"Is he a good guy?"
I think about Donovan.
About the way he made sure I ate when I was working too late. The way he orders a car for me every night.
The way he kissed me last night, holding onto me like he never wanted to let go.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "He's a good guy. But we're not... we're not together. It was one night. In Miami. And now I work for—" I stop, catching myself.
Carmen's too smart not to notice.
Her eyes widen slightly. "Emma. Please tell me the father isn't—"
"I can't talk about it yet." The words tumble out—hurried. Rushed. "I need to process. I need to figure out what I'm going to do before I—" I press my hands to my face. "Can we just... can we not talk about who it is rightnow?"
Carmen watches me for a long moment, and I can practically see her putting pieces together. But she just nods.
"Okay. But Emma? Whoever he is, he has a right to know."
"I know." My hand drifts to my stomach, still flat, showing no sign of the chaos happening inside. "But not yet. Not until after the product launch."
"That's four weeks away."
"I know. But I need to prove myself first. I need to show that I earned this job, that I deserve to be here. If I tell him now—if people find out now—they'll assume I got hired because of... because of personal reasons."
"Nobody will assume that."
"They will. You know they will." I sit back down on the air mattress. "Please, Carmen. Four weeks. Just give me four weeks to prove myself. Then I'll tell him. I'll deal with all of it. But right now, I need to focus on my work."
Carmen looks like she wants to argue, but finally she sighs. “Four weeks. But Emma? You need to see a doctor. Get checked out. Make sure everything's okay."
"I will. I promise."
"And you need to take care of yourself. No more seventy-hour weeks. No more skipping meals."
"Okay."
"I'm serious, Emma. You're not just taking care of yourself anymore."
The words send a ball of anxiety to the pit of my stomach.
Because I'm not just taking care of myself anymore.
I'm going to be a mother.
I touch my stomach again, and this time, underneath the panic and the fear and the overwhelming sense that my life is spinning out of control, there's something else.
Something that feels almost like...possibility.
"Carmen?" My voice is small. "What if I want to keep it?"
"Then you keep it." She sits next to me. "And we figure out the rest as we go."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." She bumps my shoulder with hers. "You're not alone in this, Emma. Whatever you decide, however this goes, you've got people in your corner."
I lean my head on her shoulder, exhausted and terrified and somehow, impossibly, the tiniest bit hopeful.
