Page 162 of Staying Selfless

Eli can do it. He’ll be great at it. He will be the best dad. But his career. My career. Oh my god, I can’t do this.

Inhale. Exhale.

I want to cry and scream and punch something, but I can’t. Not here. Not in the parking lot of my doctor’s office.

I need to get to my dorm so I can react the way I need to react. Which is to freak the fuck out.

Another long inhale, slowly releasing the exhale through my lips. I want to drive. I need to go. I’ve been sitting here for far too long, but I have to be calm enough to do so. The roads are already bad enough as it is. I don’t need to add blurry tear-filled vision into the mix.

Inhale. Exhale. Music.

I start the engine of Eli’s truck, blast the warm air, and turn on the satellite radio. I need a distraction from the fact a child is growing inside of me, so the radio will have to do.

I press the first preset button as country music floods Eli’s truck.

He and I are going to have to have a talk about country radio being his first preset, but that’ll have to wait for another day.

Eric Church’s name pops up on the screen hovering over the center console as his twangy voice fills the car, but the lyrics are about two pink lines.

Nope. No, I can’t do it. Hold the tears back—next song.

George Strait. I can handle a little George Strait. He can get me home without causing me to fall apart.

Tiny pink socks? Mama’s eyes?

Come on, George. I press the ‘skip’ button as the first tear falls down my cheek.

Carrie Underwood. Carrie, my girl. This is what I need. Take that Louisville slugger and slash those tires. I can drive home to this.

But it’s not ‘badass Carrie’ who sings through the speakers. It’s ‘new-mom Carrie’ who begins to serenade about lullabies and sweet surprises.

My chest swells as my eyes sting. I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this.

Inhale. Exhale. Silence.

Who needs music anyway? I’m driving home in silence.

I rush into my dorm, partly to avoid the March chill, but mostly because my eyes are brimming with tears, and I need to let them out. I close my door before leaning against the other side of it and breaking into a full-blown sob, right there on the spot.

My body heaves, completely silent from the strangled cries that won’t exit my throat. I sink down onto the floor, tucking my knees into my chest, as my cheeks become stained with tears while I mourn the life I thought I was going to have. The future I pictured, gone.

Everything I’ve feared regarding becoming a mom is all crashing down on me today. It doesn’t matter that I’m scared shitless. There’s a tiny human forming inside of me.

A tiny human.

A baby.

My baby.

Eli’s baby.

Oh my god. It’s Eli’s baby. His soft brown eyes. His wild hair.

“Logan, are you ready for dinner?” Marc asks with a knock from behind my door.

Oh, shit. I completely forgot about my dinner plans with Marc.

Is it seven already?

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