Page 11 of Needing You

“He loves food, by the way,” I said, warmth spreading through me. “Not so much cooking it, but definitely eating it. His appetite is like nothing I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something, considering I work at a diner that serves all-you-can-eat pancakes.”

Will managed a snort.

“Sometimes he says his dream job is to be a food critic,” I went on. “He says he can’t imagine anything better than getting paid to eat.”

At this, a choked laugh broke through. “Ah, great. My own kid wants to be my worst nightmare.”

I chuckled with him, momentarily buoyed. “I’m sure he’ll be excited to find out his dad is a chef.”

“What does he know? Does he think his dad’s dead or something?”

Wincing, I looked away. “No. When he was little, it was easier. I’d just say some families have two parents, and some have one. Stuff like that. But as he got older, he had more questions.”

“And?”

“And I told him I loved his father with all my heart, but we weren’t meant to be.” Hot tears welled up behind my eyes, but I summoned all my strength to keep them from falling. “I told him I wouldn’t get in his way if he wanted to find out more about you, but he said he was happy the way things were and didn’t need to know more. But I suspect he’s still curious.”

Will turned his back on me then, bracing his hands on the rail and gripping it so hard the veins in his forearms bulged and quaked.

I was fairly sure I’d satisfied his need to hear about his son—for now, anyway—so I fidgeted with the edge of my dress and changed the subject. “It’s important that you know we’re doing okay. We don’t have much, but we have enough.”

Slowly, he straightened to his full height and turned back to me. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we’re okay. If you don’t want any part in this, you should know we don’t need anything from you. We’re—”

He stopped me with a raised hand, his eyes dark and thunderous as he stared down at me. “How about you tell me why you never did?”

6

WILL

She didn’t hesitate or shrink away. “I found out I was pregnant the night after Whitney’s party. I told my mom right away, and she told me to wait a few days before telling you. I didn’t want to, but it was the school week, and I knew I wouldn’t see you in person until Saturday, so I agreed.”

“You couldn’t have called me?”

“I realize now I should’ve done that and had you meet me at our spot. But at the time, it was so overwhelming. I did what my mom suggested because it seemed logical. Nothing would change in a few days, so I’d tell you that weekend. Or so I thought.”

I gritted my teeth, impatience filling me so full I let out a long exhale. “And then?”

“Then, within a day, I was on a plane. My parents decided it was best if I went to live with my aunt in Georgia—they didn’t want it getting out that their fifteen-year-old had gotten knocked up.”

Fuck, I’d already hated her parents, but finding out they were the actual villains in this story?

“I told my mom I wanted to see you the minute I found out they’d booked a flight. But they clearly didn’t want that. I wrote you a letter. It had my grandmother’s number in it so you could call me … and my mom promised to give it to you.”

“She never did. I never got anything. I—”

She shot to her feet. “I know. I know.” She stood next to me and leaned a hip against the porch railing. “I thought she gave it to you like she promised. Then when I didn’t hear from you … I figured the fact that you never reached out meant you didn’t want anything to do with us.”

“Bullshit. You knew me. You knew I would do anything for you.” Part of me hated to admit that now, but it was true.

“I know. I know that in retrospect, I think. But at the time, we were so young. My parents were so certain about everything—sure I needed to go away, put the baby up for adoption, and come back. They took my phone and sent me a new one, suggesting I reconnect with people once I got back.”

Her body was tense next to me—wound tight with the stress of recounting such a traumatic time. The grit in her voice gnawed at me, especially with this evidence that her parents had been responsible for driving us apart—for keeping me from knowing. At least in the beginning.

“But you didn’t come back. And you obviously didn’t put him up for adoption.”

She smiled—small but sweet. “No. I never planned to. I was terrified, but after a few days of knowing he was there, I couldn’t imagine not meeting him. Notknowinghim.”

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