Shattered - Sequel to Broken

Chapter 15

I forced myself not to cry as I made my way down the hall to the elevators. As soon as I reached them, I repeatedly pushed the down button, hoping it would bring the elevator to the floor quickly. Unfortunately, it felt like it took even longer.
I didn't know what I had expected to happen that night. I mean obviously I had hoped that I could tell Taylor myself. I thought he might be a little upset that it took me so long to tell him, but I definitely didn't think anyone else was going to beat me to the punch. Not that I blamed Isaac. Hell, I didn't even blame Zac, although it would have been easy to attribute all of this to him for not keeping it a secret. But I knew where the condemnation lied, and that was with me. I was the one who had brought all of this on. I should've done exactly as Jen had demanded and went to Taylor immediately after he arrived in New York. I shouldn't have given anyone else the time to spill the beans.
I berated myself for not telling him when he showed up at my apartment. Instead of giving into my weaknesses for him, I should've been strong and came right out with it.
Perhaps I should've just called him and told him over the phone the second I found out. But it still didn't feel like something that someone should be told over the phone. I guess I'm old fashioned like that.
The elevator door opened and thankfully it was empty. I hit the button for the lobby and pounded the button to close the doors. Just as they were closing a hand slipped through them and grabbed the edge of one of them, stopping them from closing all the way. They slid back open and I saw it was Taylor who had blockaded my escape.
"If you've decided that you're not finished making me feel like worst person in the world," I told him. "Trust me, I don't need any help with that. I've got it covered."
"We need to talk," he said, stepping onto the elevator.
"I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me?" I replied bitterly.
"I was pissed off," he retorted. "I'm still pissed off, but you can't just leave this with me and expect me not to react to it."
That's when I noticed he was holding the sonogram picture.
"I didn't do it as a cheap shot or anything," I said. "I just wanted you to have it. Like I said, I don't want your hatred for me to cause you to miss anything with your son."
"You know damned well I wouldn't walk away from my child," he seethed. "No matter how I felt about their mother. Fuck, you saw that with Krystal."
"I know," I said softly, avoiding his gaze. I could feel his eyes burning into me.
The doors closed and the elevator began moving. Taylor quickly pushed the stop button and the elevator jerked to a halt.
"Why did you do that?" I asked, finally looking up at him.
"Because we're not going anywhere until we have finished talking," he answered.
"They'll force start it eventually," I said. "And probably be pissed you stopped it."
"Fuck that," he snapped. "Make yourself comfortable because I'm not starting this thing back up til I'm good and ready."
He plopped himself down on the floor in front of the button pad, blocking me from reaching them.
I sighed and leaned up against the wall, sliding down it to join him on the floor of the small space, thankful I wasn't claustrophobic. It was then that I reminded myself that if I had been claustrophobic, I probably wouldn't have been on the elevator in the first place.
Now adding the insecurity of my own intelligence to my ever growing list of emotions I was experiencing in that moment, I decided my only way out of this was to start talking.
"I'm not sure what else you want me to say?" I said softly. "I am sorry I didn't tell you first. I just didn't want to do it over the phone."
"I thought you couldn't get pregnant?" he asked, ignoring what I had just said.
"I said it was unlikely," I sighed. "I told you, a 13 percent chance."
He shook his head in disbelief, "And with that slim of a chance we beat the odds? How?"
He held up the sonogram so he could look at it.
"I have no idea," I answered, putting my hand on my stomach. "I guess like you used to say 'what's meant to be always finds a way.'"
He glanced up from the picture and his now watery eyes met mine, a half smile formed on his lips.
"I'm honestly not even sure if I believe in that kind of thing anymore," he said his face turning serious again. "Fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it, it all seems too much like a fairy tale. Like something you read about but never actually happens in real life."
"Well something has brought us all this way," I retorted. "Something keeps aligning our paths."
"Yeah, my little brother married your best friend," he scoffed.
"But how did that happen?" I asked. "Because of us. Because I went to your show that night and introduced them. Our destiny was inevitably their destiny as well."
"Yeah, maybe," he replied, unconvinced.
"Then how do you explain this?" I asked, scooting over next to him and tapping on the sonogram. "How else did we create this? When it was damn near impossible?"
"I guess I just got some powerful swimmers or something," he half joked.
"Scientifically that may be true," I agreed. "But what is your heart really telling you?"
He stared at the sonogram again before turning to meet my gaze again, "We're not on speaking terms."
"Who?" I asked, taken aback by his response.
"My heart and I," he answered.
"Oh, and why's that?"
"Because he won't let me forget about you," he said softly. "He won't let me get over you."
"Do you want to get over me?"
"It would make things a helluva lot easier," he spoke honestly.
I hugged my knees to my chest, looking down at the floor.
"But no, I guess I don't," he finished.
I looked back over at him, "Then I guess you can't completely blame your heart for that."
"No," he softly chuckled. "I guess I can't."
His gaze went back to the picture of our unborn son and I rested my head back on my knees, staring at the wall in front of me. Neither of us said anything for the longest time.
"So what do we do now?" he finally asked.
Before I had a chance to respond, the elevator began moving again and stopped at the next floor. The doors opened and two members of hotel security were standing there. We both scrambled to our feet.
"Is everything okay in here?" one of them asked.
"Yeah sorry about that," Taylor answered. "It was my fault. I stopped it."
"Why?" The second one asked.
"We needed to talk," Taylor replied.
"Then take it to your room," the first one snapped.
"Are either of you staying here?" the second one chimed in.
"I am," Taylor answered, pulling his key card out of his wallet.
"Then go there if you need to talk," the first one grumbled. "You don't have any right to take over my elevators."
"We're really sorry," I said softly. "It was my fault. He wanted to go back to the room and I refused. He only stopped it so I would hear him out."
They both eyed us suspiciously.
"Just don't let it happen again," the first one said sternly. He went on to lecture us on elevator etiquette and safety and how inconsiderate we were to the other patrons of the hotel.
We apologized again, and after swearing we wouldn't do it again, they escorted us back to Taylor and Ike's room.
We went inside to find Ike still hasn't returned.
Taylor began laughing and soon as if it was contagious, I joined him.
"That guy takes his job way too seriously," he laughed.
"Don't mess around with my elevators," I imitated the sternness of the first security guard and we both laughed again.
When the laughter faded, Taylor turned to me and again asked, "So what do we do now?"