The instant he says the word out loud I know that it’s true. I’ve avoided thinking about it because if I don’t acknowledge it, I can convince myself that the problem will go away. The problem being—who is the father?
The condom split when I had sex with Ruairi.
Declan hasn’t used protection because I never asked him to. I’m on birth control.
Only, with the excitement of my trip to Ireland, it was easy to forget that I had mild food poisoning a couple days before I met Ruairi. It must’ve interfered with the pills. And now… I’m pregnant with a baby that could potentially have been conceived by either of them.
He must sense my internal battle, because he asks gently, “Have you experienced any other symptoms?”
“My breasts have been a little tender and swollen.”
What the fuck am I going to do?
Declan won’t want to start over with a baby, especially when he finds out that it might be his son’s child. Because how can I go through with this, with the secret that keeps on growing legs? Eventually, I’ll be a gibbering mess of lies and guilt. And when the baby is born, I’ll spend the rest of my life praying that no one notices my ultimate deception.
“Do you feel as if you might’ve missed a period?” he asks.
Only one? I haven’t had a period since I arrived in Ireland six weeks ago.
“Ye-es. You won’t tell Orla, will you?”
The smile is back. “Anything we discuss will be treated with strict confidentiality, Amelia. But as your employers, Orla and Declan have a right to know.”
Because Declan might be the father…
I wish I knew for certain. This would be so much easier if I could simply tell him and then discuss like two regular adults how best to handle the situation. But my life right now couldn’t get any fucking further from normal. Neither could Declan’s. The universe must be laughing its head off at its own sick, twisted sense of humor every time it looks down on us from above.
What else can we throw at them? Oh, I know, how about a baby?
“What happens now?” I ask, like the doctor has all the answers.
“I’d like you to do a pregnancy test—you can pick one up from the chemist in the next village.” When I don’t respond, he presses, “Will that be a problem?”
“Declan isn’t here, and I don’t… I’m not sure if I can borrow a car.”
“I’ll speak to Orla. She can arrange for the driver to take you into the village tomorrow.” He says this without batting an eyelid, like everyone in Ireland has a chauffeur at their disposal. “I’ll give you an appointment to come and see me at the clinic the following day, and if the test is positive, I’ll refer you for an ultrasound scan to confirm the due date.”
Hot tears sting my eyes. Hormones. This cannot be happening to me.
“I’ve known Declan for almost forty years,” he continues, rising to his feet and peering down at me on the couch. “He’ll do all that he can to help you.”
Does that include accepting the baby as his own when it might be his dead son’s?
The tears are threatening to morph into hysterical laughter, and I cover my mouth with one hand to contain it. This isn’t the kind of situation a girl should laugh about in front of her boss’s friendly doctor.
“Would you like me to prescribe you something for the nausea?” The concern in his voice squeezes fresh tears from my eyes.
“No, it isn’t that bad.”If you can prescribe something for guilty secrets on the other hand…
The test is positive, as I knew it would be. Because after the doctor’s visit, I realize that my breasts are not simply tender, they’ve practically doubled in size. The waistband of my pants is feeling a little tighter than I would like too, and I can’t even smell coffee without wanting to puke.
Orla doesn’t pry, but I sense her eyes following me around the house, trying to figure out what’s wrong with me when I have my follow-up appointment with Dr. Flynn. Because he’s known Declan for almost forty years, he rushes the ultrasound referral through the system too. The due date is mid-July, which doesn’t help at all.
There’s no miracle medical equipment to determine who the father is.
I can’t tell my mom. The last thing she ever wanted was for me to go through what she went through as a single mom trying to bring up a kid alone. She’ll want to help. She’ll hide her disappointment. But it won’t make me feel any better.
I need to do the right thing, only I’m not sure what the right thing is. Do I tell Declan that the baby is his and forget that the night with Ruairi ever happened? They have the same genes; the baby could resemble either one of them. Or should I be honest and pray that Declan loves me enough to forgive me?
