Thankfully, I didn’t drive here because I’m in no condition to be driving home.
The bad thing about walking is that I’m getting some weird looks. Probably because I look like a hot mess from crying.
I pull my hood up over my head and try to sink into it. The smell of Emmett hits me, and I nearly sob.
What do I do? How do I tell him?
We haven’t talked about babies. Why would we? He’s still so young. It would only tie him down, and I don’t want him to feel trapped.
He said I’m his whole world, and he’s mine. But still, if he ever felt like he wanted more, or needed to leave, I’d let him go even if it destroyed me. If we have a baby, I know he wouldn’t ever allow himself to think for a moment that he has any options. He’d stay for the baby.
“Stop thinking for him,” I scold myself. “Talk to him first. Don’t speak for him.”
I’m shaking, my head spinning, and I don’t remember the walk home. But when I see my front door, I’m sprinting until I’m locked inside.
Heading into the kitchen, I throw my things onto the counter. “Fuck.” My whispered curse is broken as I lean against the countertop, head hanging. “Fuck!” I pound my fist on the marble.
I’m scared and confused, and the only two people I can talk to are the two I don’t want to know yet. Not until I can get a grasp on my feelings about this.
I know if Silva knew, she would become a mother hen, making it her mission to take care of me. I can’t do that to her. I won’t.
She’s spent too much of her time on me. It’s her time to live her own life.
I’ll handle this. I’m an adult. I’ve been through worse.
I got this. I’ll be fine. Just fucking fine.
Chapter 10
Lexi
One week. I allowed myself one week to freak out about this. And in that week, I’ve decided a few things.
After I sobbed my eyes out, I had an existential crisis before I decided to go down the rabbit hole that is the internet. Bad idea.
I’m not telling my sister about my pregnancy just yet. I’ve done a lot of reading online, and for everyone's mental health, saying anything before the twelve-week mark could end in heartbreak.
That leaves me with the dilemma of telling Emmett. What if I tell him about the baby, and he’s over the moon, but then something happens, and I lose it? It would crush him. It’s a pain I would never want him to have. He’s already been through so much in his life, I don’t want to add to that.
I read some articles that say that after being on suppressants for as long as I was, it could affect pregnancies and make them high risk. What if that’s the case with me?
These are things I should be asking my doctor, but I’m too scared to know the truth.
So, I’m going to stay blissfully ignorant.
I’m going to keep this to myself until I’m mentally able to have the conversation with Emmett.
He’s going to be back in a few days, and I need to get myself under control before he notices something is wrong. He’s very in tune with my emotions, and in this situation, it’s the downside of being practically attached at the hip for years.
He came home for the weekend, and he noticed something was up. I lied and told him I came down with the flu.
It broke me that I lied because he took such good care of me, making sure I rested and even made me some homemade chicken soup.
I cried after he left, wanting to call him up and beg him to come back. But he told me that with everyone banding together, the repairs to the town were going by a lot quicker, so he’s just staying a few more days. He’ll do as much as he can, and then come back for good.
Since we got together, he’s pretty much moved in with me. He’s hardly at his place anymore. I’ve gotten used to having someone in bed with me. Without him there, I haven’t gotten much sleep.
He’s been checking in on me, and I tell him I’m fine, but I’m not. I’m a mess. A big fucking mess.
