Can't Let Go(29)

With a heavy sigh, Abby sat back in her seat and started the engine of the car, easing out into traffic.

Just one more night—that’s all she had to get through. One more night.



~*~



It was hard to believe that already a week had gone by. Abby lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her stomach turning. Of course she would get sick just before the wedding. Why not throw one last task to be endured at her?

She sighed, rising to a sitting position and tossing the blankets aside.

She had too much to do today to let some bug keep her down. She would simply take a package of crackers around with her everywhere she went until the nausea subsided.

It really was a busy day. First, she had her annual check-up with her gynecologist—which was certain to take awhile, as the woman always seemed to be running behind. Then she had appointments with the caterers and another with the church. She was supposed to pick up the tuxes on the way home and then make arrangements for each of the men to pick them up afterward.

The wedding was, at this point, only days away. Tomorrow she was meant to spend a day with her bridesmaids—a luxurious day at the spa, a final dress rehearsal before the wedding. The rehearsal dinner would be the day after that—the day that Eric arrived home. And then…after that, the wedding itself.

She was eager for it all to be over with. All of the uncertainties clouded her mind—all she wanted was for the decision to be made, for everything to be official, so that she could go on with her life. There would be no going back after this. No thoughts of Logan. No hopes for a future with him. It would be done and over with.

The shower relaxed her tensed muscles, working through the knots. She remained as long as she could before finally turning the water off and readying herself for the day ahead of her.

It wasn’t long before she was sitting in the waiting room, flipping through the latest issue of Rumor. She was satisfied to note that Ingrid was no longer the Editor in Chief. It had been quite the scandal, she had discovered upon returning home. The higher-ups were rather displeased with Ingrid’s work—specifically on the issue that had come out just after Hayley and Blake’s death. That was the first issue that Ingrid had been forced to work on herself.

It was a long wait, just as Abby had predicted. But finally her name was called and she followed a woman dressed in scrubs to the back. She stepped on the scale and watched the numbers climb a bit higher than she was used to. “Nothing to be alarmed about, sweetie.” The woman told her, probably noting the weight change from her last year’s visit.

“I’ve been pretty stressed out the last few months,” Abby added, as if this might explain it. They entered the exam room and Abby perched herself against the table.

“Well, stress can do all sorts of things to a woman’s body. Have you noticed any irregularities in your cycle?” she asked. Abby thought about it for the first time in months, her forehead creasing.

“I actually haven’t had one in a couple of months.” She noted, her head swimming just a little bit. How could she have not noticed missing her period?

The other woman looked up. “Maybe we should draw some blood—just as a precaution.”

“Not a problem,” Abby responded, still distracted. The woman left the room for a moment and returned with a vile. She tried not to watch as the woman stuck her with the needle. “Stress can cause women to miss periods, can’t it?”

“Oh yes—you’d be amazed at everything stress can do.” She finished with the blood. “I’m going to have you give us a urine sample too—just typical procedure, to rule out anything else.” Abby nodded, following the woman’s directions. When she returned to the exam room, she felt her cheeks beginning to flare. “The doctor will be right in to see you, dear.”

Of course, the doctor wasn’t right in to see her. Abby sat in the ridiculous paper gown going over all of the details in her mind—again, wondering how she could have not noticed a couple of missed periods. She hadn’t always had the most reliable schedule, but she had never really missed one.

She thought about the exhaustion. The nausea. She heard Jenny’s comment from last week, about her sudden growth in cleavage.

But it wasn’t possible!

Even as she thought it, though—she knew it was. She remembered the feel of his lips on hers, his hands on her body.

And instantly, the image of a child with thick dark curls and bright gray eyes conjured in her mind.

Logan.

It was only a matter of minutes before her thoughts were confirmed. The doctor entered the room, a bright smile on her face. “Well Miss Lewis—it looks like your fiancé and yourself have gotten a jump-start on beginning your family! You’re expecting!”

The room swam slightly, happiness spreading through Abby as she realized what was going on.

She was pregnant.

And it was, without a doubt, Logan’s child.

She felt her eyes flood with tears as she reached down and touched her stomach, a gentle bubble of laughter escaping her lips.

She was going to have a baby.

“Do you have any idea about how far along you might be?” The doctor asked.

“Around…maybe three months?”

“That’s a good place to start—why don’t we do an ultrasound? Just lay back here, and we’ll find out some dates for you.”

The gel was surprisingly warm as the doctor pressed the ultrasound wand to her stomach and began to move it around. Within moments, a loud, rhythmic heartbeat filled the room and Abby smiled wider as she stared at the monitor.

And then, just like that—there it was.

Her baby.

“There we go. Looks like you’re right on target—you’re just about eleven weeks along.” Abby stared at the image, her heart already filled with an unconditional devotion.

She was having Logan’s child.

Again, she thought of that night—the way they had given into passion completely, without hesitation. And she longed for him now, wishing that he could be here to share this moment with her.

“Why don’t I print out a few of these for you?”

“That would be great,” Abby told her, nodding dumbly.

They discussed her medical history, making sure there was no cause for concern, and her future prenatal care, but Abby could hardly even pay attention. Her mind was spinning so fast she could hardly keep up with it.

Long after the appointment was over, Abby found herself sitting behind the wheel of her car, unsure of what to do with herself.

Everything had changed.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, trying to figure out what to do next.

She knew she should call Logan. She knew she should tell him—that he had every right to know what was going on. Whether he wanted to be involved or not—he at least deserved to know what was happening.

She remembered the day of the funeral, when he had told her that he didn’t see children in his future. “Things change.” He’d told her.

What if he wanted nothing to do with the child?

She could understand. She had left him without so much as looking back, although not a day went by that she didn’t wonder what would have happened if she had stayed. What if he couldn’t forgive her?

Still, she owed it to him—and to her child—to at least give him the opportunity to be involved.

Her breathing picked up as she stared at the phone, her heart pounding as she contemplated making the call.

But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

What would she even say to him? “Oh, hey, Logan. I stole your number out of Hayley’s phone book—and it’s a good thing I did, because I’m pregnant, and you’re going to be a father!”

Right. That would go over well.

And what about Eric?

She was meant to be married in less than three days. Married to a man who didn’t want children—who definitely didn’t want children now.

Wasn’t it an easy decision to make?





Chapter Eleven





Logan was standing near his desk, supposedly packing up what few belongings of his remained in the office, but really, he was daydreaming. Imagining the life he should have waiting for him—the one he should be starting. She was there, of course—Abigail Lewis was always there, always his future.

Even though she wasn’t even a part of his present.

He couldn’t help it, though. He knew he couldn’t be angry with her for leaving—well, not really, anyway. He should have known she would run. She’d told him that she didn’t love him—who was he to question that?

Maybe she was right—maybe he didn’t know her at all.

He thought back to that night, not so long ago. Sure, she had been drinking—but he’d seen life in her eyes. He had recognized something there—something he couldn’t have possibly mistook for something else.