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Good morning, hormones!
“Poodle, truth be it. This baby wasn’t exactly planned. Besides, what happened with you two? Because Reverend Keith could sure have a word with the both of you.”
I groan at the mention of Reverend Keith. If my parents’ grand plan is to try to marry me off to the Jerk, it was time to set the record straight. Unlike my usual opinionated self, I struggle to get a single word out and look at Haden for answers. His eyes lift up while grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth. My gaze wanders down to his full lips, glazed in maple syrup. Gliding his tongue along his lips, his eyes continue to watch me with a quizzical stare.
Oh my god, Presley, look away! I shake my head to pull myself out of this pornographic maple syrup fantasy and focus on the question. We hadn’t really come up with a story, so I guess there was no better way than stating the obvious, and Haden takes charge by leading the explanation.
“Presley and I had been friends for a while but, of course, she was engaged. I’d always had a thing for her but respected her relationship. When she broke it off, I wanted to take things further.”
With a steady gaze, I look at him thinking what a load of crock this is. He should add serial bullshit artist to his resume as well.
“Presley has told us you’re engaged to someone else now?” Mom interrogates.
“Yes, I am.”
This is probably the moment I need to throw him a lifejacket. But this is fun, so I sit back and watch the show unfold.
“Well, I’m sorry if I’m out of place but marrying another woman when expecting a child seems somewhat confusing?” Mom continues to pry.
Haden takes a long sip of his coffee and places the cup down on the knitted coaster. “I can understand why you think that. Eloise came into my life before I knew about the baby.”
He shuffles awkwardly so I throw him that much-needed lifejacket.
“Look, Mom and Dad, Haden and I had our fun and well . . . this is what happened. If you don’t mind, I’d like to give him a tour of the house, then maybe show him around town.”
I don’t wait for their response and motion for him to follow me. As soon as he catches on, we make our way upstairs and I show him to the guest room.
“I’m apologizing in advance for the plaid. Mom is a little, um . . .”
He laughs. “She’s a mom. She would get along great with my mom. It was the plaid generation.”
I let out a similar laugh. “And my sister Gemma . . . sorry about blurting that out.”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize for everything.”
I lean against the wall as he sorts out his bags. “This is weird.”
“Sure is. Look, it’s only a weekend . . . Poodle.” He bursts out laughing again, then walks over to where I’m standing, giving me the opportunity to swat him across the arm.
“And ignore my dad. Laugh all you want, but if you saw me in bed, I represent a poodle vacationing in the tropics quite accurately.”
He stops laughing and his expression looks pained. What the hell did I say? Backtrack, brain!
“I guess I’m going to be seeing a lot of you. After all, you are carrying my baby.”
My eyes move to the hideous plaid duvet. “The paternity test. It’s booked for next Thursday.”
He doesn’t say a word, completely ignoring what I just said. “So, show me your room.”
“You want to see my room?”
“Yeah, I want to see who Presley Malone really is.”
I’m not sure exactly what he means, but I walk down the hall and open the door to my room. I moved out of this room when I left for college, which feels like a lifetime ago. My parents didn’t really touch it. It still has the king-sized, single bed positioned in the middle of the room with a bookshelf above it. Sitting on the shelf are my favorite books, all-time classics that I read throughout my teens (and yes, somewhere buried in the row of books was my collection of The Babysitter’s Club). I walk towards the shelf and pull out the one book that was my bible as a teen.
“Have you ever read this?” I hand him the book.
“Forever by Judy Blume,” he says. “Can’t say I have.”
