I suddenly wish the earth would swallow me whole. Or that I could crawl into Maverick’s hoodie and live there forever like a crab in its shell. I stare at the coffee table, then at my lap, then out the window at a rooftop deck somewhere in the distance.
“I know it’s a lot,” Maverick says softly. “And it all happened fast. But it’s real. And we’re happy.”
Still silent on the other end. His mum blinks. His dad sips again. I brace for judgment. For questions. For an offer to send a priest or maybe just a pamphlet on abstinence.
Then his mom exhales. “Well.”
Maverick and I both tense up.
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” she says, polite but distant, like someone congratulating a stranger on winning a raffle. “It’s just ... a lot to take in.”
“We understand,” I say quickly, trying to meet her eyes through the screen. “And for the record, I hadno ideawho Maverick was when I met him. Like ...zeroclue.”
His dad leans forward. “You didn’t recognize him?”
“Not even a little,” I admit. “All I knew was that he was in the cabin I rented—and I was in his.”
His mom gives a short, nervous laugh, then smooths out the strays of her dark hair. “Well, I suppose that’s a relief to hear. You never know sometimes with women ...”
“I didn’t pursue him for who he was,” I say in all seriousness. “I wasn’t trying to trap him or anything like that. Believe me, this wasn’t how I expected my weekend to end.”
“We believe you,” she says after a thoughtful pause. “It’s just ... you have to understand where we’re coming from. One minute he’s at rehab. The next there are wedding photos online, and now we find out you’re having a baby.”
A baby.
Before thinking twice, I place a hand on my stomach. Protectively.
“We’re still getting used to it too,” Maverick adds, squeezing my hand. “But we’re excited.”
His dad finally puts down his water bottle. “So let me get this straight—you’re not legally married, but you’re living together, and you’re having a baby?”
Mav nods. “Yup.”
His dad just stares at us for a beat, processing. Then he lets out a low whistle. “Your mother is going to need a brandy after this.” Him too.
“I thought thiswasthe brandy conversation,” his mom jokes, looking dazed. “Do we evenhavebrandy?”
“You do now,” Maverick quips, trying to ease the tension. “That would make a great baby name. Brandy McBride—has a nice ring to it.”
I want to give him a shove but don’t want to do it in front of his parents. “Don’t even think about it.”
Maverick grins at me, than his parents, completely unfazed by my glare. “Too late. I’m already picturing her with a teeny-tiny leather jacket.”
His mom watches us, wide eyed. “You always did keep us on our toes.”
“I am nothing if not predictable,” Maverick laughs.
“You’ve both certainly given us a lot to talk about.” She looks at her husband, then back at us.
“That’s one way to put it,” his dad mutters.
“But,” she continues, eyes locking with mine through the screen. “We’re here. And we’ll support you both however we can.”
“Especially the baby,” his dad adds. “Someone in this family’s got to have a stable moral compass. Might as well start with the next generation.”
“Ignore him,” she says, reaching to swat her husband’s arm off-screen. “We’re just—surprised, that’s all. But you two seem ...” She hesitates. “Happy.”
“We are,” I agree, because somehow that feels important to say out loud. “Happy.”
