“There was someone but not her,” I lie.
“If you can say it’s over with whoever she was and that there was nothing between you and Alexa, then I believe you. I don’t think it’s a coincidence we were both drawn here, honey. We’re meant to be together. I knew it all them years ago just like I know it now. You’re best I’ve ever had and all there will ever be for me. Come home with me. Let me take care of you for once.”
Maybe it’s regret or guilt. Maybe it’s all the alcohol fueling me, but I know I need to make a change.
Chapter Twenty-four
“I got your bag. Everything is ready to go. Your father scheduled your induction. You just get into the bed and relax,” my mother orders, practically pushing me onto the hospital bed. “It will all be over soon, sweetheart. You’ll see things are better this way. Time to move on with life and look to the future.”
When James turned his back on me, I was alone and on my own with no one to count on but my parents. Our relationship isn’t great, but they are all I have. I don’t blame him. I knew he’d hate me. I hate me. No one wishes it were me who had died in that wreck more than I do. Rochelle should be having the time of her life with Colter. Experiencing all her firsts with him. Now neither of them will ever have any of it. I did that. I took that away because I was selfish. James lost his daughter and Papa had to bury his son.
I can’t bear to be in my apartment because all I think about is Rochelle, Colter, and James. Mostly James. I knew I’d miss him. Only I wasn’t prepared for how greatly. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. He’s all I think about, but this baby is coming, and it’s up to me to do what’s best.
My mom knows a couple who have offered to adopt. I’m conflicted. Ideally it makes sense. I’m in no position to take care of a baby. I don’t have my diploma. I’m eighteen and on my own. The lease will be up on my apartment soon. My parents say I can come home if I give up my baby and finish school. I don’t want to depend on them. I’m scared though. I don’t know what to do. I’m lost and heartbroken.
Nowhere to go. No job. No one wants to hire me because I’m a dropout and pregnant. My life is a mess, and it’s my fault. I made the choices that put me in this situation. I gave my heart and body to a man who hates me. He doesn’t love me, nor does he want to be a father to my child. However, despite it all I owe it to him to call him and tell him that our daughter will enter the world today. That he lost Rochelle, but he’s gained another child.
“Where’s my phone?”
“Let me see.” She pilfers through my overnight bag. “I could have sworn I stuck it in this pocket. We must have forgotten it.”
“I need my phone now.”
“You don’t need it. You want it. Big difference. Besides you need to focus on delivering a healthy baby for the Mahoney’s. Your father and I went through a lot of trouble finding someone who could be discreet and pay for your hospital bills. Having a baby isn’t cheap, Alexa.”
“I don’t need a reminder. I just want to take some pictures when she’s born.”
“I thought we agreed that it’s best if you don’t hold her or do any of that stuff. Don’t need you getting attached and changing your mind.”
“She’s still mine. If I want to hold her and take a million pictures I will. Now get me my phone, Mother. You promised I could call James.”
“I can call him.”
“Will you really call?”
“Now why would I lie? Really, I do wonder about you sometimes.”
I turn away from her to hide my tears. If she sees them, she’ll just tell me I’m acting emotional and to toughen up. Part of me thought if I called him, he’d come. That all he needs to realize we can still be a real family is to hold our child.
“I’ll be back with your phone. It’s probably in the car, but if you need anything your father is doing his rounds, and one of the nurses can page him.”
“Just get my phone,” I mutter, biting back a sob.
She exits the room, and I let out the tears I’ve been battling all morning. A nurse comes in to check my vitals before administering the oxytocin to induce me. The process is slow moving until my water breaks. That’s when the contractions really kick in. By the time my mother brings me my phone, I’m dilated to seven and wondering about my epidural.
“Did you call James?” I ask through gritted teeth as another wave of pain hits me, my belly tightens, and I want to die. I need my epidural. I’m not strong enough to do this without pain meds.
“No. You said you wanted to do it.”
“Just give it to me please.” I go up on my knees and rock back and forth wishing more than anything he’d walk through that door. That he’d rub my back and hold my hand while promising me everything will be okay. “Ahh,” I cry out. “It hurts. I need my epidural.”
“You don’t get drugs. Your father thought it best you experience the true pain
