by Cara Dee
I furrowed my brow. “No?”
She was too cute. She had some shimmering powder and a bit of chocolate smeared on her cheek.
“So, you’ve had a bad day,” she deduced. I’d walked right into that one. “I’ve never seen you cry before.”
“Christ.” I took a last drag from the smoke and reached forward to stub it out in the ashtray. “You don’t point that out to people, Pipsqueak.”
I was too drained and fucked in the head to feel embarrassed. There were no tears to dry, so I guessed my eyes were bloodshot.
“Sorry,” she replied automatically. “I forget to put on my human filter around you. But now I’m worried. What’s wrong? Can I help?”
I shook my head tiredly, and first things first. “I don’t want you to filter yourself around me. Forget what I said.”
She stared at me, waiting. The worry was evident in her soft green gaze, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to distract her.
What the fuck could I say, though? What did I want to say?
It was one thing for her to bring her teenage troubles to me. A whole other for me to unburden my grown-up clusterfuck on her.
That said, I needed a fresh perspective, and I could count on her honesty.
“Do you think I’d make a good dad?” I wondered.
As soon as the words left my dumb-ass mouth, my stomach became a knotted mess, and I drank to make it go away.
“Yes,” she responded frankly. “Why?”
“How do you know?” I pressed.
She made a strangled sound and shrugged, then started ticking things off her fingers. “You’re caring, you pay attention to the people you care for, you go out of your way to make sure someone’s needs are met, and you’re very protective.”
A breath gusted out of me. Was that really how she saw me?
I couldn’t stop myself from revealing more. “Do you remember the young woman you saw me with outside the coffee shop in the Valley?”
Pipsqueak started biting on her thumbnail. “I may recall a tall, stunning blonde you claimed you’d had something casual with.”
Everyone was tall next to Pipsqueak and Willow. I doubted they were each more than five-two.
And stunning? No. Taylor would probably make some man a lucky bastard one day, but she wasn’t my type. I wasn’t sure I had a type, but if I did, someone whose features were like… My gaze landed on Pipsqueak, and I quickly shook my head. Jesus fucking Christ. Time to get back on track.
“She’s pregnant.”
Pipsqueak’s mouth popped open, and her eyes grew large.
I swallowed uneasily and reached for my smokes.
The truth was out, at least to one person, and it made everything real. Furthermore, I didn’t know how the fuck I could ever ask Taylor to go ahead with an abortion. Which meant…
“You’re having a baby together?” Pipsqueak squeaked.
“No. I don’t know. Technically, no.” Frustrated with my fumbling, I lit up a smoke and took a deep drag. Then I elaborated, and I probably went overboard, because before I could think twice, the words were falling from my lips. All of it. Most of it. About how Taylor and I had ended our brief arrangement, how she was the sister of a student who had told me about the pregnancy today.
As if that wasn’t enough, I went on to tell her about Taylor’s personal wishes. About her not wanting to be a mother, and, essentially, if there would be a baby, it would be mine.
My mouth ran dry, and I stopped. I stopped talking. Heart thrumming fast, nerves tightening my gut. And the look on Pipsqueak’s face… Holy fuck, what had I done? Had I completely lost my marbles? I’d done exactly what I’d said I wouldn’t. I’d opened up too much, and now Pipsqueak could not look more stunned.
“Fucking hell.” I scrubbed my hands over my face and resisted the urge to scream into the night.
I should’ve brought this to Darius or Ethan.
“I apologize for overwhelming you, hon.” I winced and waited for her reaction. “You can ignore everything I said. I shouldn’t have—”
“What? No.” She seemed to snap out of her haze. “I just… Wow. It’s a lot, but wow.” She exhaled a laugh and drummed her fingers over her lips. “You’re gonna be a dad, Mister.”
“I don’t know that yet,” I responded quickly.
“Oh, come on.” She smiled. “We both know you can’t tell her you’d be okay with an abortion.”
The light from the living room reflected in her eyes, showing they were glistening. I kind of got stuck. I’d always liked her eyes. When they weren’t showing the mischief in her soul, they exuded kindness. Now, with the glow from the living room and unshed tears, I found it impossible to put into words the effect they had on me.
I felt calmer, for starters.
“She could change her mind,” I pointed out quietly.
She nodded slowly. “Maybe. You have to try. That’s all you can do. And we’ll be here for you.”
I swallowed hard, knowing she was right. I wouldn’t be able to stay quiet. It would feel entirely wrong. It would hurt.
When Pipsqueak excused herself to grab her jacket, I pulled out my phone and sent Taylor a message.
Please don’t have an abortion. I will raise the child.
I was just as anxious the next afternoon when I drove over to see Taylor again, but the nausea had been replaced by determination. There was a fear too, and I worried I wouldn’t be able to shake it until the kid was born. Was I looking at approximately seven to eight months of worrying about Taylor backing out? Most likely. Or however long until abortion wasn’t an available option anymore.
The whole concept of bringing a child into the world was still completely foreign to me, but I hoped it was an adjustment I’d go through naturally. Maybe Taylor would too. Maybe she would get attached? I didn’t know. My roller coaster was different from hers.
I had to be there for her and be as accommodating as I could.
Jesus Christ, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. Yet here I was. Taylor opened the door for me, and we ended up in the kitchen again.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Like a bottomless pit of puke.” She flashed a wry smile and sat down at the table.
She’d prepared coffee for me. She was settling for a bottle of ginger ale.
“You can’t back out of this, Avery.”
I did a double take at her, caught off guard by her statement. “Back out?”
She shifted in her seat and picked at the label of her bottle. “If you’re sure that you will take care of the baby, you can’t change your mind. I’m doing this because it’s you—because you’re the father.”
Listening to her was like hearing another language. She was coming from an angle I hadn’t considered at all. “I’m worried that you will change your mind, Taylor. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh. Okay, good.” She swallowed. “You don’t have to worry about me backing out. Part of me is relieved I don’t have to live with an abortion on my conscience.” She continued quickly when she saw me frowning. “I know it’s not wrong—you don’t have to go into teacher mode and give me a lecture. But it’s a personal choice. I’ve felt awful, and now… Maybe I don’t have to. Maybe this is the best thing I can do for the baby.”
I understood her.
“You’ll have to tell me what you need from me throughout the pregnancy,” I said quietly.
She drew an unsteady breath and nodded once. “I’ve been talking to Keira today, and I’m gonna ask a lot from you, because what I need the most is distance. Not from you, but from pregnancy-related things. And, well, you’re kind of a reminder…”
It didn’t even sting to hear it, but it increased my worries for the life growing inside her. If she managed to shut that part out of her everyday life to the extent where every reminder became a nuisance, what would stop her from going back on her word and terminating the pregnancy?
“Are you afraid of getting attached to the baby?” I as
ked. “Because if you do, we could work someth—”
“No, no. No.” She winced. “The opposite, Avery. I know with all my heart that I won’t get attached, and I don’t want to feel guilty about it.” She paused. “I read some blogs about surrogate mothers and what they sometimes do to keep a healthy emotional distance, but the thing is, they know what they’re getting themselves into from the start. I didn’t, and I still don’t, and I sort of want to protect myself. So, what Keira and I agreed on—and what I hope you will be okay with—is that we will be here until she graduates. Then we’ll go to New York, as planned, but I’ll only be gone over the summer. I’ll be back in the fall. I’ll be here until the baby’s born at the end of October.”
I…didn’t know what to say. This was all so new, so I couldn’t say I had much of an objection. But I needed a level of commitment in order to trust her.
My knee started bouncing restlessly.
“I know it’ll be difficult,” she said, “but I don’t think I can sit by and watch you fall for this child, because I feel that you will constantly wonder how I can’t do the same.”
Fuck. She was right.
And considering that she was willing to go through all this for me, I wasn’t going to ask for anything else. The pregnancy would be about making Taylor as comfortable as possible.
“I get it.” I cleared my throat and nodded with a dip of my chin. “Whatever you need.”
Her gaze softened with gratitude. “I’m gonna call our family lawyer too. I don’t know how these things work, but we’ll get started on the process with all the paperwork. Maybe it will give you some security?”
Maybe. I appreciated what she was saying, but I had a feeling I would be on pins and needles until the kid was born. That urge to protect had been growing steadily overnight, and the fear of her changing her mind—regardless of promises and paperwork—would simply stay with me.
Damn, Pipsqueak was here.
I didn’t want to be a dick, but I couldn’t be good company now.
I hoped she’d be satisfied staying in the kitchen, because I was going to head upstairs and throw my ass in bed.
“Hey.” I peered into the kitchen as I shrugged out of my jacket and took off my shoes.
“Oh hey, you’re back.” She smiled and abandoned her chocolaty workstation. “How did everything go?”
“It went all right. She’s gonna go through with the pregnancy for me.”
“That’s amazing! I’m so relieved.” She nudged me toward the living room, and I frowned before I saw what she’d done. “I’ll get out of your hair in a bit—figure of speech—but I wanted to stop by and make sure you ate.”
My chest felt weird again. She’d prepared the coffee table with a wrapped bagel, the newspaper, a bowl of chips, and soda. She’d also been upstairs to grab a blanket and one of my pillows.
“Have a seat,” she urged. “I’ll get your coffee.”
I couldn’t quite form any words, so I merely complied and took a seat on the couch.
Oh, so you could actually pour soda in a glass and put ice in it? That wasn’t just something they did at restaurants? I took a swig of the Coke and felt my mouth twist into a smile.
There was brie, spinach, and salami on the bagel. The kind of salami with peppercorns that I liked.
“Here you go.” Pipsqueak returned with a cup of coffee and set it down on the table. “I understand that you’re overwhelmed, so I’m just gonna say that you can talk to me when you’re ready. Or if you want to reach out to Darius instead—but I really hope it’s me.”
I chuckled tiredly, very touched by her sweet gesture. “I’ll tell you everything soon.”
“Great! You get some food and rest, then. Text if you need anything.”
I was lucky to have her in my life. “Thank you, hon. This means a lot.”
She smiled and squeezed my shoulder on the way out. “Happy to help.”
Fifteen
The letter I’d been waiting for came one day in August. Three days after Taylor had mailed it from New York. In that short time frame, I’d texted her five times to ask if she could trace the parcel. Thankfully, she’d been patient with me.
As much as it bothered me to have her all the way on the East Coast, she’d been right. I didn’t understand how she couldn’t get attached, and I said that without the ability to describe my own attachment. It wasn’t so much “Give me my child so I can dote on and love them forever” as much as it was a restless sense of “Please put me out of my misery. I need to unclench and feel that this is real soon.”
Taylor hadn’t given me any reason to doubt her—the opposite, if anything—but it couldn’t be helped. I was terrified something was going to go wrong.
This letter was going to make things worse and better at the same time. At the last doctor’s appointment, they hadn’t been able to see the sex of the baby, but she’d been to another checkup this week, and now it was official. The doctor knew the gender. And Taylor had been fucking sweet; she’d told me I deserved to know first, so the doctor had helped her mail the announcement, along with four ultrasound pictures.
If that didn’t make shit real for me, I’d be in trouble.
I tapped the envelope against the kitchen table and looked out the window, wondering where the hell Pipsqueak was. She’d been too good to me through all this, so I wanted her to be here when I read the result.
I checked my watch. She was supposed to be here now. All I’d done today was work out with Darius, grocery shop, and wait for the mail. Pipsqueak had said she’d come over at two after she’d picked up some raw cocoa in the Valley. If cocoa wasn’t always raw, what was it? I sure as shit didn’t cook it.
Either way, it was five minutes past two now.
To pass time, I flipped open the pregnancy book Pipsqueak had given me.
She’d felt bad for me for missing out on the pregnancy, so she’d bought the book for my birthday as a way to keep me updated on the baby’s progress.
According to the book, the baby’s hearing was developed now. Taylor had complained about her feet swelling, which was normal, I’d learned.
I was antsy for her to return to town. Evidently, everything interesting happened in the third trimester.
I caught movement in the corner of my eye and let out a heavy breath as I saw Pipsqueak running up the path to my house. Then she ripped open the door and stormed in.
“Mister, I’m here!” she called, out of breath.
“I’m in the kitchen.”
“Oh.” She stumbled in with her supplies in a cardboard box and eyed me anxiously. “Well? Do we know yet?”
“I was waiting for you.” I held up the envelope.
“Oh my God, you should’ve called me.” She dumped the box on the counter, then rushed over to me. “Open it, open it, open it.”
I chuckled nervously and started opening the envelope, and I noticed my fingers were trembling a little.
A note from a legal pad was the first thing that slid out, and then a bundle with the four ultrasound pictures followed.
I checked the note first.
Congratulations, Mr. Becker, you’re having a girl. She was a wild little sprite during the sonogram. Everything looks great.
I swallowed hard as my eyes stung. “It’s a girl.”
A rush of emotions surged forward, and I couldn’t sit still. I turned over the bundle of pictures next and removed the paper clip holding them together. Four images of a little baby, a little girl. Holy fuck. I still didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but I’d gotten what I asked for. It was suddenly very real. That baby would be here in a little over two months.
Pipsqueak came over and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and all I could do was sit there like a fidgeting addict going through the shakes and stare at the images.
I could see her little hand forming a fist in one of the pictures. The outline of her face in another. Her small nose.
Pipsqueak positioned herself behind me instead and r
ested her chin on my shoulders. “That’s the most precious thing I’ve ever seen.”
I dipped down and pressed my lips to Pipsqueak’s arm over my chest.
“Hey,” she murmured. “You’re gonna be a dad. It’s okay to say it.”
Jesus Christ.
My eyes welled up again, and I wasn’t as successful at keeping my emotions at bay this time. I sniffled and kept staring at the images, and now I had her words going on a fucking loop in my head. I was going to be a father. That blurry little form in the images belonged to me. I’d helped create her.
I hadn’t met her yet, and I was already swearing to protect her with my life.
Memories of my mother flitted past, causing me to clench my jaw. How the fuck could she have hurt her own children? Over and over, for years and years. She’d made us feel worthless. She’d made me hate so much. Most people didn’t know what hatred was. They thought they knew. They didn’t.
“At least I’ll do a better job than my mother.”
Pipsqueak smacked my chest lightly before returning to her spot across from me. “Don’t even joke about the comparison. You’re gonna do great, Avery.”
I sniffled and cleared my throat, finally managing to get my shit together somewhat.
“I know what it’s like, you know.”
I glanced over at her and furrowed my brow. “What?”
“Being abused by your parents,” she said. “People don’t think Willow and I remember our biological parents, but we do. We just got lucky because we were saved early.”
Fucking hell, I’d never thought of that. I’d only known that James and Mary had taken in two young sisters at some point. I believe Willow had been five or six, and Pipsqueak a year younger. A foster care situation that’d eventually turned into two adoptions.
“They hurt you?” I asked quietly. I had to put down the ultrasound pictures before I made a fist around them.
“Not like you and your brother were hurt,” she answered. “They just slapped us around when we didn’t act normal, and they force-fed Willow, despite her texture issues.”
There was nothing “just” about that. Hearing that pissed me the fuck off, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t bothered asking before. The idea of someone slapping Pipsqueak around for having autism filled me with the type of rage I’d only felt when trying to protect my brother. And I knew very well how Willow reacted when she was forced to do anything.
