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“Can I think about it?”
Nolan breathes hard and lets his hands fall in his lap.
“I just found out about this. I need to wrap my head around the concept of giving birth to a child and handing it over to someone else,” I say.
“You really want to raise a kid, Soph? Is that what you want to do for the next eighteen years? While all your friends are out running around, having the time of their lives? You want to work paycheck-to-paycheck jobs, barely making ends meet? Like your mother?”
My jaw falls—even if he has a point.
I don’t bring up child support. He’s always been generous with me, but he’s always wanted me. He’s always gotten something out of this. If he doesn’t want this baby, he could easily sign away his rights. And he’d have every reason to if he had no intention of being in its life.
I rise from the sofa. He didn’t need to bring my mom into this. “I can’t believe you just went there …”
He wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me back. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just … this is a lot.”
I avoid his gaze, though I can’t ignore its heaviness.
“I just want what’s best for you,” he says. “And for the baby.”
“I still need to think about it.”
“Fine.” He lets me go, watching my every move. I try to imagine what’s going through his mind right now, but something tells me I don’t want to know.
“You were never in this for the long haul, were you?” My voice is meek yet jagged. I never dreamed I’d be asking this question. “This was never about us. You just wanted sex. I can’t believe I was so blind. God, I’m an idiot—”
“—this was always about us,” he says. His dark eyes plunge to my stomach. “But now it’s about … all of us.”
There’s no compassion in his tone, no tenderness in the way he touches me. He doesn’t reach for my stomach. There were no saccharin tears in his eyes when he picked me up earlier. The entire drive to the hotel was radio silent. Nothing but road noise and the occasional brush of the windshield wipers against glass as we drove beneath spitting rain clouds.
“I’m scared,” I say, wishing I could lose myself in his arms but knowing it wouldn’t be the same as before.
I don’t know that it’ll ever be the same.
He pulls me into his lap, but he doesn’t kiss me. He isn’t hard. He simply holds me.
“I need you to trust me,” he says. “Can you do that?”
Burying my face against his shoulder, I cry into his dress shirt. Quiet, contained sobs so as not to make a complete fool of myself.
“Can you trust me, Soph?” he asks again.
Sitting up, I dry my cheeks with the back of my hand. “Can you take me home?”
He frowns. “Why?”
“I want to be alone tonight.” As alone as I can be. Mom and Em are home, but they’ll be in the living room watching Friday night TV.
“Are you sure?” The fact that he doesn’t beg me to stay stings, even if I’ve already made my mind up to leave.
“Yes. I want to go.” I collect my purse, phone, and duffel bag and wait by the door.
The drive to my apartment, much like the drive to the hotel earlier, is filled with silent uncertainty. When we arrive, he holds my hand, kissing the top as he promises everything’s going to be okay.
I say nothing as I climb out and head inside.
To my surprise, Mom and Em aren’t home. Looks like I got what I wanted—to be alone. Only then I remember I’m not alone. Placing my hand on my belly, I close my eyes.
It’s a girl, I think to myself. Certain this time.
Even if Nolan doesn’t want her, I do.
But even if I kept her, would I be enough?
Could I give her enough?
I amble to my room, darken the blinds, grab my ear pods, and collapse in a heap on my bed listening to a playlist I made years ago, long before Nolan Ames walked into my life. I pull the covers over my head. Close my eyes. And let it all out.
I’m half asleep when Nolan texts me, asking if I’m okay.
NOLAN: Just checking on you …
NOLAN: Let me know if you need anything.
NOLAN: I’m here for you.
I silence my ringer, taking comfort in the fact that he reached out. Maybe he cares more than he lets on? Maybe our little predicament has paralyzed him with fear and he’s not thinking straight? He’s definitely not acting like himself.
We have thirty-two weeks to make this decision.
A lot can change in seven months.
Thirty-Six
Sophie
Present
A woman with green hair and Doc Martens points her camera phone in our direction as we take in the view of Elliot Bay Saturday afternoon. It’s the third time today that Trey’s been recognized.
