Delivering His Package - Big Apple Love

Eleanor’s hand was soft. I held it in my right hand while looking into her gorgeous green eyes. She ran her palm over my torso, from my defined abs and pecs to my sensitive neck. She stuck her finger into my mouth, and I sucked on it and licked the tip. She giggled.

“Do you have any idea—” I was worried about the time. I still had to drive the package truck the following morning.

“Exactly midnight.” Eleanor grinned.

“How can you know?”

“There’s a clock on the wall behind us.” She smiled and pointed behind her head blankly, then again put her head in the crook of my neck. “I see it in the window reflection.”

“I have to get—” I started to say, wondering how the following day I could go back to driving a UPS truck after an evening like this one.

“Yeah, I gotta get going too,” she said. Maybe she just didn’t want to seem rude. “Let’s do this again next week,” she whispered and leaned into my lips for one last soft kiss.

Chapter Five - Eleanor

The beeping notification on my phone that woke me up at seven A.M. shouldn’t have been a surprise. Yet, I felt like I hadn’t slept at all and had just come down with the flu. My stomach was doing cartwheels for no reason. The night before had been dull, as had every Friday night for the last month or so.

It was not what I had expected. After meeting, and fucking Aiden, I figured my Friday nights would be full of him and full of love. However, that was not the case. The week after our first night together, he had to rush out of town for a family emergency. Then it was making up work, problems with friends, and on and on till I got the distinct impression I was being ghosted. He would still text me every once in a while, but the heat was already gone.

I ran into the bathroom as my body tried to get rid of everything I had ever thought of eating. I was weak, lightheaded, and suddenly everything smelled terrible. I knew what the symptoms indicated, but it just couldn’t be right. I couldn’t get pregnant. Could I?

It was the moment I had always wished for. I’d spent ten thousand dollars out-of-pocket to have donors and in vitro. Before that night in the library with Aiden, I had sometimes looked at the baby name sites on my phone wistfully, hopefully, even though I knew perfectly well that I couldn’t get pregnant.

Now here I was. My body was acting like it was pregnant.

Anxious, I went to the doctor’s office immediately. Dr. Williamson was a fully qualified obstetrician who had been with me through every trial I tried.

The doctor pulled up the test results on his screen. “Good news. You’re definitely pregnant. The embryo is too small to see with an ultrasound right now, but you’re on your way.”

I bit my lower lip and held back a tear. Of course, I’d always wanted to be a mother. I’d also always assumed that I’d become pregnant together with a husband. And Aiden was great. But I’d only known Aiden for a few weeks. And he had no idea about the pregnancy. We had only spent one night together.

Dr. Williamson went through a file of papers on his desk, then flipped through several forms of questions on his computer screen. “If you don’t mind, and of course this is totally optional, do you have the genetic history of the father?”

“Not right at this moment.” My voice cracked a little bit.

“Again, I’m sorry if I’m intruding, and you can always decline to answer. But do you know the father’s identity?”

I worked hard not to be offended by the question. Sure, a woman could have been impregnated by a hookup with a stranger. I had been impregnated by a hookup with — the UPS man. The UPS man whom I’d known for a little over a month. That didn’t feel great.

“Yeah, of course, I know the father’s identity.” I could be proud of something.

“Ok, his name please?” Dr. Williamson looked at me. He seemed ready to type the few letters by which I knew the man who’d impregnated me.

“Aiden. His name is Aiden.” I aced that question. I felt pretty good about myself. But I vaguely anticipated another question coming up, one I wouldn’t quite ace. At least I wouldn’t yet be able to ace.

“Alright. And his last name?” Dr. Williamson asked the question so routinely.

Aiden had mentioned his last name that first time he introduced himself as the UPS driver, but I hadn’t remembered it since then.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know — I’m sorry—” My voice definitely cracked. I felt as if I was being called a slut who let men with unknown last names impregnate me.