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I glance at Amelia. She looks pale, like she might puke as soon as she opens her mouth, and I know I need to tell her it’s all right, we will get through this together, somehow. But I can’t quite force the comforting words past my lips. It’s not that I blame her. From what she said, she had no idea, but she hasn’t just missed the most important part of her child’s life. I have. “Did you want something to drink?” I ask her instead, focusing on what I can.
She fiddles with her hands, twisting one of the rings as her worried eyes reach mine. “Umm, yeah, an almond latte, please.”
“Be back in a sec,” I tell her, lining up at the counter to order, grateful for the space to breathe for a second. The air between us is suffocating with so many unsaid words. Last night I had hoped we could have a little fun away from our regular lives. The crazy spark was still there, so why not explore it. I took one look at her in that sequined dress and heels, long toned legs, soft blonde hair just begging me to run my fingers through it, and then she looked my way and smiled, and her stunning lips did things to me even the hottest body in the world couldn’t. It took me back and forced me to remember what I gave up by chasing my dreams. Amelia Harper. In the last ten years I didn’t come close to finding someone who made me feel the way she used to. She was perfect for me in every way. And she got me like no one else ever could.
But now all that has changed. I can’t see her as that same girl anymore. Even if I wanted to explore the hot fuck we had, it’s all too complicated now.
I place our orders and take my seat back at the table across from her. She's staring out the window. She looks as tired as I feel, and I wonder if she had a sleepless night as well.
Her attention returns to me. “I guess you have some questions?” She nibbles her bottom lip.
“I don’t know where to start,” I admit, feeling overwhelmed all over again. I wish this was easier, but there’s no manual for how to deal with a situation like this.
“It’s so messy, I know. How about I tell you what I know, and if you want to ask me anything you can.”
“All right,” I agree, having no better ideas myself.
“About three months ago, Connor had an accident on his bike and was taken to the hospital. Turned out he had a broken arm, and it was quite a bad break and he needed surgery to have a pin put in. He’s only just come out of the cast. Anyway, they ran some routine tests just to see what blood type he was in case anything went wrong, and he needed blood. While I was waiting for him in surgery, I asked the nurse what his blood type was, just out of interest's sake. As soon as she told me he was B, I knew right away something wasn’t right, because I’m A and Declan is O, so he can’t be his. I have since talked to Connor’s pediatrician, and he believes there must have been a screw-up with the dates on my first ultrasound, and because I was on the pill at the time and shouldn’t have gotten pregnant at all, it was hard to know exactly what my cycle was doing, so the dates were off. There was only two weeks between you leaving and me starting to date him.”
Everything she’s saying makes sense. I know from when I gave blood couple of years ago that I'm AB. “But we only slept together that one time just before I left.”
She gives me a look like I just said something really stupid, and when I hear my words back, I know I did. “That's what I thought at the time. Trust me, when I found out I was pregnant, I went over it all in my head, wishing you were the dad. But from what the doctor was saying at the time, it couldn't have been you. But he was wrong. It only takes one time, Heath. And we didn’t use protection, remember? We were relying on the pill alone, like the silly teenagers we were,” she whispers, and her making a big deal about me having a condom last night makes more sense.
The barista passes by her side and places our hot drinks down in front of us. Amelia may have said the words quietly so no one else heard her, but I got the tone of her voice coming through loud and clear. She's not blaming me, but it was me who didn't want to use protection. I do remember it’s the only time I haven’t been careful. Neither of us had even been with anyone else, and after years of us being in each other’s lives, it was kind of our goodbye to each other. We thought we were covered by the pill, so nothing to worry about.
"One almond latte and one double piccolo," the barista singsongs, her eyes widening as she registers who I am.
"Thank you," I say, hoping to God she won't cause a scene. It's the last thing either Amelia or I need today.
"Enjoy." She smiles, her attention turning back to Amelia. "Lucky girl," she says before she practically skips back behind the counter to tell her co-worker.
"Lucky girl?" Amelia shakes her head, irritated.
"Sorry, you're lucky she was nice to you," I tell her. She has no idea what she's in for, and I feel bad about that. I have had years to get used to it, but as soon as people find out who she is to me, she will be thrust into the public eye whether she likes it or not. And I'm going to guess by that reaction to one little comment, it's going to beor not.
"Geez, I had no idea how forward fans think they can be."
"That was nothing," I tell her, not wanting to elaborate on some of the crazy shit that has been happening lately. Including my house being broken into this weekend.
She sips her drink, her eyes on me like she is trying to read my mind. The silence between us today isn't comfortable like it was last night; it's filled with an uneasy tension, and I wonder if this is the way it will be between us from now on.
“You don’t believe me, do you? You think I'm one of them, the crazies out for fame or money." Her eyes are glassy as she says it, and I know it's been weighing on her mind. Probably for the last three months while she's been trying to get a hold of me.
"No, I do believe you. I just… it’s just hard to process; I can’t wrap my head around it.” I offer her a sympathetic smile. I know she's not like that, but I also know what she’s in for when the entertainment world finds out my news. She's going to be labeled all sorts of things. Every paper will want the story, that's why we need to be really careful about this.
She takes out her phone and scrolls through, looking for something, then hands it to me. “This might help,” she tells me, like I still don't think she is telling the truth.
Looking over the photo on her phone, I see a boy, tall and slim, with longish messy brown hair.
“Connor.” She smiles with warmth this time, saying his name with such affection. I can tell she adores him, and I can already see she is an amazing mom.
I swallow the lump in my throat. It's so strange seeing a photo of him; it could be one from my own mother's collection of me growing up. "He looks just like me."
"Yeah, he does."
"How did you not see it?" I ask, really not understanding how she could have missed it. She grew up with me, she knew me at this age; this could be a photo of me.
"It wasn't that obvious. Declan had similar features to you, same brown eyes and hair, actually he looked really similar to you now that I think about it. You remember him, don't you?"
