Page 93 of The Goal

“Ah, she can still joke. The world isn’t coming to an end.” Hope signals for Hannah before fixing her gaze on me. “Okay, so if it’s not your grandma and Harvard is on track and Ray’s still the same asshole as always, what is it? We haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’ll tell you when Carin gets here.”

She throws up her hands in frustration. “Carin’s always late!”

“And you’re always impatient.” I wonder what my kid will be? Late, impatient, driven, laidback? I hope laidback. I’m always so fucking anxious. I wish Tucker had shot me up with some of his patience ratherthan his sperm. Sadly, it doesn’t work that way.

“True.” She shifts in her seat. “How’s Tucker? You guys an actual thing?”

“We’re something,” I mutter.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’ve been seeing him since the end of October. That’s more than four months. In Sabrina Land, you might as well be engaged.”

Actually, eighteen weeks and three days, but who’s counting besides me and my OB?

Before Hope can push me some more, Carin breezes in with a, “Sorry, I’m late,” and one-armed side hugs for each of us.

Hannah pops over, delivering my milk and two more menus before disappearing to tend to the next table.

Hope grabs Carin by the wrist and drags her into the booth. “We forgive you,” she tells her. Then she turns to me with a stern look. “Spill.”

“Carin doesn’t even have her coat off,” I protest, although I don’t know why I’m delaying the inevitable. It’s embarrassing that I don’t know how to use contraceptives correctly, but having a baby is normal. At least, that’s my current mantra.

“Fuck Carin and her coat. She’s here. Start talking.”

I take a deep breath, and because there’s no easy way to say it, I just spit it out. “I’m pregnant.”

Carin freezes with her coat halfway down her arms.

Hope’s mouth falls open.

With one of her trapped arms, Carin nudges Hope. “Is it April Fools’ Day?” she asks, not taking her eyes off me.

Even as she answers Carin, Hope also keeps her gaze pinned on my face. “I don’t think so, but I’m having my doubts.”

“It’s no joke.” I sip my milk. “I’m almost five months along.”

“Five months?” Hope screams so loud that every head in the diner swivels toward us. Leaning across the table, she repeats the words, this time at a whisper. “Five months?”

I nod, but before I can add anything else, Hannah arrives to take our orders. Hope and Carin’s appetites are apparently ruined by my news, but I’m hungry, so I order a turkey sandwich.

“Are you showing at all?” Hope still looks a tad dazed.

“A little bit. I can still wear stretchy pants. No skinny jeans, though.”

“Have you been to the doctor?” she asks. Beside her, Carin remains silent.

“Yes. I have insurance through work. Everything looks good.”

“Were you planning to tell us after you had the baby?” Carin blurts out, hurt coloring her words.

“I wasn’t even sure I was going to keep it,” I admit. “And once I decided, I was…embarrassed. I didn’t know how to tell you guys.”

“You know, it’s not too late,” Hope says with an encouraging smile.

Carin brightens at the thought. “Right. Like, you can still get the A any time up until the third trimester.”

Their lack of support stings, but somehow it makes me all the more resolute. My whole life has been about showing doubters I can succeed.

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