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“You two are going to make some good-looking kids,” Mad says, licking the salt from the rim of her glass. “Just so you know.”
“How far along are you?” Campbell asks.
“Only six weeks. I think. I still have to go to the doctor to confirm it with an ultrasound this week.”
“What did he say when you told him?” Tenley asks me.
“Not a whole lot. I mean, he was in shock, but he seemed okay with it. Said we were going to make it work and he wanted to be involved. He was surprisingly … excited?”
“Aww…” Campbell beams.
“So, you going to have a shotgun wedding or what?” Mad asks, dipping her straw amidst the ice cubes, looking for pockets of alcohol in her near-empty drink.
“What? No. There’s not going to be a wedding.” Just the thought of walking down the aisle and promising my life to Alec sends a frigid reality check to my veins.
“So what, exactly, are you then?” Campbell asks, her face scrunched as if trying to solve a particularly difficult math problem. “Friends with shared diaper duty?”
“Co-parents with ground rules,” I say. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
“How romantic,” Tenley says, rolling her eyes.
“It’s not supposed to be romantic. I’m not living in that fantasy. It’s supposed to be practical.”
Tenley circles the rim of her glass thoughtfully, a confused expression on her face. “What are the ground rules?”
“My body, my choice,” I say. “His medical advice doesn’t overrule my OB’s. The baby comes first. We’re a team. That sort of thing.”
“Those are ridiculously simple ground rules,” Tenley says as if she’s mulling over a legal contract. “I strongly advise that you make a more extensive list—and get it in writing.”
“Like a prenup?” Mad asks.
“A baby-nup,” Campbell chimes in.
“One thing at a time, guys.” I sip my Sprite, the bubbles soothing the storm brewing in my stomach. I threw up this morning for the first time, gagged on my toothbrush. Even though I used mouthwash after, there’s still a burning sensation in the back of my throat.
“I’m so excited to see where this goes,” Cam sighs, resting her chin on her hand. Her giant diamond glimmers in the low overhead light, throwing reflections everywhere. Ever since she’s been married, she’s turned into this swoony romance-y person. While I’m glad she’s happy, it’s taking some time to get used to.
“It’s not going anywhere. We’re just two people who know each other and who happen to be having a baby together,” I say. But even as I state the words I’m so sure of, I can’t help thinking that the man I saw in my apartment was … promising. He was attentive. Concerned for my welfare. Wanted to do the right thing. I’ve spent a long time thinking he was the opposite of husband material, but the other night, he easily could have been.
I’ve spent too long second-guessing him, so I don’t stop now.
What kind of game is he playing?
With him, it’s always a game.
Life is one big game and Alec always wins.
While I can forgive the Yours Cruelly version of him that tormented my formative years, no amount of kind gestures will help me to forget. He hurt me once, twice, a thousand times.
I don’t know if I can trust that he won’t do it again.
25
Alec
Three days after I learn I’m going to be a father, I decide drastic action needs to be taken.
Stassi’s been a ghost, avoiding me per usual. I’ve texted her a few times, confirming when her doctor’s appointment is, asking if she needed anything at the store … the responses were short—which makes me think this co-parent thing is all bullshit. She’s clearly not expecting fifty-fifty. Not even ninety-ten. I think she might even be regretting letting me know about it at all.
I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt though. A lot is happening to her, and she’s probably freaking out, keeping it all inside like she always does.
Her apartment is dark when I get home from work that night, so I send her a text.
Alec: Hey. What are you doing later? Thought we could catch up.
A moment later, she responds:
Stassi: After I get off from Ted’s? Crashing and eating crappy pizza, not necessarily in that order.
I smile. At least it’s not a one-word answer. Maybe I was wrong, thinking she’s avoiding me. Her body’s got to be tired, standing for an entire an eight-hour shift while cooking that little human. I write back.
Alec: Crappy pizza isn’t good. Come to my place. I’ll make you dinner.
I barely look away from my screen before her reply comes in.
Stassi: No.
Okay. Maybe she is pissed at me. I can’t think of what I did this time, other than implant my seed in her and destine her for a lifetime of caring about something that’s fifty-percent me.
I need to sweeten the deal.
