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“Chris doesn’t love me.” I put the mug into the microwave and slam the door shut. “You don’t treat people you love like that.”
“Don’t let this pregnancy get in the way of the two of you being together.”
“Look, Brit. I’ve already moved on with someone else, so you can drop the guilty act. If you want Chris, he’s all yours. I mean that.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” she says, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “There’s nothing keeping me and Chris together. I’m aborting the pregnancy.”
I blanch at her words. “Did Chris pressure you into that decision?”
She shakes her head, blue eyes glistening. “I’m not ready to be a mom. My career is just starting to take off. I just…I can’t do this on my own.”
“How far along are you?”
“About seven weeks. I’m running out of time, Jules.”
The microwave beeps, giving me a few moments of reprieve. I drop a tea bag into the mug, waiting for the bag to seep while I slather peanut butter onto a piece of toast. Abortion is such a personal decision, but I’m not convinced it’s a decision Brit can live with. She’s talked about wanting children since we were kids.
Granted, she also envisioned a thriving modeling career and a rich husband.
Preparing my tea, I add a splash of cream and go easy on the sugar this time, considering the news I just learned this morning. I turn back to Brit. “You still have time. Whatever you decide, just make sure you do it for you.”
“I will. I promise.” A beat slithers past. “I’ve missed you.”
“How’s Dad?” I ask, purposefully deflecting. “He was sick a few weeks ago when I talked to him.”
“He’s doing much better.” She lets out a breath. “Mom hasn’t told him about the pregnancy yet.”
“Why haven’t you told him?”
“Same reason I didn’t tell you.” Her attention lowers, long lashes grazing her cheeks. “I’m a coward.”
She’s the eldest, but thanks to Mom, she’s the one that still has a lot of growing up to do. “I’m still upset with you,” I tell her before taking a sip of my tea.
“I know. You have every right to be. I messed up.”
“You did, but…I’ve missed you too, Brit.”
That brings a tiny smile to her lips. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”
“It’ll take some time.”
She gives a solemn nod. “I understand.”
I bite into my toast and wrinkle my nose. “You up for grabbing brunch?”
She hops off the stool. “Anything you want, Jules. It’s your birthday, after all.”
