“No,” I say. But maybe yes? What if our news isn’t met with joy and excitement like James expects? What if we’re met with reproach for being so stupid and careless. And not the kind of chiding we can simply brush off, but the kind that comes specifically from parents. My own included.
“We’ll tell them after we open presents,” he explains. “They’ll be on a high from the espresso machine we got them. No way they can get mad at us.”
I bite my lip. “I guess…”
“We are still spending Christmas together, right?” he asks cautiously.
“Yeah,” I tell him with a soft smile. “Of course.”
He cups the side of my face, running his thumb over my cheek. He kisses me, and I taste cherry on his lips. “I’ll do the talking. You just sit there and look pretty with your baby-making skills.”
I exhale through pursed lips. “Okay. We’ll tell your parents at Christmas.” We’re going to have to tell everyone at some point. Might as well rip the Band-Aid right off. Take the top layer of skin and a few hairs with it. The pain and shock will pass. Right?
“Okay.”
“And I guess we can tell my mom before she heads out for her cruise.” Another reason I’m spending Christmas with James, though no one had to twist my arm. My mom is heading off to a Mexican cruise a few days before Christmas. She told me right around the time James’s mom asked for the final Christmas dinner headcount. Our holiday plans fell right into place. I just hope everything else follows.
“I’m going to be in Boston that week,” he explains, reminding me of his end-of-year work trip. “Unless you want to tell her on your own.”
I shake my head. It’s not like we’d be having the conversation in person. He would just be holding my hand while I tell her over the phone. But thinking about dropping this bomb on her without James by my side brings on a fresh wave of anxiety.
“Then we’ll tell her when she gets back,” he assures. “New Year’s.”
“We really know how to celebrate the holidays, huh?”
James grins at me, a proud look of triumph stamped on his face. He might as well stand there with his hands braced on his hips and the wind blowing his hair back. “Sonowcan we buy the crib?”
I sigh. “James, honey, where are we even going to put it?”
He looks puzzled. My words have caused his brain to grow jumbled. He actually scratches his head as he considers my question.
“We don’t even know where we’re going to bring the baby home,” I clarify when he remains silent. “Are we going to keep it at my place? Or yours?”
“We haven’t decided that yet, have we?” he admits. It’s notable—and something I’m quite surprised about—that we haven’t talked about these things. All the logistics and little details that further establish our relationship. Would we even be here if it weren’t for this accidental pregnancy? Maybe not.
I shake my head with a sympathetic smile. “No, we haven’t.”
James’s phone trills just then, and it cuts into our sudden revelation. He reaches into his pocket and answers it immediately.
“Hey, Mom,” he says, his eyes still on me. “Yeah. We’re out doing some Christmas shopping.”
I hear jumbled words in the background, his mom sounding a little panicked and acute. He walks out the door to take his call, whispering a quick “I’ll be right back,” and my eyes take in the crib. I picture it in my bedroom, most likely in the corner where my dresser now sits. I’d have to do some rearranging, probably a thorough cleaning to make room for everything else that’ll come with the baby. A stroller, high chair, changing table. So many things. Maybe we should consider a bigger place. An even bigger commitment.
I feel dizzy. Just a few months ago, it was just me. I just had to worry about myself. And suddenly, it’s not just me. It’s James and our baby and this new life I never expected or even asked for. All things I now can’t live without. And it scares the shit out of me. Because what if, after all my efforts to make the right choices, it all crashes and burns?
The bell to the store trills again, and I see James urgently walk toward me.
“Is everything okay?”
“I have to go to my mom’s house,” he tells me, his lips forming a straight line. “Something happened with the water heater, and my dad needs my help.”
“Oh, okay.”
He places a quick kiss on my temple. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” I answer, running a hand down his arm. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“I can drop you off first.”
