“Oh, shit.” She stares at me.
“Yes, it’s Tate’s,” I continue before she can ask.
“And he wasn’t happy.”
“Not even a little.”
“Did he say it wasn’t his?”
“No. I did the blood paternity test—he paid for it—and it’s definitely his. Although I haven’t heard from him since we got the results.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t fucking know.” I lean back and close my eyes. “I’ve been out to the women’s clinic twice and I just couldn’t…”
“So…we’re having a baby.”
“Well, I’m having one.”
“Come on, honey. You know I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”
“How am I going to work when I’m big as a house and unsteady on my feet?”
“We’ll figure it out. You could triple your pie business if you worked here less hours, so that might help. And we’ll change your days off, so you’re working on the slower days instead of weekend nights.”
Those small changes will help, definitely, but long-term…
“Once the baby’s born, who’s going to watch it while I work?” I demand. “And how am I going to eat during the month or however long I need to get back on my feet after the birth? And what if it winds up being a C-section and I can’t?—”
“Whoa, there, Summer. Hang on to your hat—let’s not jump to every worst-case scenario before you’re even through the first trimester.”
“I have to,” I whisper, tears burning my eyes. “Because these are all questions I have to have answers to. No one is going to save me. No one is going to support me. I can sue Tate for child support, and I’m sure he’ll give it up pretty easily, but he’s not rich either. The album is doing well but he told me that he never knows how much his next royalty check will be. Or when he’ll get it. The band has some sort of deal with the record label that they pay off all band-related debt first, before anyone gets paid. So where does that leave me? And don’t say hire a lawyer—I can’t afford that either.”
“Short-term, I’ll be there to help you after the birth. Sylvie too. You can still bake pies while you’re recuperating and I’ll come by in the morning so you can sleep if you’ve been up all night. Once you’re ready to come back here, we’ll have to adjust your schedule so you’re working when I’m working, and you leave the baby in the office with me. Okay? So we have a plan to get you through, let’s say pregnancy and the first three months of the baby’s life. Then we can reassess.”
Tears are falling unchecked and pretty soon I start to sob.
Because she’s a good friend.
Because Tate is being such a jerk.
Because I miss my mom.
Because I’m fucking pregnant and hormonal as well.
“Shh, you’re okay, sweetie.” She comes around the desk and hugs me, letting me bury my face in her mid-section since I’m still sitting down. “Everything is gonna be okay. You’ll see. Babies are a blessing even when it doesn’t feel like it.”
“I don’t want my kid to suffer,” I whisper. “To be hungry or cold or scared because we don’t have money.”
“You’ll have money. And you’ll always have food. We’ll make sure of it. One way or another. Maybe this is the kick you need to get your baking business going. Summer’s Sweets for the win.”
I give her a watery smile. “I can barely put one foot in front of the other right now. I don’t have the bandwidth to expand my business.”
“But you will. This is still new. Fresh. Eventually, the shock will wear off and survival will kick in. You’re going to start coming up with a plan. We’ll work on it together. You’ll see, you’re going to be fine.”
I cry a little more before I’m finally all cried out. She hands me a tissue and I blow my nose, and then I just sit there.
“I hate that he won’t be there for us,” I whisper after a moment.
