“What?” she asks, and her voice breaks. “No,” she covers her face, her expression crumbling.
“Is-is she yours?” she asks me, her voice stabilizing. I look away from her. “Oh. I’m sorry! Is she Cal’s?” she says, using air quotes.
“I’m sorry.” I know it doesn’t help, but I am. It’s the only thing I know to say to her.
“Of course you are,” she says, nodding her head. “But I can’t be mad at you, right? Because it wasn’t you, or it was you!” she starts to laugh, but tears are streaming down her face. “I-I just can’t deal with this right now,” she covers her face and begins shaking her hand. “I’ve got to go.” She walks past me toward her car.
“Jenna, talk to me!” I grab her wrist, and she snatches it away. In an instant, her right hand finds the side of my face. The sting of the slap doesn’t even distract me from the hurt in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she says immediately afterward. “I need time. Just give me some time.” She briefly looks me in the eye before she turns away, rushes to her car, and speeds off.
Chapter 23
The meeting with Jenna was an absolute disaster. Granted, I should have had something more to say than, “Hey, the girl you met earlier has a kid, and chances are, it’s mine,” or something like that.
Something profound and meaningful, but that’s never really been my thing. I try to be honest, no matter how much it hurts, in the least hurtful way possible, if that makes any sense. Still, I could have done more than stand there looking like an idiot and blurt it out like that. I should be thankful. It could have been worse. She still has the ring and hasn’t officially ended our engagement.
She’s asked for time, but time isn’t a luxury that I’ve had much of. Most of it has disappeared in mere seconds. I wish I had more time to figure this out, but it just keeps ticking by, second by second. After yesterday, I’ve decided I won’t waste it anymore. I have to get things done, make things right, or at least try to. As much as I want to block the thought out of my mind that my body is shared with a person who can show up without notice, and screw me royally, I can’t. The faster I can get things in order, the less damage I can make sure he does.
I get to do all of his damage control. I have to, and that’s what pisses me off. Things can work out. At least I know about it now. Not knowing was the worst part, and as scary as it is, today I don’t seem so out of control as I did when I first found out. I’ve faced some stressful issues, to say the least, but my headaches haven’t made an appearance once, and I’m keeping track of time. I don’t know where I stand with Jenna, but now she knows the truth. All I have left to do now is face Lauren.
I thought I’d be more nervous about telling Jenna that I had a child than meeting Lauren. But, standing outside of her hotel room right now, I know I was wrong, big time. My palms are sweaty, my heart’s beating too fast, and my stomach feels like it’s in a canoe on the ocean. With Jenna, I know what to expect. She goes from stoic to flying off the handle in seconds. Lauren, I know nothing about, and the fact that she knows me as this man, one whose ass I want to kick, doesn’t help.
I’ve started to knock on the door several times, but I haven’t managed to do it. I have no clue what she’s going to do when she opens the door: if she’s going to slap me, hug me, or kick me in the balls. I know my parents told her about my condition, but who’s to say if she believes it? My parents did lie to her, and left her in the dark. She’s the one person who was screwed over more than me in all this, and she’s had a kid to deal with in the midst of everything. Then there’s the fact that she knows me as him. I move my fist to the door one more time, and this time manage to knock. I hear the TV on, and then footsteps approach the door. I stuff my hands in my jeans pockets. Whatever she does or says, I deserve it. Cal’s not here to deal with her wrath, so just like everything else, I will. Hopefully, when she’s done, we can try to come up with some way to make this work out for her…for our daughter.
“I don’t need—” she says as the door swings open. She definitely isn’t expecting me, and the expression on her face shows it once she sees me. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth has fallen open. She’s not moving, like she’s frozen, except her hand on the door knob. It’s shaking.
“Hi,” I say quietly, forcing sound out of my throat. It’s dry as a desert. My words wake her from her frozen state, because she slams the door right in my face. I scratch my head. I didn’t expect that.
“I’m sorry for coming like this. I-I just thought…I can come back later when you’re ready,” my voice is shaky and nervous. I shouldn’t have surprised her like this. I’ll wait for her to come to me when she’s ready. I turn around to leave, then I hear the door open.
“No!” she says frantically. She gives me a nervous smile, moving her hair out of her face. I approach her slowly. The bright sun shining through the hallway window, causes her hazel eyes to sparkle. She looks tired, her eyelids puffy, but she’s still beautiful. The kind of beautiful that intimidates you. At least she’s about a foot shorter than me. I have an excuse to stare over her head instead of directly at her.
“My parents said you were coming tomorrow, but I thought we…I wanted to talk to you alone, if it’s okay?” I say, bumbling like an idiot. She looks at me curiously. She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, she steps back, and gestures for me to come in. I stuff my hands in my pockets as I walk into her hotel room. There’s a bed, a TV, sofa, and a mini fridge. Tissues are scattered on the nightstand, a glass of water next to the tissues. She closes the door and walks over to the sofa, but doesn’t sit. She’s looking at the ground as she folds her arms across her chest. This is a good start, I guess. She hasn’t hit me or started yelling. She’s shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She’s just as nervous as I am.
“I don’t really know what to say to you, or where to start,” I admit, as her eyes meet mine. I look at this woman, who some part of me loved enough to marry. She’s biting her bottom lip, and I notice the small dimple in her right cheek. Her gaze is intense but brief, like she’s trying to see through me, and I look away.
Does she believe all of this? When she looks into my eyes, I know she’s searching for him. I know, because I was doing the same thing standing in the mirror this morning.
“Uhm,”she says, her voice trembling. I still don’t have a plan, or something to say. All I’ve done in the first few minutes of being here is to make her cry. I’ve never made so many women cry before.
“I don’t know what to say to you either, to be honest,” she says, her voice unsteady as she wipes away a tear from her cheek. “Your parents told you everything?” she asks hesitantly. She must really think I’m an idiot for all this time to have passed and I never figured anything out, but I guess it’s better for her to think I’m an idiot than a lying jerk.
“They told me that they’d been lying to me all of this time. That when I didn’t remember things another person was living my life for me, that they felt they should keep it from me,” It’s not until the words are out of my mouth that I realize how bitter I sound, but it feels good to get it out.