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“Okay.” I have to wonder if maybe she’s reconciling with her ex or something. Although I can’t see her doing that after the shit he pulled. Unless she’s sick? Or maybe she regrets putting an end to things? But I don’t know why that would make her this emotional.
She meets my questioning gaze. “Jake, I’m pregnant.”
I don’t say anything at first. I don’t know what to say. For a few very long seconds, the only sound in the room is Hanna’s unsteady breathing. And the laughter and chatter of the party happening down the hall.
The first question I ask is a stupid one. “How did this happen?”
She blinks a few times, fingers twisting in her lap. “I honestly didn’t think I could get pregnant. I haven’t had a regular period in two years. I’m so sorry, Jake. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought we were safe. I can’t believe I was so stupid.” Her bottom lip trembles and she raises her hand to cover her mouth and turns her head, fighting to keep her composure.
The last time I got news like this, I was in college. I was on track to get my degree and being signed to a team. I had my entire life ahead of me. I was going to live the dream. NHL career, making millions a year, traveling all over the country. Kimmie and I were going to wait until we were finished with college, get married, and move to whatever city I was playing for. We had it all planned out. And then I went from carefree college kid to soon-to-be father.
“Are you sure? I thought you said you were menopausal?” I don’t know what to do with this information. It all seems impossible, and I’m still in a state of shock.
“Perimenopausal. And I am.” She keeps twisting the tissue in her hands, shredding it.
Panic starts to set in, exactly like it did more than two and a half decades ago, when Queenie’s mother announced, tearfully, that she was pregnant. She’d been afraid and wanted to terminate. I’d told her we would make it work. That I would take care of both of them. She’d agreed, although she’d had reservations. Ones that didn’t wane.
And my entire life changed.
And now it’s going to change again.
“I don’t get how this could happen. And you’re positive it’s mine?”
Hanna flinches. “You’re the only person I’ve slept with, so yes, it’s yours.”
I run a hand through my hair. “I just…how is this even possible? You said we were fine to go without the condoms.” I wince at my accusatory tone and try to dial it back. “Are you sure you’re pregnant and it isn’t just some hormone glitch?” I don’t know why I keep asking idiotic questions, apart from the fact I can’t believe this is happening. Again. Maybe she’ll give me a different answer if I keep asking the same questions. Like miraculously she’ll say she’s kidding. “Please tell me this is your idea of a bad joke.”
“Do you really think I would be sitting here, telling you I’m pregnant for shits and giggles?” she snaps.
I’m aware that Hanna does not, in fact, have a morbid sense of humor. But this is taking me right back to when I was nineteen and Kimmie had forgotten to take her birth control for the better part of a week. I would have worn a condom if I’d known, but I hadn’t.
And once again, I’d thought we were safe, only to find out we clearly weren’t.
“I was done doing the raising a kid thing. Freedom was knocking at my door.” I drag a hand over my face, remembering the conversation we had all those months ago when this thing between us started. “Queenie just got married. She should be the one getting pregnant, not us. And we’re not even an us.” I keep pointing out the obvious, and Hanna seems to shrink into herself and get her back up at the same time.
Her expression is flat. “Trust me, I’m as shocked as you are.”
I glance at her stomach. There aren’t any outward signs to give away the fact there’s a baby in there. “How far along are you?”
She rubs her temple. “If I had to guess, I’d say I’m about twelve weeks, but I won’t know for sure until I see my doctor.”
“So you got pregnant the weekend of Queenie and King’s wedding?” I run my palms down my thighs, which are now sweaty, along with the rest of me.
“It seems that way, yes.”
“We only went without a condom that one time,” I mutter. Hanna and I were always careful. In fact, it’s the only time I’ve gone without a condom since Queenie’s conception.
Before I can admit that it’s an idiotic thing to say, Hanna scoffs and says, “Well, Jake, we both know that’s all it really takes, don’t we?”
