You’re going to be a daddy and you’re not even man enough to work for Gramps.
I twist up and punch the pillow, wishing I could drive my fists into my own face without leaving a mark.
It’s a tantrum.
The most pathetic damn thing in the world after getting a hookup pregnant, but I think about everything I dreamed, all the things I hoped to escape, and the bitter, bitter fact that it’s gone forever now.
If she was going to get rid of it, she would’ve done it after I blew her off half the summer.
I don’t have the heart to ask her. Or the head to make a decision that big.
Ultimately, it’s her choice, and it sounds like she decided.
I’m going to be a father.
A fuckingdad.
Me, who limped through school and still can’t pull it together enough to figure out what he wants to do with his life except not be tied down.
Now, presto! I have another human being to ruin for eighteen years.
I’ve never been so confused.
The obvious solution—the cowardly one—is to tell her I don’t want to be part of her life. Or the baby’s.
I’m no good for her, for them, and it wouldn’t be a lie.
I’ve got no shortage of money I could throw at her. My parents only police my bank account to make sure I’m not blowing every penny they give me on bad habits, illegal shit, scams.
I don’t feel a damn thing for Taylor Rollins and I don’t think I ever will.
But the baby… that’s complicated.
My parents never acted like they wanted me.
Not really.
They always said they did. They said the right things and went through the motions. I don’t doubt they love me in their own way, the same as Margot, but I never felt like I was truly important to them.
How could I ever pass that along to my kid?
Having a child grow up thinking its father never gave two shits about it.
Hours pass as I try to sort out my existence in my head.
What I’m going to do.
What I’m going to tell her.
How I’m going to approach the new life.
By the time the sun rises, I haven’t slept, but I know what I need to do. I get dressed and head out of the house before Gramps or Margot are awake, driving over to Taylor’s place.
I’ll face the music, tell her what I should have said yesterday.
Tell her I’m stepping up. I’m going to be there for her and the baby.
We don’t need to be together for that, but we’ll figure out this co-parenting thing, and I’ll find a way to stick around.
