Page 84 of Trials of a One Night Stand
“Our family,” Jayne repeats slowly as if testing out the words.
“Exactly!” I beam at her. “And that’s not all. I’ve been thinking about your career. I know people in publishing. How would you feel about writing a book? Your story could inspire so many people. ‘From Lawyer to Powerhouse Mom: A Journey of Love and Success.’ We could even hire a ghostwriter if you’re too busy with the baby.”
Jayne’s eyes widen, and I’m sure I’ve hit the jackpot.
“Nate, that’s a lot. I appreciate you thinking about our future, but don’t you think we should discuss these things together?”
I blink, momentarily thrown. “Of course, of course. I just want to get the ball rolling, you know? Take some of the pressure off you. You should be relaxing, focusing on the pregnancy and then the baby.”
Jayne stands up abruptly, pacing the living room. “Relaxing? Nate, I just lost my job. My career. I know it was an accident, but if you hadn’t said I was pregnant…” She takes a breath. “I need to figure out what I’m going to do, not…not plan nurseries and write a memoir.”
I stand too, reaching for her. “That’s what I’m trying to say, Jayne. You don’t need to figure anything out. I have it all covered. Whatever you need, whatever the baby needs, I can provide it. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll even pick out the perfect house for us. You won’t have to do anything.”
Jayne steps away. I don’t see gratitude, or love, or even annoyance reflected in her eyes. My heart sinks. It’s something worse—disappointment.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re trying to control everything. Me.” Her words come out rushed. “I need to make my own choices and have a say in my future.”
There seems to be some disconnect between us. Maybe she’s too upset over losing her job. Still, she needs me the way I need her. “I just want what’s best for you.”
“Nate,” she says softly. “You should go.”
“Go?” I repeat, bewildered. “I just got here. We can spend the day together—”
“Nate,” Jayne says, her voice firmer. “Please. I need some time to think. Alone.”
I open my mouth to protest, to explain, to make her see how perfect our life will be. But something in her expression stops me.
“Okay,” I say finally, deflating. “I’ll go. But Jayne, I’m just trying to help. To take care of you. Both of you.”
As I head for the door, she sighs behind me. “I know, Nate. That’s the problem.”
The door closes behind me, and I’m left standing on her porch alone, wondering how my perfect plan went so wrong.
In my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel, I stare at Jayne’s closed front door. This isn’t how I imagined the day going. Not even close. My nieces are next door with their nanny, but I don’t think even their beautiful smiling faces can cheer me up.
I start the engine and pull away, my mind reeling. As I drive aimlessly through the neighborhood, I try to make sense of what just happened. Why wasn’t Jayne excited? I offered her everything—a new home, financial security, a chance to focus on our baby.
Isn’t that what she wants? What any expectant mother would want?
I pull into the parking lot of a local coffee chain. Maybe some caffeine will help clear my head. Zelda always brings me a fancy coffee in the morning. The only problem? I have no idea what she orders me.
Inside, I stare at the menu board. There are so many options, and I don’t know where to begin. I’m tempted to text Zel, but she’d know something’s wrong. She’s feeling a little better, but I don’t want her worrying about me.
The barista greets me with a smile. “What can I get for you?”
I wish I knew. “How about a cappuccino?” That sounds like something I’ve had before and liked. I notice they have smoothies. One of those would be good for Jayne. “And a mixed berry smoothie.”
As I wait for the order, the voices of the couple in front of me get louder.
“I told you. I don’t need you to fix everything.” The woman’s exasperation is clear in her tone. “I just need you to listen to me.”
As the man shakes his head, I freeze—the woman’s words hit a little too close to home. Does Jayne want me to listen to her, instead of trying to fix everything? But how can I do that when I can see so many solutions, have the means to make her life easier, and know what would be best for her?
“Order for Nate,” the barista calls.
I grab the cups and head to a quiet corner table to think for a minute. As I sit, I notice a young woman at the next table, hunched over a laptop, furiously typing away. She looks stressed and tired, but the determined set to her jaw reminds me of Jayne.
