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Oh, denial, thy name is Tyley.
It's been six hours since that first test, and here I am, with three positive results before me, and any hopes of faulty products are now gone.
The shock of the situation has settled into a dull ache in my chest, and panic rises, tasting of bile and regret. Sarah sits beside me on the sofa, neither of us speaking.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I whisper at last, breaking the silence that's been stretching for the better part of ten minutes. “I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready to be a mom.”
"You're not alone, Ty. I'll be there every step of the way, and you have plenty of other friends that will jump to help you, too, whether you decide to keep it or not."
I nod, grateful for her presence and support. “It's too much to deal with, even with you here. Fuck, I was so careless! How could I let this happen?"
"Let's take it one step at a time. What do you want to do first? Figure out your options. Get a doctor's appointment? Call Grayson?"
I sigh, resting my intertwined hands on my knees and hanging my head in defeat.
"It's not this baby's fault that Grayson and I slept together without worrying about the consequences. I'm not going to, you know, get rid of it. So, I guess getting an appointment with an OB-GYN is the first step. I have no idea if I'm going to keep it, put it up for adoption, or what, but I'll have nine months to figure it out, right? No, wait, seven. Seven months, or six and a half, I'm not sure about the math."
God, I'm rambling, aren't I?
"I'm sure the doctor will be able to get the dates right, so don't worry about that now, alright?"
I nod, grateful to have Sarah here. My thoughts would be all over the place without her to help redirect them.
"I can't call Grayson. I mean, I told him I'd call him when I figured out what I wanted to do about us, and I kept putting it off. How messed up it is to finally get back to him only to tell him, 'Hey, you're gonna be a daddy! Congrats.'"
"Don't you think it's better he learns about the baby sooner rather than later?"
"I don't know, Sarah. Maybe it's better that he doesn't know about it at all. I'm sure he's not exactly eager to be a father."
She shrugs, shooting me a troubled look. " If you say so, but I know you, Ty, and you'll regret not sharing this news with him and giving him the chance to decide for himself what he wants to do. Why don't you sleep on it, huh? You don't need to decide tonight. You have plenty of time to figure it out."
I nod, exhaustion catching up to me. The emotional rollercoaster of the day has drained every last energy reserve, and the idea of going a few hours without planning the next eighteen years or so of my life sounds blissful.
"Yeah, you're right," I mumble, pushing myself off the couch. "I'll call the doctor first thing in the morning and see what they say. Thanks for everything; I don’t know what I would have done today without you here.”
She pulls me into a tight hug, and I cling to her tighter than I’ve ever held anyone before. "Anytime, Ty. I’m going to stay over and crash on the couch, alright? Just in case you need me.”
I nod and shuffle toward my bedroom, each new step a struggle. For the first time, I thank my lucky stars that I live in this small apartment. There is not much distance between the living room and the bedroom, and tonight, a bed is exactly what I need.
Without bothering to change clothes, I let myself fall on my bed and close my eyes, thinking it’ll be hours before I manage to get some sleep. Before I know it, I doze off, the emotional toll of this long day finally catching up to me.
twenty-two
Grayson
As I step into the venue where I've held countless fights and press conferences, I can't help but be flooded by a wave of nostalgia. The scent of sweat and adrenaline still lingers, but today, the atmosphere feels different.
There's no buzz of energy, no excitement in the air. I don't feel like the formidable Grayson Walker, ready to dominate in the cage. No, today, I'm just some fighter getting ready to announce his retirement.
"I'm telling you, Grayson, sleep on this. It's a bad idea. Sure, I can organize a comeback in six months or a year, but what the hell are you going to do in the meantime?"
"Anything I want to," I reply with a shrug, but that's bullshit and we both know it. What I want—rather, who I want—is out of reach. "I'm rich as fuck, remember?"
"Yeah, and lucky for you, you're not the kind to blow your money off the instant you get it, but even with investments, it can fizzle out faster than you'd think. Plus, even if you're still rolling in dough by the time you're sixty, what's the point?"
"I'm just not feeling it, Tate. I've reached this peak, and none of the challenges you and Mike have presented have stirred anything inside me. I'm just hollow, going through the motions and trying to get that spark back."
"This isn't about fighting, and we both know it. Retiring won't fix the breakup blues."
