Page 5 of Knocked Up By The Mountain Man

I waited to hear from him. The whole plane ride, I expected to turn on my phone when I landed back in New York and see a text message from him, maybe a phone call. When that didn't happen, I waited another night and then another.

Because I didn’t have his phone number, all I could do was wait for him to reach out to me…and he didn't. I took that as the door closing on this whole crazy maybe-I-could-have-a-relationship-with-the-guy-from-the-mountains dream.

It was a stupid dream to begin with, I guess. Just an escapist fantasy about how I could abandon my ho-hum life in the city and run away with a man strong enough to throw me around the bedroom like a doll…and gentle enough to hold me in his arms afterwards.

I put the whole silly fantasy to rest, trying to forget the very hard to forget hookup. That is, until I missed my period. Then I took at least two dozen pregnancy tests, each of them with that double pink line, confirming to me that although Jack from Wildwood might like to forget all about me, and although I might like to forget all about him, it seems that Mother Nature – or fate, or the universe, or God, or whatever – had other plans in mind.

The woman who kissed Jack on the cheek passes me on her way to the door.

She's completely unaware that she's just kissed the cheek of the man that I am here to confront, to tell him that he's gonna be a dad.

Except I'm not so sure that this is a good idea anymore. I've never liked to feel like a burden. All my life, all my childhood, I felt like one. My mom never made it a secret that I wasn't wanted, especially after my dad ran off and left us all alone.

I couldn't wait until I turned eighteen so that I could stop being a burden and stop depending on people who would rather I not be there.

When I turned eighteen, I left for college and never looked back. I didn’t even go back home for the holidays or summer breaks. And my mom never minded at all. It was better this way, for her and for me.

Now I stand on my own two feet. I don't need anybody. I don't depend on anybody, and that's on purpose. Depending on people is how you get hurt. Relying on people, thinking that you belong in their life and that they might just make room for you, that you might be able to count on them in a time of need, is how you get disappointed beyond all measure.

That's a fate that I've always tried to protect myself from ever since I became an adult.

This strategy has worked pretty well so far…until I had the wild idea to come out to Wildwood in search of my biological father.

That's why I was originally here. To find him.

I found out where he was located through an internet search, and on a whim, booked a plane ticket, thinking that I could just have a conversation with him. Not that I would ask him for anything. I don't need his help. Not that I would ask him to apologize for abandoning me. I just wanted to see his face, to hear his voice, to know that he was real, and to see what might come of it.

I never did find him.

But I did find Jack.

His dark head of hair turns suddenly, as though he was made aware of my presence without me announcing myself.

Our eyes lock. He opens his mouth as though to speak but before he can say a word, I’m turning and leaving.

See? It’s never too late to turn back.

CHAPTER 4

JACK

I've never run so fast in my life. Not that it takes a lot to catch up with Alyssa and her short legs.

This feels like the most important thing in my life. Like a miracle. Or maybe it’s a mirage. Maybe I've had a stroke and I'm in the hospital right now, imagining the best thing that ever happened to me nearly slipping through my fingers.

Whatever it is, it stirs me to bolt out of the booth and out of Dolly's Diner without paying my check, jogging down the street to catch up with Alyssa and physically stopping her by grabbing her by the shoulder.

I don't chase women, or at least I didn't before today.

She's as beautiful as ever, but she looks different. I can't put my finger on what it is. I think maybe she's gained a bit of weight. Maybe her cheeks are rosier and fuller.

She looks healthier than I remember. Not that she ever looked unhealthy, but there was something in her eyes the night we met. Something that looked haunted.

She doesn't look haunted right now, but she does look like she'd like the earth to open up and swallow her whole to escape this conversation. I'm not going to let that happen, though.

She got away once.

That was my fault.