Chapter Forty-five

Chapter Forty-five

Sam

I grab my phone from my locker and check for missed calls or texts. Chloe called me while I was in surgery, and I immediately call her back. The service in the locker room is shitty, and the call drops before her phone even rings. Quickly changing, I stuff my phone in my pocket, grab my keys and wallet, and head out to get something to eat.

I’m on-call and need to stay nearby, but don’t have to stay on the hospital campus. I could go home, though I’ve gotten stuck in traffic, made it into the lobby of my apartment building and then got called back. Sitting through hours of surgery with nothing but granola bars in my stomach isn’t fun, so I pull out my phone to order food as I walk to the car.

It rings only seconds after I step into the parking garage. It’s Stacey.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hey,” she replies. “Are you busy?”

“Not at the moment. I’m on-call and was going to get something to eat.”

“Oh, good. I was just saying how hungry I was and I’m near your hospital. Want to meet up?”

I don’t want to, but I swallow my feelings. “Yeah. Where do you want to go?”

“I’m really craving a sandwich,” she says. “We haven’t been to Martin’s in a while.”

Martin’s is a gourmet sandwich shop that we used to frequent when we were hooking up. “Yeah. I can be there in ten minutes if traffic isn’t backed up.”

“Good. I’ll put our name in for a table. I’ll be there in five. My mom is with me.”

“Oh,” I stammer, not expecting that. We never met each other’s family.

“I told her about the baby,” Stacey goes on. “And she went with me to get an ultrasound this morning. I was going to wait to tell you until I saw you, but I’m too excited! The timeline matches perfectly with my due date.”

My heart sinks to the bottom of my chest and guilt washes over me. This is my kid. I’m going to love my son or daughter no matter who the mother is, and I’ll be the best dad I possibly can be. My child is innocent in all of this.

“We can get that paternity test out of the way then. You are just having one baby, right?”

“Yes,” she snaps. “I told you, the timelines match.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling conflicted. My gut tells me to still get the test because something about this doesn’t feel right. But I don’t want to be a dick. Stacey is pregnant and this is hard on her, no matter who the father is. I don’t love her, but I don’t dislike her either. I don’t wish ill on her or want to see her struggle. She’s a nice person and all, but just not my person.

“Right,” I finally force myself to say. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, Sam.”

Letting out a sigh, I end the call and get to my car. It’s warmer today than it was this weekend and my heart hurts, missing Chloe. I hate how abruptly we left things. I dropped a bomb on her and then she had to leave.

I hoped we’d have the whole drive from Silver Ridge to Chicago to talk, but her agent called, needing to prep her for her meeting in the morning. It was a long phone call and Chloe looked even more mentally exhausted after putting her phone down.

We left everything up in the air, deciding it was too early to stress over how it could hurt our relationship. But I know it’s all either of us were thinking about the rest of the way to the airport.

I call Chloe as I head to the restaurant and get her voicemail. “Hey, babe,” I start. “I missed you again. Hope your day is going well. Love you.” I don’t hear back from her by the time I get to the restaurant, and Stacey texted to say they got lucky and got a table right away.

I go in, finding Stacey and her mom in the back.

“Sam, hi!” Stacey waves, standing from her chair. I hold up my hand, letting her know I see her, and come over.

“Hi,” I say, and she steps right in for a hug. She presses her breasts up against me, and I can tell she’s not wearing a bra.

“Mom,” Stacey says, sitting back down. “This is Sam. He’s a doctor. Sam, this is my mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her and take a seat across from Stacey.

“You too. I’m Michelle.” Stacey’s mom smiles. “I think you’re right, honey, the baby will have blue eyes.”

The waitress brings Stacey and her mom the drinks they ordered and gives me a menu.

“I bought the cutest little baby outfits today,” Stacey tells me, reaching down to get something out of a shopping bag. “Gender neutral for now, since we don’t know what we’re having yet.”

“They didn’t tell you at the ultrasound?” I ask and notice that Stacey’s mom gives her a weird look.

“I think I might wait until birth to find out.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” I smile. “It’s more fun that way, right?”

“That’s what I said!” Stacey’s hand goes to her stomach. Then she shows me all the things she and her mom bought for the baby, and I feel like I’m being pulled down under dark, murky water. I feel like a jackass for not being excited. I don’t want to take anything away from Stacey, and it makes me relieved to see her mother gushing over her soon-to-be-born grandchild.

The baby did nothing wrong. Stacey did nothing wrong. I can blame myself all day, but we were casually hooking up on and off for years. There was nothing wrong about it. I should have been more careful, should have pulled out as well as using a condom. There’s no going back now.

“Excuse me,” Stacey says, pushing her chair back. “I have to pee.” She stands and rests her hand on her stomach again. She’s wearing a sweater, making it hard to see if she’s showing yet.

“This was quite the surprise, wasn’t it?” Michelle laughs.

“You could say that again.”

“Stacey’s brother wasn’t planned, but things have a way of working out. I was young then, only nineteen, but two years later Stacey’s father and I got married, and here we are, years later!”

I take a drink of my water and nod, not wanting to be the asshole who breaks it to her that I have a girlfriend. I’m going to do everything I can to be the best dad possible, but I’m not marrying Stacey. It would hurt our child in the long run to be with parents who resent each other and who, inevitably, fight because of said resentment.

Stacey has a few siblings, I think. I know her older sister has children. Stacey mentioned it a few times and tried to get me to go to one of their birthday parties last year. Luckily, I had to work and used that as the perfect excuse not to go.

“It can be scary,” Michelle says gently. “But once you see your baby for the first time, you fall in love.” She smiles. “Just looking at the ultrasound makes me tear up.

“I told Stacey I wanted to go with her to her first ultrasound,” I tell Michelle. “I want to be involved as much as I can.”

“And that makes me so happy to hear. Blame me, if you will, for the impromptu ultrasound. A friend’s daughter works at one of those for fun ultrasound places and had a cancelation. They don’t typically do ultrasounds there this early, but…” She pulls up a photo on her phone. “Just look at my little gummy bear grandbaby!”

“This early?” I mumble and lean in to see the photo. She seems surprised and passes me her phone. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve looked at anything OB/GYN-related in a clinical setting, but I know right away something is off.

“This is from today?” I ask as I zoom out.

“Yes, just a few minutes ago! It’s amazing, isn’t it? Oh, I’m getting emotional again,” she says right as I see the date and Stacey’s name…along with her estimated due date. What? This means—wait—I have to be sure.

“Are there any other pictures?”

“Yes,” Michelle says enthusiastically. “You should be able to see them if you swipe.”

I nod and go to the next photo. This one has measurements of the baby, and again, Stacey’s name, today’s date, and the due date.

“I’m getting sick of having to pee all the time already,” Stacey says, coming back to the table. “What are you guys—” She cuts off with a gasp when she sees the ultrasound photo on her mom’s phone.

“We’re admiring how cute the little gummy bear looks.” Michelle beams. “Oh, I just can’t wait until he or she is here!”

I look up from the phone, meeting Stacey’s eyes. Her face pales and she slowly sinks into her chair.

“You’re nine weeks along,” I say, and some of the shock wears off.

“Nine weeks and four days to be exact!” Her mom takes the phone back, smiling again at the black-and-white photo.

“Mom,” Stacey says through gritted teeth. “No.”

“No?” Her mom gives her a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Calmly, I reach for my water and take a big drink. Stacey is only in the first trimester. Only nine weeks along.

“What are you playing at?” I ask, and anger starts to take over. I swallow hard, not wanting to yell or cause a scene.

“Nothing, Sam.” She reaches for me, and I jerk away.

“Nothing?” I echo and slowly shake my head.

“Sam, please. You know the estimates can be off.”

“Not by this much,” I counter.

Michelle looks from Stacey to me and back again. “What’s going on?”

“Mom, it’s okay,” Stacey rushes out.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice when the baby didn’t come for three months after it should have?” I get to my feet.

“I…I…don’t be mad,” Stacey tries and reaches for me.

“Just stop,” I tell her and jerk my arm back and slowly shake my head. “Why? Why did you lie to me?”

Tears fill her eyes. “I…I knew you’d take care of us. That you’d be a good dad.”

“Stacey,” Michelle exclaims, starting to connect the dots. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Stacey turns her head down, tears falling into her lap.

“The baby isn’t mine,” I explain, aware a few people are watching us. “Good luck, Stacey.” Inhaling, I gather my composure and turn to leave.

*

I get back into my car and sit in stunned silence for a few minutes. The baby isn’t mine. There is nothing holding me back from my relationship with Chloe now.

Chloe.

I pick up my phone to call her and then stop. This isn’t something I want to tell her over the phone. No, I want to go see her in person to give her the good news. I’m scheduled to work the next few days, but I might be able to switch my schedule with another anesthesiologist. In all the years I’ve been at the trauma center, I haven’t asked for an unscheduled day off.

The logical part of my brain takes over, and I know there’s no way I can talk to Chloe at this moment without blurting the news to her. I need to get something to eat and then go back to the hospital to try and switch my schedule. I put in a pickup order for a restaurant that’s within walking distance from the hospital. I drive back to the hospital parking garage, park, and pull out my phone again.

I sent a you are not the father meme to my brothers in a group text and then send the same meme to Archer in a separate thread. He replies right away.

Archer: You got the results back already?

Me: Nope. Stacey lied. She’s only 9 weeks along. There’s no way I could be the father.

Archer: Holy shit!

Me: Yeah. I don’t know how she thought she’d explain it when the kid was born.

Archer: Did you tell Chloe it’s not yours yet?

Me: No. I’m trying to figure out a way to get to LA to tell her in person.

Archer: So you can celebrate with sex, of course.

Me: Of course.

Archer: Use protection this time.

Me: Hah.

Archer: One of our anesthesiologists is retiring. We’ll be looking to hire soon, and it’s been a while since I got to ask you if the patient is paralyzed.

I reply with an eye-rolling emoji.

Archer: We really will be looking to hire. Your contract is up in a few years, right?

It wasn’t that long ago that Archer wanted to continue his schooling and be a trauma surgeon but didn’t because it took too much time away from his family.

Me: It is. And work with my sister?

Archer: She’s my best nurse, but to warm you, she’ll hear about the open position soon and is going to bombard you.

Me: I wouldn’t expect anything less from her. I don’t know where I’ll end up. Probably the west coast.

Everything feels so limitless right now. I can apply for a job anywhere. In LA or wherever Chloe wants to live. As long as we’re together, nothing else matters. Another text comes through, but this one is from Stacey. My eyes fall shut and I remind myself to stay calm. What Stacey did was wrong and fucked up, but it’s out of my life now. I’ll kindly tell her it’s over and that I’ll be blocking her number so we can both move on.

But she didn’t text asking if we could talk, or even send an apology. No, all she sent was a link to a TMZ article. I’m about to close the text altogether when the photo attached to the link loads. Two people are locked in an embrace, and I’d know that red hair anywhere. My heart speeds up causing nerves to prickle down my spine when I read the headline of the article.

Charles Baldwin: Back together with ex-girlfriend Chloe Fisher.