The Billionaire’s Risky Pregnancy

Sorry I had to slip out. We on for Chinese tonight? I know you like the Sesame chicken with noodles. I’ll bring it by around seven.

That was sweet, and Tasha held the phone close to her chest as she thought of nothing but waiting to meet him, opening the door to see him with a brown bag of takeout dangling off of one arm. Maybe they could still have as much if the test was out of date and just plain wrong.

But she still needed George and brought up his contact info. Forget a text. She waited through three rings and finally sighed when the sound of his voice hit her ear.

“What’s up?” George asked. “You never call me this early on a day off unless—”

“George, I need your help.”

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice brimming with concern. “Zachary’s in a session. They’re trying to score a home video of an avalanche. Lots of drums and—”

“Got my own crisis right here,” she said. “Don’t know the music. But I need your help?”

“Tasha? Talk. Did that prick do something to hurt you?”

“Not hurt,” I said. “But there… there might be a complication.”

“That sounds dull and dangerous all at once.”

“George…” She couldn’t keep from crying, and he told her that he was sorry again when Tasha rose to her feet and tried to form the next word.

“I think I’m pregnant,” she finally blurted out. “And I need you to take me to the doctor so that I can know for sure.”

“I’m on my way,” he promised. “You hang tight and wait.”

Where the hell was she going?

Looking around her apartment, she wondered how she would make it work if… when Smith said the word no. The dining room that served as her home office could house a crib, but the room got so drafty. She knew as much from the nights she spent on the computer looking for games that might illuminate the next day’s lesson. If the baby was real, she could keep him or her beside her bed and finally give the child the other side and the spare pillow to lay a little head. There would be more than enough room without Smith and his long legs taking up the other side.

“No,” she said. “I’ll have to get something bigger.”

But how the hell was she going to pay for it?

A knock on the door roused her out of her dark daydream, and George was right there with anxious eyes and extended arms.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Did you already call? Should you even be on your feet?”

“Lousy,” she said. “And no and yes. Here’s the number. I’m not an invalid. But that sounds good right about now.”

He settled Tasha on the couch and dialed up the doctor.

“Well we need to get in like ASAP,” he said. “Yes. I’ll wait.” George paced around the room and mocked the on hold music when Tasha asked to hear what was so fucking funny.

“I’ll put it on speaker.” George followed the words with the deed, and Tasha had to smile at the strains of The Impossible Dream played so weakly that no one could ever wish for anyone but an end to everything at the sound of the paltry strings.

“Tell Zachary to look for another line of work,” she said. “If he could keep people from gouging their eyes out while they wait for their call to be answered, then he might be the next Mozart.”

“I’ll add that to our pillow talk,” George said. “Tasha?”

Blinking up at the sound of his question, she watched his lips curl toward his eyes.

“Yes?” she asked. “Speak, George.”

“I…I mean look. You know I got no real use for the guy. But if it’s true and this is his kid, then shouldn’t he really be the one to take you to the doctor?”

“Just book the appointment, George,” she said. “I’ll talk to Smith.” Even though she had no idea what she would say. Hey, hon. I know that this is the last thing that you ever said you wanted but surprise!  Tasha wondered if it would be better to ignore the calls that were bound to come, to move to another state or country and pray that he would not follow when George snapped his fingers.

“11:45!” he said. “Right before they go to lunch.”

That seemed long enough to let her life go on as it always had or change her course of action for all time. Able to stand again, Tasha moved back to her bedroom and started to dress. She opted for a pair of baggy jeans and a large sweater. Something in the back of her mind told her that she already had to get used to clothes that were two sizes too big, and George cocked his eyebrow when she moved to take his hand.

“Thought you said that the home test wasn’t a sure thing,” he said.

“Just get me to the doctor.”

Taking George’s car, Tasha settled in the passenger’s seat and hugged her knees close to her chest. George was right. Smith should be here. She wanted his hand in hers.  Maybe he wouldn’t be able to look at her. Maybe it would be enough to just touch him. All Tasha wanted was to have him with her, and she reached into her purse to make the call when George seized her hand.

“Word of warning?” he suggested.

“Like I’m going to tell you no,” she said as she wiped her nose and her eyes. “But talk.”

“If you’re not sure, and if you think that he’s going to not get it, then let’s get the second opinion first.” Nodding her head, the drive to the OB’s office seemed to take an eternity. George helped her out of the car and they walked into a reception area. The centerpiece was a billboard with photos tacked in place, and Tasha touched her stomach as she fingered the edges.

“Am I going to add to the collage?” she asked no one. George was right there, and he kissed the top of her head and he held her hand as he took her into the exam room. She stripped without shame before her friend’s eyes and sat on a cushioned table in a paper gown. The nurse came into the room and drew her blood. A doctor ordered her feet into stirrups, and he gave her a complete pelvic exam before helping her to sit up and telling her to wait. Tasha’s naked heels tapped against the edge of the metal table, and she waited until the doctor reappeared with a file in his hand.

“HCG doesn’t lie,” he said. “Congratulations, Miss Finn.”

She couldn’t fight the truth any longer, and George helped her dress as he took her back to her apartment.

“Why are you still hanging here?” she asked as he settled on her couch and presented her with some water in the same blue glass that had once housed their Chablis.

“Do you need me?” he asked. Tasha set the glass aside and slowly shook her head.

“I have to tell this to him on my own,” she said. “But thanks for everything.” George was slow to leave until she tickled his elbow and waved her free hand into the hair.

“Go and have fun with Zachary,” she said.

“I’m coming back,” he promised. “Whenever you need me.”

Left alone, Tasha agonized until there was a knock on her door. Scampering down the steps, she found his smile and clasped him close.