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Alec sitson the couch next to me, staring down at the ultrasound picture like it's some kind of joke. He holds it up to the light and looks for any indication that I'm pranking him. If I'm being honest, I wish I was. There is nothing easy about being a single mother, even before you give birth.
“You're serious?” he finally asks.
I nod. “As a heart attack. I went to the doctor a few days ago, and she confirmed it.”
His eyes widen and he takes a deep breath in. “Wow. Okay, so you're pregnant. Are you keeping it?”
My jaw tenses and I instantly get irritated. “Why the fuck do all men's brains immediately go to abortion when hearing about a pregnancy?”
“Whoa,” he says, dropping the ultrasound picture and putting his hands up. “I meant adoption, too. But you're keeping it. Okay. You're going to be a mom.”
Those words manage to hit me right in the feels. Ever since I was little, I imagined being a mother one day. Granted, I never thought it would happen like this. I had this image in my head that I would be happily married, with a career that I love and helped provide for my family. But that's the risk you take when you have premarital sex.
Maybe I should have listened to my mother when she said I should stay a virgin until my wedding night, but what's the fun in that?
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I'm going to be a mom.”
Alec hands me back the picture and leans back. “How did Easton take it?”
Easton.The other half of this baby that's been sucking all the energy out of me. Out of all the ways I thought telling him about the pregnancy would go, I don't think I ever imagined what actually happened. Hearing him reject the baby and insinuate that I intentionally withheld the pregnancy from him—it broke my heart.
He doesn't want this.
He doesn't want me.
He doesn't want our family.
I spent the whole rest of the day in tears, even after Amelia called to tell me that Tye literally held a knife to his throat over it. It's nice to know my friends are willing to fight for me, no matter what the cost, but that doesn't make the situation any better.
I don't think anything will.
Sighing, I look anywhere but back at Alec. “I don't want to talk about it.”
And that's the God's honest truth because talking about it means I have to deal with it, and I have enough to deal with right now. After spending all last night tossing and turning, I came to the conclusion that this baby is coming whether we like it or not. I don't know about Easton, but I refuse to make my child feel anything less than loved wholeheartedly. If that means doing it on my own, so be it.
I'll pick my head up, straighten my crown, and kick ass by myself.
IT'S TWO DAYS LATER when I have no choice but to face Easton. All his attempts to talk to me—the texts and phone calls and showing up at my door—have gone unanswered. I honestly just haven't been interested in hearing any more of his excuses. But he's not just my ex or the father of my child. He's my best friend's brother, and that makes him unavoidable. Especially when we're both in the bridal party of Amelia and Zayn's wedding.
I stand outside the house I've spent more time in than my own dorm room. There was a point in time where I never imagined this place would make me feel uncomfortable, and yet, here we are. Amelia offered to do this literally anywhere else, but I can't let this dysfunction control my life.
So we made a baby, and only one of us will be raising it. Big deal. It happens with sperm donors all the time. Although, the women don't see their sperm donors on a constant basis, but whatever.
I can do this.
I'm stronger than I give myself credit for.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I walk up the steps and push the door open before I change my mind. For a second, I'm hopeful that I can get upstairs and safely in Amelia's room without him even noticing that I'm here, but as I shut the door behind me and look up, I realize luck isn't on my side.
Easton is walking out from the kitchen, looking down at his phone. He glances up for a second and his breath hitches as he stops in place. I try to avoid him by turning toward the stairs, but he was never going to let that slide.
“Kennedy,” he calls and rushes over to me. “Wait, please.”
I stop and take a deep breath. “What do you want?”
“The same thing I've wanted all week,” he says, as if it's obvious. “To apologize. I made assumptions that you didn't deserve and said things that I'll never forgive myself for.”
“You tried to convince me to get an abortion, Easton.”
