“Okay.”
Huh. Now I’m a little confused. She was the one who said she couldn’t get away to come to a show, didn’t have time to see me again, so this seems out of character for her.
“I, uh…” She blows out a breath. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Whatever it is, just say it.”
“Tate. I’m…pregnant.”
At first, her words don’t register.
“What?”
“I’m pregnant. About five weeks.”
“Five…” My brain is still refusing to make sense of what she’s saying. “I don’t understand. I was there…” I wrack my brain, trying to come up with dates. “Three weeks ago, tops.”
“I know.”
“I don’t understand. That means the baby isn’t mine. Doesn’t it?”
“No.” Her voice is a little shaky. “I was confused at first too, but I hadn’t been with anyone else in more than four months.”
“But then how…” My heart is beating a little too hard and my stomach feels weird. How can she be five weeks pregnant with my kid if we only had sex three weeks ago.
“Apparently, the way they calculate your due date is based on the first day of your last period, which is approximately two weeks before conception. The way the doctor explained it, the average pregnancy is 280 days from that day—the first day of your last period. And then you’re due in forty weeks. But anyway, you can look it up. I’m not lying. I’m pregnant, and it’s definitely your baby.”
Fuck fuck fuck.
Everything in my field of vision swims for a second as I try to catch my breath.
Pregnant.
A baby.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
I’m not even ready for a relationship so I’m definitely not in the market for fatherhood. I can’t have a kid. Not now. Maybe in like, ten years, but not now. I’m on tour. About to go on the road. Maybe—wait.
Is she calling because she needs money for an abortion?
“Tate?” Her voice sounds small, nothing like the vibrant woman I got to know for two days a few weeks ago.
“I’m here. I’m, uh, not sure how to respond. This definitely isn’t in the cards for me.”
“What, you think it’s in the cards for me?” she snaps, the first snippet of her personality coming through.
“Are you going to…keep it?”
“I don’t know. I went to a clinic and then just sat in the parking lot. I couldn’t bring myself to go in.”
In all fairness, I’d probably struggle with it too.
But I can’t have a kid right now.
Jesus, this is the clusterfuck to end all clusterfucks. For me, anyway.
“What does that mean?” I ask finally.
