Page 52 of Falling in Love with Two

But I’m always careful. Maybe not as careful back in high school, but since then, I’ve used an IUD and condoms. Even when I was in monogamous relationships, I always made sure it was wrapped.

Because I knew I wasn’t anywhere near ready to be a mom.

Lord knows that hasn’t changed.

But I guess I’m going to have to get ready.

I always told myself that if I did manage to get knocked up, I would have a lot of options. Now that the moment is here, though, I know there’s only one option that’s right for me.

Ready or not, I’m going to have a kid.

Even just thinking the words sounds fucked up.

I have yet to tell anyone this news. Frankly, I’m not ready to say it out loud just yet. I haven’t even been home. Last night, I went to the shop after it was closed and everyone was gone. I tried to get some sleep, but after tossing and turning half the night, I decided to just drive around. I’ve been driving ever since.

I’ve gone through two tanks of gas, but it beats having to open up and share my feelings.

As much as I love Amy, I’m not in any hurry to tell her this. She already feels bad enough for making me move out. This might just push her over the edge. I know she’ll jump into action and help. The trouble is that I have no idea what kind of help I’m even going to need.

Besides her, I have nobody else. I’ve cut out so many people who were harmful in one way or another to live my life. I may not have a big support system, but at least I don’t have a ton of people who suck the soul right out of me.

There’s a nagging though that keeps popping into my head—the thought that I should tell Dylan.

But the thought of seeing him with his other pregnant girl stops me in my tracks every time.

Chances are, my kid would get the short end of the straw in that equation, so it would just be easier to keep Dylan out of the picture. Maybe I’ll tell him eventually, but I’m in no hurry.

I need to come up with a plan—on my own.

Man, I’ve had to make more adult decisions in the past month than I have in a year. Now, suddenly, my problems a week ago seem a whole lot bigger.

Sure, I found a place to live, but I don’t think I want to have a baby there. It’s a little too sketchy. But judging by my experience apartment hunting, I don’t know that I’ll have much luck finding something better.

I’m going to have to start booking a lot more appointments to be able to afford a baby. Working more means I’ll have to pay for childcare.

What the fuck am I going to do?

I pull my car into the parking lot of a gas station. I need to run inside to pee and grab something to drink. I should probably eat something, but my stomach is so nauseated that nothing sounds good. I’m not sure if it’s my current situation or if morning sickness is starting to set in.

Probably a combination of both.

After I get out of the restroom, I walk over to the coolers. Instinctively, I stop at the usual one that holds my favorite energy drinks. As my fingers wrap around the door handle, I pause. Maybe an energy drink isn’t the best option.

I should probably cut back on the caffeine. Caffeine is bad, right?

And the alcohol.

Oh lord, I’m not going to be able to drink for nine months.

I close that cooler door and walk over to a different one to grab a water instead. When I get to the car and take a swig, I make a face. For someone who lives on Dr. Pepper, energy drinks, and booze, it’s a little bland.

My phone rings in the seat next to me. Not a number I recognize, but it’s local.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Miss Hargrove? This is Dr. Lindly’s office letting you know your prescription is ready for pick-up.”

I look at the clock and figure I may as well go pick them up before I have to go to work. Thank goodness I only have one appointment today, and it’s for something small. I’m running on zero sleep, and my mind is all over the place.

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