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Work doesn’t fuck other men.
19
KIRA
I’mfurious Orlie was the one who got to walk away. It should have been me.
How dare he even suggest I slept with someone else? I can’t believe he’s so committed to his lie he’s willing to accuse me of something like that. Sure, it would have been fair for me to sleep around. We were never in any sort of relationship. But clearly, Orlie Wynters doesn’t know me at all. That’s the last thing I would be capable of. Well, after lying about the paternity of my baby just to get some sort of payout.
I’ve always been a one-man kind of girl. And when it came to Orlie, I wasthis closeto giving myself to him, fully and utterly.
Thank god I didn’t. He really showed his true colors.
And they’re colors I don’t want on my life’s rainbow, that’s for sure.
I head home without saying anything to anyone. Even Polly is in the dark until I pull into the driveway of my home and send her a text.
Everything’s fine. Working from home. Not well.
And that’s not a lie. I’m not well. Emotionally, I’m spent. Physically, well…
Since my mind clocked that I’m pregnant, my body is starting to act like it a little bit. The nausea, the fatigue. It’s all setting in slowly but surely. So yeah, I deserve to work from home, especially when I’m pregnant with my tyrant boss’s baby.
When I get home, Dad isn’t there and now that I’m his only roommate, I’m allowed to go in like a dark storm cloud. Slam the door, scream, let the tears come all at once.
I go to my bedroom and throw myself into the bed, sobbing into the pillow. Haven’t done that since my early twenties when my hormones were still raging out of control and men not liking me made me question my entire self-worth.
Joke’s on me because apparently, that happens in your late twenties too.
Although these circumstances are definitely dire.
I flip onto my back and look up at the ceiling fan as it whips around so fast you can barely make out the blades.
I’m still just a kid living with my dad.
A twenty-nine-year-old kid. But still.
I can’t be having a baby. Not like this. I’m not like my sisters. I’m not strong enough. I’ve always planned onplanningthis. Having a husband, or at least a partner. Tracking my ovulation, planning it all out to a tee so that we’d beready.No accidents.
I don’t want to be like my mom. She wasn’t ready. And consequently, she had five children in rapid succession and then gave up. Gave us up. It wasn’t something she wanted. Or if she did, it all came at her too fast. Life has a way of doing that.
I have options. I could have an abortion. Although something about that doesn’t feel right. I’m a grown-ass woman. The choice is always mine to make, but it would feel wrong, like looking a gift horse in the mouth when I know this is something I want.
I want to be a mom more than anything. I just wanted to be ready when it happened.
Glancing at my side table, I spy the blur of black and white letters. I pick up the note and read through it once more.
Pregnancy Verification Letterreads in bold black script at the top.
My doctor offered it to me to give to my employer. Signed, dated, and all that. But I wanted it more for myself. I’m only a little over two months. There’s no sonogram to be had, no images. This is the only way I’ve been able to make reality sink in.
I fold up the letter, tear it to pieces, and stick the pieces in the waste basket at my bedside.
I’m not going to think about it for now. I’m not going to doanythingfor now.
I close my eyes and let sleep take me away.
“You have to eat, Kira.”
