“I was.Hewasn’t.”
“Selly, how soon can we fly back to America?” Dad asks, voice stern.
I laugh. “No. I’m ok, I promise. But… that’s not all.”
Mom purses her lips. “Well... spit it out. We don’t have all day.”
“Do you remember my best friend, Jess?”
Her expression softens. “Of course.”
“I married her brother-in-law. Griffin.”
“The cowboy?” she asks, curiosity etched on her delicate features.
Everybody says I look like my mom, but I have my dad’s eyes.
“That’s the one.”
“Is he good to you?”
It’s telling that my mom’s first instinct isn’t to chastise me or question my decision-making. She supports me ineverything I do, as long as it makes me happy. That’s the kind of mother I want to be.
I think back to our wedding night and the morning after. I picture Griffin standing in the airport holding that ridiculous sign and giving me his sweatshirt to use as a pillow on the drive home. I recall the gentle way he cared for me when I was sick, and the way he held my hand through the ultrasound. Then I think of the baby and the way he’s offered to take care of us both.
I sink onto the sofa, a smile spreading across my face. “He is. And there’s something else.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Mom throws up her hands, turning her face to the sky. “Next thing she’s gonna tell us she’s pregnant.”
I grimace. Dad’s eyes widen, but my mother hasn’t noticed the awkward silence.
“Selly.” He tugs on her dress, pulling her back down to her seat.
“What is it now?” she asks, exasperated.
I pull out the ultrasound photo and hold it up for the camera. “I’m pregnant.”
Mom starts to laugh the same way I do when I’m stressed.
It’s probably best to just rip off the Band-Aid. “It’s Tyler’s.”
Her laughter becomes hysterical, and she buries her face in Dad's shirt. I’m well-versed in the art of inappropriate reactions, so I give her a few minutes to sit with the news.
Sometime later, she wipes the tears from her eyes and blows out a breath. “I’m sorry. I can’t help myself.”
“It’s okay. Really.”
Her expression softens. If she were here, I know she’d be reaching for my hand like she always does. “Does Tyler know?”
I swallow down the sudden emotion clogging my throat. “Tyler’s not interested in being a father.”
My dad’s face reddens. He doesn’t have to say a word for me to know his famous Rossi temper is reaching a boiling point. He’s a gentle soul until you mess with his family.
“I’m okay, Dad. Promise.”
“What about Griffin?” Mom asks.
“He wants to take care of us.”
