“Do you want to keep it?” Mom asked.
“Yes, she does,” Kaylee answered for me. “Maze, you do, right?”
My breathing was all over the place. “I’m still processing this. But… yeah, I want to keep it. Before you ask, Lucas knows.”
Kaylee bounced with happiness.
Tears cascaded down my mother’s cheeks. I’d seen my mother cry but never over me, and that gutted me.
Mom held her head high. “Listen to me. I know I don’t say this enough. But you’re intelligent, strong, and a kick-ass woman. And you will be the best mother on this planet.”
I dragged a hand under my nose. “What’s with the change of heart?”
“You’re not me, Mazzie. Do I want you to be burdened with a baby? No. And if this Lucas loves you, you two will have a fighting chance.”
“Lucas is the best, Mom,” Kaylee said. “He will not leave her or hurt her. He knows if he does, he’ll have to deal with me.”
I choked out a laugh through a sob.
The other inmates were starting to leave their loved ones.
Mom checked the clock on the wall. “I guess I have to go.” She rose. “I love you girls. I’m going to make sure I get out in five months. I want to see my grandchild born.”
I hugged her for a long minute. “I love you.” I hoped she came out a better mother, as she’d stated, because I would love for her to be part of her grandchild’s life.
“Promise me you won’t give up on medical school,” she said.
“Never, Mom.” It might take me an additional year, but I wouldn’t give up on my dream.
Kaylee hugged her, and when Mom finally crossed the room, her shoulders were shaking as she cried.
“I’m sad,” Kaylee said.
“Me too. Come on, lil’ sis. We need tissues.”
We stopped in the bathroom on our way out, and after freshening up, I stood behind her at the sink and fixed her ponytail.
“Are you sure that you’re cool with me having a baby?” I eyed her through the mirror.
“I would never be upset with you over that. I know it will be tough for you, but Lucas isn’t going to leave you.”
“I was worried you would think I was like Mom.”
She turned and flashed those big brown eyes up at me. “I love Mom, but you’re not her.”
As we walked out into a beautiful October day with a blue sky and puffy white clouds, I felt lighter, freer. It was time to step out of the shadows of my mother and write my own story.
32
Lucas
The sun spilled in through the sliding glass doors in the kitchen—warm, bright, and blinding. I’d spent the weekend going back and forth on how I felt about becoming a father. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around having a kid. I wanted to tell my mom, seek her advice, but I knew what she would say.
Son, you can’t support a child at this stage in your life. When I said I wanted grandbabies, I didn’t mean now.
I could practically hear her voice echoing in my head, full of that familiar disappointment and concern she’d perfected over the years. But what did I really want her to say? That everything would be fine. That I was ready for this? Because I wasn’t.
But as Saturday and Sunday came and went, the shock and anger lessened. I couldn’t turn back the clock and put on a condom any more than I could predict a future in which an NFL contract would solve the financial problem.
