Page 70 of The Way We Score

“Would you like a drink or something?”

“No.” My chest gets tight, and I don’t know why I’m suddenly afraid. “But you might want one in a minute.”

His brow furrows, and I swallow the knot in my throat.

I didn’t rehearse this, and I try to decide the right way to introduce what I’m about to say.

He shifts on his feet, and I’m pretty sure the tension in the air can’t get any tighter.

Inhaling deeply, I exhale slowly, then simply say it. “I’m pregnant.”

The room goes silent.

I never noticed before, but he has an analog clock somewhere in this apartment. Itstick… tick… tickis the only sound, and I have to be hallucinating. New York City is never silent.

Finally he speaks. “That’s… great. Congratulations?”

His tone is confused, not happy at all, and my eyes shoot to his face. It’s a mixture of frustration and possibly something else. Regret?

My stomach hurts, and I’m trying to breathe normally. “That’s it? Congratulations?”

“I don’t know what else to say, Liv.” He shrugs, starting to turn. “Did you decide to do IVF or something?”

The anger building in my chest breaks, and I lift my hands to my forehead. “No…” Exhaling heavily, I squeeze my eyes shut. “It’s not… It’s yours. Ours. It happened after the wedding. I got pregnant when we… did it.”

Silence again, except for the unbelievably loud clock and its ticking hands of fate.

“But you said…” He starts and stops.

Crossing my arms, I walk away from the windows into the living room. “The doctor said we couldn’t get pregnant, and I guess I interpreted that to meanIcouldn’t get pregnant. I mean, if you think about it, we never had a scare after all the times in high school?—”

“You were on birth control in high school.”

“Yeah, but birth control can fail.” My voice is quiet,and I finally build up the nerve to meet his eyes. “I thought I was broken.”

“You’ve never been broken, Liv. You’re perfect.” A smile teases at the corners of his mouth, and he takes a step closer. Then he stops, seeming to think twice about it. He swallows, sliding his hand over his mouth. “What do you want to do?”

Pain trickles through my chest, but I won’t allow myself to cry.

Diverting my eyes, I take another step away from him. “I’ve thought about it a lot. You’ve got your career here, and I’m… there.” I have to catch my shaky breath before I can continue. “It’s very early. If you do the math, I can’t be more than eight weeks along. It’s not too late to…”

It’s a heavy weight on my chest, a pain in my stomach. My eyes flicker to where he hasn’t moved, and my insides twist.

This silence. This oppressive silence presses down on me so hard.

“We don’t have to do this if you’d rather I didn’t.” His forehead tenses the slightest amount, and I can’t say it.

“Is that what you want?” It’s a low question, tight like his jaw is clenched.

After last night and this morning and today, I don’t understand why he’s standing there so controlled. It’s not how I expected him to respond. I’ve known Garrett all my life, and he showed more emotion when I told him about Mom’s delusional chicken.

All the fears I’ve had about doing this alone, my impulsive decision to come here, because I was sure of all the men who’ve ever been in my life, he was different.

I believed he would always have my back.

Breath I didn’t know I was holding gulps in my chest, and a hot tear hits my cheek. Pushing it away fast, I lift my chin, finding the strength I know I have.

“No.” My voice is thick, and I clear it. “I want this baby very much, only?—”

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