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His hand tightens around mine. “I know how it sounds. But it’s not like that. This isn’t about sex—”
“Clearly, it is about sex, otherwise she wouldn’t be pregnant!”
I want to slam my hands on the table and tell them to stop shouting, but I know adding my own anger to the mix won’t solve anything. Jonah’s just trying to be heard, and Mary’s not saying these things to be cruel. She’s saying them because she thinks Jonah took advantage of me, when the truth is the total opposite: Jonah’s love saved me.
Now it’s my turn to save us both.
“Mary,” I say quietly.
“What, Teagan?” She rubs her eyes like she doesn’t want to look at me, and when she finally does, I understand. She feels responsible for all of this, like it’s her fault I’m pregnant.
“I know I haven’t been the easiest case,” I say. “You tried so hard to help me, and I refused to let you. I was so used to being disappointed and abandoned that I didn’t want to give you the chance to prove me right. But when I called, you answered, and you brought me to your brother’s. And for the first time in my life, I feel like I finally belong somewhere. I have you both to thank for that.”
Mary gapes at me, and I can’t say as I blame her. I don’t think I’ve ever said so many words to her in the four years she was my case worker. I get up from my chair and move closer to Mary, standing in front of her so she can’t see her brother.
“Jonah is the best man I have ever met,” I tell her. “I love him. I didn’t think I was capable of loving or being loved. But Jonah taught me that I deserve to feel precious, and that I deserve to be happy no matter where I come from. It’s because of him that I know I can be a good mom. And you said it yourself, he’s going to make a great dad someday.”
“Yeah, well—” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “—I didn’t thinksomedaywould be nine months from now.”
“Neither did I. But I wouldn’t change it for anything.”
Mary studies me, her gaze heavy with tenderness and concern.
“You know you don’t have to get married just because you’re pregnant,” she says.
“I know. But I want to.”
She looks over my shoulder, and whatever she sees in Jonah’s eyes must be comforting because she doesn’t scowl. “You really want to marry my brother?”
I smile. “I really do.”
I fold my arms around her. At first, she’s tense, like she can’t quite believe I’m actually touching her. But after a second, instinct takes over, and she returns the hug, petting my hair the way I imagine she’s done thousands of times to her own kids.
“Then I’m happy for you both,” she says. “Welcome to the family, Teagan.”
Epilogue
Jonah
Three years later.
The engine of my shiny new pickup roars as I accelerate through the yellow stoplight. Since I’ve become a dad, I try not to make a habit of driving recklessly, but the anticipation of spending some alone time with my wife brings out the daredevil in me. I’ve just dropped our son, Joey, off with Cherise and Lamar for the night, and I’ve got a sweet setup waiting for Teagan at home.
It’s our first night away from the little guy in a long while, and though we’ve done our best to steal a few minutes here and there to be Daddy and baby girl instead of Daddy and Mommy, we haven’t had the pleasure of an entire night to ourselves since before he could walk. Now that Joey’s capable of zooming all over the place, we’ve had to be extra diligent, which means sleeping with one eye open and fucking with an ear to the bedroom door.
I pull into a space in front of Teagan’s tattoo shop. The lights are still on, which means she must be finishing up with a client. Inside, I find my wife hunched over a young, dark-haired woman’s hip. The guy holding the woman’s hand looks to be around my age, tall and fair-haired, with a light layer of dirt on his boots. They must be from the country.
He shoots me a firm keep-your-eyes-off-my-girl look.Don’t worry, I want to tell him,I’ve got my own woman to ogle.Even then, he’d probably still be on his guard, which I get. I feel the same way when guys come in here showing a little too much interest in the artist, and not enough interest in the tattoo.
“Just give me another minute, babe,” Teagan says, wiping away excess ink. I love watching my wife work, doing what she does best. Her shop’s only been open a little over six months, but already she’s made a name for herself.
Looking at her now, it’s hard to see the distrustful girl who showed up on my doorstep. She’s fought hard to put the past behind her, hasn’t mentioned her dad once since he went to prison. Rather, she’s thrown herself into being an amazing wife, mother, and artist.
After a few minutes, she sets the tattoo machine down and says, “Okay, Norah. Go take a peek in the mirror behind you and see what you think.”
The guy helps his girl off the chair and follows her to the wall-mounted mirror. I take advantage of the client’s distraction to give my wife a quick kiss on the lips and a pat on the belly. She’s about four months along with our second child—a little sister for Joey. Teagan will have to close the shop for a while after our daughter’s born, but I have no doubt her clients will be lining up around the block as soon as she reopens.
“How’s our little man?” she asks softly.
