“Luke,” I say. “I could be pregnant right now.”
The words feel… earth-shattering.
“Now you get why I wanted to have this conversation in person,” he says. The wind whips my hair in front of my face, and he gently tucks it behind my ear. “When will you know if you are?”
“My period’s due in two weeks. I can take a test around then.”
“Okay.” His hands take mine and squeeze. “Two weeks of not knowing. We can handle that.”
The way he sayswesends a swoop through my lower belly.
I swallow hard. “There are… other options. There’s the morning after pill.”
His face gives me nothing. Not the relief at giving him an out that I would have expected. Not terror at the prospect of getting me pregnant with his baby.
He’s so suspiciously neutral that I know he must be keeping some big feelings under wraps.
The question is—what are those feelings?
And the even bigger question is—what aremyfeelings?
I could be pregnant right now.
Even though I should feel terrified, and maybe I do, there’s another feeling underneath that.
A deep thrill at the thought.
“What doyouwant to do, Madison?” he asks.
“I… I don’t know.” But even as I say the words, they don’t feel right. They feel like an un-truth, and I’m not quite ready to face the truth my instincts have already decided for me. Because somewhere deep down, in a place I’m afraid to examine too closely, I think I already know the answer.
“What do you think we should do?” I ask him instead.
“I’m happy to wait and see what happens.” His thumb traces slow circles on the back of my hand, grounding me.
I blink up at him, my heart pounding. “If we wait, and it turns out I am pregnant, then…” I can’t finish the sentence. The future suddenly feels too big, too real, branching out in a thousand different directions I haven’t let myself consider.
“Then we can start making plans.” His voice is steady, sure. “Start getting excited for real.”
“You’d… you’d be excited about a baby?”
The question comes out small, disbelieving. Because guys don’t react like this. In my experience, when it comes time to commit, guys panic. They disappear. They suddenly make it very clear that commitment wasn’t part of the plan and neither were you.
Luke brings the hand he’s still holding to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “Well, yeah, I’d be excited. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, and the truth slips out of me before I can overthink it, before I can protect myself with sassiness or humor or any of the defense mechanisms I usually rely on. “But it’s scary, too. You’ve got so much going on in your life already, and the timing’s not ideal, and I don’t know the first thing about any of this.”
“Hey.” He cups my face with his free hand, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “Look at me.”
I do, even though it feels like exposing something raw.
“We’ll figure it out together,” he says, and his eyes are so clear, so certain, like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. “It’s you and me. We’ve got this.”
No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.
“Oh,” I manage, my voice breaking on the single syllable. Fresh tears are blurring my vision now, and I’m not even embarrassed about it. “I don’t—I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me like he can shield me from every fear, every doubt. His heart beats steady against my ear. “Just let me be here with you. Let me be here for you. That’s all I need.”
