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He exhaled. “My baby’s growing up. Is it serious?”
I thought for a second.
“Can I meet him?”
You already know him.
"Dad," I said in a rush. "It's still new, and that'd be taking things too fast."
“Well.” Dad’s face fell. “Tell me about him. What does he do?”
“I will.” I smiled. “When the time is right. Just not right now.”
He rumbled a disagreeing sound but nodded. “I understand. Take your time.”
One thing I didn’t have. But I was grateful he stopped pushing it.
Done with the meal, Dad started gathering the dishes. I stood to help, but just as I did, I got lightheaded.
A cry left me, and I tipped backward.
Dad caught me just before I hit the floor. “Ava.” His voice was tense. “Are you okay?”
I pressed a shaky hand to my forehead, closing my eyes, trying to steady myself. “I am. I just—”
Dad helped me to stand upright, and another wave of dizziness hit me. My knees buckled.
“Shit,” Dad swore, dropping me into the chair.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, my chest rising and falling.
Why is this happening?
I massaged my forehead and blinked against the blur before my eyes. Nothing helped.
“Come on. We’re going to see a doctor.”
My heart lurched. If we saw a doctor, he’d find out about my baby. “No, Dad, I’m fine.”
I tried to stand again, but his hands caught me before I fell on my face.
“You’re not.” His voice was curt and strained. “Come on, Peanut.”
My eyes were closed as I leaned heavily against him. But I knew we walked in the direction of the front door.
“Watch your step.”
I held onto his arm with a shaky hand, peeled my eyes open, and descended the porch steps.
When we hit the flat driveway, Dad hurried us once more. We got in his car, and he pulled onto the street.
Weak to my bones, I leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed. I just needed my head to clear, then I'd be fine.
“Talk to me, Peanut. How are you feeling?”
I couldn’t pretend anymore. “Not very good.”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “We’ll soon be at the doctor’s.”
