Page 140 of Not Another Yesterday
My grandmother sighs. “Ronan Perry Soult. In Montana?”
I’m not a blusher, but it suddenly feels very hot in the car. “Yeah. Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “Her due date’s Christmas Day,” I say for I-don’t-know-what-reason, other than to distract from the fact that Cat and I had sex—a lot of it, actually—on the ranch.
“Ronan, listen to me,” she says. “I know you’re scared. I know. But you’re both going to be fine. You’re not alone. You are loved. You have each other, you have your dad and brother, you have us, and you have great friends. I will not tell you that it’s going to be easy, but it’s doable. And… baby boy, you’re going to be a great daddy.”
Her words make my heart squeeze in my chest.
“I hope you’re right,” I say quietly.
“When have you ever known me to be wrong?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Never, I guess.”
“There you go,” she says. “When are you planning on telling your dad?”
“Tonight. At dinner. You know, when the whole damn clan is together and joined by Cat’s family. What could go wrong?” I immediately feel anxious again. Jesus, what a fucking emotional rollercoaster this is. “Maybe you two could form a human chain and stop him from murdering me,” I say, only slightly joking.
“He will do no such thing,” she says with a quiet chuckle.
“You’re right; it’s really more Cat’s dad I need to worry about,” I say through gritted teeth. “Jesus…” I sigh quietly.
“Sticks and stones, baby boy. Whatever their initial reaction will be, just remember that it’s instinctive. It’ll be based on shock and surprise and probably a lot of concern for you and Cat. Things will simmer down, they will stabilize, and everything is going to work out. Everything is temporary, even the hard times.”
“I’ve never wanted you to be more right, Morai.”
Cat
I’ve avoided my parents as much as possible this week, spending every single night at Ronan’s place. My dad grumbled about it. A lot. But if he thought he had reason to be mad before, boy does he have another thing coming.
The only person I couldn’t truly avoid was my mom. She and I agreed weeks ago that, come summer break, I’d work three full days in her office. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I do enjoy the distraction, but I can’t lie, pretending everything’s normal while quietly researching prenatal vitamins between scheduling, confirming, and moving around her appointments has been… exhausting. But at least I haven’t thrown up on a patient yet. And seeing as I’m halfway through my first trimester already, I’m thinking my chances are good that I dodged it? Fingers crossed.
And now it’s past five. My mom’s office is locked up, work left behind, as my mom and I walk into Frank and Penny’s house. My mom and I are the last to arrive, and not only that, it’s immediately obvious to me that Ronan has made good on his plan to tell his grandparents on their way back from the airport. Saoirse wraps me tightly in her arms, then whispers, “If anyone gives you grief tonight, they’ll have Perry and me to reckon with.”
She pulls back, gives me a wink, then slips away into the kitchen where my parents are deep in conversation with Frank, Penny, and Perry. The only one I don’t spot in the kitchen is Ronan. Not a surprise. Of all the places in this house, the kitchen’s his least favorite. Or perhaps I should say mostdisliked. I follow Saoirse down the hallway, then glance right into the living room.
That’s when I spot him.
Ronan’s on the living room floor, lying on his side next to one of his baby brothers, who’s busy practicing the art of tummy time on acolorful ABC blanket. Ronan's talking softly, coaxing him through it, and every so often he gently helps him roll from front to back and then back again, cheering each tiny success like it’s the Olympics.
Something inside me cracks. And then it breaks, revealing something new. Like the seed of a different kind of love—something distinct from what I already feel for Ronan—ready to take root and spread through every inch of me. All the tension I walked in with melts into something mushy, something gooey and hormonal and so totally unhelpful. He’s so gentle. So focused. So… instinctive.
Good god, it’s absurdly, unproductively hot.
I watch Ronan for a minute, drinking in the moment. No way I’m telling him this—yet—but he’s going to be an incredible daddy to our baby. I know that like I know that my name is Cat Leighton Stevenson.
***
The energy around the table is familiar, relaxed. My parents chat with Penny, Frank, and Frank’s parents like they’re all lifelong friends, maybe even family. The smiles on their faces are genuine, warm.
Ronan’s and mine? Masks. All forced smiles that don’t reach our eyes, all appropriate nods and one-word responses.
Ronan’s been pushing food around on his plate like it personally offended him. He stabs at the potatoes, shifts his vegetables, slices his chicken into tiny pieces, but I haven’t seen him lift his fork to his mouth once. I get it. I have taken exactly two bites, once again battling the nausea churning in my stomach, once again wondering if it’s nerves or that tiny wiggle worm I saw on the ultrasound Monday.
Regardless, I have the odd sensation of being strapped to the tracks, Ronan by my side, watching the train barrel toward us. I know we can’t stop this. All I can do is brace for it and hope we survive.
“So, I think Steve and Ember are going to be fine. Steve talked about a potential transfer. Ran just helped him move into his newapartment last weekend,” Frank says, continuing some conversation I wasn’t even aware was happening. I only register it when the words stop and the silence shifts.
All eyes turn to Ronan, who’s still staring down at his plate, eyes distant and unfocused like his thoughts are a million miles away.
