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“I’m pregnant.” I cry harder.
“But… how?”
“Remember three weeks ago? At the party.”
His eyes grow in realization.
“And I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do from here, but I know one thing: I need you by my side to do it. I need you to stick with me. So, we can figure this out, okay? Together. If you pull that trigger, you won’t get to see the first steps. You won’t get to hear the first word. Or the first laugh. And for what? For him? Just look at him.” I point at Mike. Haze’s eyes follow the motion. “You’re going to throw everything away for this guy? Our future together? All of it? Please. If not for me, do it for mini Haze.” I bring a hand to my belly. “Please don’t be like your father. Be there.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, tears pouring uncontrollably down his face for the longest wait of my entire life.
Then…
He lowers the gun.
Drops it on the ground and kicks it away.
As cliché as it may sound, in that moment, it feels like the world stopped turning. Like time slowed down for us. I don’t think. I just run straight to him.
He’s chosen to have life.
He’s chosen us.
His arms curve around me, holding me so closely it’s difficult to breathe. We’re both suffocating each other, bu
t… what’s a little asphyxia when you’ve just gotten everything you’ve ever wanted?
“We’re going to have a baby?” he says in a trembling voice. I nod, my heart swelling with joy, fear, panic, and love all at once. I’m so caught up in the moment I almost forget Mike is right there, witnessing our heartfelt reunion. It isn’t long before his voice pulls us away from each other. Haze glares at him, probably considering kicking his teeth out for interrupting. But… there’s something different about the man in front of us. He seems just as emotional as we are.
Haze’s fists contract when Mike dips his fingers into his dirty clothes’ pocket, in search for something.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Haze warns.
Mike looks at me. Then at Haze.
“The right thing,” he exhales. “For once in my goddamn life.”
In his hands is a phone.
In his eyes… regret.
Mike dials the number right in front us, and I somehow know not to stop him. I grip Haze’s bicep before he can spring into action and snap his phone in two.
The room is so quiet we can hear the first ring.
“911, what’s your emergency?” a distant voice says.
He sucks in a breath.
“My name is Michael Walker.”
And holds my stare.
“I want to confess to the murder of Desiree Adams.”
I’m not sure how long Haze and I stayed in each other’s arms after that. I’m not even sure if we spoke at all after the police took him away. All I know is we cried. And smiled. And kissed. The aftermath is a bit of a blur, although it might have something to do with the fact that I was sobbing so hard I couldn’t see.
Looking back, I do remember one sentence.
