by Mariano, Sam
“Next time you fuck me without a condom, I’m buyin’ myself a ‘baby on board’ maternity shirt, and it’s all I’m ever going to wear around you.”
“You are a real pain in my ass, you know that?” he asks, opening a drawer and grabbing some silverware.
I grab some while he has it open. “Wait until my pregnancy hormones kick in.”
“For fuck’s sake, you are not pregnant.”
“No thanks to you,” I mutter.
Carter shakes his head, puts his plate down, and moves close. I move my plate aside just in time for him to close in. His chest brushes mine and he grabs the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss. “No discussing our impending family at the breakfast table,” he tells me when he pulls back. “I’m sure you can guess, but my parents would be decidedly less amused.”
“You know when you’re going to be decidedly less amused? When I’m sendin’ you to the store at 3am because I’m craving a certain brand of pickles.”
Carter takes a step back, rolls his eyes at me again, and grabs his plate. “Come on, wifey.”
“And my back is already aching from carrying around your spawn. I hope you’re plannin’ to give me a back rub later.”
“Are your feet swelling up, too? Maybe I should just buy you a whole spa day.”
“I mean, it’s the least you could do for the mother of your child.”
Carter walks ahead of me, shaking his head, but I let the joke die since we’re walking back into the dining room. I should tell on him to his parents; maybe they could convince him that safe sex is the only sex we should be having, because I don’t seem to be getting through.
Obviously I’m not going to do that, though.
Carter’s father glances up from his paper to look me over, and I immediately see where both kids got all their looks from. Carter and Chloe both favor their father and got little to no physical characteristics from their mom.
“Mom, Dad, this is Zoey,” Carter offers as he drops into his seat next to Chloe.
I flash his mom a smile, then his father. “Zoey Ellis. It’s nice to meet you both.”
“I’m Angela,” his mother tells me. “This is Carter’s father, Kevin.”
Carter’s father doesn’t greet me, but when I look at him, his gaze is either resting on my breasts, or my Longhorns tank. I hope it’s the latter, and breathe a sigh of relief that it is when a moment later he says, “Zoey Ellis, huh? Bet Jake’s not happy about that.”
I take a seat, looking awkwardly to Carter.
Carter shrugs. “Didn’t ask him. Don’t care.”
“You should care,” his father states. “Jake’s suspension could’ve thrown off your whole season.”
“Could’ve—if the team depended on his talent. Since it relies on mine, we’re just fine,” Carter replies.
His gaze slides past Carter and comes back to me. “Well, in any case, it’s good you got that whole misunderstanding cleared up.”
My fingers tighten around the fork like it’s the blade of a knife that I’m about to plant in Carter’s father’s jugular. “There was no misunderstanding. Jake behaved in a less than gentlemanly manner, and I didn’t appreciate it. Anyway, I’m also glad it’s behind us.”
“Maybe an overreaction to ruin the boy’s last season of football,” Kevin tells me.
“I don’t think it was,” I offer back, with a painfully polite smile. “Personally, I think his behavior warranted a time-out. Since that’s the only punishment that seemed to impact him, I’m glad Coach took it seriously and took away something Jake enjoyed.”
“Did he get grounded?” Chloe asks.
I nod my head. “He sure did.”
“I bet he didn’t like that. I wouldn’t like to be grounded,” she informs me.
“No, I wouldn’t either,” I agree, turning my attention to her, since her company is far more pleasant. Carter’s dad already has my cheeks flushing with defensive annoyance, and that is not the foot I intended to start out on. Carter could have given me a heads up that his dad was on the anti-Zoey, pitchfork-wielding side. Not only would I not have come to this breakfast, I would have avoided meeting his parents at all, at least until the season ended.
I am starting to understand now why he didn’t introduce them to me at the game last night, though. His father condescending to me at the table in private is one thing, but in front of everyone at the stadium? That would have been doubly embarrassing.
“Zoey’s a good girl,” Carter tells Chloe, or his dad, I’m not sure. He’s talking to Chloe, but it sounds more like it’s aimed at his dad. “I’m sure she’s never done anything to get herself grounded.”
“She can’t be that good, if she’s having sleepovers with you,” his dad murmurs, lifting his coffee to his lips and turning his attention back to his paper.
“Oh, Kevin,” his mom finally fusses, shaking her head. Offering me an apologetic smile, she says, “Don’t mind him, dear. He’s a grump before he’s finished his morning coffee. He doesn’t mean any of that.”
“Mm hmm,” he dad mutters. “We’ll see what you say when it’s our son she’s trying to drag through the mud.”
“Would you stop it?” Carter snaps. “Jesus Christ, I’m introducing you to my girlfriend and you have to act like an ass.”
His father’s eyebrows rise, but with something closer to amusement than I would expect upon getting a lecture from his own son. “Girlfriend? Christ, what’s this girl doing to you boys to make you behave like fucking idiots?”
“Kevin,” his mother chides.
“She accuses his friend and he says ‘hey, I think I’ll make her my girlfriend.’” Kevin shakes his head. “Boy has no sense of loyalty.”
Carter’s fork drops to the plate with a clatter and he leans back in his chair. “Oh, that is rich coming from you.”
“Carter, please,” his mother says, trying to take his reins, since his father’s are clearly beyond her reach.
I get the impression that Carter’s are, too, but he must not want to bring up something he knows will pain her at the breakfast table. Shaking his head, he grabs his fork and starts eating a little faster.
“I wanna go to Disney World,” Chloe announces. “Alicia said her parents took her there, and she got to eat breakfast at the castle with princesses. Can you imagine if we lived in a castle?”
“You basically do,” I tell her, offering a little smile. “Your house is a lot bigger than mine, that’s for sure.”
“I bet it is,” Carter’s dad murmurs.
Carter’s jaw locks and he glares.
His mom fidgets with her napkin.
Yep, totally not awkward at all, Carter. Good call on making me come to family breakfast.
Carter’s mom clutches onto an invisible tangent. “Speaking of, Carter, can you take Chloe to ballet today? You’ll have to clean all that make-up off her first, she can’t go like that. I intended to take her, but I’m just too tired.”
“You’re always tired,” his dad mutters. “Never do anything, but tired all the damn time.”
With every syllable that leaves his lips, I dislike Carter’s father a little more.
“Mama does stuff,” Chloe defends. “She’s great.”
Offering a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, Angela says, “Thank you, Chloe.”
The rest of breakfast passes awkwardly, but at least it doesn’t get worse. When I’ve consumed my food as quickly as possible without appearing to be training for my career as a competitive eater, Carter walks me out to my car.
Once we’re a safe distance from the house, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and tells me, “I owe you an apology. I did not think that would go the way it did.”
I shrug, feeling relieved to be out of the house, but bad for Carter, Chloe, and Carter’s mom, because they’re all stuck here. “It’s fine. Your dad is awful though. Like, truly awful. Was not prepared for that.”
Carter shakes his head glancing back at the house. “I
told you, I don’t know why she won’t leave the bastard.”
“Well… I thought you were exaggerating, but no. I don’t know why either. I would leave him, then I’d come back just so I could leave him again. Every morning, come over just to leave. Maybe after a month or so it would feel like I had left him a sufficient number of times, but… I’m not sure.”
Carter cracks a smile, then leans in and kisses me. “Well, I’m glad we got that over with, at least.”
“I have officially met the parents. I hope you don’t think we’re bringin’ the baby back here for holidays though, because… no.”
“Chloe’s gonna have a bedroom at my place in New York, we’ll invite my mom to stay on an air mattress in her room. My father can spend the holidays alone like the miserable bastard he is.”
“We’ll send him a card to thank him for the apartment, just to be polite. But bar him from ever visiting, on account of his personality.”
Now Carter’s smile widens and he leans in and kisses me. “Have fun getting ready for church with Pastor Boner.”
“You’re goin’ to Hell for callin’ him that,” I inform him.
“I’m going to Hell for a lot of things,” he assures me.
Chapter 30
On my way back to the table with a fresh dish of sliced tomatoes, I spot the last thing I ever expected to see—Carter Mahoney at church.
Well, okay, he’s outside of church, technically. The cookout is outside, and there aren’t many people here, but I certainly didn’t expect him to be one of them. My steps slow, my forehead creasing with a frown as I take in the sight of Carter talking to Pastor James, then I remember last time Carter encountered him and I pick up the pace.
“Hey, what are you doin’ here?” I call out as I approach.
Carter turns to watch me approach. “Came to see your basket.”
Now I notice James is also holding a basket I haven’t seen before—which shouldn’t be possible, since I’m one of the volunteers who put the baskets together. This one is wrapped in cellophane and tied with Longhorn blue ribbon. Inside, with a Longhorns shirt nestled around it, I see a football with marks all over it. Signatures?
An autographed football.
I put it together at the same time James offers a mild smile and says, “Carter here brought another basket for the auction.”
“Sure did,” Carter says, sounding pretty satisfied with himself.
I don’t even know what to say. I did tell him all about the baskets and what each basket would contain, so I guess he had the information, but he certainly didn’t say he would contribute anything. “That was generous of you, Carter. Thank you,” I tell him.
“It’s well put together, too,” James offers, nodding as he looks over the contents of the basket. “Seems you have a knack for arts and crafts, Carter.”
Carter chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “I can’t take credit for the assembly. I bought the stuff, my rally girl put it together. She has a knack for arts and crafts.”
“Oh, okay,” James returns, nodding. “Well, that’s real nice of your girlfriend to help you out.”
Okay, that’s enough of that. Nodding my head toward the tables before Carter can rise to the bait and kiss my face off right here in front of the assembled members of my congregation, I say, “I’ve gotta walk these tomatoes over here. You wanna follow me?”
Carter allows me to rein him in, thankfully, and he follows me over to the folding table set up with all the fixings. “Are more people supposed to show up?”
I sigh, looking around the empty church lawn. We’ve all done our parts to spread the word about the cookout and basket auction, but so far, the turnout hasn’t been great. As sad as it is, at this point, we would have been better off just giving the woman we’re raising funds for the money we spent doing all this.
“Hopefully more people will show up in the afternoon.”
“How long is this thing going?” he asks.
“We close everything up at four.”
Carter nods, pulling out his phone and checking the display. “Still got some time, then. I’ve gotta run over and pick up Chloe from ballet in a few minutes, but I’ll bring her over and buy her a burger after.”
I flash him a grateful smile. “Thanks. Every little bit helps. It was nice of you to do the basket, too. You didn’t even tell me you were doin’ that.”
“It’s nothing,” he says dismissively. “How does this basket auction thing work?”
“You buy tickets, fill them out with your name and phone number, and then put as many as you want into the canister by each basket you’d like to win. If you win and you’re not here for the drawing, we call you and you can come pick up your prize.”
“Great.” He flashes me a smile. “I wanna buy like $20 worth of tickets for the Longhorn basket.”
“For… the basket you donated yourself?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because the ball is signed by all of this year’s Longhorns. I wanna buy the tickets for Jake, not myself.”
“Why do you want to buy tickets for Jake?” I ask, not following.
“Because he’s the only one who didn’t get to sign the ball; being excluded will piss him off.”
Amusement bubbles up inside me, but I tamp it down and try to bite back a smile. “That’s mean,” I inform him.
“I’m still gonna do it,” he states. “Where do I buy tickets?”
I shake my head, indicating the other end of the table where the pastor’s wife is seated. “Right over there. Don’t tell her about your extremely unchristian ulterior motives.”
“I’ll pretend to be a good person,” he promises.
* * *
After Carter leaves to pick up Chloe, business picks up a little bit. Her ballet school must not be far, because he comes back pretty fast. Chloe comes bounding up to my table, full of energy despite the dance class she just finished. As if she’s not cute enough, today her dark hair is pulled back in a pony tail and she’s wearing a pink leotard with a sheer skirt that bounces and sways with every step she takes. She’s clutching Carter’s hand as she walks this way, and it sends my thoughts to the unprotected sex I’ve had twice with her brother.
Obviously, I hope I’m not pregnant, but I’m aware of the risk. I don’t really want to have kids for probably ten more years, but I don’t know what to do about Carter’s unwillingness to be reasonable. If he were a normal guy, I would refuse to have sex with him until a month has passed and I can get some birth control in my system, or he decides to put a condom on his dick before we have sex. Given he’s Carter, that won’t work. I don’t want to break up with him, I like dating him so far, but I don’t like all the shots he’s taking at my womb.
Frankly, it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t seem like he thinks he’s invincible, yet he doesn’t seem worried about it happening, either. Not in the oblivious way of teenage guys who think they can have unprotected sex with impunity, but trying to sober him up by mentioning the real possibility of him making me a mother—and himself a father—before either of us have a diploma doesn’t freak him out, either. Wouldn’t thinking about the result of unprotected sex freak out most teenage guys? I realize Carter isn’t ordinary, but why doesn’t this scare him?
Why does it feel like he regards a potential accidental teen pregnancy like no big deal… almost in the way someone regards something terrifying that they’ve survived before, so it no longer has the power it had over you the first time?
I cock my head, watching Chloe grin up at Carter and reach her free hand across to show him something that sparkles in the sun. Probably a sticker. He regards her with warmth, like always. Then he points in my direction and Chloe looks ahead, then waves at me with her sticker hand.
“Hi, bookstore lady!”
Hi, Carter clone.
Sudden horror grips me and I look from her to him again.
Thirteen. He was thirteen the first time he had sex. Chloe is five.
Erika flashes to mind, since she always hangs out in the dark pockets of my brain, waiting to torment me and fill me full of doubts. They weren’t a thing back then though, right? He couldn’t have possibly gotten Erika pregnant when they were little more than kids… but if he did, it would explain some things. It would explain why she’s so attached to him, why she thinks he belongs to her. Maybe she went along with everything he wanted her to do, everything his family told her to do, and she thinks it’s her due to end up with him.
It would also explain why she’s the only girl he’s ever given girlfriend status, even though it doesn’t seem like he wanted a girlfriend. Maybe it was part of her perks package, maybe he was being nice because… well, knocking up a 13-year-old is a shitty thing to do, even if you are also only 13. This just isn’t a thing that should happen.
Carter doesn’t seem like someone who would insist a meaningless fling he knocked up keep a pregnancy though, and if Erika didn’t want it… why is Chloe here?
Now I look at the little girl, and if I look hard enough, I can see some Erika. Erika has blue eyes and brown hair, but Carter’s genes clearly run strong, given how much he looks like his father. Erika is pretty, and Chloe is adorable. While their shades are different, they both have pin-straight hair and cute little button noses.
Carter cocks an eyebrow. “Earth to Zoey.”
I shake myself out of my rush of paranoid thoughts and try to remember what was just said. “Uh, sorry. What?”
“I said hi, and you didn’t say hi back,” Chloe announces.
“I’m so sorry about that, I was daydreaming. Hi, Chloe.”
My mind is still in overdrive though, kicking up new thoughts. When Carter walked me to my car, he said Chloe will have a bedroom at his apartment. I assumed he meant it as part of our joking scenario, similar to our kids sleeping upstairs at my dinner scenario last night, but the apartment is actually happening. Does she really have a bedroom at his apartment in New York? That doesn’t seem normal. How many older brothers have actual bedrooms set up for their five-year-old sisters? In case of what? A visit? How often would she be visiting to warrant her own bedroom?
