This story has no point except fluff… I just needed to get it out of my head.
She sees him from across the lobby about three seconds before he sees her. Despite their history, she first thinks of him as Jesse St. James, famous movie star, instead of Jesse, boy who broke her heart so many years ago back in Ohio.
She's just getting out of a six-year relationship with another Broadway actor, someone whose success had never rivaled hers and it had started to take its toll on the relationship. Fred had seen theater life as fleeting and wanted to get married and start having kids to distract him from the lack of progress in his career. Her career was taking off, and, even though she never said it to him, she had resented him for not being supportive, and even after six years, for not knowing who she was and how much this meant to her. It got to the point where every meeting she had with a producer or director had ended in an argument, and finally, one day, she had just told him that she couldn't take it anymore, that he had to move out.
It's three months later and she's on one of the Mexican coasts, in a resort that was famous within celebrity circles for its private villas and unlimited potential to rejuvenate even the most jaded star. She's packed her favorite books, DVDs of sitcoms, and her vibrator, and she intends to make full use of the first weeklong vacation that she has allowed herself in three years.
In addition to his successful movies and an Oscar nomination, Jesse is also a published author. His first book had been semi-autobiographical, a story of a boy who had grown up wealthy but distant from his father and it had spent two months at the top of all the bestseller lists. She had learned more about him from reading that short novel than she had when they had dated for months as teenagers in Ohio. He's at the Mexican resort, she soon learns, to write a second novel, hoping that the beach and the quiet will inspire brilliance.
An awkward exchange in the lobby leads to the obligatory dinner invitation in the hotel's restaurant that night. Only after they both have a glass of wine does the conversation become more relaxed. Soon, she's laughing genuinely for what feels like the first time in months. Interestingly, even though he has more reason than ever to be Jesse St. James, superstar, he's lost much of his ego. He tells her that he's seen a couple of her plays, praises her work and her career so far. She tells him that she loved his book, playfully criticizes one of his romantic comedies that had broken box office records but had been so cheesy that even he can't talk about the plot without grimacing. They catch up on everything that happened in the last decade and a half, but both are still pleased to learn that there is still a foundation there, something on which to base the future.
Her vibrator remains buried in the bottom of her bag that week because after dinner, by mutual agreement, they go back to her room together. Both of them pretend it's nothing serious, they're on vacation after all, but then one night turns into two, and then three and then into midnight walks on the beach. That entire week, he doesn't write more than two pages. Her books remain unread, her DVDs unwatched.
He's without a doubt the best lover she's ever had. She confesses this to him when she's tipsy and they're dancing together in his room while the Sound of Music plays in the background. He returns the compliment, says that they should have never waited this long to get back in touch. Despite the references to their past, neither of them vocalize anything about a concrete future, deciding to leave the most important things unsaid.
They share a taxi to the airport even though his flight is five hours later than hers. They make an odd sight. She in long sleeves and jeans with her coat over her arm to make the flight back to New York, he in shorts and sunglasses, on his way back up the coast to California. Their parting is somber, almost business-like. They make no plans to see each other again, and both of them recognize that this was a one-time deal, a vacation than in its perfection can never be repeated.
They don't exchange numbers, so she has to rely on her network of agents and publicists to track him down. His assistant answers the phone and it takes her three calls to get the preteen sounding woman to take her number so he can call her back. She wants to scream into the phone that she's pregnant, to have the assistant take her seriously and get Jesse on the phone, but she can't bring herself to tell anyone else before she tells him. So, she waits for his call.
He wakes her up later that night, around midnight, when he gets back from reshoots for his latest movie and his assistant delivers his messages. He apologizes for the late hour, he would have called in the morning, but he wanted to make sure that she was okay. His tone clues her in to the fact that he's sensed where this conversation is going. When she does confirm it, he's not as much shocked as overwhelmed; his life changing with those few words.
She'd been prepared to answer his inevitable question as to whether the baby was his, but he never asks. He just says that he'll be on a plane to New York in the morning so that they can talk. When she hears the word 'talk,' she panics. She tells him that she's already decided to keep the baby and all there is to talk about is what kind of role he wants to play in its life.
"I'm not asking you to do anything," Rachel stresses, "I just thought you should know."
He arrives at her apartment mid-evening the next day as promised. The first thing he does is give her a hug, rubs her back soothingly, and she collapses into his arms, thankful that someone else shares the burden. She's always wondered how she would react in this situation, and she's glad that the first time she's had to confront it is when she's thirty-one and financially stable, more than able to make it on her own. Not that she wants to.
They talk for hours about the future, and she shows him the pregnancy test, tells him about the appointment with the doctor that she has made for the next day. After dinner, they transition into talking about their shared history, the conversations they avoided in Mexico now becoming quite necessary to have. He apologizes for everything back in Ohio, and it all seems inconsequential now that he's flown across the country without hesitation to see her and has expressed his unwavering devotion to their child.
He decides to move to New York so that he can be near them. It's the best solution to their current circumstances and exactly what she wanted, even though she would have never asked him. She can't imagine shuttling her child across the country and it would be difficult to have a Broadway career outside of New York. He can write his novels anywhere, and he can always fly to the locations of his shoots a few times a year.
He leaves that night to stay at a hotel without them ever talking about their relationship and where they go from here. Obviously, their lives are going to be fundamentally linked from now on, and she needs boundaries, limitations, and expectations set out. It's how she's always lived her life until now, this baby being the only thing she's never planned.
He wakes her up in the middle of the night again, this time with a knock on her door. He doesn't know what to say, can't really explain why he came back. He just can't stay away, knowing that she's so close by and carrying his child. She's probably the only one in the world who understands what he's feeling right now: a weird combination of scared and excited that he can't compare to anything else.
He makes love to her, and it is the first time that she lets herself consider that they may have a future. The thought of entering into something with him and it not working out scares her more than anything else. She remembers how quickly she fell in love with him in high school and how devastated she was when he left her. She remembers that week after Mexico where she had sat around depressed and then declared to herself that she needed a vacation from her vacation, holing up in her apartment to escape the memories. She can't afford to fall apart again, not with a baby on the way.
He accompanies her to her doctor's appointment and then gets on a plane back to California, the baby's due date marked in red in the date book he normally keeps. For the remainder of her first trimester, he finalizes his life in LA, selling his house and his car, changing professional management companies and alerting his friends and acquaintances to the move. Although he never mentions it to Rachel, and she only reads about it in the tabloids, he formally breaks up with the on-again, off-again girlfriend he's had for the last two years that was somewhat on-again until Rachel called with the news.
During this time, they talk frequently. He's eager to know every little detail of her pregnancy. There's not much to tell, she's been lucky with morning sickness and she's still not showing or having crazy cravings. Like him, she's been busy doing some professional maneuvering. She'll never admit it, but she's almost thankful to the baby for giving her a reason to take a break from doing a show, and she's not too worried about working afterwards. She wonders exactly what has changed from when she and Fred had discussed having children and she was so adamantly against it, but all she can come up with is that the reality of this baby and his or her future existence is much different than discussions with the ex-boyfriend, that, on some level, she was always sure was never the one.
At the beginning of her fourth month, Jesse comes back to New York for good. His first night back, her dads are in town, and they all go out for dinner, where they tell them about the pregnancy. Leroy, having not heard Rachel mention Jesse since high school, bluntly asks what their relationship status is, and since the question is obviously directed at her, Rachel answers that they are not together but just "making it work." Leroy looks displeased, but doesn't say anything else and Hiram looks too excited to (finally) be getting a grandchild that he doesn't much seem to care how Jesse and Rachel expect to make their new family work. Jesse can't bear to stay silent through this conversation and he acknowledges that he had behaved horribly and treated Rachel badly when they were teenagers, but promises Leroy and Hiram that he will be there to take care of her and the baby now.
"There's nothing more important to me," he says.
Back at her apartment, they crack open a bottle of sparkling fruit juice and call his mom in Ohio to tell her as well. She and his father are still married, but Vincent has taken to spending all his time in Bali with the nubile locals. His mother doesn't express any judgments on their lack of a relationship or even ask about Rachel. She promises to pay them a visit once the baby comes, but Jesse knows better than to hold her to it.
His official statement to the press concerning his move to New York and the baby's existence is being released to People magazine tomorrow. Rachel thinks that despite what she told her dads and his mom, now is the time to make an official decision as to what they are to each other.
She loses her courage until he's already got her pants off and he lifts her up to take her to the bedroom. That's when something inside her screams at her to stop so they can have this conversation. When she tells him that they need to talk, he puts her down and moves to the other side of the room. He knows that he won't be able to talk if she is within arm's reach of him.
They quickly lay out the facts on the table: they are both committed to the baby and to raising it together. Neither of them is seeing anyone else and he promises he won't while she is pregnant, but both of them think it's for the best that they don't label their relationship or attempt to start anything too serious now. The conversation doesn't really satisfy either of them and it doesn't change very much, but Rachel realizes that, on some implicit level, she trusts him, and that's okay for now.
They end up finishing what they started and only when she wakes up alone in her bed does she realize how much she wants him there. He's hasn't gone very far, only to make her breakfast, and she silently hates that he's only staying the weekend. He has appointments to look at apartments all afternoon.
They have another doctor's appointment that morning. She's really excited because she has finally gotten him to agree that they should find out the sex of the baby. He holds her hand throughout the whole thing, and there are tears in his eyes when the doctor tells them that they are having a girl.
She's sobbing and smiling at the same time, and he whispers that their daughter is going to be just as beautiful as her mother is. She kisses him right there in front of the doctor and the ultrasound tech, and she can't remember for the life of her why they are not a couple.
She goes back to her apartment without him and she's never felt more alone, especially since she's still beaming from the joyous news. He calls her around 6pm, just as she was about to call her dads. He mentions that he thinks that he's found his apartment and he wants to show it to her.
She meets him on a busy street downtown that's not too far from her place. He shows her the apartment: a two-bedroom loft style, with wood floors and built in bookshelves. He's giving her the tour of the living room when he mentions the baby's room and having to buy two of everything, and that's when all hell breaks loose.
She starts bawling. She's always known that he intended to get his own apartment, but somehow that had never equated in her head to the baby having a room in it, a room in which she would spend nights with Jesse; a room in which she would spend nights away from Rachel. That reality is unbearable. She always thought that when she did have children, she would be happily married and there would be no talk of spending nights apart. The thought of splitting custody of her child is something she's not ready to do.
She walks out of the apartment without a word to him and takes a cab back to her place. He shows up about half an hour later and lets himself in. He knocks on her door, and tries to open it, but she's locked it, refusing to talk to him or acknowledge his presence.
When she finally emerges from her room the next morning, she is starving and wants to make a peace offering by taking him out to breakfast so they can talk. She checks the guest bedroom, the room that will become her daughter's bedroom, and only bedroom she hopes, but he's not there.
She has no idea where he went last night; or who he was with.
Instead of going out for breakfast, she makes herself some cereal and waffles and parks herself on the couch. The news of Jesse's move to New York and their baby is on every news channel. Some of them mention her by name or call her a Broadway star, but none of them seem to imply that they are anything but a happy couple expecting a baby. If only they knew, she thinks, as tears stream down her face.
He comes home around midday and he looks unaffected by last night. She wishes she could say the same. He takes in her tears and tells her that she needs to come with him. He wants to show her another apartment. She's livid. She can't, she tells him. Maybe she's being overly emotional and hormonal, but he can't expect her to look at more places where he expects her daughter to be separated from her. They should have a conversation about this first.
He's adamant, tells her that he thinks that she will like this one, all but drags her outside. Apparently, this apartment is within walking distance of hers but she complains all the way there because she's just in sweats and a tank top, not how she usually lets people see her after noon. They get to a street that she's always loved walking down, and he leads her to the top floor of a beautiful building. When she gets inside, she realizes that its one of those gorgeous New York apartments that she always makes fun of because of their splendor (New Yorkers are proud of their small studios and sardine cans) but that she's always secretly coveted.
The size and appeal of the apartment temporarily distract her until he says he wants to show her the second bedroom. She can feel the tears coming and she tries to resist. When he does open the door, she sees another master suite, the same size as the one that would be his room, and she tells him she's confused.
He explains to her that this apartment used to be two separate two-bedroom apartments and the landlord converted them into one apartment with three bedrooms and a study. They would each have their own bedroom and the baby would have the one that was pretty much in the middle. He would set up the study as his office, which she was welcome to share.
He finishes the tour with the living room, large kitchen and the small but comfy dining room and by the end, she's already picturing where her furniture would go. She can see herself nursing in the window seat in the living room, looking out onto the trees of Central Park, while he cooks dinner and talks to her from the kitchen.
"What do you think, Rach?" he asks, sounding, dare she say it, nervous. She's also aware that the last time he called her Rach was the night before he had broken her heart.
"I want it," she says.
He smiles, grabs her hand and squeezes it. "It's already ours."
She's sure that they are a multitude of logistics to be worked out. There is no way that she's letting him pay for the whole thing, although she is sure that he makes much much more than she does and that this apartment has a million dollar price tag. There are other things too: she now has to rent or sell her apartment and he's also opened up the Pandora's box of them living together. Even so, she's glad that he took it off the market, that even without her consent, he had made this decision for the two of them. For the three of them, actually.
They walk into the baby's room and he hugs her from behind, puts his hands on her barely there stomach and welcomes their daughter to her room. They are swaying back and forth to some silent rhythm that they both seem to hear, and she turns in his arms, rests her head against his chest. She's feeling so many emotions, but the one thing she's sure of is that she has already fallen for him again.
This anxiety about having separate apartments and separate lives is about the baby, yes, but it's also about him. Now that she has him back in her life, she doesn't want to let him go. She's terrified that he doesn't feel the same way.
She decides to tell him through song, thinking that she can blame it on nostalgia if he doesn't get what she's trying to say. She realizes that what she's always thought of as their song from that fateful day at the music store makes so much more sense for them now.
I've been alone with you inside my mind
And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times
I sometimes see you pass outside my door
Hello, is it me you're looking for?
She starts them off and she holds her breath when she gets to the part that he's supposed to join in. He doesn't disappoint her. I long to see the sunlight in your hair 'Cause I wonder where you are
I can see it in your eyes
I can see it in your smile
You're all I've ever wanted, (and) my arms are open wide
'Cause you know just what to say
And you know just what to do
And I want to tell you so much, I love you ...
And tell you time and time again how much I care
Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow
Hello, I've just got to let you know
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely, or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying, I love you ...
He kisses her forehead. "We can't afford to screw this up."
"I know," she says gently, running a hand through his hair. "We won't."
They take it slow, a true courtship, with dates and flowers and movie nights, making out on the couch like they are teenagers again.
The Victorian pace appeals to the drama queen in them both, but she's already pregnant and one night the teasing gets to be too much and she begs him to touch her. The spell is broken, and they practically share a bedroom after that, but neither one of them complains.
She's seven months along when he does the thing that makes it an absolute that she's going to spend the rest of her life with him.
She's always done her toenails herself, not trusting cheap pedicure shops and the possibility of infection, but she literally can't see her feet any more. She's always thought that was an exaggeration for television sitcoms and chick flicks, but its true. She's attempting to bend in any way that will allow her reach her toes but she gives up with a loud groan, attempting to soothe her daughter who seems to be kicking in protest of Rachel's attempts to contort her body.
He walks into the room, eating an apple. He's been writing all day and she's been trying not to disturb him, doing things to keep herself busy. They've been spending a lot of time together since neither of them really has any place to be, and while they usually are running errands, watching television, prepping the baby's room or just lounging in bed, he had gotten up early this morning and retreated to the study, joining her only for a quick lunch and a Friends re-run.
He sees all her pedicure equipment spread out around her and deduces what has happened from her position on the floor. He gives her a hand to help her up, but once she's up, he gently pushes her back so that she's sitting on the couch instead of in front of it. He sits cross-legged in front of her and tells her that if she gives him instructions, he'll do her toes for her.
He also warns her, jokingly, that if she says anything to anyone about this, he'll deny it for the rest of his life. She blames her hormones for the tears that spring to her eyes, because she's never felt so purely loved by anyone, and she doesn't ever want to let the feeling go.
He's surprisingly good at it, and she teases him that she might have to make him her go-to guy for pedicures. After he's done, he massages her sensitive feet for her, and she's embarrassed by the moans that escape her mouth. Her pedicure ends with him on his knees and her hands in his hair, and in so many respects it's the best service that she's ever been given.
She runs into her ex-boyfriend one night while she's out having dinner with her girlfriends and her first instinct, weirdly, is to attempt to hide her blatantly evident belly. He's heard the news of course, Jesse's celebrity means that they've been fodder for the tabloids, but she hasn't seen him since the night that she told him to leave. It seems so long ago, even though it's only been about a year.
He calls her a bitch, a whore and a liar and she can tell that he's just rehashing a conversation he's had with other people, about just how much she screwed him over. She just stands there and takes it, knowing that 'we wouldn't have made it anyway' won't do anything to placate him. Her girlfriends all attempt to stand up for her, point out that she's pregnant, but not even their own taunts can take away the hurt of his words.
She tells her friends that she's going home, because after all that, she just wants a bath and her bed. Jesse sees her face and knows that something is wrong. She tells him the short version, and then, in the same breath, asks him to take a vacation with her before the baby comes.
"A baby-moon," she explains, with a laugh. It's a term that they've both read in the parenting books, but never paid much attention to.
"We haven't even had an actual honeymoon yet," he says. She shrugs one shoulder, "Does it matter?"
Even though she wants to go back to Mexico, she can't fly in her advanced state of pregnancy, so they settle on Long Island. Even though they are technically on vacation, in a different location intended to brighten and better their days, they are in the same state of glee that they usually have at home, in their day-to-day relationship. He mentions this to her as he crawls towards her on the bed, and she holds his face in her hands, tells him that she loves him more than she ever thought possible, thanks him for the life he's given her, both literally and figuratively.
Their daughter, who they've decided to name Zoe Caroline, starts to move when she speaks, and they can make out her feet and her hands as she pushes against the taut skin of Rachel's tummy.
"It was always supposed to be you," he says while caressing her belly. "That week in Mexico, then when you called to tell me you were pregnant, it just felt right, like I'd been waiting for you."
"Me too," she replies, even though she knows that her statement doesn't make perfect sense.
He knows and she knows that it doesn't need to.