The Proposition (Hush Hush Duet #2.5)

Chapter 15

Fifteen

N atalie should never have suggested getting a puppy.

It’s all her fault that I’ve become obsessed with looking at them online. I’ve scoured countless websites and followed so many social media pages. I want to adopt every dog. I’m partial to the ones that’ve been abused or need extra love and attention. Like the one with its tongues hanging out one side of its mouth with hair standing straight up, looking like it’s been electrocuted. I want to save them all. Thankfully the search has kept me busy the past couple of days while waiting for my results.

“Babe, look at this one!”

James walks over to where I’m sitting on the floor and squats. We scheduled our lunch breaks together so we could meet at one of the pet rescues I found this morning while scrolling my cell phone in bed. His dress pants stretch over his knees as he balances on his toes. He’s rolled back his crisp white long-sleeved shirt to his elbows and loosened his tie. I get a hint of his cologne. The peppery lavender and leather make me want to pucker up and kiss him.

He looks at the Papillion puppy I’m holding and squints. All its bottom teeth but two are missing. I nuzzle my face in the dog’s, and it gives me kisses.

Now I know why Grammy loved cats. I still have hers. I don’t know what I’ll do when Lucy crosses the rainbow bridge.

“How old is it?” He bunches his brows together.

I turn back to the dog. “Eleven.”

“Sweetheart, if you’re going to get a dog, wouldn’t you want a puppy instead? That way you can train it and it doesn’t come with bad habits. You don’t really know what you’re getting with an animal this age.” He pauses. “Isn’t it a little old?”

“I could say the same for you.” The wispy hair around its ears reminds me of my frizz in Belize. “Maybe I have a thing for the elderly,” I say.

James chuckles as he pets the top of its head. “Why is it missing so much hair? I feel like I’m rubbing its skin.”

“Why is yours turning gray?” I rebut, feeling defensive for the dog.

“You can’t save them all, even though I know you want to.”

He’s right. I can’t help that my heart breaks for the lovable little creatures. This poor dog looks like it’s had a rough life. I want to make the remainder of his years happy for him.

I pucker my lips and turn to look at James. “What if I open an animal shelter?”

“Are you going to be able to let the animals get adopted?”

I turn my attention back down at the dog I’m cradling. It’s falling asleep in my arms. “No,” I say softly.

He laughs lightly. James kisses the side of my head and stands. His knees pop as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“You know I don’t like to say no to you, but I may have to draw the line at an animal shelter.”

“I know. I just feel bad. I want to love them all. Are there any that you like more? That you’re partial to?”

The fact that James has come around to the possibility of a puppy means the world to me. He loves my cat, even though he swore he wouldn’t. We’ve messaged back and forth tons of pictures during the day, talking about what we like and don’t like. We agreed to a smaller or medium-size dog, as long as it’s not a teacup. James doesn’t like toy pets.

“I think you have puppy fever. It’ll pass in a few weeks.”

I shake my head, adamant he’s wrong. “Not a chance. There’s no going back. I’m all in. It’s just a matter of when and which one.” I pause. “Unless you’ve been leading me on this whole time. In that case, expect two dogs. And for them to sleep in our bed.”

My cell phone rings in my purse on the table, but I’m too far to reach it. I need to get back to the office, but this particularly miserable-looking dog I’m cuddling was calling my name when I was scrolling earlier. Then there was the black and white puppy with two different-colored eyes.

“Can you grab that, babe?” I jut my chin in the direction of my phone.

He reaches inside my bag and fishes it out, muttering under his breath that I need to clean my purse. I bought a small purse for the sole purpose of not being able to carry much, but that didn’t work out to my benefit. It’s stuffed with receipts and miscellaneous things I don’t need any more. James reads the screen. He stills, and my stomach drops.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Your doctor,” he says. His voice is steady as he shows me the screen.

The smile fades from my face, and paranoia sweeps in. Our eyes meet. My heart is pumping a little faster, and the noise around me fades away. I snuggle the dog closer to me.

Either I’m really fertile or I’m as dry as a bone.

I swallow back the knot in my throat. “Will you answer it?”

James places his hand over my bouncing knee. “It’s going to be okay.”

I blink rapidly. I don’t understand how he can remain calm all the time. It’s a moment of truth, and deep down, I don’t know what I want.

I thought I didn’t want to be pregnant, but after the last couple of days, my views have shifted. Now I’m torn.

James’s fingers overlap mine. We’re sitting in my doctor’s cold office, waiting for her to see us. When the doctor called earlier, it was actually the nurse, and she told me the doctor could squeeze me in between appointments if I came now. I said goodbye to the cute dogs I was playing with, and we left. The office is halfway across the city. We got here as quickly as New York would allow us to.

A million thoughts have passed through my head since we got the call.

On one hand, I hope the test is negative. Guilt swarms me for the thought alone. I feel like scum for wishing this. I should be happy, even grateful, that I can get pregnant.

On the other hand, there’s an unusual seed of hope that I am pregnant.

Would I have the baby if the test is positive? My heart is abundant with the love I have for James. I’d do anything. If he wanted a baby, I’d give him one. And if not, then we wouldn’t have a child. But do I want a baby with him? I go back and forth. My heart says yes, but my stomach just gives me knots. As much as I say I don’t want a kid, I don’t think I could give up the chance to not have a child with him. I guess I would have his baby.

There are two knocks at the door before it’s being pushed open and my gynecologist waltzes in, her white coat trailing behind. The door shuts with a click.

“Thanks for waiting,” she says and pulls her rolling chair under her to take a seat.

She places the manila folder on her desk. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a nervous wreck,” I answer honestly.

She chuckles under her breath then scans the paper in front of her. She flips it over and then speed reads the other side. The dense silence ticks slowly by. I’m high-strung and just want her to blurt it out already. James places his hand on my bouncing knee. His touch soothes me. I wish I had the composure he has. He’s as cool as a cucumber and way more collected than I’ll ever be. If there was something plaguing him, you’d never guess, judging by the look on his face.

“Thank you for seeing us early,” James says.

“It’s my pleasure. I’m glad you guys could make it in on such short notice,” she says.

My doctor closes the folder and pushes it up her desk. She leans on her elbows and levels James and me with a look. Only, she doesn’t say anything. She just studies us. There’s a pounding in my ears that the moment is here.

“I ran a whole panel on you and did two types of blood work to test for pregnancy. One detects approximately how far along you are, and the other detects the presence of the hCG hormone. It’ll tell me if you’re pregnant as early as six to eight days after ovulation.” She pauses, and I swear my blood pressure is about to cause a vessel to pop in one of my eyes. “Your tests are negative. You’re not pregnant, Aubrey. Not even close enough to warrant retesting you.”

A gush of air expels from my lungs. James gives my fingers a tender squeeze before he lets go. My shoulders sag, and it feels as if a weight has been lifted from my chest. Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and take a deep breath, relieved and saddened about the results.

“I’m going to kill Natalie for this,” I mumble under my breath. My doctor’s brows bunch together, and I answer her questionable look. “My stepdaughter.”

She shoots James a brief look then looks at me. “I suspect you weren’t ovulating when you had intercourse.”

“I never know when I’m ovulating.”

“Most women don’t unless they track it. However, let this be a lesson learned about birth control. No contraceptive is one hundred percent. The next time you switch to a new one, no intercourse without a condom for at least seven days. I always say give it two weeks just to be safe.”

“Trust me. That will never happen again. I think this moment scarred me for life.”

“The only alternative is a vasectomy,” the doctor says. She stands. “Otherwise, play it safe.”

“Thank you again for seeing us,” James says to the doctor. She leads the way out, and we follow her to the front, where we pay for the visit and then see ourselves out.

James hasn’t said anything since we left. His stoic features give nothing away. Not even during the car ride back to Brooklyn does he speak. He just stares out of the passenger window while holding my hand. I can’t take how many knots have formed in my stomach since this whole ordeal began. Now his silence is tightening them until I’m cramping.

Trepidation creeps in, and I second-guess the past few days, wondering if I misread him and his desire for another child.