“There!” he said, excited.
You could have a paternity test while being pregnant. I didn’t know that fact.
“Yeah, read the rest. The court system needs to be involved before a physician will even do it. It’s not safe for the baby,” I said pointing to the article that he was reading.
“In rare cases,” he pointed out. “How far along do you think you are? We have to do it before the 14th week.”
“Drew, will you stop.”
“No, Morgan. If we can do this, we are. I am not spending the next nine months waiting to see if this is my kid. I can’t. I will end up hating you over it. How far along do you think you are?”
“Not very, six weeks maybe,” I answered. I wasn’t doing this before the baby. It was right there in plain English. There was a chance that it could harm the fetus.
Drew wasn’t listening to me. He was on the phone calling his judge friend. The one that forced me to marry him, I was sure. I listened while he explained the situation, and of course the crooked judge agreed to sign whatever he needed to have signed.
He called Judith Bishop next, the gynecologist that used to come and give me my birth control shot every three months.
“She’ll be here in about an hour,” Drew exclaimed. I wanted to run away. He was going over my head and doing whatever Drew wanted to do. It pissed me off.
“Maybe, you could ask what I think before you go making plans for me,” I stated with an angry tone.
“It doesn’t fucking matter what you think,” he said just as angry. Okay, this was the Drew that I hated. This was the Drew that disregarded my feelings. I was secretly wishing that the baby turned out to be Dawson’s. Dawson would never treat me this way.
I stormed out of his office, and up to my own room.
I wanted to call my mom, but I didn’t because I knew that Drew had probably already turned his computer to my room. He was more than likely watching me through the cameras, and he could hear every word that I said.
I took my funeral clothes off and pulled on a comfortable pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I lay across the bed, staring up at the ceiling for probably twenty minutes or so in the same position.
My cellphone rang, and after it had quit I text my mother and told her that I would call her back. It rang again a few minutes later. It was Dawson. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted Dawson. I needed Dawson. I wasn’t sure what to do. I knew, or I had a pretty good suspicion that Drew would hear every word I said. He hadn’t called in weeks if I ignored him he might think that I didn’t want to talk to him. I did.
Fuck Drew…
“Hi,” I answered, sitting up and crossing my legs.
“Hey, beautiful,” he softly spoke. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath at the sound of his voice. I missed him. I wanted to be in his arms. And no, it wasn’t because I was mad at Drew. I really missed him. I hadn’t heard from him in almost a month.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Good, besides the fact that I miss you like crazy,”
he replied. “How are you?”
“I’m okay,” I lied. I was never going to be okay.
Every time I thought I was making progress, life decided to throw another curve ball.
“You don’t sound okay. Where are you?”
“Vegas.”
“Oh,” he said with a hurt tone.
“I just got here yesterday. Mr. Callaway passed away, and I had to come here for the funeral. I’m leaving tomorrow.” I hoped Drew heard that.
“Please tell me that you are coming home to me,”
he begged.
“I am coming there,” I said.
“But not home to me, right?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Are you any closer to deciding what you want than you were before you left?”
I snorted. Fuck no, I wasn’t, and I had just gone and made things ten times more complicated.
“I haven’t been doing what I left to do,” I told him honestly. “I spent over a month at the beach with my mom and my little sister,” I explained. I was happy that he dropped it and didn’t try and pressure or badger me about it. He asked about my mom, my sister, and I told him about Jason. I talked to him for forty five minutes. It felt good. I told him that I had to go when Drew knocked on the door with Judith.
“I love you, Ry.”
“I love you too,” I said it. I didn’t care if Drew was standing right in front of me. I didn’t even care about the hurt look on his face. He deserved it.
“How are you, Morgan?” Judith asked.
“Fine,” I said with a bit of an attitude. I never did like her, and if I was pregnant she was not being my doctor.
“Do you think you can go to the bathroom?” she asked, halting the nice act. She picked up on my defiance right away.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Morgan,” Drew chastised.