I know she's right. Or at least, she's not entirely wrong. I haven't given Brad much of a chance because I've been so caught up in Duncan. But, what does it say about me, after finding out that I'm pregnant, to suddenly be open to the possibility of dating Brad – a man I had no interest in when I dated him a few years back?
She's right though, I need help. I have decisions to make and I have plans to lay for not just my future, but for that of my child.
Dammit Duncan, where are you? Why are you not coming home? These are decisions we should be making – together.
Twelve
Alexis
“I have to admit, I was kind of expecting you to cancel on me tonight,” he says.
I laugh softly, not admitting that the thought had gone through my mind once or twice. Or maybe a dozen times or more. Okay, practically two or three times every hour since Bri roped me into this date in the first place.
“Why would you think that?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I kind of got the impression you were ducking me.”
“I wasn't,” I reply. “Like I said, I just had a lot of things going on.”
“Well, I'm glad you're here,” he says.
We're sitting in one of the small neighborhood bistros – an Italian place called Garcetti's. I've eaten here a few times and the food's always been decent. Brad is smiling at me like he's just won the lottery or something and I realize I need to stop this train before it ever gets rolling.
Having had a couple of days to think about it, I realize that I can't date Brad just because I'm pregnant. I've never been the kind of person who manipulates people. I'm not the kind of person who uses people to get what I want. That's just not who I am. And although I know that's not exactly why Bri was so insistent I go out with Brad, I can't shake the feeling that it's exactly what I'd be doing if I started to date him.
To that end, I've decided that I need to tell him that I'm pregnant. I figure that once he hears I'm carrying somebody else's baby, that should pretty well kill whatever romantic notions for me might be running around in his head. What guy wants to get involved with a pregnant woman?
If that doesn't work, then I'm going to have to stiffen my spine and tell him I'm only interested in being friends with him and if he's looking for more, he'd be better served moving on and finding it elsewhere. There's a reason we didn't work out the last time we dated. Bri is right in that time changes people, but if you don't have chemistry with somebody, you just don't have it. Chemistry isn't something you can force or make happen somehow. You either have it or you don't.
And I can say with absolute certainty that we don't have that chemistry. I knew it the moment we ran into each other on the street. There was no sudden spark, no piquing of my curiosity. There was no rush of emotion or butterfly wings in my tummy. No, all that I felt when I saw Brad again that first time – more specifically, the look of absolute adoration on his face – was a sense of dread. Okay, maybe that's a little harsh, but there certainly wasn't a kindling of romantic feeling, that's for sure.
Which means it's time to put on my big girl panties, deal with Brad like an adult, and be honest with him. He's always been a good guy and deserves at least that much respect.
Every time I open my mouth to tell him, though, no words come out. The thought of actually saying those words makes my stomach lurch and my throat run dry. I have no idea why, but to say “I’m pregnant” out loud terrifies me. I mean, I know that I am. It's a fact. But somehow, saying the words out loud makes it all the more real – and only serves to highlight the position I'm in at the moment.
“So, what have you been doing the last couple of years, Lexi?”
I shrug. “Working. Getting by,” I answer briefly.
“Why did you leave the nursing program?” he asks. “You were always so passionate about it. It surprised me when you just stopped turning up for classes.”
I sigh and start fidgeting with the silverware on the table as we start treading into waters I figured would come up, but I don't really enjoy delving into. But it is what it is. It's part of my past, so I'm stuck with it. Intellectually, I know there's nothing to be ashamed about. It's not like I left the program to start doing drugs or anything like that. But I still feel some small sense of shame. Like I failed.
“My mom got sick,” I say. “Cancer. I had to leave the program to care for her.”
Brad's face falls and a frown pulls the corners of his mouth down. “I – I'm so sorry,” he says. “I didn't know.”
“I know you didn't,” I say. “Nothing for you to be sorry for.”
He takes a quick drink of his water, then gently sets the glass back down. “Is she –”
“She passed away,” I interrupt, my stomach churning even harder. “And after that, I had trouble getting the funding I needed to get back into the program. So, I had to take a job just to pay the bills and I haven't been able to get back to where I want to be. It's life. Doesn't always turn out the way we want it to.”
The waitress comes by and drops off our meals, interrupting the wave of awkwardness that's building. She gives us a smile, makes sure we don't need anything else, then departs. I kind of wish she'd stick around, just to take some of the tension out of the air. Brad is feeling bad for opening up old wounds, I'm feeling bad for having those wounds opened and this evening is going off the rails pretty quickly.
“Anyway. Tell me about your last few years since the program,” I say, just to change the subject.
He shrugs. “Nothing exciting, I'm sure,” he says. “After I graduated, I started working in a local pharmacy, just filling scripts and all. Kind of boring, really, not to mention that it wasn't very challenging. It wasn't long before I was promoted, though, and now I'm running the whole pharmacy. It's been pretty great, honestly.”
“That's terrific, Brad,” I say. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” he says, beaming.
We eat in silence for a few minutes, the staggering lack of chemistry completely apparent. At least on my end. Every time I look up at him, he's grinning at me like the Cheshire Cat. It's more than obvious to me that for him, this has never been about just being friends or re-establishing a friendship. This is courtship to him, plain and simple.
I kind of figured it would be, but I was at least giving him a chance. One can't have too many friends, right? But it appears that's not going to be the case.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asks.
“Sure,” I nod.
“Why is it you're not seeing anybody?” he asks. “I mean, I'm surprised, honestly.”
I shrug. “I just haven't really had the time to date,” I answer, then quickly add, “or the interest, really.”
He nods as if he understands, though I'm hoping he gets my meaning.
“Yeah, I get that,” he says. I don't think he really does. “It's hard to meet somebody special. Somebody you really click with, you know?”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“This borough alone has almost two million people in it,” he says. “You'd think the odds would be pretty good.”
“Doesn't always work out that way,” I reply. “I mean, we see so few people on a daily basis. Even with so many people around, running into that one person you really connect with is a crapshoot. At best.”
“I hear that,” he says.
Immediately, thoughts of Duncan fill my head. What were the odds of me being at that gala and meeting him? And I might not have if I hadn't spilled my champagne on him – which only increases the odds of such a chance encounter. If we hadn't literally bumped into each other, he very likely would have passed me by without a second glance. It's only because I spilled my drink on him that we got to talking. I mean really, what are the odds of that happening in a city of two million people?
The waitress arrives and clears the table. She comes back a moment later and hands Brad a dessert menu. Frankly, I'm ready to be done and get home. A nice, hot bath sounds amazing to me right about now.
“I think I want the tiramisu,” Brad says, then turns to me.
“Oh, I'm stuffed, thanks,” I say.
“Seriously, you have to try it,” he insists. “It's world famous.”
“No, really. I'm full,” I tell him. “But, thank you.”
The waitress gives me a smile and starts to turn away, but Brad stops her, and she turns back to him.
“Bring her a piece of the tiramisu too, please. She doesn't know what she's missing,” he says. “And two cappuccinos as well.”
The waitress glances at me and I just roll my eyes. She gives me a sympathetic smile and leaves the table to put in the order.
“I told you I'm full,” I say sternly.
“I know, but you can always take it home,” he says. “I'd just hate for you to miss out on –”
“Brad, I've lived in this neighborhood for a while now,” I interrupt. “I've had the tiramisu before.”
“Oh, I didn't know that,” he says.
“Maybe if you didn't just assume you know what I want –”
He holds his hands up to me in surrender, an abashed look on his face. “You're right. I'm sorry,” he says. “I wasn't thinking, and that was rude.”
“Not to mention presumptuous.”
“That too,” he says and smiles.
I know in the grand scheme of things it's harmless. I just don't like anybody presuming they know what I want or need better than I do. If I say I don't want something, I don't want it. I'm a big girl and can make my own decisions.
“Forgive me?” he asks.
He's looking at me with puppy dog eyes and a small smile playing on his lips. He's doing his best to look cute and charming to stave off my irritation. And because I'm not the stone-cold bitch I need to learn to be sometimes, I just shake my head and grin at him.