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Abigail gave her a light jokey punch on the shoulder. “You don’t need to keep it a secret,” she said. “Come on. Spill the beans. I won’t even tell Colton if you don’t want me to.”
Courtney looked down at her own body and laughed. “Do you think I look pregnant? Is that what you’re saying?”
Abigail’s expression fell off of her face as she turned bright red. “Oh, no!” She waved her hands back and forth in desperation as if she could erase her words like they were written in chalk.
“Because I actually just lost a few pounds with the marathon group.” Courtney was clearly proud of herself, judging by the smile she had on her face. “And I ran my first sub eight minute mile this past weekend.”
“No, no, no,” Abigail said. “That’s not what I was saying.”
“Then what are you saying, Abigail?”
“I saw the pregnancy test.”
My brain was a little slow on the uptake at this point, but it was beginning to process what was going on.
“Pregnancy test?”
“Yeah,” Abigail said. “I know I shouldn’t have snooped, but it was right there in the trash bin. Two lines and everything.”
“Abigail,” Courtney said, “I didn’t take a pregnancy test. It must have been someone else.”
“But you were the last one to use it.”
“You’re monitoring who’s going in and out of the bathroom?” Courtney asked.
“No, but if it wasn’t you…”
Her voice trailed off and I didn’t wait around long enough for her to figure out whose test it was. I knew who it belonged to. And I wasn’t going to text or call her about it. This was the kind of thing that had to be addressed in person.
I stormed out of the office so quickly, I wondered if they might have thought I was the one who was pregnant.
CHAPTER21
***SLOANE***
There was so much that I needed to say to Wesley, but I didn’t want to hear any of his responses. He would try to convince me to change my mind and, if I gave him a chance to do that, there was a possibility he would succeed. A strong possibility. Perhaps an outright certainty. It was partially because he was convincing and a good salesman, but mostly it was the fact that, when I looked into his serious eyes and saw a glimmer of happiness, I wanted to do anything to bring that happiness out of him and into the world.
But it wasn’t the right thing to do. And it wasn’t the responsible thing to do. I refused to let him.
Leaving him out in the dark wasn’t the responsible thing to do, either though. I had to tell him what was going on and why, but I had to do it in such a way that I could control whether or not he was able to respond.
I pulled out my laptop. I felt a little cowardly for not having this conversation in person, but it couldn’t be a conversation. It had to be a communication. The best way to do that would be through an email.
I ignored the hundreds of unread emails in my inbox as I clicked the compose button, then began to write. As hard as the words might have been to say, it was even more difficult to write them. I wanted to beat around the bush, but, ultimately, I opted for the clearest and most direct way. Sticking to the facts was best, but I may have inadvertently let an emotion or two make their way in.
Dear Wesley,
I’m pregnant. And I’ve already decided I’m keeping the baby. There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind on that.
I don’t want to burden you with a child. That’s not what you signed up for and that’s not the life that you chose to live. If you wanted to be a father, you would have become one. Instead, you run a real estate agency. That’s a noble career and I respect you for it.
However, it is in both of our best interests to never see each other again. I’m sure you’re reading this and thinking, “I can be a father. I’d be a father if it meant being with you.” And I believe that you believe that. But the fact of the matter is you shouldn’t have to settle on fatherhood. You should want to be a father. The thought of raising a child should fill you with uncontrollable excitement. But I know you well enough to know that it doesn’t. Perhaps you’ll read this and try to argue with me, but if that’s the case, tell me: if you wanted so badly to be a father, why is it that you’ve never mentioned it to me before?
I’ve always wanted to be a mother and you knew that about me. More than once, I’ve told you that and you’ve responded with niceties long enough to show you weren’t ignoring me before changing the subject.
But you should know that not only did I want to be a mother, but over the past few months I’ve learned that, if I was going to be a mother, there’s no one else that I’d rather have father the baby than you. In fact—
There was a knock at the door, interrupting my train of thought and stopping me mid sentence.
