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The question rings in the air and I hardly register it before I speak.
“I am.”
I’d only found out about it a few minutes ago and maybe needed more time to fully understand what I’m deciding here. But I know that if I hadn’t planned on keeping it, the thought of altering my space wouldn’t have entered my mind.
Having witnessed my sister’s journey of loss makes me even more sensitive to the situation I’ve somehow landed myself in.
Yes, I’m having this baby.
Peter turns, bracing his hands on the countertop before he looks up at me, his chin still tucked toward his chest.
“Then let’s do this,” he answers, and I open my mouth to speak but he waves his hands. “I love you. I’m not leaving you, Sabrina.”
I wasn’t prepared for this, and I don’t know how to respond to someone wanting to stay. To someone offering me everything and truly meaning it.
“Just…promise me,” he starts, and I stare at him, waiting for the rest of his words. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”
Give up the idea of ever knowing Abraham as a father, give up him ever knowing about the existence of his child for Peter? A man who promises to stay and love me and this baby?
Wordless, I nod.
And all while Peter makes plans for us, the thought of Abraham continuing through his life without knowing about the very permanent effects of our blind lust haunts me.
