The Bonus

I sit in the waiting room with my handbag on my lap, my knee bouncing up and down with nerves.

Please let everything be okay.

At first, I didn’t want to be pregnant, but now that I’ve got my head around it, having a healthy baby is all that I want. I’ve got this feeling that because I was so against this in the beginning that now I’m going to be punished. Maybe that’s just mom guilt starting early.

I didn’t tell Deb that my appointment was today, I wanted to come alone. She can’t be at every doctor’s visit and I’m sure this first one is just standard practice, and besides, I need to get used to doing things alone.

The doctor walks out of his office with a folder in his hand, he’s around forty-five, with salt-and-pepper hair, he has a kind-dad vibe. “Grace Porter?” He looks around and smiles when he sees me stand. “How are you today?”

“Good, thanks.” My heart is beating like a drum and I walk past him into the office and take a seat at his desk.

He sits down and opens the file and reads it. “Congratulations. You are…” he pauses as he reads on, “…twelve weeks and five days pregnant.”

I clutch my handbag with white-knuckle force. “Yes.”

His eyes rise to meet mine. “A planned pregnancy?”

“Yes,” I lie.

He keeps reading. “And what about the father, is he excited?”

“I was artificially inseminated.”

His eyes rise to meet mine. “At what clinic?”

“In New York at the Chelsea Fertility Clinic,” I reply without missing a beat. I’ve done my research and that’s all he should need to know; he has no legal reason to contact them.

“Fantastic.” He smiles. “This baby is a gift.”

“Yes.” I force a smile, feeling guilty for lying.

“Okay,” he replies. “Let’s do an ultrasound, hop up onto the bed for me.”

I lie down and pull my T-shirt up.

“This will be a little cold.” He squirts gel onto the end of the ultrasound wand and holds it over my stomach.

Silence.

He moves it around and pushes the wand deeper into my stomach.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Yes, just finding your baby. It’s hiding in here somewhere.”

I hold my breath as he pushes and prods me.

Squelch, squelch, squelch…

“There we are, do you hear that?” He smiles. “A perfect heartbeat.”

The sound brings a big smile to my face. “I can hear it.”

He frowns and then keeps prodding and poking. “Hmm, that’s interesting.”

“What is?”

“There are two heartbeats.”

“What?” My eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

“Do you have twins in your family?”

“No.”

“Well, you do now.”

My mouth falls open as the bed moves beneath me. “Twins?”

“Uh-huh.” He wipes my stomach with a tissue and cleans his wand, he takes my hand and helps me sit up. “Back in your chair.”

I stare at him in a daze.

Twins.

Twins.

The word rolls around in my empty head and bounces off the sides.

“There are two babies?” I gasp.

“Uh-huh.” He smiles as he swivels his chair from side to side. “You hit the jackpot and got some good strong sperm.”

Or not.

“Oh…” I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears.

Two…there are two. I couldn’t deal with one, and now there are two.

Two, two…there are two babies.

“Grace?” the doctor says, interrupting my thoughts. “What do you say to that?”

“Huh?” My eyes rise to meet his. “I beg your pardon.”

“It’s going to be fine.” He smiles reassuringly. “Twins are a gift, and I know you will handle this like a pro. It’s completely normal to be apprehensive. But of course, depending on how they are in utero will determine the birthing plan we make moving forward.”

I stare at him in horror, I have to push two babies out of my vagina.

It’s too small for one.

How the actual hell am I supposed to do two? I get a vision of me dying on the delivery table…

Oh. My. God.

“How does that sound?”

I glance back up at him, having no idea what he just said. “Good,” I lie, there is nothing sounding good about this at all.

“Okay then, I’ll see you in four weeks.” He writes something down on a piece of paper and passes it over. “Take these vitamins and eat a varied diet. Try to have as broad a range of vegetables and fruit as you can and keep up the fluids.”

I stare at him, mystified.

That’s it? He’s going to casually send me home carrying an entire fucking army in my stomach?

“Goodbye, Grace.”

“Goodbye.” On autopilot, I stumble out of the doctor’s surgery and wander to my car. I slump into my seat and stare out through the windscreen.

Too shocked to cry, too panicked to think and unable to speak.

Twins.

Gabriel

The car pulls into the curb and I open the door.

“Have a nice day,” Mark says as I climb out of the car.

“You too.”

I walk in through the front doors of the Ferrara building and stride to the elevator. Roderick the attendant gives me a polite nod as he pushes the button. “Good morning, Mr. Ferrara.”

“Morning.”

I stare at the doors as I straighten my tie, I can feel all eyes on me as I wait.

Hurry up.

“Beautiful day today,” Roderick says, trying to make polite conversation.

“It is.”

Why is this elevator so slow?

“Looking forward to getting to work today, sir?”

My unimpressed eyes rise to meet his. “Why are you so chatty?”

“Oh.” He gives me a lopsided smile. “I think it makes things less awkward.”

My eyes hold his. “I disagree.”

The doors open and I walk past him into it and turn toward the front, I see his face fall as the doors close.

Ugh, every morning he annoys me with his perky can-do attitude.

I don’t want to talk to you.

Fuck off.

I push the button and begin the climb to the top floor, the elevator stops on level three and I exhale heavily.

The doors open and two men are waiting to get in, their faces fall when they see me and I raise an eyebrow.

“Sorry, Mr. Ferrara.” They stay where they are.

I push the button to close the doors. I need a private elevator to this godforsaken place.

Once upon a time I would get here earlier and train before work, I haven’t done that since…

I run at home now before I come, the urge to get into the office early has left along with Miss Porter. It’s no fun getting dressed in front of Greg. In fact, it’s no fun with Greg at all.

He’s the most boring person I’ve ever met. Actually, the entire office is boring now.

I’ve always been a workaholic, prided myself for my dedication to Ferrara Media.

But lately… I hate coming here.

I hate walking past her empty desk, I hate that nobody rolls their eyes at me or talks back and gives me cheek. I hate that I can’t feel her eyes on me as I get dressed. I hate that I don’t feel my dick tingle when she chews the end of her pen.

I hate that she left me.

The doors open and I walk through reception. “Good morning, Mr. Ferrara.”

“No visitors today.”

“Yes, sir.”

I open the doors and walk through the desks, I see a few people standing and talking in the photocopier room and my blood boils, what do they think this is?

I march over, their faces fall when they see me. “This isn’t a tea party. Get back to work.”

“Yes, sir.” They scatter like mice.

I walk into my office, slam the door, throw my briefcase onto the table and fall into my chair.

This place is fucking ruined.

Grace

Debbie’s wide eyes hold mine. “Twins?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Like twin twins, like two babies twins?”

“Yep.”

“Hmm.” Deb has been shocked to silence, she sips her coffee as she chooses her next words carefully. “Well… This is great,” she lies.

I stare at her deadpan. “And how is this great?”

“Well.” She holds her hands up all animated like. “Your family is done, you can stop after this if you want.”

“I’ll be stopping, one hundred percent I’ll be stopping.” I sip my stupid decaf coffee as I think, even my coffee is ruined now. “A household where the children outnumber the adults is . . .”

“Busy.” Deb cuts me off. “You’ll be busy.”

I nod, not wanting to be a downer.

“Oh my gosh, I saw the cutest thing in the shop on the way here. I’m getting it for you on the way out.”

“What is it?”

“A memory box.”

“What’s that?” I frown.

“You know, like a cute little box that you put memorabilia in for your pregnancy. Your ultrasound pictures and any little notes or cards you get along the way.”

“I don’t want a memory box.”

“Why not?”

“Because the way I’m feeling, all I want to write in it is how this is all so unfair and I don’t want my child . . .”

“Children.” Deb cuts me off.

“Ugh, children to ever find out that I was crushing on my boss. They can never know about Gabriel and our one-night stand.”

“You are not fatal attraction.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

I sip my coffee, annoyed that she’s right, I am so overdramatic at the moment, I can feel myself doing it but can’t seem to stop.

“Fine, I’ll buy you two. One for the kids to find with all the cute fluffy stuff, and the other memory box a dumping ground for your heartbreak crap.”

“Why would I want a dumping ground for my heartbreak?”

“It will be therapeutic to write everything down and when you’re past this stage of your life and happily in love, you can throw this one out. Nobody will ever know…and the kids will still have their fluffy feel-good memory box to look through.”

“Maybe.” I sigh, distracted.

“Every time you put something in the happy memory box, you need to put something in the dumpster fire box.”

I smile, something about that name tickles my fancy. “We’re calling it a dumpster fire box?”

“Why not? Your love life is a complete dumpster fire, let’s be honest,” she mutters dryly.

I giggle and hold my coffee cup up to cheers her. “You’ve got that right.”

The afternoon glow begins to bounce off the water and I smile. My favorite part of the day is here. I grab my notepad and pen and slide the glass door open. “You coming out, Buds?” I call.

My toffee-colored fluffball comes toddling down the stairs, life is bliss, I have a dog now. Buddy is the cutest thing that I never knew I needed. I went to the shelter to get a puppy and came home with an old man, not that I’m complaining, he’s perfect in every way. We wander down the stairs and sit.

The sun setting over the lake is magical and one of the main reasons I bought this house. Although small and quaint, my home is like a fairy tale, filled with character and to-do projects. It’s a renovator’s delight.

My dream home.

As soon as I saw it I knew that I had to make it mine. Three acres of land situated on a point of the lake with one-hundred-and-eighty-degree water views on three sides. There’s a long, sweeping driveway lined with the most beautiful oak trees you have ever seen, and one day I’ll save up enough money to do a proper drive; for the moment it’s dirt road.

At the front of the house is a sweeping veranda, a separate garage, and a garden, then the back of the house is all glass. It’s like a Swiss chalet with the upstairs inside the shingle roof with beautiful arbor windows.

But the real magic of the house is the private wharf.

My very own private piece of paradise. You walk out of my back sliding glass doors and onto the veranda, down six steps, and then I’m on the wharf looking straight over the lake.

I have a deck chair and I sit out here every afternoon and watch the sun set over the water. For now I drink tea, but I can imagine having an afternoon glass of wine while the children play.

I put my hand protectively over my stomach. I’m six months pregnant.

And life is good.

My dumpster fire box has worked a treat and Deb was right, venting on paper and putting it into the box is cathartic. Lately, I’ve turned my venting into poetry. I just write whatever whenever and none of it makes sense, but somehow it makes me feel better. As if releasing all the negativity from inside makes room for all the joy.

I open my notepad and chew on my pen while I think, what will I write today? I think for a moment.

I can forgive him for not loving me.

What I can’t forgive is myself,

for ever believing that he could.

I close the notepad and the evening breeze whips my hair around, the birds begin to chirp as the beautiful pink glow lights up the sky. It really is a sight to behold.

The magic is here…

Gabriel

The sound of the engines roar around the circuit, the car pulls in and the pit crew jump into action.

Monaco, the Grand Prix.

I’m in the marquee that’s overlooking the track. “Here you go, sir.” The waiter delivers my scotch on a tray.

“Thank you.” The atmosphere is electric, the crowd huge with beautiful people everywhere you look.

“So where are you based?” the beautiful blonde asks.

“New York.”

“My favorite city in the world.”

“We have something in common.” I raise my glass.

“I’m sure we have a lot in common.” She gives me a sexy smile and I look over her shoulder and see the unmistakable auburn hair.

Is that…

I watch the woman from behind, wearing a red dress and laughing as she talks to someone. My heart skips a beat.

Gracie.

“So what do you…”

“Excuse me.” I brush past the woman and walk straight over. “Gracie.”

The woman turns and my face falls, it isn’t her. “Excuse me, my apologies. I thought you were someone else.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” She smiles.

“Not at all.” I fake a smile and walk to the bar; I wait in line with a full drink in my hand.

“Everything all right?” Mark asks from beside me.

I glance up. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You thought that was Grace Porter, didn’t you?”

“Who?” I act oblivious.

“You know, I hate seeing your face fall every time you see a redhead.”

“Yeah well… There are a lot of things I hate about you.” I drain my glass and slosh it around in my mouth before swallowing. “Stop watching me and get back to work.”

“Last time I looked, my job is watching you.” He winks.

“Fuck off,” I mouth.

He saunters back to his place by the wall and I step forward in line to the bar and drag my hand through my hair as I wait.

I hate that he knows me.

Grace

“We’re going to get going, sweetheart.” Mom kisses my forehead.

“Well done today, Gracie,” Dad says as he looks lovingly down at the babies in their crib beside my bed. “You did good, baby.”

“Thank you so much for being in the delivery room with me.” I kiss my mom as she leans over me and then my dad. “I’m so grateful for you two.”

“We’ll be back first thing tomorrow.” Dad smiles as he adjusts the baby’s little blue bonnet. “You be good babies for your momma tonight,” he tells them, and with one last smile, they disappear down the corridor.

It’s midnight, and the maternity ward has fallen quiet. My room is dark and lit only by the strip lighting in the bathroom.

For the first time I’m left alone with my two babies, fraternal twins, a little boy and a little girl. Wrapped tightly in their little bunny rugs and snugged in together in the one crib.

I’m having this weird out-of-body experience, it’s as if I’m hovering way up above and watching the three of us. Together at last…but then so alone.

No dad here to welcome them into the world, to comfort me, or to tell us it’s going to be okay. Words that I so desperately need to hear.

Now that they’ve arrived and are real-life little people, my deception seems all too real.

I’m a bad person, I should have told him.

My nostrils flare as I try to keep it together, the lump in my throat is painful. It’s like I’ve been holding in tears for nine months and the glue that held me together is disintegrating before my eyes.

This is a happy day. I will not cry.

A hot tear rolls down my cheek and I swipe it away.

“Hey,” a nurse says as she walks through the door. “Are you okay, darling?” She comes and sits on the side of my bed and takes my hand in hers.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Big day, huh?”

I nod.

“Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Don’t be a hero, Grace, C-sections are painful, and you need to be rested before you go home alone with these babies.”

Home alone.

Hearing it out loud breaks the dam and I screw up my face in tears.

“Oh sweetie, tomorrow will seem a lot brighter. I promise.”

I nod, unable to answer through the lump in my throat.

She reads my chart and pulls out some pills from her pocket. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” She passes me the pills. “You’re going to have these and try and get some rest, and I’m going to sit in that chair in the corner and watch over you and your babies while you sleep.”

“But…”

“But nothing, you won’t be alone tonight.” She squeezes my hand in hers, the tears rolling down my face. “I won’t leave you. I promise.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. I take the tablets and lie back down and she pulls the blankets up over me and tucks me in.

“What are you going to name your babies?”

I shrug, unsure. “Something Italian.”

“Their father is Italian?”

I nod.

She gives me a sad smile, finally understanding why I’m upset.

There was no donor sperm, only a lie covering for an absent dad.

She sits on the side of my bed and rests her hand on my shoulder, such a simple act of kindness that means so much. “What are your favorite names?”

“Dominic and Lucia,” I whisper.

She smiles down at me. “They sound like the perfect names.”

“You think so?”

“You’re going to be fine, darling, and you’re going to find the love of your life and he’s going to love your babies just as much as you do.”

I screw up my face in tears again, damn it. I’m unstable.

“Close your eyes and go to sleep,” her loving voice whispers, she brushes her hand over my hair. “Tomorrow’s a new day.”