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“If you’re asking if I’m pregnant with our baby, then the answer is yes.”
“This can’t be happening to me again,” he mutters to himself. “It’s Harper’s, isn’t it?” His voice is harsh, clipped. His eyes look wild. I must still be in possession of my heart because the stake he just drove through it wouldn’t hurt this much if I wasn’t. Breathing harshly, his hands on his hips, he turns his back to me.
“It’s yours,” I say more calmly than I’m feeling, and quickly wipe the tears away. His head whips around in my direction.
“I’m supposed to believe that? I don’t know what’s worse, that you got knocked up and are trying to extort money from me, or that you think I’m stupid enough to believe you.”
It takes all the willpower I posses to moderate my voice, to try to remain rational. After a deep breath, I say, “I know you’re shocked right now, Cal. I was shocked too, trust me, I was shocked. But don’t say another word––you’ll regret it later.”
“I’m not the one that’s going to regret anything.” He’s seething with anger. “You are.”
A moment later, he stalks out of the room and out the front door. The loud bang that reverberates throughout the apartment makes me jerk. The pain I’m feeling sinks down to my bones. I can feel the blood drain from my face and pool at my feet. I’m rooted to the floor in the middle of the room for a full fifteen minutes, every muscle in my body trembling.
“Are you okay?” Amber’s voice is soft. I turn to find her standing in the open doorway. All I can do is shake my head, anything else and I will crumble. Quietly, she comes over and hugs me tightly. “We’ll get through this together. You’re not alone.”
Those words ring true and familiar. And after a beat, I recall why. Those were the exact same words she said to me the night Matt drove his car into a watery grave.
Two days later, I feel marginally human again. I spent the last forty eight hours simultaneously stuffing my face with any carb I could get my hands on and bawling my eyes out. That out of the way, I determine it’s time to let my parents in on the fun.
“What is it?” my mother screeches when she sees me walk into the kitchen with a look of utter desolation on my face.
“Where’s Dad?” I am composed with a capital C. Gotta keep it together even though every hormone in my body is staging a riot.
“At the store. What is it Camilla? You’re making me nervous.”
“I wanted to tell you two together…I guess it can’t wait.” Angelina presses a hand to her sternum. She looks truly panicked now so I get it out quickly before she has a heart attack. “I’m pregnant.”
Her face is a carousel of emotions. Shock, curiosity, suspicion, joy, elation. Take your pick––there’s one of every flavor. She settles on hope.
“You’re sure?”
“Went to the OBGYN this morning and confirmed it.”
A slow, very slow smile starts to creep across my mother’s face until it nearly breaks in two. “A baby…we’re going to have a baby. God has answered my prayers.”
I’m not sharing her enthusiasm just yet.
“You’re not…mad?”
Her blue eyes slam into mine. “Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know…I’m not married. I don’t have a job. This isn’t exactly a good time to be having a baby.”
“Camilla, you’re my daughter. I love you more than the next breath of air I’ll take into my lungs. But you need to stop expecting the worst, for everyone to disappoint you. Are you happy about this baby?”
Those words hit their intended mark. I feel them not only in my head, but also in my heart. I did expect the worst from her…and from Cal, for that matter.
“Very happy.”
“Then that’s all that matters. I’ve lived enough life to know the rest will work itself out.”
“Before you get too happy, Ma, you should know that Calvin doesn’t want any part of it. He told me many times he never wanted children, so I can’t fault him. This was…kind of a miracle.”
“What’s a miracle?” My father queries as he walks into the kitchen with two shopping bags.
“Put those down, Tom. This is important.”
My father’s alert and inquisitive gaze finds me. “What is it?”
“I’m pregnant.”
It takes my father a minute. “This is great news,” he announces with a bright white smile.
“Calvin has cold feet,” my mother adds.
“He does not have cold feet, Ma. He flat out does not want children. He’s told me a million times.”
“He should’ve thought of that before––”
“Thomas,” my mother cuts in.
“It’s not his fault, Dad. You see…uhhh…well, Calvin had a vasectomy. We’re both shocked that this happened.”
Confusion blankets my father’s face. “Is this a prank? Is this some kind of Youtube challenge thing?”
