At least my body was on point. I’d been rowing and running almost every single day.
I craned my neck to find Layla in the sea of occupied plastic round tables. I spotted her immediately. Her hair matched her green polo shirt, the preschool’s uniform. She wore it in two messy buns and was reading one of her spicy books, with a naked guy on the cover. Her huge blue eyes and ridiculously soft lips made her face impossible to look away from.
I was such a goner for this woman it wasn’t even funny.
Running a hand over my hair one last time, I walked into the cafeteria. She spotted me before I got to our table, tucked a receipt between the pages of her book, and put it aside. She stood up and gave me a hug. I noticed that she’d already purchased our food, which was set in trays. A veggie wrap and Gatorade for me; couscous, chicken, and sparkling water for her.
I cocked my head sideways as I took my seat, forcing myself to be nonchalant. “What, no Diet Coke? I thought you said it’s the only addiction you allow yourself.”
Layla’s cheek flushed, and she cleared her throat. “I’m trying to make better choices.”
If one of them is getting rid of your no-strings-attached booty call, I vote no.
“We all need a few vices,” I mumbled. “Otherwise we’ll go mad.”
She stared at me, straight faced. My heart did that thing again where it tried to rip itself out of my chest and flap between us like a fish out of water. I picked up half my wrap and took a big bite of it.
“I’m waiting for you to finish this bite before I tell you, because this is a Band-Aid situation, and I’m pretty sure the best strategy is just ripping it off all at once,” she said.
I had a feeling theitpart was the thing beating inside my chest.
I swallowed the entire bite without chewing it, then grabbed a napkin and dabbed hummus traces from my fingers. “Please don’t tell me this wrap is poisoned.”
No giggle. No smile. No acknowledgment of my weak joke.
“Grant, I’m pregnant.”
The chatter and clatter around us stopped. So did my pulse.
I was sucked into a vortex, and a thousand different emotions slammed into me all at once like a car crash.
Confusion. Surprise. Anxiety. Concern. Fear. Anger.
. . . Elation.
Then again, I knew how Layla felt about babies. Children. Relationships. Love.
“It’s yours,” she added, biting down on her lower lip. “I’ve only slept with you in the past ... well, six-ish years.”
Satisfaction flooded me, even in this moment of total chaos. I hadn’t been with anyone else either. Not for a very long time. We never talked about being exclusive, and I always assumed she was seeing other people.
“Pregnant,” I repeated, my mouth sandpaper dry.
“I’m sorry. I mean—kind of? I’m sorry we’re in this situation, not that I’m pregnant,” she clarified, twisting her fingers together nervously.
It felt like a helium balloon was lifting my heart up my chest.
Did that mean she was keeping it? Daring to hope would be stupid. Then again, I’d never been too smart when it came to this woman.
“I drank quite a bit that night, so it must’ve messed up my birth control. I’m sorry to put you in this position. It was completely irresponsible of me to drink, and even more so to ask you not to put on a condom. I promise you it wasn’t premeditated in any way.”
“I’d never think that. I would never have sex with the kind of woman I thought was capable of tricking me into fatherhood. You know I’ll support you no matter how you choose to proceed,” I said. And meant it. Even if her decision would kill me.
“Thank you. I’ve already made up my mind.”
“Okay.”
“I decided I’m keeping it.”
