I watch my ma leave, the door clicking softly behind her. For my entire life, it’s just been her and me. Me and her. Our own little family. And now… I’ve just told her to go.
I sink onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter, elbows on my knees, staring blankly at nothing. “We need to move,” I say finally. My voice sounds distant, even to me.
“Oh,” Brooke says quietly. “Yeah. I guess.”
I nod, still not looking at her. “It would be fine while the baby’s little, but… I want us settled before they’re here, you know?”
She agrees again and reaches out, her fingers brushing my arm in a slow, soothing motion. “Are you okay?”
I shrug, but it’s a heavy, tired gesture. “Ma and I don’t fight. I mean, we have little tiffs here and there, but we don’t fight. Andit’s not because we never disagree-it’s because I always fold first. I never wanted her to feel bad.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I swallow hard, staring down at my hands. “But this… this is something I won’t back down on.”
I take her hand and intertwine our fingers, grounding myself in the warmth of her skin. “I’m committed to you. And our baby.”
There’s a pause. Then, gently, Brooke asks, “You never told me what happened with your dad.”
I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I guess I didn’t.”
I open my mouth, close it again, then try once more. “I don’t remember ever asking my ma about him. People always say they noticed, like, ‘Oh, I was four when I realized I didn’t have a dad.’ But me? I never did. Never even cared. A lot of the kids in my school came from single households, so it’s not like it was weird.”
I look down at the counter, my voice going softer. “Then, when I was maybe thirteen or fourteen, ma and I had a fight. I used to play hockey in high school, and my team made it to the state championship. We won. But Ma wasn’t there. I was pissed, of course I was. I asked why other kids had at least one parent there and I had no one. I finally asked where my father was.”
The memory tastes like rust on my tongue.
“That’s when she told me the truth. Turns out my father was an exchange student from the UK. They dated; she got pregnant. She said he was happy. Excited, even. But when she was about six months along, he had to fly home for his grandmother’s funeral. She couldn’t go, pregnancy complications, I think.”
I pause, my throat tightening. “He was supposed to come back after a week. But when the week was up… he stopped taking her calls.”
The words start to shake now, like the ground beneath them isn’t steady anymore. “She tried, for a while. Then finally tracked him down through his sister. And when she did…”
I blink hard, but the burn behind my eyes is too strong. “He told her he wasn’t ready to be a father. And to never contact him again.”
My voice breaks on that last part. For years, that single sentence has sat in the pit of me like a stone.
When I look up again, Brooke is watching me quietly, eyes soft, not pitying, just seeing me. The weight of that alone almost undoes me.
“She never dated, you know,” I say, the words coming out rough. “I mean, once or twice when I was little. But I’d throw such tantrums that she just… stopped. She poured everything into me. All her attention, all her focus. And I just…” I trail off, not sure how to finish the thought.And I just let her. And maybe I took too much.
Brooke squeezes my hand gently. “You should talk to her.”
I shake my head almost instantly.
“She just found out her son is married and expecting a baby,” Brooke continues softly. “She was probably shocked.”
I huff out a bitter breath. “How can you defend her? She accused you of trapping me with the baby.”
I rest my palm over her curved stomach,ourbaby, the one she dared to say wasn’t mine. Brooke doesn’t think she’s showing yet, but I can definitely see a tiny bump.
Brooke shrugs, her voice calm, steady. “I love her son. Whatever she says, I’m not going anywhere.”
Something warm tugs at my chest, and I can’t help the small smile that creeps across my face.
Then Brooke hesitates, her expression shifting just slightly before she speaks. “You do know the baby’s yours, right? I mean… we never really had that talk, but I want you to know I’m one hundred percent sure you’re the father. I don’t want you to have any doubt.”
“I don’t,” I say immediately, honestly. “It never even occurred to me.”
And it’s true. The thought has never once crossed my mind. Not when we found out, not even now. Iknowthis baby is ours.
She smiles, a soft, teasing glint in her eyes. “We could always move to New Jersey.”
