I wanted her naked. My lips were on hers, my hands everywhere. It started as fucking, but my pace slowed, and I looked into her brown eyes as I slid in and out of her. Then the next thing I knew, I was coming, and I didn’t even realize it because of the intensity of the situation, but I’d forgotten to put on a condom. I assumed Romy would be on the pill or have one of those things put in her arm. I thought for sure she’d be protected. But she told me no. And then I thought to myself, what are the chances when I pulled out at the last minute? You know, the chances of me actually… it would be, like, one in a million.
But apparently, as Romy said, those health teachers were right because now I’m going to be a dad.
“It just got out of hand.”
Beau’s face screws up. “You can’t let it get fucking out of hand! Goddamn it. Do you know what this is gonna cost you?”
I press my palm to my forehead, run my hand over my hair, and tug on the back of my neck. “It’s not gonna cost money. It’s gonna cost me.” Gonna cost my child for having me as a father, I think but don’t say. “But fuck, man—I’m gonna be a dad.”
Beau must hear the weight in my voice, the unsteadiness, the fear. He sits next to me on the edge of the couch, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Zan.”
I hear it in his tone, the question that most people would ask in my situation.
“I’m telling you, it’s fucking mine.”
“But—”
“No. It’s mine. Romy isn’t like that. I’m sure she hasn’t… she would never tell me if she wasn’t sure. If there was an inkling it was someone else’s, she wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, you knew her for—what? Did you see her three times? She came?—”
“It doesn’t matter. I just know. I know her, and this baby is mine.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “I think you should at least think about a paternity test. You have things to protect. Assets, reputation, you. None of this works without you. Could you imagine if you go through this whole thing, and it turns out the baby was never even yours?”
I’m not going to have this conversation with him. He’s just doing his job, so I can’t really fault him for wanting me to get a paternity test. He probably already has a list of to-dos in his head about where we’re going to go, what we’re going to do, what legal paperwork we need.
“I don’t know, man. I just—I gotta wrap my head around this. This is huge.” I turn to look at him. He stares back at me and nods. “I mean, things are going to have to change.”
And even as I say the words, I have no idea what exactly that means. I’ll have to work harder. I have to make sure my kid never wants for anything—ever. He or she will never be the kid people make fun of and say they smell or the kid who goes to school in ratty clothes, half-starving.
“All right, all right,” Beau says, standing, putting his hands in the air. This is stage two of Beau in the midst of any crisis. This is the we-are-gonna-get-it-handled Beau. This is the part where he wants me to let him do the worrying for me. “We got this. I’m gonna figure this out. But first things first—how did the conversation end with you two? Is she mad? Is she angry? Is she upset?”
“Aren’t all three of those things the same emotion?” I arch an eyebrow.
He gives his bored look telling me to stop fucking around since we’re in the middle of a crisis.
“I don’t know. She seemed… okay. Upset, I suppose. She was crying. And—I don’t know. I gotta talk to her more about this, but I just needed some time. I needed to figure this out for myself.” I blow out a long stream of air. “A fucking father. A baby. A kid. Eighteen years this kid’s gonna rely on me, and what kind of role model am I going to be?”
“You’re going to be a great role model. That’s what you’re forgetting, Zan.” He sits in a chair across from me and leans in real close to make sure I look at him. “You’re the best guy I know. You’re gonna be an amazing dad, and you’re gonna make your child feel loved. Maybe you’ll coach Little League, and I know you’re going to teach them to play guitar. You’re gonna talk to them, and you’re gonna make them feel secure and supported. You’re gonna give that child everything we didn’t get, and you’re gonna do right by them. This kid’s gonna be amazing, and they’re gonna be grateful and happy that they got you as their dad.”
I wish I could believe him, but he’s painting a picture of a life that doesn’t exist for me.
“But what about the months spent on the road when I’m on tour? What about how I get lost in the process when I’m recording an album, and I end up disappearing for months?”
Beau shakes his head. “Yeah, man, I’m not gonna lie, that shit has to change. But it’s okay. It’s all right. We’ll figure it out. I promise you. First thing I’ll do is get you some books. We can have them loaded onto your phone, and no one has to know, okay?”
And for some reason—maybe because Beau knows everything I’ve been through in my life, and we’ve shared most of that trauma with each other—I believe him. I somehow believe that I can have both. That I can be a country music star and a father.
“Thanks, man,” I say, looking at him. “I really hope so. But I gotta say—I’m scared shitless.”
Beau rocks his head back and laughs. “Fuck, man, so am I.”
Chapter Eighteen
Romy
After my mom calmed me down and promised to keep my secret until I can actually have a conversation with Zander, I went back home and holed myself up in my room. I can’t focus on work. I want to know where his head is at and what he’s thinking, but I know he needs space.
