Page 73 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy

Thiswas my Christmas present, what every single working mother could dream of. The chance to catch my breath and not worry about being on the go and still failing in some aspect.

Relaxing wasn’t something I could count on doing—ever—and it was thanks to Zach that I could on this snowy morning. He’d seen how spent and exhausted I was, taking care to see to what I needed or wanted. The hot sex was a bonus. Of course, I wanted him to pleasure me. And he was so good at it too, knowing exactly how to push me a little further out of my comfort zone to make me splinter apart in all the best, most blissful ways.

But handling George and getting him to school? That was a blessing.

As I putzed around, tidying up here and there in the house, I sighed and let myself gradually wake up with a cup of coffee he’d left warming in the pot for me. I was touched by Zach’s embrace of domesticity last night, and I couldn’t stop wondering if it could be a lasting trend with him. If taking care of me and our son could be something he’d be interested in forever, to always be around and with us.

He has to know.I worried that sooner or later, he’d see the similarities between himself and George and jump to the conclusion that the timing did line up. That our one-night stand six years ago resulted in that wonderful, sweet boy. Even though George’s delivery was early, and he was a preemie, Zach was a wise man. He could do the math with a margin of error.

If he hadn’t wondered already, I had no excuses to hold the secret from him any longer. It was wrong to keep this lie going. Plus, the more I welcomed Zach into my life and saw how he just might want to change and stick around, I had no grounds to worry about him leaving and crushing George’s heart. I had more faith building that if he knew George was his son, the allure of running off to something bigger and more grand outside of Vernford would fade.

With George being on winter break, I wouldn’t have to stress about his getting to and from school. Zach would be more free too, not at the elementary school and working part-time as he filled in for Mr. Benson.

I’d have to have the guts to find a time to tell Zach once and for all. That he was my baby’s daddy. That we could try to work on being a family together if the idea didn’t intimidate him.

I paused in the kitchen, looking over the calendar hanging up. Pencil scratches showed my catering gigs with Jenny, but also the random winter events I thought I might try to take George to. Holiday story time at the library. A craft at the Y. Another birthday party. Amanda could take him to one of those, and it would be an opportunity for me to sit down with Zach and finally tell him.

Furrowing my brow, I double-checked the dates.

Wait a second…

“No.” I whispered it then held my breath. Panic claimed me as I stared at the grid of small boxes. Counting back again, then triple-checking my adding…

“Oh, no…” I set my coffee mug down on the counter before I dropped it.

“I can’t be.” I shook my head as I thought through the little things I’d been noticing.

Being so damn tired.

The nausea and cramps.

The lack of my period…

What if I wasn’t tired because I was working too much, but fatigued because my heart was pumping more blood in preparation for what would grow?

What if my stomach issues weren’t signs that I was next in line for the germs that were circulating right now?

And what if my period was this late because I was… pregnant?

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry, and I tried not to lose my mind at this discovery. I was late.

“But I’m on the pill,” I argued aloud as I hurried to the bathroom. We’d had sex, but I was taking the pill. Yes, it was never one hundred percent accurate, but still. This shouldn’t be an issue. I took measures to avoid a pregnancy since I was clearly so fertile before with Zach. I had just started a different brand of the pill when he and I slept together after Kevin’s funeral. But this time, I had been on the same medication for a couple of years.

“How could it not work?” I asked as I rummaged way back in the cabinets for a pregnancy test. I had such a lackluster sex life—excluding Zach—that I never would’ve had a reason to have a test, but Sara was worried about a broken condom once and bought a two-pack. She was too nervous to take the test at her house so she had done it here, to have my support in case it was positive.

There.

I found the other half of the double test pack. My fingers shook as I ripped the packaging open. Then after reading and rereading the simple instructions—no easy feat with how fast my heart beat and how quickly my mind seized on the ultimatewhat-if—I took the test.

Sitting on the toilet lid, I hunched over and willed the now-familiar nausea away as I waited for the test to work.

It’s the same as before.

I’d been so naïve and dismissive of the chance that I could be pregnant before, but those little signs had popped up. Being so damn tired and out of breath at work. Nausea never so bad that I’d puke but a lingering, constant funkiness in my stomach that made me lose my appetite and too much weight at first.

I’d waited a whole month of being late to take the test that told me I’d have George, but this time, I was more aware, prompted to see whether I had done a double-jeopardy with Zach.

I blew out a long, shaky exhale when the timer on my phone buzzed. Wincing, so nervous and tense, I picked up the plastic stick and read it.

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