Mom’s smile practically splits her face, and Dad’s isn’t all that much smaller.
“Hey,” Bea says nervously, giving them a little wave with her hand that isn’t twisted with mine.
I should let her go, but having her fingers interlaced with mine feels too good.
“It’s so good to meet you. Rett was just about to tell us all about you. Now you’re here, you can do it yourself.”
Bea glances at me, silently asking if my mom is telling the truth. Of course she is; there isn’t a dishonest bone in Alison Donnelly’s body.
I nod once and force the best smile I can onto my face before Bea starts giving them a little information. She misses out the most important bit, and the longer the time goes on, the bigger the elephant in the room gets.
Just pull the Band-Aid off. It’ll be better in the long run, a little voice tells me. But I don’t believe it.
My parents might be excited about the thought of a grandchild, but they’ll only know part of the story. The fact that mine and Bea’s time together is only temporary kills me, and I have no doubt they’ll feel exactly the same when the inevitable happens.
They’re going to be incredible grandparents, just like they were parents. I just wish I could give it to them in the way I’m sure they dream of. In the way I’ve no doubt Linc and Parker will.
Releasing Bea’s hand, I wrap my arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer into my side.
“We’ve actually been seeing each other for a while,” I confess. “We’ve kept it secret so that we could explore what’s between us without the media spotlight on us.”
“Understandable,” Mom agrees. “I remember all too well what it’s like snagging one of hockey’s most eligible bachelors,” she teases, elbowing Dad in the side.
“Yeah, exactly. The thing is, though,” I say, my heart racing faster than I’m sure is healthy as I prepare to say the words that are going to send their world into a tailspin.
My free hand slides over and presses against Bea’s swollen belly, trying my best to make this look as real as possible.
Mom gasps.
“Bea’s pregnant. We’re having a baby.”
55
BEATRICE
Everett’s parents are the kind of parents every child dreams of. Or at least, they’re the kind I dream of. They love unconditionally. And really, that’s all any kid can ask for.
I have no doubt that they’d love Everett just as hard if he were a professional hockey player or worked part-time at Walmart.
His successes don’t equate to the amount of love and support they give him.
If only I knew what that felt like.
Every time I passed a test or did well at something, I’d be buzzing to go home and tell Mom. She always made a big deal of it, but only if it was something she deemed worthy.
I soon learned that an A in art or gym class, or anything that didn’t align with her future plans, would be dismissed. It took me a while to notice, I was a kid after all, but once I did, I learned not to share some of my best achievements with her. It hurt to start with, but I soon became numb to it, and after a while, I stopped celebrating altogether. What was the point when only some things were worthy?
The second I moved out, I made a point of changing that. It didn’t matter how little the win was, or how insignificant the reward was. I made sure to celebrate every single one of my successes.
Something tells me that Clark and Alison make a point of celebrating every single success.
Watching their eyes fill with happy tears after Everett told them the news made me instantly love them.
Their first reaction wasn’t to question us, to ask if it was too soon, if we knew what we were doing, or any other negative comment that I just know would come out of my own mother’s mouth. Instead, they were just excited, wanting to know all the dates, how I was feeling and if I needed anything.
I had no idea until they asked that final question, but it turned out what I needed was some unconditional parental love.
I’ve convinced myself for years now that I don’t need it. That I’m okay alone. But experiencing it for the first time since I lost Dad was more overwhelming than I ever expected.
