Ashlie doesn’t pull away until I do, and even then, she keeps her hands on my shoulders. It only takes a few minutes for the tears to stop, but I still feel like I want to throw up. Because I’mfuckingpregnant.
“Do youknow who the?—”
“Trevor.” I glance at her, then the floor after I see the shock on her face.
“How dare you?” she whispers.
“Excuse me?” I scoff, pushing away to snatch my phone off the ground. “You have an entire fiancé. Why do you care?”
“I’m not mad aboutthat! Marry him for all I care. But how could you not tell me, Wills? We’re sisters.”
Taking a deep breath, I look up at the garish fluorescent tube lighting. “I don’t know. We were drinking, it was my birthday, and I just wanted to let loose for once. It wasn’t supposed to follow me out of San Diego.”
“Didn’t you use a condom?”
“We did, but I guess it broke…”
“Was it good? Do you like him?” Ashlie gasps and steps toward me. “Are you even going to keep the baby?”
“Of course I’m keeping the baby, Ash. Even if I have to do it on my own.” As shocking as this news is, I have no question in my mind about that. I’ve always thought I’d be a mom someday, I just thought it would involve a syringe and donor number 752. Figured I’d raise a child like I do everything else, on my own. I never imagined the other half of the equation being in the picture.
“You have to tell him, Willa…”
I know this. He wanted to talk the morning after but I blew him off, mostly from embarrassment. Not that I regret our tryst; I don’t. I’m adult enough to acknowledge I enjoyed everything we did that night. But morning has a way of putting things into perspective. I didn’t want to make something out of nothing. Now though, it’s a gigantic something that I absolutely need to talk to him about. It wouldn’t be right to keep this from him.
“You won’t have to do it on your own, you know? Trevor won’t let that happen.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I snap.
Her eyes narrow as she sucks her teeth. “I’m blaming the attitude on hormones, but don’t think I won’t go off on you, Wills. You’re notthatpregnant.”
“Ugh, I’m sorry,” I say, my face falling into my hands. She’s right about Trevor. In the years I’ve known him, he’s always the first to jump in and help. As soon as I tell him, he’ll be all in. The perfect partner to lean on. But leaning on him—on anyone—that’s the part that has me terrified.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TREVOR
Frustrated doesn’t begin to cover the pent-up agitation I’ve been ignoring for weeks. Willa made it perfectly clear she wasn’t interested in anything else after our night together. What choice do I have, other than moving on? Going through the motions—out with friends, random dates from the MeetCute app, the gym—whatever keeps me busy, really. This is my new normal for the time being. My head isn’t in it, but sitting alone in my quiet apartment has never been good for my mind. Neither has wallowing in self-pity. I’ll be alright as soon as I figure out how to get over someone who was never really mine to begin with. A mirage I can’t seem to shake. Needless to say, I’ll be spending the evening throwing weights around the gym after work.
My sister’s name pops up on the screen as my phone skitters across my desk, snapping me back to the handful of incorrectly submitted proposals on my computer screen. I rub the headache forming behind my eyes and sigh. I’ll call Maya back after I fix up this document.
This report has enough errors to warrant a team intensive on corporate expectations.Again. Tech sales generally has a high turnover rate, but with the way Chase and I run things, ourassociates advance to higher positions instead of leaving the company. It’s a good ego boost, except for cohorts like this one where most of our associates are brand new to the industry. After seven years, I forget how much of a learning curve there is. But training comes with the territory as a manager, and despite all the tedium in the beginning, the teaching aspect is one of my favorite parts of this job. They’ll catch on eventually; I just need to pick up the slack until then.
I duplicate the document to use as a nonexample, polish up the inaccuracies, and submit the corrected form for processing. A text buzzes through as I stretch the muscles in my neck and shoulders, leaning back in my leather office chair. Friday afternoons at EdTechU are pretty slow, and it’s close enough to the end of the workday that I feel the fight against procrastination leave as I pick up my phone.
Big Sis
Answer your phone, T.
Me
So you can guilt me into coming home for Thanksgiving? Not gonna happen.
Big Sis
Come on. You could surprise Mom. She’ll do that Jazz Hands squealing thing when she cries. Pure entertainment.
Me
