Chapter Six

Now…

Trent hummed as he stacked clean beer mugs behind the bar on Main Street the next day.

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” Angel said, entering the bar twenty minutes before her shift was scheduled to start.

He shrugged casually as he turned to greet her. Truth was, the night before with Whitney had him riding a high. Their sex life had always been amazing, but in recent months, the frequency had reduced. When they were first together, they had sex almost every night. Sometimes multiple times in the same night. Her energy and fiery passion for life had unsurprisingly extended to the bedroom.

The past year, though, things had…not fizzled out exactly, just became a tamer, more controlled flame, and the fire wasn’t lit as often. But that happened in all relationships. It was natural. Over time, things changed, evolved. He was prepared for that. It didn’t mean their connection wasn’t as strong or that their love was starting to fade.

But last night, that original, new relationship passion had returned, and it was more of a relief than he’d expected. He’d missed her in a lot of different ways lately, including their physical connection.

“It’s a good day to be in a good mood,” he said.

“Tell that to my boys,” Angel mumbled as she removed her jacket to reveal the tight, V-neck Trent’s Tavern logo T-shirt that was part of her uniform. Stylish, form-fitting jeans and low-heeled boots completed her look. She’d turned a lot of heads since moving to town, and he suspected she was the reason his male clientele had increased by 10 percent in recent months. But he worried about her. She looked thinner, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed to be getting increasingly darker.

He wished there was something he could do to help. Maybe if by some miracle Whitney agreed to a spa day with Jess and Sarah, he could suggest Angel tag along. She hadn’t really made a lot of friends in town yet, and he’d been meaning to try to make that connection. She and Whitney had the same hardworking, independent spirit. He knew they’d get along great.

“Still struggling, huh?”

“Struggling is an understatement. Eddie won’t talk to me unless it’s completely necessary, and Liam won’t come out of his bedroom.” She slumped onto the barstool across from him, and he poured an iced tea and slid it toward her. “I know they miss the city and their old rooms and their father…lord knows why,” she said under her breath. “But I just wish they’d give this place and this new life a chance.”

He nodded. He wasn’t sure if Eddie had confessed about the fight at the Game Room, and it wasn’t Trent’s place to say anything. The family needed to figure things out, and he still wasn’t entirely convinced that the fight had been entirely Eddie’s fault. Sure, he’d thrown the punch, but the other teen hadn’t been completely innocent in the whole thing.

“Do you want advice, or are you just looking to vent?” Growing up with three sisters had been very educational. Women didn’t need saving when they were expressing feelings. Sometimes they just needed someone to listen.

Angel sighed, her thin shoulders sagging slightly. “Mostly venting. But if you do have any ideas on how to get them to like me again, I’m all ears.”

He wasn’t sure if teenagers ever saw eye to eye all the time with their parents, but he had an idea for helping the boys integrate better into the community that couldn’t hurt. “What about the football team? Wes Sharrun and I coach the local team, and we could use a few new players.” He didn’t tell her that Eddie’s anger might be better channeled with the physical-contact sport.

She considered it. “I’m not sure it’s really Liam’s thing, but Eddie could definitely use an extracurricular activity that would help him channel some of his…negative energy.”

So she did see her older boy’s anger. He should have known. Angel seemed to be very intuitive with her children. She was just hands-on enough but tried to give them their space.

“Thanks, Trent.”

“Absolutely. Practice is Tuesdays at seven p.m.” He wasn’t completely convinced that he’d see Eddie there, but the best he could do was offer. Anything further would be overstepping.

Angel glanced around. “Where’s Max?”

“He went to the bartenders’ convention in Las Vegas last week and then decided to stay a few extra days to visit friends.” Trent hoped Max wouldn’t reconsider the idea of becoming part of his team. The notes he’d sent by email he’d taken at the conference had been impressive. He really had gone to learn, and Trent was happy that he’d been serious about the opportunity.

“Really?” Angel said. “He wants to become a bartender?”

“It surprised me at first, too. I wasn’t sure how long he was sticking around, but he says he’s considering it for Life: Act Two.”

“Well, that’s good,” Angel said, and Trent detected a note in her tone.

“You think so?” he asked teasingly.

She scoffed and swiped at him. “I feel safe with him manning the place, that’s all.”

He sobered slightly. He knew Angel had been through a lot, and he wanted her to always feel safe here. He reached out and quickly touched her hand.

“Hey, you and the boys are going to be okay. Things will get better.”

She stared at him searchingly, as though wanting to take those words to the bank. Her light-blue eyes reflected a glimmer of repressed tears. “Promise?”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t. All he could do was be there and offer any support the family might need. “Can they get worse?” he asked gently.

“Good point,” she said with a laugh. She climbed down from the stool and rotated her shoulders. “Shaking it off,” she said, before regaining her tough facade and getting to work.

…

Traffic was stopped on Route 1 heading south. Of all days for her GPS not to warn her about a major collision on the highway.

Whitney drummed her fingers along the steering wheel, willing the cars ahead to move faster. The car two spaces in front crept forward, but the one directly in front of her didn’t move. Whitney peered through the windshield, her gaze drilling a hole into the back of the driver’s head.

She was texting.

Whitney waited.

Now she was shuffling through songs on her iPhone.

The car two ahead of her inched forward several more feet, and it took everything Whitney had not to wail on the horn.

Patience was something she had very little of today.

Burning hot ninety-degree weather outside made sweat collect on her back beneath her white blouse despite the air-conditioning blasting through the ventilation.

Squinting, she read the time on the dash. Twenty minutes until her specialist’s appointment in San Francisco.

Despite how close it was, the license plate in front of her was impossible to read, and the exit sign in the distance…she wouldn’t even attempt.

She was more of a hazard on the highway than the texting, music-searching girl in front of her. But she needed to get to the appointment, and it wasn’t something she wanted to reveal to her friends or Trent just yet. Once she spoke to the doctor and got more clarity and hopefully a plan to fix her ailing health, then she’d tell everyone what was going on. She didn’t need them worrying about her any more than they already did.

Once there was a real solution, she’d confess the problem.

Whitney followed the GPS directions to the specialist’s office, but twenty minutes later, she wished she was back in the traffic jam. The clinic waiting room was standing room only, and she paced near the door, answering emails, checking her social media profiles…making a grocery shopping list… She looked up and glanced around. It didn’t seem like anyone had been called in yet. The reception staff were chatting among themselves, and she could see several doctors in the lunchroom—a half-eaten birthday cake on the table.

What on earth was taking so long? What was the point of making an appointment if they still made you wait? She checked the time.

Six minutes? That was it? That’s how long she’d been there? It felt more like six hours.

“Whitney Carlisle?” a nurse called, appearing in the waiting room with her file.

She nodded. “That’s me.” Grumbles and annoyed looks followed her as she crossed the waiting room, and then the nurse led her down the hall to an examination room.

“Dr. Kyle will be right with you,” the nurse said, sliding her file in a plastic holder near the door.

“Thank you.”

The door had barely closed before it opened again.

“Whitney!”

She jumped, startled by the doctor’s booming, cheerful voice that hardly fit the setting of the clinic. The place was full of patients with incurable diseases. Maybe she’d selected the wrong specialist.

“Hi, Dr. Kyle.” She crossed her legs, but seeing her swollen ankle protruding over her heel, she unfolded her legs and shoved them back under the seat. It was silly, but maybe if she didn’t appear to be sick, he’d tell her she was okay.

“Nice to meet you. Dr. Forester told me you were his favorite patient,” he said, taking a seat behind his desk.

Whitney blinked. Her family doctor had said that?

“Kidding,” Dr. Kyle said, opening her file. “Jennifer Aniston is his favorite patient.” He paused, glancing up at her. “Kidding again.”

Whitney forced a smile. “Funny.” Not exactly what she looked for in a specialist.

“You’re nervous,” he said, removing his glasses from his lab coat pocket and putting them on. His eyes immediately became tiny and faraway through the inch-thick prescription.

Were they joke glasses? Another attempt at humor to put her at ease? She cleared her throat. Best to just jump into the reason she was even there. “The symptoms have been getting harder to live with lately. I’m exhausted all the time, my joints are swollen, especially my ankles, and my eyesight…” She hated to admit all of this, but she was there hoping for answers, desperate for a way to fix herself. Without it, she would need major life changes. None that she wanted to make.

After her car accident the previous year, the attending physicians had discovered something in her blood work even more serious. Dr. Forester had said that sickle cell anemia had no cure, and a year ago, she’d barely felt sick. If it hadn’t been for the accident, she may have gone on for years not knowing. She’d made it to twenty-nine not knowing she had the hereditary disease. She’d thought the headaches and poor vision were from stress and working too much. Long hours staring at a computer screen. But tests at the hospital had revealed a blocked artery in her chest, and further testing had revealed she had the disease.

Being adopted and moving states as an infant, not all of her medical files from birth had transferred with her. From her own research about her disease, both her birth parents had had to be carrying the sickle cell trait in their DNA to pass it along to her. She’d been one of the “lucky ones” to live without symptoms up until the year before.

Thank God she’d found out before she’d gone through with marrying Trent, having children. And that their pregnancy scare early in their relationship had been a false alarm. Not that she wouldn’t have been thrilled to start a family with him, but she refused to knowingly pass along this gene to a child, and it shattered her to know that children may not be in her future. Or Trent’s…

“I’m going to send you for more tests,” Dr. Kyle said, filling out a medical requisition form. “And then we can go from there.”

Whitney fought to control her annoyance. “I’ve already had tests done. The results are in the file.” All this sneaking off to see doctors was stressing her out more than anything. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone about her illness. She just wanted a fix. Or at least for something to make the symptoms less debilitating. She’d gone through all the tests already, and she’d had to wait several months for this appointment. She felt like she was running out of time…

“These are from a year ago,” he said, taking the test results out of her file. “When you weren’t having any other symptoms except the blocked artery in your chest and mild vision problems. I want a full, complete evaluation of your blood cells, your sight, everything… I’m also sending you for an MRI.”

Suddenly she missed the not-so-funny funny guy who had walked in. This new serious tone was making her stomach twist. Air struggled to make it all the way to her lungs. “Okay,” she said tightly.

There really wasn’t a choice. She suspected he was right to assume that things had gotten worse in ten months. Maybe they shouldn’t make people wait so long for appointments.

Annoyance toward the health care system helped to refocus her emotions away from the intense fear that threatened to take hold when she stopped too long to think about her illness or all the things in her life it could affect. Ignoring it, or at least trying to, made it a little less real. Made it feel a little less like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff.

“As you know, there’s no cure for sickle cell anemia, but we can certainly try to make the symptoms less severe.” He handed her the requisition. “Don’t put off these tests.”

The urgency in his tone wrapped around her, cinching tighter until her next words were barely more than a whisper. “I won’t.”

…

Then…

They’d had sex twice and they’d used protection both times. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

Unfortunately, common sense and rational thinking were doing nothing to ease Whitney’s anxiety as she scanned her monthly menstrual calendar and realized she was six days late. She was always on schedule. Living with Jess, the two of them had synced up, and Jess used to tease her that Whitney was her monthly reminder.

But she was definitely late this time.

Standing, she closed her office door and squeezed her breasts. They felt fine. Maybe a little sore… But that happened at the start of her period, too. She’d been irritable and slightly more emotional the last few days—even crying over a touching life insurance commercial—but again, she was often more sensitive the days leading up to her flow.

Damn, if only the signs were a little more obvious.

She’d barely even noticed the missed start date. If it hadn’t been for Jess asking to borrow a tampon earlier that day and Whitney not carrying one, she may not have even realized. So busy with work and late nights seeing Trent, getting the bar ready for the grand opening event had preoccupied her time and thoughts.

But women missed periods all the time because of stress or other reasons. Didn’t mean for sure that she was pregnant, right?

She sighed as she checked her watch. Only one way to find out.

Fifteen minutes later, she was standing in the family planning section of the local pharmacy, hoping no one she knew saw her as she scanned the various options for pregnancy tests.

Two lines. Plus signs. One that said “yes” or “no.” That was the one. Couldn’t get that message confused. She reached for it with a shaky hand and quickly made her way out of the aisle.

“Hey, pretty lady.” Trent’s voice behind her as she headed toward the cashier made her freeze in her tracks.

Oh no. What the hell should she do? She hadn’t wanted him to know until she knew for sure…

She quickly hid the test behind her back as she turned to face him. Her smile felt forced as she met his gaze. “Hi…” She noticed the pack of condoms in his hand and almost winced at the irony. May not be needing those…

“Taking a lunch break?” he asked as he approached and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Yeah, just a quick one.” She’d planned on taking the test in the office bathroom, then figure out what to do before seeing him that evening at the bar.

“Want to grab a bite?” he asked, taking her free hand and leading the rest of the way toward the cashier.

“Oh, I should get back,” she said, her heart pounding as he placed the condoms on the counter. He gestured for her to place her item on the counter as well, and she shook her head. “That’s okay, I got it.”

“I insist,” he said. “Least I can do if you won’t let me buy you lunch.”

She sighed as she reluctantly took the test from behind her back and placed it onto the counter. She sucked in her bottom lip and winced as she stared at his reaction.

Don’t freak out… Please don’t freak out.

He looked slightly confused and more than a little surprised as he turned to face her. They’d agreed to be exclusive, so there was no question that if she were pregnant, then the baby was his, therefore Whitney tried to read his conflicted expression as the cashier rang in their items, with her own expression one of unconcealed amusement at the irony. “Twenty-two sixty,” she said. “Unless you’d like to put the condoms back.”

Trent ignored her. “Are you…?” he asked Whitney.

“I don’t know for sure,” she said, handing the cashier several bills and taking the test. This wasn’t exactly a conversation she wanted to have in front of an audience. She hadn’t been expecting to have this conversation with Trent so soon. She’d been hoping to know for sure, hoping to have time to decide what to say, decide how she felt about it, decide what she wanted to do…

But here they were.

She picked up his condoms and handed them to him, then led the way outside for privacy. Immediately, she turned to him and started to speak. “Look, it’s probably nothing, but I’m late.”

The bright winter sun made it almost impossible to see his expression as he said, “How late?”

“Almost a week. Which is unusual for me, so I thought I should check.” She swallowed hard, and her hands shook slightly in the silence that followed. Of course, he was freaking out. Why wouldn’t he? She should be freaking out, too. They barely knew each other. The relationship was new. “I should get going. I’ll call you later.”

She turned to leave, desperate to escape the thick, awkward tension in the air around them.

“Whitney, wait!”

She turned back, and he instantly reached for her. “Sorry about my reaction,” he said. “I’m just surprised.”

She nodded.

“But I’d like to be with you when you take the test…if that’s okay?”

He wanted to be there? It shouldn’t surprise her. Trent was a great guy—kind, caring, supportive. No matter the outcome, she knew he’d be there for her…and a baby. Air trapped in her chest, and she fought the anxiety threatening to overwhelm her.

He pulled back and bent at the knees to look her in the eyes. “Will you wait for me? Tonight, after work, we’ll take the test together?”

Relief flowed through her as she nodded. “I’d like that.” For better or worse, “yes” or “no” on that tiny little display screen, she knew they were in it together.

And even in her panic, the thought gave her a sense of peace.

…

“I can’t do it,” Whitney yelled from the other side of the bathroom door in her house later that evening.

Trent stopped pacing the hallway and leaned against it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t pee,” she said.

“Try running the water,” he suggested. He waited and heard the sound of the water running in the sink, but a moment later, still nothing. “I’ll grab you a glass of water,” he said.

In the kitchen, he poured a glass with a trembling hand.

Whitney might be pregnant. In just a few minutes, he could learn that he was going to be a father. He knew most men would be freaking out after only a few months of dating, but Trent felt nothing but excitement at the possibility. His only source of nervousness was for Whitney. He knew she was career-focused and wasn’t ready to have a family just yet, so he worried she might not share his excitement if the test was positive.

But he knew he loved her and he was ready for whatever happened. He was back home, starting a new life, with a new business, and he’d found a woman he wanted to spend his life with. A baby might be accelerating the pace a little, but he wasn’t afraid. He had faith in them.

He carried the glass of water to the bathroom door and tapped on it. She opened it a crack, and he handed her the glass. “Thank you,” she said, sounding nervous.

She closed the door and, an excruciatingly long time later, he heard the toilet flush.

He held his breath as she exited the bathroom with the stick. “Now we wait,” she said.

Now they waited.

Sitting side by side on the floor in the hallway, the stick between them, holding hands and taking turns sneaking a peek at the test, they waited together.

Trent’s heart raced, and he could hear Whitney’s pounding just as hard in the silence as time ticked on. If only he could read her thoughts. He suspected she was contemplating the options, the next steps, possible new futures just as he was. So much hung in the balance.

“That’s time,” she said softly a moment later. “I can’t look.”

He squeezed her hand and held tight as he took a deep breath and picked up the test stick.

The word “no” in the display window had his heart sinking deep into his stomach. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted the outcome to be different until that very second.

Whitney studied him, reading his disappointment wrong. “Oh no, I’m pregnant, aren’t I?”

He cleared his throat, shook his head, and put on a brave face as he said, “Nope. False alarm. All good.” Truthfully, this probably was for the best. They hadn’t been together long. She wasn’t ready. Still…

“Oh, thank God.” Her shoulders sagged in relief, and Trent fought his own conflicted emotions as he put an arm around her and pretended he was just as relieved as she was.