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Even though it has been four months since I last saw Dean, we either talk or text every day. Except for the last three days. What is he doing? I should text him, but I don’t want to interrupt him. Not like Dean would answer anyway since he’s supposed to be at practice.
Having been through this with my family, I tried to tell Dean that a relationship would be hard on both of us. If you can even call what we have a relationship anymore. Despite my better judgment, I told Dean I would give this a shot. But the pain of being alone all the time is killing me, ripping me to shreds from the inside out.
With my hormones out of whack, it’s even harder on me to go for long periods of time without hearing from Dean. I still haven’t told him about the baby because I thought we would have more time together. He should hear the news in person. But that seems less likely by the day. Most days, I’m lucky if I get to talk to him for ten minutes before he has to hang up.
“How are you feeling?” Becca tips her head toward my stomach. “Have you told your dad yet?”
“No, I’m not sure how to tell him.”
“Call him on the phone and say, I’m pregnant, and then hang up.” She laughs. “I’m joking, but in all seriousness, that might be easier than what you’ve been doing.”
“I see my dad so little that I haven’t found the right time, you know. I’m his only daughter. I feel like a massive disappointment.”
She leans back in her chair and glances around the lunchroom. “I still can’t believe it took until you started showing to tell me. I thought we were homies.”
I laugh. “You’re the first and only person I told. Consider yourself part of my inner circle.”
“What about your baby daddy?”
I shake my head from side to side. “No, I think it will be better this way.”
I have become the kind of person I hate—a liar. Anymore, all I do is lie to the people I care about, all because I don’t want to tell anyone about the baby. He’s coming whether I plan or not, yet I keep pushing off telling everyone.
“Your son should have a father.”
“Easier said than done, Bec. I tried to tell him a million times, and I can’t do it. Nothing comes out. I freeze up.”
“You should tell Dean.”
I clear my throat, choking on my soda. “No.”
“You used to tell him everything. What happened to you guys?”
Everything. Too much. A baby.
“We’re growing apart,” I confess, saddened by the shift in our relationship. “Dean has hockey. I have this baby and an internship.”
“I always thought you two would end up together, especially after you guys hooked up.”
“We had bad timing and too much distance between us.”
“You two would have made a cute couple.”
I smile to hide the pain on the inside.
For most of my life, I’ve held everything in, out of fear of bothering someone with my problems. With my older brothers having to raise the twins and me, they had enough to deal with when we were kids. My dad could hardly function, other than to play hockey after my mom died. We are finally moving on with our lives. The last thing I want to do is throw another curveball their way. But I have to come clean.
“Thanksgiving is next month. You should tell everyone before you’re sitting down for dinner, ready to pop out a baby.”
“I still have some time after Thanksgiving.”
“Not much.” She tugs on my arm. “Stop being so stubborn and tell someone other than me. All this stress cannot be good for the baby.”
“You’re right. The doctor said my heart rate was a little high when I went for my last checkup.”
“You are depriving
your child of a father. He should have the chance to see his son. You should send him the other copy of the sonogram.”
