by Tori Rigby
Neil’s eyes had closed, and a tear rolled down his cheek. I wanted to run to him, to throw my arms around him and apologize and take back everything I said. But I knew I had to do this. To let him go.
I held onto the counter tighter. My bottom lip trembled, and I breathed slowly to keep from bawling. I have to be strong. I have to be strong.
Neil ran a hand down his face, sniffling. When he opened his eyes, my heart broke into thousands of tiny pieces. He was in pain. So much pain. And I was doing it to him. God, help me. Please, help me.
“So, that’s it, then? After everything, this is the line you can’t cross?”
“You deserve so much more than me, Neil. I’m not going to be your albatross.” And with that, I pulled my engagement ring from my pocket and set it on the counter.
Neil followed the movement of my hand. When I let go of the jewelry, he stepped away from the ring like it was a land mine and clutched his chest.
“I’ll ask Jill to come pick me up.”
“No,” he replied, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat. “Don’t put yourself out. I’ll stay with Owen.”
“It’s okay. I like being there.”
Neil nodded then shook his head. “No, this is ridiculous.” He moved so fast, I had no idea what was happening until my face was in his hands, and his lips were on mine.
A tingle ran down my spine. His kiss was powerful, urgent, and so full of passion; my head spun. But this was wrong. I couldn’t let myself give in.
I pushed off him with a squeal and stepped out of his reach. “Neil—”
He growled and dug his hands into his hair. “When I tell you I love you, do you think it’s because I believe you want to hear the words, or because I’m trying to start a conversation? God.” He flung his arms out to his sides. “I say it to remind you that you are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. And I will spend every last breath fighting for you.”
I whimpered. “Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you dare make this any harder than it already is!”
“A degree from Harvard, a billion-dollar music contract—nothing would mean anything without you. Every song I write is about you. Every note I play is for you. If you want, we can talk about what to do about Ethan, but I will not let you walk out that door.”
He’d stepped closer to me as he spoke, his voice strong and powerful. And now, as my knees weakened and tears blanketed my cheeks, his stare was unwavering. Neil was only an arm’s reach away. Could we still have everything we wanted together while giving Ethan an opportunity at a better life?
My heart fluttered. Damn it if we didn’t try.
I flung myself at Neil and wrapped my arms around his neck, smashing my lips against his. He held me close, squeezing me tighter than ever before.
“I’m sorry,” I cried into his mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
Neil’s mouth moved in sync, with a hunger I couldn’t compare. My body tingled from head to toe, and my heart swelled like my chest wasn’t big enough to contain it. Then as fast as the kissing began, it ended. He pressed his forehead against mine, let out a shaky breath, and ran his hands up and down my sides. My pulse had to be over one hundred.
“I love you, Andie,” he said.
I put my hands on his chest. “I love you, too.”
For a couple minutes, we stood there, arms around each other. I pressed my ear to his chest, and as his heart rate slowed, mine did, too.
“You owe me big time for stealing a couple years of my life with that stunt,” he said. “I should make you ad lib a Muppets show. Or sing karaoke in the nude.”
I shook my head. “How about karaoke in the nude? You play, and I’ll show you how terrible my voice is.”
He smiled.
chapter twenty-nine
After sharing what Jill’s dad said about giving Ethan a better life—and admitting that I’d been naïve in thinking I could be a parent—Neil and I agreed to start looking at adoption agencies the following week. In the meantime, Neil would defer his enrollment at Harvard for a year and work for Owen’s dad to pad his bank account while I finished up school.
“Until then, the only thing I want you to worry about is what would make you happy,” Neil said, running the back of his knuckles along my cheek.
We faced each other on the couch, knees touching. I leaned into his hand and closed my eyes. He lifted my chin and gently pressed his lips against mine. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Neil kissed me again then pulled away, turning so both feet were on the floor. When he lifted an arm, drawing me close, I curled—as best I could—against his side. He stroked the edge of my shoulder.
“I probably need Carter’s approval, don’t I?” I asked.
“Dunno. Couldn’t hurt, though.”
I listened to Neil’s steady heartbeat, relaxing beneath his touch and with every smell of his cologne. It was funny how some sounds, feelings, and smells could make me feel safer than anything else in the world.
“You don’t happen to know how to find a number you deleted from your phone?” I asked.
“Nah, I’m thinking that sucker’s gone. Though I am kind of surprised you don’t have it memorized.”
“Not all of us have photographic memories, you know.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It is pretty awesome, being me.”
I shook my head and sat up, smoothing down my hair. “Too bad God forgot to give you a big nose with that ego.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. I smiled. I loved that sound. Then I realized what I would have to do to get Carter’s number, and my shoulders fell. It’d been months since I’d spoken to Heather. What did I say to someone who bailed on her friend?
Neil squeezed my knee. “Hey, you don’t have to call him tonight. It can wait.”
I shook my head. “No, I want to get it over with. Putting it off will just make me more miserable.”
He sighed. “Tell you what—how about I go pick up some food while you call? I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready to eat everything in the pantry. Including the shelves.”
The corners of my mouth twitched. “Sounds good.”
He kissed the side of my forehead. “Okay, then. I’ll be back soon.”
As soon as the door closed, I dialed a number I never thought I would again.
Heather answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?” Her question was slow, controlled. She never expected me to call her, either.
“Hey. I need Carter’s number. Would you be able to help me?” I cringed, ready for her to tell me off.
Instead, the familiar sound of her bed squeaking carried through the phone. “Yeah, sure. How . . . how are you?”
“Good,” I lied. “Considering.”
“Yeah, I heard about your mom. I’m really sorry, Andie. For . . . everything.”
I bit my lip. How was I supposed to respond? I couldn’t just say it was okay, because it wasn’t. I’d needed her, and she turned her back on me. A best friend wasn’t supposed to do that. If roles had been reversed, I definitely wouldn’t have.
“All right,” she said when I didn’t respond. “Well, I’ll text you Carter’s number. You know he’s in California now, right?”
“Yeah.” Ironically, I’d been relieved when he’d moved. At least I didn’t have to worry about seeing him around town.
“Oh. He said he called you, but—never mind. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
I nodded then an old question popped into mind. “Wait! I have to ask, and I promise I won’t be mad if you say yes.” At least, I’d try not to be angry. “Was it you who told Beth I was pregnant?”
A long, awkward pause penetrated the silence. “Yes,” she said at last, before my phone beeped in my ear.
She’d hung up.
I dropped my hand, my breath hitching. While there was no one else who could’ve done it, part of me hadn’t believed Heather would betray me like that. Now that I knew, I wished I’d never asked.
My cell phone chimed with a text
from Heather—Carter’s number and the words: I really am sorry.
My thumbs shook over the keyboard, my brain unable to form a response. I closed the message. Maybe I would wait to talk to Carter tomorrow after all, yet it wasn’t until Friday, while Neil was at school, that I found the courage to call my ex-best friend. Jill had begun her research on adoption agencies earlier in the week, and Mr. Anderson assured me he’d run background checks on all the prospective parents. Like father, like daughter, I supposed.
When Carter’s voice came through the phone, I lowered myself to the edge of my bed, unable to speak. His voice brought back so many childhood memories; in the deepest parts of me, it was good to hear him speak again. But with all the happy thoughts came those filled with pain. He’d lied to get out of child support. He’d abandoned me—his son—and never once looked back. What did I say to him?
“Andie, I know it’s you. Your name still comes up on my screen.”
I swallowed and ran a fingertip along a seam in the comforter. “Yeah. I, uh, I’ve decided to put the baby up for adoption.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry. Look, it’s kind of late to be saying this, but I really regret not helping you through this. I’ll do whatever you need.”
Kind of late? He could say that again. My teeth ground. “Just write a letter or something and sign it, saying you agree to giving him up, then scan it to me. If I need anything else, I’ll let you know.” My voice came out as annoyed as I felt. Good.
“Right, yeah. I can do that.”
Of course he could, now that he was getting his way. I grasped the comforter and resisted telling him all the nasty things running through my head.
After answering a few of his questions—like, it’s a boy, and yes, I’d tell him which agency I picked—I hung up and threw my phone into the mattress with a scream.
The following Monday afternoon, Neil and I began our visits with the agencies, and after a week of listening to the lists of couples looking for babies, my emotional exhaustion level hit an all-time high. I spent that entire Saturday in bed, and only the promise of getting to see Owen make a fool of himself in the Senior Class Play on Sunday drove me to leave the apartment. He joined the Drama Club to convince Monica White—my cheerleading co-captain—to go out with him, apparently. Afterward, the three of us spent hours playing video games at Jill’s, and by the time we left, my mood had elevated enough to sit down and pick four couples I wouldn’t mind meeting.
After my OB appointment the Thursday of my twenty-ninth week, Neil and I joined the first couple for dinner at a nice restaurant in downtown Denver. Alyssa and Tom Sullivan had driven all the way from Cheyenne, Wyoming to meet me. Hand-in-hand, Neil and I entered the little Italian bistro and spotted them near the back.
The paperwork said they were only in their late twenties. In person, they looked much younger, well-dressed, and in good shape. But it wasn’t their appearances that drew me to them—it was the way they smiled when they caught me gawking. It was like I was their best friend returning from war or a long-lost sibling about to be reunited. Genuine. Loving. Kind.
“You ready?” Neil whispered in my ear.
I couldn’t speak but found it easy to step forward.
The couple stood as we approached, their eyes bright and judgment free. Tom shook hands with Neil as Alyssa hugged me in a warm embrace.
“It’s so wonderful to meet you,” she said, her voice pleasant and happy. “Please, sit. Both of you. Dinner’s on us.”
“No,” Neil said, pushing in my chair. “There’s no need for you guys to do that.”
“Of course there’s no need. But we want to,” Tom replied, smiling. “Please, have whatever you want.”
Neil met my gaze, and I shrugged as he took his seat with a grin. “Then, thank you.”
For the next half-hour, I chatted with Alyssa and Tom about my hobbies, my likes and dislikes, and what I hoped to do after high school. When they asked about my family, I admitted to being adopted myself then shared what I did know from my paperwork and about the parents who raised me. Alyssa and Tom hung on my every word, reacting to every story with sincere enthusiasm. And with each passing minute, I found myself relaxing more and more, unafraid to open up to them about all that had happened and my fears for Ethan.
Alyssa took my hand in hers. “I can promise you that we would love him unconditionally and do everything in our power to make sure he has all the things a boy could want.” Her eyes glistened. “To be able to do what you’re doing takes so much love, and we would always make sure he knew that. You’re his angel, Andie.”
The second my tears broke free, Alyssa was out of her chair and wrapping her arms around me. Tom crouched next to us, one hand on his wife’s back while his other rubbed mine. This was it, the moment I needed to know Ethan would be okay. I pictured my parents in Tom and Alyssa’s shoes, Jodi in my chair—and a weight lifted off my chest. Memories scrolled through my head: dancing in a princess dress on Dad’s feet; baking cookies with Mom for Santa; Dad’s contagious laugh; Mom’s ice-melting smile; Dad telling jokes as he carried me off the football field when I broke my ankle in seventh grade; Mom curling my hair before my first homecoming.
I hadn’t been biologically theirs either, but I could’ve gone my whole life and never known. With Alyssa and Tom, I knew Ethan would be loved the same way.
After I managed to compose myself, and Alyssa and Tom returned to their chairs, wiping tears from their own cheeks, I turned to Neil, beaming. He smiled, taking my hand in his, and even he couldn’t keep the emotion from his eyes. It wasn’t nearly as hard to choose them as I’d thought it would be, and the first Monday of March, the four of us sat in one of Bethlehem Family Services’ conference rooms, listening to a lawyer drone on about my rights to Ethan once I signed the papers. I’d only receive updates once a year on his birthday until he turned eighteen. At that time, it was up to Ethan to seek me out. I could never search for him.
But I wasn’t afraid anymore. By now, Alyssa had emailed me pictures of their house, I’d met my son’s grandparents via Skype, and she’d taken me on a virtual shopping trip—she texted pictures of clothes and toys, and I vetoed the ones I didn’t like. I knew she’d take good care of my son.
And, if what Neil said was true, and my son was like me, Ethan would have no problem finding friends to hack government databases to find me.
Once I agreed that I understood all he was saying, the lawyer had me sign a few documents then slid the final paper across the table—the one where I officially signed over my son to Alyssa and Tom.
Neil held my hand under the table, and with my heart in my throat, I squeezed his fingers like I’d fall to my death if I let go. I stared blankly at the paper for at least a solid minute.
“Can I write a letter?” I asked. “You know, for him to read when he’s old enough?”
The lawyer looked at Alyssa and Tom, the people who would raise Ethan, who would hear him call them Mom and Dad. Take him to football games and music lessons. Put a bandage on his knee when he skinned it falling off his bike. Straighten his tie on his way to his first homecoming.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Alyssa said.
Nodding, I looked at the form that signed over my baby to his new parents. I grabbed the pen, my hand shaking, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.
Neil leaned over. “Everything will be okay.” He caressed the inside of my wrist with his thumb.
I squeezed his hand harder. Then, opening my eyes, I touched ink to the page and signed my name.
chapter thirty
The morning Ethan came was no different than any other. The Monday of my thirty-seventh week—April eighth. I made breakfast. We watched TV. Neil wrote music while I read a book. The same routine we’d practiced for days. He’d taken his final exams a week before and officially graduated with a 4.2 GPA—thanks to honors classes and a photographic brain.
About halfway through my novel, exhaustion slammed into me, like a linebacker picked me up a
nd threw me into the ground. Setting the book on the couch, I leaned my head back.
Stupid pregnancy symptoms. The doctor had said the last few weeks were going to be awkward. Wished she would’ve been wrong.
Then my skin flushed, like someone popped me into an oven, and nausea rolled through my gut, into my chest. I threw an arm over my eyes and breathed through my nose. Was this normal? Oh, no—was I going into labor?
No, I couldn’t be. I didn’t feel any pain. It would pass, just like every other time my stomach decided to fondle the reject button.
“You okay over there?” Neil asked from where he sat at his keyboard.
“Yeah. Just a little queasy.” I pushed myself off the couch. Well, more like I rocked back and forth until I gained enough momentum to get up. I waddled through the living room, hoping that, by allowing myself to throw up, the sickness would go away.
But as soon as I stepped into the bathroom, my insides constricted. Like a menstrual cramp on steroids. Gasping, I tipped sideways and leaned against the sink, placing a hand on my belly. A boa constrictor might as well have been circling my midsection, squeezing me until I popped. Oh, crap.
I stepped out of the hall. Neil’s eyes were closed. He leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped over his abs. His pencil was in his mouth, and his foot tapped to whatever beat he heard in his head. When I said his name, my voice shook. Neil’s eyelids popped open, and he did a double-take. Then seeing me holding my stomach, he jumped from his chair.
“Hospital?” he said. When I nodded, he grabbed the bag I’d packed weeks ago. Hand-in-hand, we raced to the truck and to the hospital where I was in labor for fourteen hours. Alyssa and Tom arrived about halfway through, though I refused to let anyone into the room with me except Neil. When I wasn’t walking around, I made him sit close to my head, facing me at all times. Last thing I needed was him scarred for life.
