Scary Chaos

EMERALD

Tate’s father had earned the name Bull during his time as the head of the company. If he was a bull, I had no idea what that made Tate, who was, by all measures, so much more… Just ~more~.

Evan King was shorter and stockier than Tate or Devon; I could see small similarities in their features, but it was obvious the two younger Kings took after their mother in looks. Leo looked almost identical to his father.

Well, I could see how he might have looked if he didn’t have the paunch belly, bald spot he was trying to hide with a comb-over, and a pinched face as he and his wife, Nancy, greeted us in the entryway.

Nancy was young. Very young compared to her husband. She, however, was in much better shape. Not entirely from exercise, either.

Her cheeks were a little too high, her nose was too perfect, and her gargonzo boobs were ~clearly~ bought.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but her pitiful attempts at passive aggression were paltry at best. By the time we’d spent an adequate amount of time there, I was about three seconds away from laughing in her face.

Sure, her words had a sharp edge or two, but she was mistaken in believing I cared.

Words could only hurt if the person throwing them at you like ninja stars held any kind of importance, and Nancy was about as important to me as a butt boil.

After we left, we went to meet with Tate’s mother, Elinor Westcott. After the divorce, she’d reclaimed her maiden name before even leaving the courthouse.

There was a big question mark surrounding the reason for the divorce and her immediate desire to rid herself of the name King, but nothing had ever been made public about it.

Elinor was a proper lady with pedigree. She was from old money, like coming-from-England-used-to-have-a-title kind of old money.

She looked like a lady on the outside, but I got the feeling that she was a puckered and bitter woman, which was confirmed by the look of unrestrained disgust she gave me when Tate introduced us.

I should pay my dentist more because I’m shocked that I didn’t crack a tooth; I was clenching my jaw so hard before we left. Now was a really bad time to be unable to drink alcohol.

Which was why I was now pacing around in the bedroom wearing a silk slip nightie while Tate showered.

Macy had been a saint and messaged me that she called her doctor and had me penciled in for an appointment in two days; mine was no longer covered by insurance and was out of my budget to pay in full.

Hers, at least, took payments.

Since getting that message, though, I’d been a ball of nerves as I tried to figure out the best way to tell Tate that I was pregnant. God, that sounded so weird to think; saying it out loud was going to be hell.

“Okay,” Tate said slowly, pulling me out of my head. I didn’t even notice that he’d gotten out of the shower. “I am now concerned.”

“I… I have no idea what to say to that, actually. I do have something to say, though. Should you be concerned?

“Uh. Well, that remains to be seen, actually. I don’t even know if ~I~ feel concerned. I don’t even know how I feel about it all because I’m completely freaking out!”

I spoke. I started slowly, but by the time I was done, I was talking so fast that I’m not sure I made any sense.

“Wow. I’m ~really~ concerned now.” Tate frowned and came to hold onto me.

I relaxed for all of three seconds before my stomach churned, and I felt my face go pale.

“Oh god.” I clapped my hand to my mouth and ran for the bathroom just in time to vomit into the toilet.

Tate pulled my hair back, and I tried swatting at him but gave up as I heaved again so I could hold on to the toilet for dear life.

How embarrassing. The man I loved was seeing me puke. Not how I imagined this going at all.

When I was finished, Tate gave me a cup of mouthwash and wet a cloth with cool water, wiping at the clammy sweat on my face and neck, looking worried.

“Are you okay?” he asked when I spit into the toilet and flushed it all away.

“That’s a bit of a difficult question at the moment.” I sighed as I pulled myself off the floor and grabbed my toothbrush.

“This isn’t helping my concern levels, Emerald,” he said, closing the toilet lid and sitting down. “Is everything okay with your mom? Lance? Macy?”

“Everyone is fine. Well, except Macy, but she’ll be fine in a day or so,” I said around my brushing.

“So, it’s you that’s not fine?” he guessed.

“I mean”—I spit and rinsed the toothpaste off before dropping the brush back into the cup by the sink—“I am, but I’m not.

“But I will be, but at the same time, you might not be, then you might be, then both of us won’t be, but then we will be again.”

“I’m lost again, baby. What’s going on?” He frowned harder.

I held up a finger, left the bathroom, the bedroom, and went to where I had dropped my purse by the door.

“Where are you going?” Tate asked.

“Dressed like this? Hopefully to bed in the near future, but first…” I dug around until I found the baggy with the tests inside. “I’m ~really~ freaking out here, Tate, and I have no idea what to say, so here.”

I held the bag out to him, and I swear I saw his entire body snap together with tension.

Yeah, he knew what a pregnancy test looked like, and I’m sure he was already putting the pieces together as he took the bag and stared at the little windows with their damning results.

I dropped my purse on the floor and shuffled past him to the living room, needing to sit down before I had a breakdown or something.

After a long moment, Tate came and sat down heavily next to me, the bag of tests loose in his hand.

“I can’t…believe this,” he said softly, his voice full of shock that rivaled my own.

“We’ve been so careful. I don’t know how this happened. Tate, I’m so sorry.” I shook my head in an effort to shake the stinging in my eyes away. A futile attempt, I knew, but one I made anyhow.

“What? Why?” he asked, dropping the bag on the floor and taking my face in his hands so I had no choice but to look at him or close my eyes.

I found fear in his face along with shock, but it was greatly overpowered by the happy-as-shit smile on his face. “Baby, I can’t fucking wait to have a little piece of ~us~ running around.”

“This wasn’t part of our plans,” I said, holding onto his wrists. “You said a house and a dog and a goldfish, not a baby.”

“I might not have said it, but I sure as fuck hoped.” He chuckled and kissed my forehead.

“The important thing right now, though, is how do ~you~ feel about this? I mean, it’s your body that’s going to be going through this, not mine.”

“I-I’m scared, Tate,” I whispered and let my eyes close. “I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s fine. We’ll figure it out together. Well, there is one problem that I really have no clue how to handle, though.”

He made a face when I opened my eyes to look at him again. “We need to seriously discuss our wedding.”

“Oh my god.” I pulled back and put my hands over my mouth. “I’m going to be Moby Dick!”

“What?” He laughed.

“A white whale,” I snapped at him, hitting him with a glare. “I’m going to be fucking ~enormous~!”

“We can wait until after the baby is born.” He shrugged.

“Or…before I need to worry about Captain Ahab,” I suggested slowly.

“I like that idea much better.” He grinned.

***

My leg bounced with nervous energy as I sat in the waiting room for a doctor that Tate insisted was the best, which made me wonder how he came to that conclusion in the past twelve hours.

Last night’s anxiety and nerves were still buzzing like electric bumblebees under my skin, and it wasn’t a good feeling.

Tate took my hand from my mouth where I had been biting my nails and kissed the knuckles before resting our hands on my jumping leg, stilling the nervous tick.

“God, I feel like such a mess on my own, but next to you and your superior calm, I bet I look one step from the looney bin,” I muttered and picked at my jeans with my free hand.

“I am ~not~ calm, Shrimp, but I think you’re freaking out enough for both of us right now.” He smiled and gave my hand a squeeze.

“Honestly, I think you’re taking it incredibly well, considering that we weren’t planning on children for a while. Looks like the goldfish will have to wait, huh?”

“Again, goldfish are incredibly low maintenance, Tate.” I rolled my eyes.

“Kind of boring, too. I mean, what does it do aside from floating around?” He made a face.

“The gold color is an emotional stimulant,” I replied. “It makes people feel happy and content.”

“Still boring as dirt, though.” He shrugged.

“Emerald King,” the nurse called, and I made a face at Tate.

“What? It’s not like it isn’t happening anyhow.” He shrugged, the smirk on his face completely unrepentant.

We were taken to a small exam room, and I answered question after question until the nurse was satisfied and left.

As I looked around at all the info posters and 3-D models of certain types of birth control, the panic started to spike.

“This is real, isn’t it? It’s happening?” I asked, eyes wide as I looked at Tate sitting easily in a chair next to me.

“It’s happening, and I really hope it’s real.” He nodded and got up with a frown on his face. “Baby, you look really pale. Are you okay?”

“I think so—” I paused as the world started to spin and get fuzzy and washed out. “No.”

“Hey!” he shouted as he lurched forward, pushing at my back until I was folded in half, my head between my knees as I tried to breathe around the cold crushing weight that was suddenly on my chest.

“We need some help in here!”

***

Soft, insistent stroking on my face, hair, and neck brought me back from the darkness enough for the sound to hook in and keep me there.

“Emerald? Baby, can you hear me?”

I hummed, my tongue feeling too heavy to form words as I flopped my head to the side and pried my eyes open to look for Tate.

His face was pale, and his brows were pinched in worry, his eyes darting across my face in a rush to be sure I was okay.

I was not.

“There she is,” a kind female voice said, and I flopped my head to the other side. “Quite a scary introduction there. How about we skip this kind of rush next time, huh?”

She wasn’t much older than I was, and she had dark brown hair that looked like a rich chocolate frosting on the top of her head.

Her skin tone hinted at a Mediterranean heritage, and she had a likable face with a happy smile, despite the circumstances.

“I second that.” Tate pinched his lips together and squeezed my hand in both of his. “You scared the shit out of me, Shrimp.”

“Here,” a nurse said as she came into the room with a juice box and a bag of cookies for Tate.

“First things first, we’re going to make sure your blood pressure and heart rate are back to normal, or close enough, before we move into the real reason you’re here,” the doctor said.

Tate punched the bendy straw through the top of the juice and held it up to my lips, making me scowl at him.

“Drink it or I take the TV remote to work with me.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “And I’ll turn off the internet.”

“Asshole,” I muttered but took the straw anyhow while the nurse put a blood pressure cuff on my arm and the doctor checked my eyes for a response.

After the nurse made a few notes in my chart and handed it back to the doctor, she patted my forearm before she left with a small smile.

“Okay,” the doctor said, pulling the rolling stool over to sit beside me. “Well, I’m Dr. Moore. I take it the news of your pregnancy was unexpected?”

“What could have given that away?” I muttered.

“Usually, I see shock or excitement, but this isn’t the first panic attack.” She chuckled.

“So, everything looks good on paper so far. Of course, we’re going to run a few quick tests to confirm and do a quick scan to make sure everything is good on the inside.

“Then, we’ll get you started on vitamins, review your diet and exercise routines, and talk about the dos and don’ts of this part of your journey.”

“I’m not even sure how I got pregnant in the first place.” I sighed.

“Most non-permanent methods of birth control aren’t guaranteed to prevent pregnancy, but we’ve had a lot of unexpected pregnancies pop up the past few months.”

She nodded and wheeled over to a drawer and pulled out a condom in a red-and-gold wrapper. “I have to ask, but have you been using these condoms?”

“No,” I shook my head.

“Well, we did once,” Tate answered, and I looked at him. “Your birthday. It was the only one left of a new package. I’m still kind of mad about that, actually. Devon still owes me.”

“Well, it would seem this is the culprit,” Dr. Moore waved the condom in the air before dropping it back in the drawer and rolling back across the room.

“There’s been a massive recall after it was discovered there was a major flaw in the material and the spermicide lubricant was found to be ineffective. Basically, they’re about as effective as cheesecloth.”

“I’ll warn Devon,” Tate sighed and rolled his eyes as he typed out a quick text.

“That was one time,” I blinked and sat up on my elbows but laid back down when the world spun again.

“That’s all it takes,” the doctor patted my hand. “Clearly. Otherwise, we’d be having a different discussion right now. But that gives us a good time frame as to how far along you are, so that’s good.”

“Take your win, Doc, because I’m feeling incapable of it right now,” I admitted.

“And that’s normal.” She nodded. “I understand you took the home tests yesterday? And you’ve been using condoms, so it’s not like you could have expected this as a possibility.

“Shock, fear, and panic are all perfectly normal right now. Most mothers feel that to some degree until their first little one is about a year old, even if they planned to have a baby.”

“I’m going to kill my brother,” Tate growled suddenly. “He knew about the recall and took the condoms to throw them away.

“He dropped the box and thought he got them all. Asshole didn’t even say anything when I asked him about them.”

“I’ll loan you the other slipper.” I narrowed my eyes.

“Plan his demise when I can claim deniability.” Dr. Moore chuckled.

“Your vitals are back to a normal enough range that I’m okay with letting you go home, provided you rest and try not to overexert or get worked up for a few days.”

“Please don’t say it.” I begged with my eyes.

“Bed rest.” She smiled sympathetically as she rolled to another cabinet and pulled out some vials and a tourniquet before pulling on a pair of gloves. “Three days only, so it’s not too bad.”

“Please don’t say the other thing.” I eyed the sterile syringe she produced from another drawer.

“Fear of needles?” she asked, and I nodded. She put the one back and grabbed a different one before holding it up. “This one is smaller and will hurt less, but it’ll take longer to fill the vials.”

“Hell no, Doc. Get this shit over with.” I shuddered.

After enough blood to feed a vampire for a decade was drawn and another check on my blood pressure and pupils, we were sent on our way.

I received a bag of goodies intended to spoil new mothers to begin a long journey with happy things.

Coupons for diapers, photo shoot appointments, and breast pumps, some gentle body wash meant to soothe itchy skin as my belly grows and smell relaxing.

Samples of popular, prepackaged healthy snacks, a list of things I could and could not do now that I was responsible for growing another life.

A prescription receipt for prenatal vitamins that had been sent ahead to a pharmacy that Tate named off when I stuttered over mine.

I sighed as we got out of the elevator back home and sank to a chair at the small table, staring at my Welcome to Motherhood bag like it was going to turn into a viper or something.

“I would like to point out the irony.” Tate cleared his throat as he took the sheet of dos and don’ts out of the bag. “The first time we had sex we made a baby. On your birthday.”

“I’m not counting this as a birthday gift, Tate.” I snorted.

“It is a gift.” He shrugged and started scanning the list.

“Gifts aren’t meant to be scary.” I sighed.

“This one is.” He looked at me. “We’d be stupid not to be scared shitless right now.”

“You aren’t.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I am,” he argued. “I don’t know the first thing about not being a shit parent, and that scares the holy fuck out of me, Emerald.

“I’m completely terrified, but at the same time, I know you have everything I lack. All of those little moments in your childhood that made you feel loved by your parents have given you the primer material for this.”

“Can ~we~ survive this, though?” I bit on my bottom lip as I stared at the bag in front of me.

“It feels like we were just starting to get settled together the right way. Babies are pure chaos, meant to rattle and shake the very foundations of our lives, and it seems like we’re living in a house of cards.”

Tate put the list on the island counter and knelt in front of me, one hand on my knees and the other holding me by the back of my neck, our foreheads together as my hands naturally moved to rest on his shoulders.

“I love you, Emerald. So much more than I thought that word could ever mean,” he said after a quiet moment.

“There is nothing that could change that. Yes, babies are scary and little bundles of chaos.

“Yes, I had intended to have you to myself for a few years before we even talked about having a family, but that’s not how it happened for us. Nothing about us has followed the mold so far, so why would it now?”

I laughed a little, the shaky bark sounding slightly hysterical still, but the warmth of Tate’s words was already spreading through me, bringing the places frozen by fear into a tentative thaw.

How could I possibly be scared of the future with him in it? It was such a silly and absurd notion, brought on by the shock of unexpected news.

“That’s better.” He smiled and kissed the end of my nose before he got serious again. “And you are supposed to be on bed rest.”

“Oh, come on.” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Can’t I make a sandwich or something first? I’m hungry.”

“No. That list says no sandwich meat unless it’s been heated.” He stood up and grabbed the list, scanning it again. “Hm. It looks like I need to order groceries.”

“We just got groceries,” I protested.

“Most of which is not good for you right now,” he said, and I jumped up, grabbed the paper, and looked over the list.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I frowned. “I can’t have ~cheese~?”

“Or coffee,” he pointed out.

“Nuh-uh. No. I am not giving up coffee. I ~need~ that to function.” I shook my head in denial.

“You can have decaf,” he offered.

“Gross.” I gasped. “Take that back, you blasphemous tree person.”

“And the cheese you can’t have is mostly the gross kind.”

“Ugh.” I made a face. “Can we not talk about cheese right now?”

“Nauseous?” he guessed, and I nodded. “Go get comfy and ~in bed~. I’ll bring you something…crackers? Toast?”

“Toast sounds good.” I perked up. “Lots of butter.”

“Good, because I don’t think we have crackers.” He kissed my forehead before I left for the bedroom to begin my three-day bed rest sentence.

Joy of joys.