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It’s a pregnancy test. And it’s positive.
For a second I just stare at it, confused.
And then my brain clicks into gear.
It has to be Hazel’s.
Hazel’s pregnant.
It has to be mine.Ours.
We’re having a kid. Hazel and I are having a kid.
“Fuck.” My smile’s so big I’m surprised it fits on my face. “We’re having a kid.”
I think of Hazel living with me for good. A little baby with Hazel’s big brown eyes toddling around the apartment. I said I didn’t want a kid until I knew I could give them a better childhood than I had. But now that the decision’s out of my hands, I’m elated.
What if you mess them up, the way your dad messed up you?
The fear tangles with the joy in a messy, painful knot.
It won’t be the same,I tell myself. There’s no way in hell I’d serve my kid up to the press for P.R. points. Besides, the kid will have Hazel in their corner.
I can’t wait to talk to Hazel about this.
Wait.
Why hasn’t she talked to me about this yet?
She hasn’t been at the apartment in a week. That means she took this test six days ago, right before she moved out to work on her book, and she didn’t tell me...
Suddenly the missing puzzle piece clicks into place with a dreadful click.
Hazel didn’t leave to work on the book. She left because she found out she was pregnant.
Does not she not want the baby? Or does she not want me?
Why didn’t shetalkto me?
She called me out for keeping secrets from her. But this...this is bigger than some paparazzi photos, or a threat from my dad. This is akid. Or the possibility of one. And Hazel didn’t tell me.
She talks a lot about how I need to get better at trusting her.
But does she trust me?
I clamp down on the spiraling anger and panic.
I tell myself not to jump to the worst conclusion. If she doesn’t trust me, if she’s not wildly excited about this...
We can still make this work.Ican make this work. I just need to be calm when I talk to her. Practical. Focus on the things that are objectively true. Like the all the ways I can help take care of her and the baby. She doesn’t need to trust me, or love me, to realize that’s true.
My finger’s finally stopped bleeding.
I wash the cut, then grab my wallet, keys, and jacket. Then I head out to the hotel where Hazel’s staying.
Under the surface, my emotions are roiling. But on the outside, I’m calm as a frozen ocean.
Hazel and I have some talking to do.
