by K. C. Enders
She’s right. She’s totally right, but I don’t even know if Jack told Jake’s dad that we were seeing each other. I asked him not to, to keep things quiet, and I just assumed he would. Why, if this was just a hookup while he was on leave, would Jack have told anyone?
“I don’t know. I can’t think about that right now. I need to process this. Go home and figure out what to do. Are you staying with Gavin tonight, G?”
“I don’t have to. Do you want me to come home?”
I shake my head. “No, you’re good. Spend time licking your man’s tattoos. I’m going to bed early anyway, I apparently am growing a couple of humans.” Jesus, that sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud. “Thanks, y’all. I, um … I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I hug Lis and lean over the bar for Hollywood cheek kisses with Gracyn. “Love you.”
I slide off the barstool and safely tuck the stack of pictures into my bag. As I toss a wave over my shoulder, the exhaustion hits. I drag my ass home, and as soon as I can, I crawl under the covers.
I click on the television and flip through the channels before turning it off again. There is no joy in reality TV, cooking shows, or watching people hunt for their dream homes. And I absolutely can’t watch the news. Past attempts had me hyperventilating at the slightest mention of American troops.
Instead, I pull out my journal and smooth it across my bended knees. I hope that Jack will want to experience this pregnancy with me, but for now, this is the best I can do.
Flipping the creamy red leather cover open, I find the next blank page and grab a colored pen—dark purple for today’s entry. Nothing like color-coding my feelings.
I wasn’t just a little bit wrong. Darlin’, I was way wrong. Went to the doctor today because Lis had insisted, and really, it was time. Hell, I wasn’t even fooling myself anymore. And surprise, surprise, I’m pregnant. Yeah, that’s on me.
Itty-bitty condoms were no use with your big, stupid dick, but I’m telling you, Jack, I sure as shit didn’t see this coming. Twins, friend. Twins. Did they hit you with radiation or something to give you super sperm? Is that a government secret? Super-soldier stuff? You’re my very own Captain America.
Lis thinks I should try to reach you through Chloe, but … I don’t know … it feels wrong. Like a breach of trust or something.
I have pictures, Jack. Two little alien babies. The doctor marked them Baby A and Baby B. Since I’ve been calling the possibility of one Oops, I’m just going to go ahead and bless the extra with the name Uh-Oh. Next visit, they should be able to tell me whether they are pink or blue.
Sweet baby Jesus, we’re having twins.
Chapter 23
Kate
I’M DOING THINGS OUT of order, and that bugs the shit out of me. But I guess I’ve done this whole thing backward, and Mrs. Altman, my school’s principal, was nothing but supportive when I told her what was going on. I mean, I did skate around plenty of the finer details, but those stories really are best kept quiet, shared only with my closest friends, if at all. Poor Lis would probably be horrified if she heard about trying to get that busted condom off of Jack. No, that’s probably a story not to tell.
“What’s the news? It feels like it’s been forever since we chatted. You doing okay?” Jenny asks as I shut Mrs. Altman’s office door behind me.
Suddenly, I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, and I slump into the plush office chair usually reserved for the moms who volunteer in the front office. “It has been a while, more than a minute.” I pause, knowing I’ll confide at least a little bit in Jenny. The question is, how much do I tell her?
She’s one of the few people in my life who has actually met Jack. And, because she’s got her finger on the pulse of everything that happens in this school, she also knows that he’s tied to Jake and his family.
“As far as news is concerned—”
“I’m so sorry, Kate. I heard about that nice man who owned the pub you and your friends hang out at.” Jenny pats my knee, continuing, “My aunt Louise and her friends go there after they do their thing at the community center—some computer class or tai chi or something. For a while, I thought one of the ladies might have had a thing for the owner, but turns out, they all had a bit of a crush on one of the bartenders.”
I chuckle, thinking on all the ladies, young and not, who have had a crush on that bartender because, really, it can only be one to whom she’s referring. “Mmm, Finn has quite the following, but, yeah, Francie was a shock. One of many in the past month or so.”
Jenny pushes back from her desk and cocks her head, brows drawn together as she waits for me to continue.
“I just told Mrs. Altman, so it’s, um, not really a secret anymore, but …”
“Oh, Kate, you’re not leaving us, are you?” she asks, palm pressed to her chest.
There’s time to make that decision, so I don’t really have an answer for her question. “I don’t think so. But …” I pause, feeling all kinds of self-conscious once again. “Well, I’m, uh … pregnant,” I say quietly, bracing for her reaction.
And bless her, Jenny shows no shock, no judgment. Nothing other than a genuinely excited smile lights up her features. “Oh, sweet girl. Well, that is exciting news. Maybe a bit unexpected?” she asks.
“Yeah, it is. For such a planner, I didn’t really see this coming.”
“A baby is wonderful. You’ll do great, I’m sure. When are you due? Do I know the lucky man?”
And isn’t that the million-dollar question?
I heave out a sigh and flop back into the chair, poking lightly at my pooch. “Actually, it’s twins, double trouble, so early September but probably more likely to be August. It’s going to be a big, hot summer.” I huff out a laugh. “Bathing suit season might just be a no-go for me this year.”
“Didn’t answer my other question.” Jenny side-eyes me, eyebrows raised. If she tilted her chin down just a little bit, she’d have my mama’s look down to a T.
“You might have met him,” I tell her, biting at the inside of my cheek. “It’s Jack, little Jake Triplett’s uncle. But, Jenny, I have no way of reaching him. I don’t think Jake’s mom knows we were seeing each other, so that would really be oversteppin’ the whole parent-teacher relationship. God, imagine me asking her to let Jack know that I’m knocked up. I just can’t.”
She nods because, really, that conversation would be awkward as fuck. “He’s coming back here though, right? You’re going to see each other when he gets back home again?”
I push myself up out of the chair and round the counter that acts as her command post. “I don’t know. We didn’t really make plans. Sure as hell didn’t expect to have to see each other. So, I’ve got to be ready to do this parenting thing on my own. Even if he does show up back here, this”—I sweep my hands up and down myself—“might not be what he wants. You know what I mean?”
Jenny purses her lips, sympathy written all over her face.
I smile weakly making my way to the door leading out to the hallway. “I’ve gotta get to class now. See you later, gator.”
***
Gracyn: McBride’s tonight. Dinner and I’ll buy you a Shirley Temple.
Me: Sweet of you to offer. I’m tired though.
Gracyn: You’re always tired. We have plans to make, things to discuss.
I am tired all the time. Apparently, growing multiple humans takes a lot out of a person. Who knew? My lesson plans for the rest of the month are done, and the framework for what we need to do through the end of the school year is in place. I really have no reason to use work as an excuse not to go.
Gracyn: Stop running through your to-do list, looking for a reason to just go home, and come meet us. Please?
Gracyn: Chicken tenders with hot sauce and extra ranch …
Gracyn: You know how the babies feel about hot sauce.
Me: Fine.
Watery late afternoon sun filters through the blinds, casting shadows across the pages of my journal. It seem
s like things are moving superfast now that my pregnancy is out in the open and everyone knows. Everyone, except the man who should. I stare at the page, not quite halfway through the book, where my words hang, mid-thought. For someone who never wanted to mar the inside of a pristine journal so full of promise, I have poured my heart out over these pages. Thoughts and feelings. And my fears, so damn many fears. If Jack comes back and wants the play-by-play of the months he was gone, I’ve got them. If he decides not to be part of our lives, then my babies will at the very least have a glimpse into who their father was and why I found myself falling for him.
How did that even happen? Do I even know him well enough to have fallen?
Suddenly annoyed with myself and my melancholy thoughts, I close the leather book and tuck it into my tote, locking my classroom as I go.
***
“SO, WHAT ARE WE discussing and planning?” I ask, hanging my tote from the hook underneath the bar at McBride’s. “And shouldn’t my food be waiting for me already? These kids are demanding little boogers,” I tease, hoisting myself into the seat next to Gracyn.
She’s set up at the corner of the bar. A notebook in front of her, laptop open as she scrolls through Pinterest.
Kieran sets a coaster on the scarred wooden surface in front of me and reaches for a shot glass and well tequila, not saying a word. He was Francie’s last hired McBride’s boy, and none of us can quite figure him out. He’s the least talkative bartender, and he never really seems to be fully aware of what’s going on around him.
“Shit, Kieran, stop with that. She’s pregnant,” Gracyn says, putting her hand over the shot glasses.
He looks up, wild blond curls tumbling into his eyes as his gaze bounces back and forth between the two of us. “Is she? So, the whiskey then?”
I can’t help but laugh at his cluelessness. “No, just soda water and a couple of orange slices, thanks.”
He shrugs and makes my drink before walking to the other end of the bar, his attention fully focused on his phone.
“I’m not sure I want to eat here if he’s the one doing the cooking,” I whisper, leaning into Gracyn.
“No shit.” She angles her laptop toward me. “You look through this, and I’ll go make us some food. Lis and Addie should be here in a little bit.” She hops off her barstool, bussing tables as she makes her way to the kitchen.
Images of baby shower themes fill the screen of her computer, her Pinterest board ranging from extravagant Paris and Eiffel Tower–themed parties to sweet and simple. She even pinned an over-the-top Army theme that looks more like the birthday party of any little boy’s dreams.
“She’s got you picking your party decor?” Addie asks, perching on the seat just around the bar’s corner. Her green hair, a St. Patrick’s Day tradition since she and Finn started dating, is tied back from her face, all 1940s pinup style, purple cat-eye glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
“Apparently. How are you doing?”
I lean over to greet her before remembering she’s not a hugger. She gives me a tight smile, lips quirked up in an uncomfortable smirk.
“Sorry, I forgot,” I offer.
“You’re fine.” Her eyes drop to my belly and then dart back up to mine. “What was that?”
“You can see it?” I ask, my fingers drawing lazy circles over where I felt a kick and a push.
Addie pulls her glasses off, setting them on the bar. “I thought I saw something, but … holy shit,” she exclaims, her mouth hanging open in surprise.
This is kind of new, like the next stage of an adventure. And Addie—who is normally so reserved, so closed off—has her fingers twitching, almost reaching toward the side of my belly.
“Wanna see if you can feel ’em?” I press in where somebody just pushed out to see if it’ll happen again.
Casting off her reserve, Addie scoots closer and tentatively places her small hand near my bump. I pull her in, and seconds later, we’re both rewarded with a strong thump, followed by a skittering push.
Addie lifts her head and takes her hand away. “That’s just crazy kinds of weird,” she says, sliding back into her seat.
“Let me feel.” Gracyn comes dancing across the room, hands out, fingers wiggling.
Lis comes in through the back door of the pub, baskets of food clutched in her hands and balanced precariously along her arm. “They’re moving?” she asks, hastily dropping the plastic baskets to the bartop.
And, suddenly, hands are all over me, pushing, pressing. Promises and bribes whispered, begging for just one feel.
“Come on, babies. Auntie G will buy you all the pretty pink things that your mama says no to. A pony. The biggest dollhouse ever,” Gracyn cajoles.
“No to the pony unless you keep that at your house. Y’all have room for it out there,” I say, trying to mimic my mother’s mom look. “But I happen to think there’s nothing more handsome than men who wear pink.”
Don’t I know how to throw a hush over a room? I have had a lot of practice with it lately, but I swear, the entire pub goes silent, not just our little group of belly-gropers.
“Did you say men?”
“You’re having boys?” Lis and Gracyn ask simultaneously. Eyes wide and bright.
A laugh rips from me as these two crazy girls pull money from their pockets and toss five-dollar bills at Addie.
“Y’all bet on my babies’ sex?” I ask, pushing at whichever baby is on my right, shifting him into a better spot. “Assholes.” I sit up straight, grabbing for the basket piled highest with food. I load hot sauce and ranch on a piece of chicken because, when my boys decide they’re hungry, they mean it.
Gracyn spins her laptop to face her and deletes more than half of the pictures she had pinned. “That narrows down our party options,” she mutters. “How are we decorating our nursery? All kinds of blue, whales and sailboats—how cute would that be?” She taps away at the keyboard, probably making a new board for nurseries.
“Slow your roll, G. We’ve got time.” I push back, needing another drink and to visit the restroom, all at the same time. Pregnancy really is weird.
Lis looks up from her phone where she’s been texting almost nonstop since tossing her money across the bar at Addie. “You think that, but it’s going to go fast. Those boys’ll be here before you know it.”
Chapter 24
Kate
SPRING CONFERENCES ARE ANOTHER round of baring my soul and putting myself out there for the world. But the judgment and questions I expected are nowhere to be found. Every single parent of my students is nothing but supportive and genuinely excited for me. More than a few voice concerns that I’ll be done with teaching and choose to stay at home with my boys. But the conference I’m most worried about is with Chloe Triplett.
Of course, she walks in, wearing a bright smile and carrying a blue gift bag. “Hey, I hear we have some exciting news,” she trills. “Amelia’s mom called me last night and told me you’re having twin boys. I hope that’s all right.”
“Absolutely, we do. Well, I’m excited at the very least.” I smile tentatively because this is usually the make-or-break moment with the parents. Although, with the way Chloe is practically pulling books and goodies out of her gift bag, I think we’ll be okay.
“Look at you! God, I’d hoped when Tripp was home over Christmas …” She pauses, letting her wish go unsaid. “But we’ve got time. He’ll be home this summer, and then maybe Jake’ll get a sibling. He’s been begging for one, but I don’t think he gets that he won’t be the main man then.”
Guilt bites at my heart. She’s married, and she was trying, wanting to get pregnant while her husband was home, but it didn’t happen. I had a couple of wild nights of sex with a man I hardly knew, and I’ve got more than I can handle. Maybe.
I shove my thoughts away and reach across, squeezing Chloe’s hand. “He’ll make a great big brother.”
“He will, right? Such a little helper. Oh, do the kids know? Jake hasn’t said anything to me,
and he’s usually all over anything that has to do with your happenings.”
“Oh my word, no. I wanted to make sure all the parents were informed first and answer any questions. Make sure that we’re all on the same page. So, if there is anything you want to ask me, now’s the time.” My words tumble from my mouth just as they have for every other conference I’ve had with the parents of my students.
And, when Chloe purses her lips and looks up to the left, I brace myself.
She starts and stops her inquiry, her mouth doing the fish thing over and over again. Finally, Chloe asks, “Do I … is it …” She laughs and shakes her head before continuing, “You’ll let me know if you need anything, right? Help in the classroom, anything?”
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that that’s not what she wanted to ask. I think the same thing has happened in more than half of my meetings, and I get it. Everyone loves a bit of gossip, information that’s pointless but a tad bit illicit. But, when it’s Chloe—someone with close ties to Jack—hinting at asking who the baby daddy is, it feels different. Like I’m straddling the line of lying by omission.
Lis’s suggestion of getting a message to Jack through Chloe rattles around the edge of my mind as Chloe and I discuss Jake and his classroom performance. That little boy is so ready for advancement to first grade.
Should I ask her about Jack? Ask her to have him contact me when or if he can? It would be wrong. I know in my heart that it would be wrong to ask her to relay a message like this.
I’m stuck though. If she tells her husband and he gossips to Jack, the results could be disastrous. He could think I lied to him at Christmas about being in the clear. He could think I’m somehow trying to trap him. He could just not give a shit, and that might be the hardest option for me to consider. That he just wouldn’t care.
“So, don’t say anything to Jake, but there’s a chance his dad will be able to make it to kindergarten graduation,” Chloe shares.