Page 28 of Books and Hookups

“It’s your body. Your life will change the most, at least over the next seven or eight months.”

“I thought you were Catholic. Couldn’t you get excommunicated or something?”

He snorted. “I’ve got a pregnant lesbian cousin. We’re not exactly the paragons of traditional Catholicism.”

“So do you want me to get an abortion?”

“I didn’t say that. I want you to do what’s best for you. If that’s an abortion, I’ll go with you and make sure you’re okay. If that’s carrying the baby to term, we’ll work it out. Together. As co-parents.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“What if…what if I want to keep it?” Saying it made my chest feel lighter, though my stomach was still a pretzel.

He exhaled. “Then that’s great.”

“I…it might be my last chance, you know? To be a mother.”

He scratched his cheek. “You…you wanna get married?”

“What?” I yanked my hand away. “No.”

“Okay, then.” He nodded. “We’ll work out an arrangement. We’ll share the responsibilities. And until the baby’s born, anything you need, just ask.”

“I don’t need anything. I’m fine.” If I said it often enough, I might believe it. “I’ve got health insurance, and the paper has a maternity leave policy. It’s not great, but it should get me through the early days.”

“What about your book?”

I squinted at him. With the bomb I’d just dropped, how had he remembered my book? “I’ll finish it before the baby’s born.”

He smiled, a crooked one that wrinkled up his cheek on one side and made me want to kiss it. “Of course you will.”

I wish I had as much confidence in myself as he did.

“So, we’re keeping this on the down-low, I assume, for another…” He looked off to the side. “Six weeks?”

“For as long as we can. If my boss finds out, he’ll remember I’m a woman, and I’ll be working the shit beat.”

“Can I tell my family?” he asked. “Not the whole family. Just Leo and my mom.”

“That was your mom I met before?”

“Yeah.”

“What about your dad?”

“Died when I was little. My siblings all have different dads. None of them stuck around.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“About my dead dad? That was a long time ago.”

“That and…and for not knowing about it.” There were so many things I didn’t know about Danny. I hadn’t thought about all the ways this baby would tie us together. It would have grandparents. I hoped Danny’s mother would be better at it than my dad. “Okay, you can tell them. But I don’t want”—I gestured through the wall again—“that.”

“We can go slow,” he said, “until you’re sure of what you want.”

Heat rose from my chest, up my neck, to my face. “Are you second-guessing me? Because I’m not changing my mind. I know what I want. I might not be into that pastel-rainbow-unicorn bullshit, but I want to be a mother.” Until he’d questioned me, until the retort flew out of my mouth, I hadn’t known what I wanted to do. But now, as I said it, the truth locked into place.

“Hold on.” He put his palms up. “I thought… Never mind. I fucked up. I’m sorry. We can do this however you want. As long as there’s room for me in the kid’s life.”

The wordkidconjured up an image of Danny running beside a dark-haired boy on a bicycle. Danny walking him up the stairs into a school. Danny tossing a ball with him. All the things my dad never did with me. As I’d pointed out (fine, been an asshole about) that morning after, Danny was all about taking care of people. He’d be a wonderful dad.

---