Page 91 of Recklessly, Wildly Yours

Fuck, that’s right. She’s flying out tonight.

“I’ll come with you. We’ll get a test on the way.”

Maddie glances at the door. “No, you have to stay and take the photos you promised Luna.”

My brain does mental acrobatics, trying to figure out in half a second flat how to do two things at once, how to be in two places at the same time. It feels like I’m screaming down a highway at 200 mph with a bend in the road coming up and no brakes to save myself.

“I’ll—”

I’m cut off by Luna who has opened the door again. “Uncle Ethan!”

Maddie’s phone rings at the same time and I think my brain might fucking explode.

I’m frozen for the second time in an hour, unable to work my way through my crowded thoughts.

Maddie’s eyes are on mine and then they’re not. She’s putting her phone to her ear and she’s walking away from me to take the call.

I have no idea how to be a father.

“Uncle Ethan!”

Maddie finishes her call and looks at me from across the room. “I have to go.”

Why is she standing all the way over there?

“I’m coming with you.”

Luna’s face falls. It crumbles so fast it kills me. “You promised photos,” she cries.

I don’t know anything about being a father. Not a fucking thing.

“Ethan,” Maddie says, already halfway out the door, “I’ll call you when I land.”

“Wait,” I say, but she’s already out of the room. I scrub a hand down my face. “Fuck.”

I glance between the door and Luna who’s sobbing on the floor. And then I make a decision that I fear may haunt me for the rest of my life.

I bend down and scoop my niece up into my arms. “It’s okay, baby. We’re going to take photos and then we’re having ice cream.”

31

Madeline

Leigh and I arrive in London at around 8 a.m. London time and we’re both wrecked. Not from the flight so much as from hormones and emotions. She spent the flight coping with period pain and the emotional abuse of periods. I spent it panicking that my relationship may be over.

I’ve spent seven hours replaying my conversation with Ethan in my head, dissecting every word, every inflection of his voice, every micro-expression. Over and over. And over.

The first thing he said was, “Fuck.” I don’t know what the standard is of what to expect from a man when you tell him you’re pregnant, but I’ve now told two men at different times that I was pregnant and they both pretty much responded the same way. Tucker said a few more choice words than Ethan, but the general gist was the same.

This doesn’t give me confidence that this time around is going better than my first time. Ethan is Ethan, though, so that gives me some confidence. But then, he didn’t say much except he wanted us to get a test. And while I agree that a test is important, I was looking for so much more reassurance than what he gave me. Which was none. He said nothing to make me believe we would be okay, that our relationship would survive. In fact, I think I felt worse after speaking to him than before.

I brought up the jumping too fast thing and he didn’t respond to that either.

I’m thinking about all of this after Leigh and I exit the private jet we flew here on, and when I get to the jumping too fast thing, it all feels too much and so I throw my head back and scream.

We’re crossing the tarmac to the car waiting for us and Leigh jumps in fright when I scream. Then, she turns and practically yells in my face, “You can’t do that without telling me you’re going to do it! Especially not when my lifeblood is draining from me.” Then, she throws her head back and screams too.

She’s right in my face.

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