Page 76 of Waiting for Tuesday

His eyes never wavered. “Did you know?”

I looked away then, not able to make myself answer, but his words came again.

“Did you know the baby wasn’t mine?”

Tears spilled from my eyes, down my cheeks, and into the corner of my mouth. “Yes.” I sobbed. “Yes, and I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

He squeezed the bridge of his nose, turning to face the window again. This rock of a man was trying not to cry, and it was tearing me apart.

* * *

John

Isqueezedthe bridge of my nose, my head pounding, my throat so tight it was suffocating—because I finally got the confirmation I’d come back for. She knew she was pregnant, she knew the baby wasn’t mine, but she didn’t tell me. My heart felt like it had been rolled by a semi-truck, pounding the muscle into the black earth over and over. “Whose is it?”

I looked back at her, into her puffy eyes that were vibrant green but showed her devastation.

“His name’s Austin,” she stated. Her voice was small, defeated, and shaking. “Austin Stratton.”

I swallowed. “Does he know?”

She hesitated a moment then nodded. I pushed my head back to my shoulders and gripped my forehead; her answer clawing at my heart. “You told him, but not me?”

“John, he’s my baby’s father?”

“And who am I, Tuesday? Who the fuck am I?”

“John!” she cried. “Don’t do this.”

“Does he know about me?”

She shook her head. “It’s not what you think?”

“Does he know about me?” I asked again.

She shook her head and her lips began to tremble. “N-no.”

I sat forward and pressed my fingers to my mouth. “What does he think of the baby? What does he think ofthis?”

She looked to the window, where the rain was softly beating against the dark glass. “He wants to marry me.”

A surge of adrenaline ran through my body and I stood up. Hearing those words twisted my gut so painfully I couldn’t see straight. “Is that what you want?” I pushed the tray table away from her bed, needing there to be nothing between us. Nothing but her and me, me and Tuesday.

She shook her head, and tears ran down her cheeks as she clutched her stomach. “John, you’re scaring me,” she whispered.

“That’s bullshit!” I yelled at her. “You know what you want. Just tell me! Tell me what you want!”

“I want you!” she yelled. “And I want my baby to have its father!”

I shook my head, my throat constricting so tight I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get the words out. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Her face contorted with hurt and sorrow, and she looked down to her lap. “You can’t ask me to choose between you, John. You can’t do that.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not my choice to make!” She looked up, her voice stronger. “Because my baby deserves a father. I never had one, he left before I was even born, and I won't take that away from her. I won't take that away fromhim. I can’t.”

I nodded, meeting her eyes one last time before backing up a step. “Then you’ve made your choice.”

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