by Elle Kennedy
I spend the next twenty minutes googling shit about babies. I hadn’t allowed myself to do that before. I didn’t know if Sabrina was going to keep the baby, and if she’d decided to go through with the abortion, I didn’t want to become attached and then be heartbroken.
Now, I’m free to throw myself into fatherhood. Unlike Sabrina, I’m not feeling as terrified about it anymore. I’ve always envisioned myself having a family. Granted, I didn’t think it was going to happen for a while, at least not until I was done with college, had a good business, and was making decent coin. But life is always changing and you just have to adapt.
I do some sloppy math in the margin of my business property notes about whether I can buy a home in Boston and quickly realize that I can’t afford to buy a business and a house on the funds my dad left me. Housing is ridiculously expensive in Boston. I guess I’ll have to rent for a while.
Okay. So. I’m going to need a place to live, a job, and I need to figure out what I’m going to do with my fucking life beyond college. I’ve been half-assing the business search because there wasn’t any urgency, but with a kid on the way and Sabrina living in the shithole she’s currently in, I need to get all my ducks in order.
I’m ordering a couple of books on Amazon about pregnancy and parenting when my mother calls.
“Sweetheart! How is everything going? Only a couple more months and you’ll be back home!” she sings into my ear.
My stomach plummets. If there’s one person I hate disappointing, it’s my mom, and me not coming back to Texas is going to crush her. But if I’m honest, I’ve been on the fence about Texas for a while now. In some ways, the baby is saving me from that.
I make a mental note to tell Sabrina this, because I know, in her head, she’s thinking she’s ruined my life.
“Actually, about that. My…” I hesitate, because I don’t know what we are after our little talk this morning. “Girlfriend,” I finish, for lack of a better term. Our relationship is too complicated to go into depth with Mom right now. Besides, I can’t poison that particular well, because Mom’s already going to be upset. “Remember I told you at Christmas I met a girl?”
“Yes…” She sounds cautious.
I rip the bandage off. “She’s pregnant.”
“Is the baby yours?” Mom asks immediately. There’s a note of hope in her voice, which I quickly squash.
“Yeah, Mom, that’s why I’m calling you.”
There’s a long, long moment of silence. So long that I almost wonder if she’s hung up on me.
Finally, she says, “Is she keeping it?”
“Yes. She’s like sixteen weeks along.” I’ve already done the math. The date of conception is probably the first time we had sex, when I was in such a hurry to be inside her tight pussy that I forgot about the condom.
Sabrina James makes me lose my mind, in more ways than one.
“Sixteen weeks!” Mom yelps. “Did you know at Christmas and didn’t say anything?”
“No, of course not. I didn’t find out until later.”
“Oh, John. What are you going to do?”
I let out a slow, steady breath. “Whatever it takes.”
24
Sabrina
Three Weeks Later
When I arrive at Della’s, the booth in the corner is empty. That’s a good sign. I tug the side of my coat over my belly. It’s getting too warm for my long jacket, but I’m starting to show. Thank goodness for yoga pants. I don’t know how much longer I’ll get away with wearing regular clothes.
I’ve been researching everything I can about pregnancy, and one sad fact I found is that no one’s experience is the same. For every woman who’s gained only the exact baby weight plus a few extra pounds, there are five who swear they swallowed an entire field of watermelons. A lot of them admitted that at some point they had to give up driving because the steering wheel pushed into their stomach, not to mention that seatbelts aren’t made for pregnant ladies. I can already testify to that.
Everything is changing for me and I’m scared shitless. I still haven’t told Nana or my friends. Tucker still hasn’t told his friends, because I’ve ordered him not to. I know it’s irrational, but it’s like a part of me believes that if we don’t say anything, then life doesn’t have to change. When I told Tucker that over the phone last night, he responded with a gentle laugh and said, “It’s already changed, darlin’.”
And then I woke up this morning and couldn’t do up my jeans, and reality came crashing down on me like the hammer of Thor. I can’t hide this pregnancy anymore. This shit is real.
So today is let’s-drop-a-baby-bomb day. I’m hoping that once I stop hiding, I can reclaim control of my life and start steering my ship again. Maybe then I’ll be able to sleep an entire night without waking up in a cold sweat.
“Want to wait for your friends, or should I bring you something?” Hannah asks as I slide into the booth.
My gaze involuntarily falls to her slender waist, and a twinge of envy hits me. I wonder if mine will ever be the same. My body is starting to feel alien. The hard bump in my stomach isn’t something I can diet away. There’s a human being in there. And that mound is only going to grow.
“Milk,” I say, albeit reluctantly. Soda is on the list of things that are bad for my system, along with everything else that is good and wonderful in this world.
As Hannah trots off, Hope appears. “What’s up? Your text sounded so ominous.” She shrugs out of her trench and flops down across from me. “Everything is still a go with Harvard, right?”
“Let’s wait ’til Carin comes.”
She frowns deeply. “You okay? Nana isn’t sick, is she?”
“No, she’s fine. And Harvard’s still a go.” I peer at the door, willing Carin to arrive.
Hope continues to grill me. “Did Ray fall off a cliff? No, that would be good news. Oh God, he broke his leg and you have to literally wait on him hand and foot.”
“Shut your mouth. We don’t even want to tempt fate with suggestions like that.”
“Ah, she can still joke. The world isn’t coming to an end.” Hope signals for Hannah before fixing her gaze on me. “Okay, so if it’s not your grandma and Harvard is on track and Ray’s still the same asshole as always, what is it? We haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“I’ll tell you when Carin gets here.”
She throws up her hands in frustration. “Carin’s always late!”
“And you’re always impatient.” I wonder what my kid will be? Late, impatient, driven, laidback? I hope laidback. I’m always so fucking anxious. I wish Tucker had shot me up with some of his patience rather than his sperm. Sadly, it doesn’t work that way.
“True.” She shifts in her seat. “How’s Tucker? You guys an actual thing?”
“We’re something,” I mutter.
“What’s that supposed to mean? You’ve been seeing him since the end of October. That’s more than four months. In Sabrina Land, you might as well be engaged.”
Actually, eighteen weeks and three days, but who’s counting besides me and my OB?
Before Hope can push me some more, Carin breezes in with a, “Sorry, I’m late,” and one-armed side hugs for each of us.
Hannah pops over, delivering my milk and two more menus before disappearing to tend to the next table.
Hope grabs Carin by the wrist and drags her into the booth. “We forgive you,” she tells her. Then she turns to me with a stern look. “Spill.”
“Carin doesn’t even have her coat off,” I protest, although I don’t know why I’m delaying the inevitable. It’s embarrassing that I don’t know how to use contraceptives correctly, but having a baby is normal. At least, that’s my current mantra.
“Fuck Carin and her coat. She’s here. Start talking.”
I take a deep breath, and because there’s no easy way to say it, I just spit it out. “I’m pregnant.”
Carin freezes with her coat halfway down her arms.
Hope’s mo
uth falls open.
With one of her trapped arms, Carin nudges Hope. “Is it April Fool’s Day?” she asks, not taking her eyes off me.
Even as she answers Carin, Hope also keeps her gaze pinned on my face. “I don’t think so, but I’m having my doubts.”
“It’s no joke.” I sip my milk. “I’m almost five months along.”
“Five months?” Hope screams so loud that every head in the diner swivels toward us. Leaning across the table, she repeats the words, this time at a whisper. “Five months?”
I nod, but before I can add anything else, Hannah arrives to take our orders. Hope and Carin’s appetites are apparently ruined by my news, but I’m hungry, so I order a turkey sandwich.
“Are you showing at all?” Hope still looks a tad dazed.
“A little bit. I can still wear stretchy pants. No skinny jeans, though.”
“Have you been to the doctor?” she asks. Beside her, Carin remains silent.
“Yes. I have insurance through work. Everything looks good.”
“Were you planning to tell us after you had the baby?” Carin blurts out, hurt coloring her words.
“I wasn’t even sure I was going to keep it,” I admit. “And once I decided, I was…embarrassed. I didn’t know how to tell you guys.”
“You know, it’s not too late,” Hope says with an encouraging smile.
Carin brightens at the thought. “Right. Like, you can still get the A any time up until the third trimester.”
Their lack of support stings, but somehow it makes me all the more resolute. My whole life has been about showing doubters I can succeed.
“No,” I say firmly. “This is what I want.”
“What about Harvard?” Hope demands.
“I’m still going. Nothing’s changed.”
My friends exchange a look that says I’m hopeless and which one of them is going to break the news to me. I guess Hope wins, because she says, “You really think nothing is going to change? You’re having a baby.”
“I know. But there are millions of women who have babies every day and still manage to be functioning adults.”
“It’s going to be so hard for you. Who’s going to take care of the baby while you’re in class? How are you going to study?” She reaches across the table to squeeze my limp hand. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re making a mistake.”
My face grows hard. “I’m still going to Harvard.”
I don’t know if it’s my tone or my expression that convinces them that my mind is made up, but either way they get the message. Despite the lingering skepticism on their faces, they move on.
“Is it a boy or girl?” Carin asks. “Wait—Tucker’s the dad, right?”
“Of course Tucker is the dad, and I don’t know. We haven’t had the ultrasound yet.”
“What did he say when you told him?” Hope butts in.
That I’m not alone. “He’s okay with it. He didn’t burst into tears or shout in anger. He didn’t flip over a table or rage about the unfairness of it. He just held me and told me I wasn’t alone. I think he’s a bit scared, but he’s going to be with me every step of the way.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “And as much as I want to protect him, I’m going to hold on to his hand for as long as possible. It’s so damn selfish of me, but right now the idea of facing the future alone keeps me up at night.”
“That’s good, at least,” Carin says gently.
“He’s amazing. I don’t deserve him.” God, if my best friends are struggling with this, I can’t even imagine what’s going on in Tucker’s head.
Hope frowns. “What makes you say that? It’s not like you got pregnant alone.”
“He didn’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit. Every time you have sex, there’s a risk. No form of contraception is a hundred percent effective, not even a vasectomy. You want to go for the ride, you have to pay the price.”
“That’s a steep price.”
She waves her hand. “Which you’re paying too.”
“Can we stop being so depressing?” Carin pipes up. “Let’s talk about the important stuff. When are you getting the ultrasound? I want to start buying baby things.”
I open my mouth to say I don’t know when we’re interrupted by Carin’s phone. “Shit.” She digs it out and slides out of the seat. “It’s my advisor. I’ve got to take this.”
As she disappears toward the bathroom, Hope turns her worried gaze toward me. “Damn, B. I really hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I.” I know she loves me and that’s why she’s so concerned, but like Carin, I don’t want to dwell on the negatives. My mind is made up and all this second-guessing is only going to make me feel bad.
“I only want you to be happy,” she says softly.
“I know.” This time it’s my turn to reach across the table. “I’m scared, but this is what I want. I promise.”
She grips my hand hard. “Okay. I’m here for you then. Whatever you need.”
Carin comes back and pushes Hope over. “I’m going to learn how to knit,” she announces.
“Knit?” I echo wryly.
“Yeah, baby booties. You’re five months along? That gives me about four months to learn how to knit, so be prepared to be amazed and awed by my new skill.”
I finally crack a smile. “Consider me prepared.”
In more ways than one, but hey, I’ve got my friends and I’ve got Tucker, which is more than I thought I’d ever have and more than I probably deserve.
But I’ll take it.
25
Tucker
The kitchen is so silent, I feel like I’m in church. Not that I’ve been to church often. Mom dragged me to a few Sunday sermons when I was a kid, until finally admitting that she’d way rather sleep in on the weekends. I was totally on board with that plan.
But right now, it’s not God and Pastor Dave passing judgment on me—it’s my closest friends.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell us sooner?” Garrett.
“You’re seriously keeping this kid?” Logan.
“Sabrina fucking James?” Dean.
I tighten my grip around my beer bottle and scowl at Dean. I blame him for this little powwow. Two seconds after I told him and Allie the news, he’d sent an SOS to Garrett and Logan ordering them to get their asses home. They’d been at the dorms with their girlfriends, and now I feel like a jerk for spoiling their nights.
“Guys, why don’t you let him talk instead of shouting questions at him?” Allie speaks up in a cautious tone.
I can tell she doesn’t want to be here for this, but Dean dragged her into the kitchen with us, latched his hand onto hers, and hasn’t let go since. I don’t get why he’s so pissed about this. It’s not like he’s the one about to become a father. And I know for a fact he’s not still into Sabrina, because he looks at Allie like she hung the damn moon. The two of them hit a rocky patch after Beau’s death, but the last couple of months they’ve been disgustingly in love.
“Tuck?” Allie prompts, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.
I take a terse swig of my beer. “I don’t have much else to say. Sabrina and I are having a kid. End of story.”
“How long have you been seeing her?” Logan demands.
“A while.” Their frowns tell me they don’t like my response, so I add, “Early November.”
Logan looks startled. Garrett doesn’t, which makes me narrow my eyes at him in question.
“I suspected,” he admits.
The other guys swivel their heads toward him in accusation. “What do you mean, you suspected?” Logan echoes.
“It means I suspected.” Garrett glances across the table at me. “Saw you holding her hand at Beau’s memorial.”
When a flash of guilt passes through Dean’s eyes, I know he’s thinking about how he got piss-drunk in his room instead of attending the memorial service for one of his best friends.
Logan turns back to me. “So it’s serious
with you two?”
Laughter sputters out. “We’re having a baby. Of course it’s serious.”
Or at least I’m planning for it to be. Sabrina still needs time, though. Time to fully get a handle on this pregnancy stuff. Time to lower her guard and realize she can trust me. Time to lower that guard even more and realize that she loves me. Because I know she does. She’s just too scared to admit or acknowledge it, to me and to herself.
“Why didn’t she get an abortion?”
Dean’s question elicits a gasp from Allie, frowns from the guys, and an angry scowl from me.
“Because we decided to keep it,” I say harshly.
Everyone flinches. I’m pretty sure they’ve never heard me snap at anyone before. Usually I don’t, but Dean is treading dangerously close to I’m-going-to-beat-him-senseless territory. I get that he doesn’t like Sabrina, but he will damn well show her respect, even when she’s not in the room.
“Hey. Let’s relax, okay?” Garrett proves why he’s our team captain by speaking in a calm, pacifying voice.
Though, I realize, he’s not Dean’s captain anymore, because Dean got kicked off the team back in January. I think failing that drug test was one of the catalysts for his dragging himself back to the land of the sober. That, and Allie.
“This is Tuck’s life,” Garrett goes on. “We have no right to judge his decisions. If this is what he wants, then we’re going to support him. Right?”
After a beat, Logan nods. “Right.”
Dean’s jaw tightens. “This is going to ruin your life, man.”
It’s getting harder and harder to control the anger simmering in my gut. “Well, it’s my life to ruin,” I say coldly. “You don’t get a say in it.”
“What about Harvard?” he pushes. “Is she still gonna go?”
“Yes.”
He shakes his head. “Does she get how time-consuming law school is?”
“Of course.”
Another shake of his head. “So she’s dumping all the responsibilities on you?”
I instantly come to Sabrina’s defense. “No, we’re sharing the responsibilities.”