“Do you want to come to my house?” I ask, immediately cringing as the words burst from my lips. Why the fuck would she go anywhere with me? I’m a stranger—one who probably sounds creepy as hell, trying to lure her into his car and home. If my sister, Tatum, were in this exact situation, I’d scold her to the ends of the earth for saying yes. Granted, whoever took Tate would likelyreturn her as soon as she started talking their ear off, but still. It’s not safe and extremely irresponsible.
Before I can take back my proposal, apologizing for being so presumptuous by assuming that she’d be comfortable with me, she flips my entire world off its axis.
“Sure.”
THREE
FINLEY
What the freshhell am I doing?
Not only did I take Theo up on his offer for a ride, but I’m actually goinghome with him. I wish I could give a rational explanation as to why I thought this would be a good idea, but I truly don’t have one. I’ve never spoken to him outside the club, and up until about ten minutes ago, I wasn’t even sure that he liked me. Our conversations are usually short, and he rarely looks me in the eye. But the way he stared into my soul with all the sincerity in the world when he asked if someone had hurt me—I just feltsafe. That’s why I didn’t hesitate to say yes when he extended the invitation. It beats the alternative of going back to my place and being asked a slew of questions about why I’m not at work.
I watch the city pass by, the silence that hangs in the air between us not nearly as uncomfortable as it should be. Other than Eric, I haven’t been alone with any of the high-profile clients I’ve served at Club Tilt. With him, I never really got a word in edgewise, happy enough tohear him talk about himself until he decided it was time to take things to the bedroom. It worked out, since my life is kind of a dumpster fire. The last thing I wanted was to turn him off with thepoor mestory of how I grew up, and how I’ve basically been taking care of myself since I was a kid. Stuff like that doesn’t exactly get a guy hard. Plus, we agreed to keep our relationship light and fun. It was better that way. I needed the escape, and we both benefited from it.
Until I was left to figure out the hard parts alone.
My hand instinctually lifts to my stomach, thumb skating over the fabric of my sweatshirt. I struggle sometimes with my own worries, to the point where I wonder if I’ll even be a good mother. This should be a joyful and exciting time, but here I am, selfishly wondering what life will be like after this baby is born. My mom was absent when I was a kid, to say the least. I think she meant well, always trying to find me a new dad after mine took off, but all that did was take her away when I needed her the most. By age eight, I was staying home by myself while she was being whisked away on weekend getaways, promising thatthis was the one—the man who would be the father I deserved. Some stayed for a while, but in the end, they all left. I wanted more for my children, and here I am, pregnant by a guy who won’t even admit that it’s his.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Theo asks, bringing me out of my thoughts as he merges onto the highway. He’s careful and deliberate, checking his blind spot three times before settling into a lane. I lower my handto my lap, swallowing roughly as I attempt to push the nagging hopelessness away.
I nod. “Yeah. It’s just been a rough day.” I debate telling him more, because I don’t want to burden him—or worse, bore him—with my problems. But the way he’s looking at me with all the sincerity in the world is throwing me for a loop. I can’t remember the last time someone was truly interested or concerned about anything I had going on.
My roommates hardly even know me beyond the surface, and I’ve lost touch with pretty much everyone I grew up with. When they were going off to college and living it up, I was figuring out how to keep the lights on as my mother recovered from her most recent breakup. Now, at twenty-five, they’re starting the sweetest little families and having gender reveal parties surrounded by so much love. Yet here I am, worrying about how I’m even going to pay to deliver this baby on my own, let alone feed and clothe them.
“Talk to me, Finley. I won’t judge. It’ll be good to get whatever’s bothering you off your chest,” he says softly, the tone of his voice causing tears to prick at the backs of my eyes. His bright blue eyes leave the road for just a moment, connecting with mine, and suddenly, Iwantto let it out. Other than Eric and Blaine, nobody knows what’s going on. I couldn’t tell Cecilia and Phoebe because I was worried that they’d blab to our coworkers, and I’m definitely not talking to my mother about it. She’s currently traveling the world with her flavor of the month, and I don’t need to be lectured about how I ruined her vacation. She probably wouldn’t offer muchsolace anyway, especially after finding out that Eric wants nothing to do with his child. But Theo is right…I need to let it out before I explode.
I focus on my lap, winding a rogue thread from my shirt around my finger. My toe taps nervously against the rubber floormat, waves of anxiety coursing through me as my throat begins to tighten. But before it completely closes, I utter the two words that have resulted in nothing but immense loss so far.
“I’m pregnant.”
I wait in silence for him to reply, but he doesn’t say a word. Uncertainty swirls in the air around us as time passes, each second feeling like an eternity until it becomes too much. I take a chance, sliding my eyes over to where he’s focused forward. His shoulders are slumped, fingers shaking just slightly as they grip the wheel. But if I thought his body language was confusing, the look on his face only makes things even more unclear. I don’t know him well enough to really nail it down, but for a moment, something resembling disappointment passes over his expression before he exhales a slow breath. I ready myself for questions about the father or how far along I am, but he doesn’t seem to be concerned with any of that when he finally speaks.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly, eyes still glued to the road as he takes the exit and turns. It catches me off guard because, pregnant or not, it’s not something I’m asked often. I get up every morning, handle my business, and do it all over again the next day. Sure, I get stressed, sad, and tired, but I try my best not to dwell on it for long. All that does is add to the weight that Icarry with me, and I don’t need it slowing me down. But I’ll admit that having someone else shoulder the burden for me, even for just a few minutes, sounds like a dream.
“I’m…” I begin, pausing to decide how much I should reveal. I could downplay it and say I’m fine or go completely off the rails and tell him how I’m about to be living in a cardboard box on the chilly shores of Lake Erie with my fatherless baby, using only my bare hands to forage and gather our food.
Okay, that’s dramatic, butwhatever.
“I’ll be alright,” I say, deciding on a middle ground. “I was let go from my job today, so I have to find something new kind of quick. I’m sure somebody out there will be able to look past the fact that I’ll need a week or so off when the baby is born. I’m a good worker, and I’ll do anything, as long as I have a steady income and benefits.”
He looks my way, brows pulled tight in confusion. “A week? Finley, you’ll need more than a week to recover from childbirth, and that’s without complications. You don’t even go in for your post-partum checkup for six weeks. Plus, you’ll want time to bond with your baby. You shouldn’t have to leave them to go to work before either of you are ready.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, a hint of defensiveness in my tone, although I’m fully aware that he’s right.
“My sister has two kids,” he replies. “Some days, she was in so much pain that she could barely get out ofbed without help. A week isn’t enough time to let your body heal. It’s not safe.”
I remain quiet, focusing my attention out the passenger window. We’ve made our way out of the city, now in the middle of a gorgeous, upper-class suburb. Each house is more breathtaking than the last, all surrounded by lush green grass and beautiful landscaping. I grew up not too far from here, just on the other side of Cleveland, but it may as well have been on another planet with how different it was. I slept on a pull-out couch in the living room of our one-bedroom apartment for most of my adolescence, worrying about things kids should never have to. I pretended to have no interests, knowing how expensive sports and hobbies would be for my mother, who already struggled to make ends meet. It’s what I’ve always known, so while I appreciate Theo’s concerns, I don’t really have much of a choice.
“Who’s going to hire me if they know that I plan on taking my entire maternity leave?” I ask, keeping my attention trained on the scenery. “It would be one thing if I was already working somewhere and became pregnant, but if they know they’ll have to find someone to fill in for me long-term in less than five months, why would they bother bringing me on?” I turn my head, blowing out a defeated breath as my eyes lock onto his. “As soon as I can, I’ll need to go right back. Someone has to provide for this baby, Theo.”
He looks at my hand that’s absentmindedly moving over my belly, teeth digging into his plump lower lip. A heavy, awkward silence hangs in the air between us,seconds ticking by where neither of us says a word. He opens and closes his mouth several times, uncertainty radiating from his gigantic frame, before he finally speaks. “It’s none of my business, and you can tell me to fuck off if I’m overstepping, but is Eric the father?” The question feels like it weighs a million pounds, because even though he technically is, I’ve been made painfully aware that he wants nothing to do with me, or our child. No matter how many times I’ve tried, the answer is always the same, and it fucking sucks.
“Yeah,” I croak, shame and embarrassment washing over me. “But I think I’m going to do this by myself. He’s got a lot going on, and a baby doesn’t really fit into his lifestyle.”
His hands tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles going white as the leather groans beneath his grip. I can’t stop myself from studying his reaction, from the way his stare hardens on the road ahead to the muscles in his jaw as they clench. It’s as though he’s angry for me, which I’ll admit feels kind of good. I’ve spent months grappling with these emotions on my own, wishing I had someone else to tell me that I wasn’t crazy for being sad, mad, scared, and everything in between. I’ve lost sleep on so many occasions, with the guilt I carry for unknowingly putting my baby in the same situation I was in as a kid, eating me alive.
Growing up, nothing hurt quite like watching all my classmates’ dads show up for them. From science fairs to spelling bees, I had to pretend like it didn’t break my heart that my own flesh and blood didn’t want me. Andnow, my son or daughter will feel the same way because I couldn’t do better for them.
