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Our apartment is tiny, so I stay on track and just raise my voice. “You want to go to the gym with me?”
“No,” she says, her voice thready. “I need to tell you something.”
This has me back in the kitchen in a flash, my heart pounding. “Is everything okay?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’m pregnant.”
“Whoa. Wow.” Wondering why she’s not more excited, I do my best to temper my response, while my arms ache to pick her up and twirl her around the room. “Do you think it was that time—”
“When we were up in Asheville for Veteran’s Day weekend and had sex without a condom?” she finishes, her tone uncomfortably sharp.
“The one time,” I add, my tone defensive.
She crosses her arms over her breasts, which are bigger, now that I think about it. “Yep.”
I muster a hopeful smile. “Maybe somebody really wants to get here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, I picture souls kind of circling us, ready to jump in and join the family when it’s right.”
“But is it right?”
“Well, it’ll be a juggle, but—”
“I’ve got to finish law school, Sam,” she says, interrupting me again and practically spitting out my name. “I’ve got loans up the wazoo, so I’m not fucking quitting.”
“W-w-whoa. Nobody said anything about quitting,” I stutter out.
Hands flying in the air, she begins to pace the length of the kitchen, which isn’t very long. “And then I need to work so I can pay off the damn loans. Plus, I’d actually like to use the degree I’ve worked so hard for.”
“I agree; I think you should.” If she weren’t so worked up, she’d probably flatten me for talking to her like she’s a crazy person, but she is kind of acting nutty right now.
Huffing out a breath, she shakes her head, still pacing. “It feels painfully ironic to give up a baby so I can help other women make the same choice.”
“Which you should do. If that’s what you want.”
“I mean, I do want to have kids with you. Someday. But I’m only twenty-six. And on top of the loans, the freakin’ economy is tanking, we’re so far away from our families…” Her voice rises in pitch before she trails off.
Giving her a moment to make sure she’s finished, I step closer and catch her hand. “The timing is never going to be perfect. But again, I support whatever choice you want to make.”
She lifts her chin. “Would you leave Planned Parenthood?”
“What? Why?”
“I worry about you. And there’s no way I could do this on my own. I don’t know how my mom did it—even living with my grandmother.”
Her eyes are wet, something that rarely happens with my fierce Dee, so I open my arms wide, hoping that she’ll accept a hug. Because of her parents’ unusual first meeting, Dee’s dad didn’t know about her for the first six years of her life. But that never seemed to upset her before. “We can talk about it, sure. But believe me, having my dad around wasn’t always the best thing in the world.”
A sob hiccups out of her as she steps into my embrace. “But I need you. Alive.”
“Hey, hey. I said we can talk about it. I mean, I guess I could go back to working OB shifts.” I set my chin on the top of her head and hold on tight. “Do you have a due date?”
She nods against my chest. Sniffles. “End of July, 2009.”
I take a deep breath to make sure I believe what I’m about to say. “No pressure, but if you want to have the baby, you could start a job right after you graduate, take the mandated leave afterwards, then go back to work. I could work weekends and be home with the kid during the week.”
She leans back and narrows her eyes at me. “Would you be okay with that?”
