. Guess I'll keep on knockingâ.
I can hear her coming.
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Cara
Thereâs a sharp rap on my door. Thereâs only one person I know who could knock so impatiently, and put so much irritation into it.
"Go away," I tell him.
"Itâs Aidan."
"I know."
Iâm fevered, eyes glittering. Iâm blue and gray and white. The door is creaked open, and I squawk in fright.
"Holy shit." Aidanâs eyebrows pinch together. "You look bad."
I can barely focus my eyes. The floor is spinning. My hair has been unraveling from its bun and sticks to my neck.
Aidan presses the back of his hand to my damp forehead and I hiss. "Your hand is cold."
"No, youâre burning up. We need to get you to a doctor."
"Itâs almost Friday night. What are the chances of that happening? I need to go to bed."
"You're pregnant."
"No joke, I couldn't tell. I wonder why I'm feeling like shit all day."
"Spare me the sarcasm, shortcake. Let's put you back in bed."
He comes in and leads me directly to my couch.
"I like your T-shirt." It's a black one, with his hockey team on the back.
"Want one?"
I can't answer that because all of a sudden I feel like I've run a marathon and I need sleep.A lot of it.
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Heâs injected sharp and hard with natureâs superdrug, testosterone. Iâm wrapped in him, safe from anything the world wants to throw at me. Or better say, at us. Anything painful or cruel will have to get through him before it has any chance of touching us. And it will never happen.
"Better?" I hear him murmuring right beside my right ear.
"I need some medicine."
"Finally." He says that because I refused to take some medicine without talking with my doctor about the danger of hurting our baby.
"Iâm not poisoning you. Quit squirming." Aidanâs hand is behind my neck as he presses two pills onto my tongue. I swallow water and then he lowers me flat. I feel his hand on my forehead, fingers light and stiff. "Letâs do a temperature check."
"I feel so fucking stupid." My voice is garbled due to the thermometer heâs put into my mouth. He must have bought it, because I donât own one.
"Stop talking so you donât chew the thermometer." he replies quietly, taking it out of my mouth. "Do you know how to do that actually?"
"Piss off."
"We donât want you to get over one hundred and one." In the low evening light, his eyes are darkened navy as he assesses me almost clinically, before smoothing his hand over my forehead again, softly, not checking my temperature.
"Okay. Please stay for a minute. But you can leave if you want."
"Cara, Iâll stay. I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."
The clock says 4:27 A.M. when I sit upright again. A wet compress falls into my lap. Next to me, Aidan is silently watching me.
"Hi." I whisper, my throat feeling like shit.
"Need some water, baby?"
"Mhhm."
"How're you feeling?" his hand is on my forehead.
"So much better. Thank you."
"Why haven't you called? Why have you lied, Cara?"
"I'm sick, the baby is fine."
"Explain."
"You're here because of the baby but, as I told you before, the little shrimp is amazing in there. You don't need to stress over my cold."
"What the fuck are you talking about? You think I'm here because of the baby? I mean, sure. I love him or her already. But Cara, our baby wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You're bringing this child into our lives. And most importantly, I feel like I knew you before I even met you. Stop talking nonsense and just let us grow close. Can you do that? For our little messed up family?"
I'm pretty sure this guy wants to see me sobbing.
All I can do is nod: "I can try."
"Good, now let's go to sleep. Shrimp needs to sleep too."