“I need to talk to you.”
“Not now.”
“Yes. Now. Please, it’s urgent.” I close the door behind me, my palms damp. My heart is pounding so hard I’mafraid he can hear it. If I thought I had morning sickness, it’s nothing compared to right now. My stomach is in my throat. Matt busies himself by tossing his clipboard onto the desk and opening his computer. “I took a pregnancy test.”
He stills. “And?”
“I’m pregnant.” The words feel fragile, hanging in the air between us.
He stares at me like I’ve spoken in another language. Then his jaw tightens. The dismissal hurts more than I can digest. “I came to you,” my voice is barely above a whisper.
“Why?” His voice is rough. “What do I know about this? Why aren’t you talking to Sutton? Or Birdie?”
“My mom is dead,” I say before I can stop myself. The words come out sharp, defensive. He flinches, and for a second, I feel terrible. Then the hurt floods back in, both for how he’s being and for not having a mom I can turn to, who can hold me and tell me that everything will work out.
“This isn’t my place, Noelle,” he says.
Then why did you make it feel like it was last night?
“You didn’t seem to think that when your hands were on me,” I say, sucking in tears.
His jaw locks. “That was different.”
Was it?
Because it didn’t feel different to me.
“This is Brooks’s baby,” he says finally.
The words land like a slap.
“I know that,” I say, my voice shaking. “He cheated on me. Over and over. But he doesn’t get to control my life anymore.”
“That doesn’t change biology,” Matt snaps. “And it doesn’t make this my decision.”
“I’m not asking you to decide,” I say. “I’m asking you what to do or to hold me…”
He scrubs a hand over his face, and as it drops to his side, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “You tell him. When you see him this weekend. That’s what you do.”
The finality in his tone hurts worse than anger would have.
“You don’t get to talk to me like this,” I whisper.
“And you don’t get to drag me into something that isn’t mine,” he fires back.
That’s when I realize he’s already stepping away, already drawing the line I didn’t want to see. I leave before I can beg him to look at me the way he did last night, before I can ask why the man who taught me how to trust my body won’t just take me in his arms and let me cry it out.
Tears start to stream down my face. It’s all too much. As I jog down the Armadillo hallway, G yells, “Sis, wait up.”
I wave him off, rushing out the door and into the blinding light and smothering heat. My world has spun off its axis. No fake boyfriend. No mom. No one.
Once I’m home, I go straight to my room and lock the door. My roommates are in the backyard laughing, and I’m not in the mood to party or explain why I’m an emotional wreck.
Sleep never comes. My thoughts spiral. The baby. I’m having a baby. With Brooks.
Matt: I’m sorry I was an ass today. I’m going through some stuff myself.
Matt: But you really need to talk to Brooks.
