Page 87 of The Betrayal
Sitting next to him, his hand rests over mine and my heart thrums in my chest.
“I just wanted to say thank you.”
“For?” he asks, but a knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he spins his spaghetti onto his fork and pops it into his hot mouth.
“You know what, don’t make me say it,” I blush, and I have no idea why.
“Look, it was the least I could do. It was even worth the kick to the ribs and the fist to my jaw.”
My eyes widen.
“I’m kidding,” he winks at me but I know deep down he isn’t.
I know my dad.
And I know Keaton.
And the ache in my chest is back, and this time, I can’t rub it out.
“Wish I could be with you today,” Keaton says between kisses, his hands clasped round my face.
“I know,” I whisper against his lips, “me too, but you have your big work meeting,” I sigh, shoulders sagging forward slightly.
“I can always play hooky,” he smirks, his arms looped round my waist, and I never want him to let me go.
“You're forty-seven, not seventeen. Hooky,” I laugh, shaking my head from side to side.
“Fair.” He sighs, “Any problems, you promise you'll call me?”
“Of course,” I nod, and I don't want him to see how nervous I am feeling. I am petrified.
“Okay, I...” he pauses and his brows furrow as if he is trying to fathom how to speak the words he wants to.
“I know, me too,” I smile, pressing onto my tip toes and letting our lips slant once more before he steps away and walks out of the front door. Once he is gone, I let out a heavy exhale of breath and walk towards my bedroom. I needed to get ready for my appointment with my OBGYN. Keaton found the best of the best, and luckily, she is still in Manhattan and just off sixth avenue. I may even get a chance to have a little look around the shops.
Sage gave me three weeks off after we flew home from Vegas, I think she was worried about me and wanted to give me some time to let it all settle in. I mean, married and pregnant all before my twenty-second birthday in a few weeks. Dad has been amazing and has arranged for an intimate dinner with Nate, Killian, Keaton (of course) and Kaleb. I said he could bring Amora, but I would like to meet her by myself first before being thrown into the deep end without a float.
I dress in mom jeans, sneakers and a long-sleeved tee. Casual. Comfortable. Everything feels tight around my stomach after lunch time, so I am making the most of wearing jeans until I am home from my appointment and stripping into sweatpants. Reaching for my NYC cap, I place it over my head and push my glasses up my nose. I wasn't feeling contacts today and my head was hurting. Grabbing my keys, I jog down the stairs and fill up my insulated cup with water and drink a few mouthfuls. You just can't beat the first few sips of water.
Stopping in front of the long mirror in the hallway, I rub some lip balm into my dry lips thanks to the lovely cold New York weather that seems to be blasting through the city this week. We're nearing the end of October, and we have a cold spell hanging over the city and I am hoping it's gone by thanksgiving. I like the crisp autumn days, not the bitterly cold. Grabbing my long black puffer coat, I shrug it on and toss my phone, lip balm and keys into my shoulder bag. I didn't feel too good this morning with a bout of sickness but luckily, it subsided after an hour or so, but the flush of nausea still swept over me every now and again.
Inhaling deeply, I open the front door and brace myself for the coldness that welcomes me once I step out onto Keaton's front step. Locking the door behind me, I pull my coat close to my body, wrapping it round me like a duvet and start my walk up to sixth avenue to the clinic for my eleven a.m. appointment. I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but also, a slither of excitement bubbled inside of me. The thought of having a little baby growing inside of me and being all of mine and hopefully Keaton's. But the way my luck goes, it'll be the asshole from my cam chat. That reminded me that I needed to log on and delete it all. I couldn't face it. That one moment scarred me for life and though the evening could have gone a lot worse, I am so angry at myself for agreeing to go. I knew it was wrong, but I was craving something, chasing something, but I didn't know what it was. Maybe where I was so alone, I felt like I was already at rock bottom and just wanted to feel something other than hurt and betrayal. I just wanted to feel. How sad is that? I sounded pathetic. Letting my head drop, I keep my eyes down as I walk, lost in my thoughts to the clinic.
Climbing the steps, I walk into the clinically clean clinic and past the receptionist who buzzed me in and sent me up to Doctor Kyra's waiting room. Pushing through the door, my eyes scan the room at the artwork on the wall, scattered with the odd poster of babies, pregnant bellies and families with their bundles of joy. The seats were decent cloth armchairs on black wooden frames, a large square coffee table sat in the middle with a few magazines and a pretty plant sat potted on the glass. It didn't smell like a typical doctors waiting room; it was warm and smelt of citrus. I took a seat in the corner, a few eyes scanned over me. Some ladies were by themselves, some with partners and a couple with their surrogate who I overheard talking about how grateful they were and my heart warmed. And never did I want Keaton here more than I did now. Sage did offer to come with me, but I said I was okay going by myself. I wasn't. But I didn’t want to be that girl. I had to get on with it by myself, because, truthfully, Keaton might not be here through it all. I know he has promised that he will be, but promises can be easily broken. If this baby turns out not to be his, he has every right to walk away. Who would I be to force him to stay just because I love him.
I reach for a magazine and begin flicking through the pages, not reading, just trying to keep myself busy so I don't drown in my thoughts. I'm not sat long when an impeccably dressed woman steps out, looking down at her notes and calling my name out. I stand, pushing a false smile onto my lips and walking into the room.
“Hey Arizona, I'm Kyra. Nice to meet you.” She sticks her hand out and I shake it softly. She's British. Kind eyes, cold hands and a warm heart. Or that's how the saying goes.
“Hi,” I manage, mumbling my words as I take my seat.
“How have you been feeling?” she sits at her desk, clicking on her mouse and tapping on her keyboard.
“Yeah okay, had some sickness, but nothing too terrible,” I give her a nod and lock my fingers together in front of me.
“And when was your last period?” She asks, looking up from her screen now.
“I know I had one last month, around the third of the month,“ I blush, “I think,” and I am annoyed that I can't remember the exact date.