Tracing the Stars

by Amanda Richardson

  I sigh and take her hand. “I never said it would be easy. But I know you. I won’t let you give up your dream. It won’t happen. If you need me to pay for daycare, I will. If you need my connections, I’ll give them to you. Whatever you want to do, I will help you.”

  She looks up at me through her wet lashes. “You would do that?”

  I pull her out of the office, hating how good her hand feels in mine. “I would. Now, let’s go tell my best friend that you’re having his baby.”

  Even as the words tumble out, I detest the sound of his baby.

  S I X T E E N

  Emilia

  I SAY GOODBYE to Leo as I walk into my room and shut the door. He offered to be in the room with me while I called Jake, but I don’t think I could take being in such close proximity to him any longer. His scent—overwhelming, and I now knew why—was too much. The way he forced me to eat the protein bar. The way his face twisted when he saw the baby. The way he believes in me. The way his words are beginning to wrap around my heart and squeeze it tightly.

  It’s too much.

  I owe it to myself—and to this baby—to try and make it work with Jake.

  No matter how much the thought pains me.

  I didn’t want Jake. I wanted the tall, lanky man who’d somehow become my best friend and confidant. My supervisor and guardian and paramour, all in one.

  Pulling my laptop into my lap, I take a deep breath and open it. Jake is online, and though we haven’t spoken in weeks, I click the ‘call’ button. It rings seven times before he picks up.

  “Well, well, well,” he purrs on the other end. My stomach flops. He’s very handsome—even though I don’t have any feelings for him, knowing I’m having his child endears him to me in a way I didn’t expect. “Looks like you couldn’t stay away after all,” he finishes, grinning.

  I smile. “How are you?”

  He nods. “Good. Busy with work. How’s life on the South Pole?”

  “Cold,” I confess, and he laughs.

  “So, what’s up Emilia? Feeling restless down there? Need a little heat in your life? You know I’d be happy to oblige,” he says, his voice low and gravely.

  Oh, god.

  Was he ready to be a father? Could I depend on him to help me with the upbringing and maintenance of this little being? Is he the type of man I want as a part of my child’s life? I suppose I don’t have a choice. He is the father, whether I like it or not.

  “The night we spent together, several weeks back, something must have gone wrong…” I start, watching his reaction. He narrows his eyes.

  “What do you mean?” The coldness in his voice startles me.

  “I went to the doctor today, and he confirmed my suspicions. I’m pregnant, Jake.”

  His mouth drops open, but he doesn’t say anything. Shock. He’s in shock. I continue talking because my heart is beating a thousand miles an hour, and I don’t know what else to do.

  “I’m thirteen weeks along. I wanted you to know. After thinking things through, I’ve decided to keep it. You can have as much or as little participation as you want. The choice is up to you.”

  My pulse throbs in my neck as he sighs and shakes his head. “How do I know it’s mine?”

  What?!

  “Trust me, it’s yours,” I growl, offended.

  “Yes, I know you think it’s mine. But do you have proof?”

  I gawk at his video feed on the screen. “Well, seeing as you’re the only person I’ve slept with since 2014, and the only person since that night, I’m going to go with yes,” I hiss. I try not to be offended by his accusation. He’s just surprised. I handed him a bombshell. He needs time to get used to the idea.

  He blows out a loud breath of air. “Wow. Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “This is a bit surprising, considering we used a condom. I never go without one.”

  I shrug, feeling my lip quiver. “There must’ve been a… malfunction.”

  He covers his face with his hands. “I’m not ready to be a father, Emilia,” he says quietly through his fingers. My heart sinks. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  I nod, trying to will the tears to stay in my eyes. “I understand.”

  “Do you need money?” he asks quickly, with wide eyes.

  I shake my head. “No. I’m okay.” I have Leo.

  He watches me for a beat. “I’m sorry. I know that probably wasn’t what you were expecting.”

  I give him a timid smile. “You’re just being honest, and I appreciate that.” I sigh and look down at my shaking hands. “Do you want me to keep you updated on everything?”

  He thinks for a minute. It’s the longest minute of my life. “No,” he says softly. “It’ll be too weird. Don’t you think?”

  Swallowing, I nod. “Of course.”

  He sighs. “I’m sorry, Emilia. I just know myself, and that kid deserves better.”

  All I hear is, I’m not ready to be tethered to you for eighteen years. “I understand.”

  “I should go,” he says quickly. “If you need any financial help in the future, I’d be happy to shell out.”

  Shell out. Like this is some kind of business transaction.

  “Okay. Bye, Jake.” I wipe the tears off of my face.

  He ends the call immediately, and I stand, not really sure of where I’m headed until I’m knocking on Leo’s door. He opens it almost immediately, and I suppose my face gives everything away because he pulls me into a gentle hug.

  “Come inside,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and guiding me into his apartment. I feel the sobs roll through me as I crumple onto the couch and pull my knees into my chest. “What happened?” he asks.

  I look up at him through my tears. His nostrils are flared, and his face is pinched in worry. The green and blue flannel bring out his cat eyes.

  “He doesn’t want anything to do with the baby,” I say calmly. “I wasn’t expecting a marriage proposal, but it would be nice for this baby to know his father. I wasn’t expecting money. I just wanted him to want a relationship with this baby, in any capacity he was comfortable with. I guess that’s too much to ask.”

  Leo lets out a string of curses under his breath. “We’ll see about that,” he hisses, walking over to the phone mounted on his kitchen wall. He jabs a few numbers and puts the receiver up to his ear. He watches me with undiluted fury and several seconds later, slams the phone into its holder. “Bastard,” he mutters. “I fucking love the guy, but right now I could murder him.”

  “It’s okay. It’s probably better this way. Maybe he’ll come around in the future,” I add, my voice weak. If he does, I don’t know that I’d forgive him.

  “Emilia,” Leo murmurs, coming to sit down on the couch with me. “I’ll be there for you. Jake or no Jake, you have someone to help you.”

  I smile and wipe the tears off of my face. “I know that.”

  “He has no fucking clue what he’s missing out on,” Leo says, reaching out and wiping a tear from my cheek. “My god, he’s dumber than I thought,” he adds, staring at my lips as I lick them. The rejection I felt at Jake’s words disappear, and they’re replaced with a burning, fiery need. I look up into his eyes, and his pupils darken. “I’ll be there for this kid. Okay?”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  He reaches out for my hand and laces his fingers with mine. “Let’s go get some dinner.”

  “And ice cream,” I retort.

  He just laughs. “I’ll make sure you get all the ice cream you need.”

  He helps me up. I smile and lean into him as and guides us to the refectory, an arm casually thrown around my shoulders.

  He has no idea how much I needed to hear that.

  S E V E N T E E N

  Emilia

  I KNEW THE day would eventually come: the day I ran out of lasagna.

  The ins and outs of my days here are starting to blend together—wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast, head to the lab, avoid being left alone with Leo for too long, eat lunch, b
ack to the lab, gym, eat dinner, go back to my room to relax. I’m not ashamed to admit that I eat Leo’s lasagna most nights, except for the nights he discretely hands me lentil soup, protein bars, and yogurt. But it’s the lasagna that really hits the spot. This baby loves carbs, so I indulge whenever I get the change.

  I decided not to find out the gender at my last appointment. I liked the idea of a surprise. I’m due October 25th, exactly three months after I get home. Everything looks healthy and normal, and I continue to have little to no symptoms. I’m not even showing all that much, considering I’m twenty-one weeks tomorrow, which is just over halfway. I’m not entirely convinced there’s a baby the length of a carrot in there—only when Dr. Yang pulls up the ultrasound does it feel real. My voracious hunger seems to be the only symptom.

  So when I turn up in the kitchen one night about five weeks before the end of winter, I’m surprised to find only one more serving of lasagna. I begrudgingly take it, savoring every last bite in silence as Gretchen and Damien make out next to me. I’ve begun ignoring them at dinner. It’s getting ridiculous, and since my pregnancy hormones are completely out of control, the constant reminder of what I’m not getting doesn’t help. Luckily, Leo saves the day and comes to sit down next to me, casting an annoyed glance at the happy couple.

  At least I’m not the only one frustrated with our situation.

  “Are you honestly still enjoying the lasagna? Or are you just trying to humor me?” Leo asks, his smile broad and intoxicating. I take in his outfit—the same outfit from earlier in the lab. A white button-up shirt, jeans, boots. He’s growing out his beard, and though he looks tired and pale like the rest of us, he still looks really fucking good.

  Stupid hormones.

  He reaches his fork out to take a bite of my lasagna, and I move my plate out of his reach defensively.

  “Excuse me, this is mine,” I say, smiling. He chuckles and reaches out for my hand, the one holding my fork and a tantalizing piece of lasagna. He’s strong—so much stronger than me—and moves my fork into his mouth. “Leo!” I screech, offended. “Gross!” I throw the fork down and begin to stand up to get another fork.

  “Oh please,” he says his voice low. “It’s not like we haven’t swapped saliva before,” he adds, his voice lower. I glare up at him and his eyes darken.

  I sit up straighter and ignore his comment. If I think about our kiss right now, bad things might happen. “Do you know how many germs are inside of a person’s mouth? And, this just so happens to be the last piece of lasagna,” I whine. “I have no idea what I’m going to eat from now on.”

  Leo laughs brazenly. “It was supposed to last you all winter, Emilia.”

  My cheeks redden. “Yes, well, it was delicious. The best part of my day sometimes.”

  “I’m flattered,” he says, the grin on his smug face growing wider and wider. “And that’s just my cooking.”

  My mouth drops open. At the exact same time, Gretchen and Damien decide to join our conversation.

  “You should make her more food, Leo,” Gretchen says, barely touching her chicken. “She’s carrying your best friend’s baby, after all.” She’s watching him defiantly. In fact, she always looks at him as if she’s trying to secretly convey something to him. I love and hate her for it.

  “Yeah, I guess I could,” he says, laughing. He turns to me. “Want to help me?”

  I sputter out my reply. “I—I can’t. I can’t cook. At least not very well.” My cheeks grow redder. It’s true. Back home, I rely on takeout or my mom or sister’s cooking. I can manage things like oatmeal and mac and cheese, but that’s about as far as my culinary chops extend. One time, I made a delicious pasta with red sauce. It took me three hours to get the sauce right. But my skills end there.

  “I’ll teach you,” Leo offers.

  “Fine,” I agree, glancing sullenly at Gretchen. She meets my gaze with a triumphant smile.

  “Tonight. Meet me in the kitchen after dinner. Nine p.m. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves. I’ll sweet talk the chefs again.”

  “I can help if you want,” Damien offers, and I see Gretchen not-so-subtly nudge him in the ribs.

  “We’ll be busy,” she says sweetly.

  After Leo and I make final plans, I finish the rest of the lasagna and excuse myself. I look like a wreck after a long day at the lab—my hair is ratty and my blouse is wrinkled. I have about an hour of downtime until I’m supposed to meet Leo, and I spend the majority of that hour fixing my hair, changing into a casual outfit of leggings, a t-shirt, and slip-on sneakers. It may be minus-ninety degrees out right now, but the seventy-two degrees of the station is a tad too hot for me now that I’m well into my second trimester. I pull my long hair up into a loose ponytail, and I spend an unacceptable amount of time scrutinizing my appearance. Standing to the side, I study my stomach. Times like right now, after a full meal, there’s a small bump, but you’d never guess I was four-and-a-half months pregnant. I’m still wearing my jeans every day, though they’re starting to feel extremely snug. With jittery hands, I push my stomach out ever so slightly. It’s an insane feeling, knowing that I’m growing a person in there.

  My mother and Ana are ecstatic. When I told them, they both jumped up and down, to my surprise. I was expecting trepidation, considering I was raised by a single mother. But I reiterated the fact that I wanted to continue to work, and that this wasn’t going to deter my career. My mother even promised she’d talk to the astronomy department at Stanford. It couldn’t hurt. And, after hours of research, I realized most institutions had daycare services, so even when I do continue to work, it will be easy to do both.

  I could do this.

  I could do this.

  I could do this.

  I sigh and shake my hands out, wondering why my nerves are in high gear.

  Why am I so anxious? I see Leo every day. We’ve worked side by side for the last four months and three weeks, quelling our desire and putting on a front for everyone around us. Nathan asked me out, and I didn’t know what to say, so after a few seconds, I declined. Even if I wanted to start a relationship with someone—which I definitely didn’t—it wouldn’t be him. Leo is the only person occupying my thoughts. And lately, he’s been nicer. In the lab, he brings things to me instead of the other way around. He kindly helps me with the telescope, and he even praised me on more than one occasion. I know him better now, and I can predict his moods, usually based on his blood sugar. We’re friends in every sense of the word, which is why tonight will be fine.

  Tonight will be normal. Because we only have just over one month left, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about my future with him. Because in one month, perhaps after we got back to our real lives, and Leo was no longer my supervisor…

  I shake my head and leave my room. I can’t think of that right now. I have one month left, and I’m going to make it the best month ever.

  *

  Leo is already in the kitchen when I walk in, and at first he doesn’t notice me. I watch him as he walks from the industrial-sized freezer to the pantry, gathering spices and herbs. He’s wearing a fresh pair of jeans, Vans, and a black t-shirt. I stand there for a few seconds longer, not wanting to disturb him as he hums and shakes his hips in the most adorable way.

  Before I fully enter the kitchen, his eyes catch mine and crinkle into a smile.

  “There you are. Get in here.” His words wash over me and warm me, but I ignore it. There’s no use in dwelling on us, because it’s not going to happen. I hear a faint melody coming from the stereo near the freezer, an unfamiliar melody playing. “So before we can start, you have to decide what you want to eat for the next month. Ideally, something with protein.” He leans against the giant refrigerator and smiles at me as he crosses his arms. “And don’t you dare say lasagna.”

  I laugh and shrug, trying not to stare at the way his hands push up his biceps. “I like pasta?”

  Leo shakes his head. “Pasta doesn’t freeze well.”
<
br />   I lean against the metal counter and place my hand on my chin. “Hmm… risotto?”

  His face lights up and he pushes off of the metal surface. “Risotto it is. Let me just make sure they have Arborio rice…”

  “Ar—what?”

  “Arborio. The rice most commonly used for risotto, though you can really use any kind of rice.”

  “Are you a secret chef-by-night or something?” I ask as he enters the pantry and shortly thereafter, exits with a giant bag of rice. I hug my arms around my chest.

  “No. I just like to cook.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  I watch him as he gathers white wine, garlic, frozen parmesan cheese, frozen cream, more butter than I care to think about, frozen mushrooms, and frozen peas. He moves effortlessly, fluidly, as if this is fun for him. He places a large vat on the table, for later, and gathers the biggest pot I’ve ever seen.

  “That is, by far, the biggest pot I’ve ever seen,” I say, laughing.

  “Yes. Yes, it is.” He winks and I ignore my fluttering heartbeat. “Lasagna was much easier because you can make and bake. We’ll have to cook the risotto on the stove before freezing it.”

  “Okay. How can I help?” I watch as he places two sticks of butter into the pot.

  “Can you stir?” he asks, watching me skeptically.

  I step forward and grab the spoon. “Of course I can stir,” I say under my breath. I watch as the butter melts and becomes liquid and creamy. The smell is divine, and then Leo dumps about half a cup of garlic in, which is even more heavenly. I glance over at him and watch as he measures out a massive amount of rice. He pours it into the pot.

  “Stir quickly. We want the rice to brown but not to burn.” I move my hand quickly and Leo watches from beside me. “Good,” he purrs, and when I look up, he’s not watching the pot.

  His eyes are raking over my body, and I feel my body warm. His green eyes narrow, and he licks his lips unconsciously. I mimic his movement, not breaking eye contact. My hand’s stopped stirring, and instead I turn to face him, ignoring the sizzling sound coming from the stove. His eyes roll over my body once again. His intentions are not subtle as he inches closer.