The Bookstore on the Beach - Brenda Novak Page 0,118

was partially responsible for this outcome. She’d been so preoccupied the past twenty months. Maybe if she’d been paying closer attention to what Taylor was doing this wouldn’t have happened. They’d discussed birth control, but that was back when Taylor had a boyfriend. “And Oliver didn’t use any protection?” she asked when the sad tale was over.

Taylor pressed her face back into Autumn’s shoulder. “He didn’t have any. It wasn’t like...like we planned it.”

Autumn was beginning to feel nauseated. What did this mean for her beautiful daughter? A pregnancy during her senior year. A baby before she graduated. What about college?

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“It’s okay,” she said, but she was too shocked to speak with any real conviction. “Anyone can make a mistake.”

“What are we going to do?” Taylor asked. “Oliver keeps texting me, begging me to get an abortion.”

“Why not do it?” Caden asked. “Neither one of them is ready for a baby,” he added for Autumn’s benefit. He sounded so much like his father. She knew Nick, forever practical, would probably have said the same. He wouldn’t let anything get in the way of Taylor’s success.

So did she follow what she knew he’d want? What she felt was right? Or what Taylor wanted?

Her gut said it should be up to her daughter, but she was the one who would have to help shoulder the load, if Taylor decided to keep the baby. Shouldn’t she have a say, too?

“There are...there are other options,” she said. “We’ll talk about them.” Despite her shock and upset, Autumn remembered Quinn, hiding in the bathroom, and wondered what he was making of all of this. “I—I think your Mimi was right. Let’s go over to the house and make some hot chocolate.”

“How’s that going to help anything?” Caden asked.

Again, he sounded a great deal like his father. “It’ll give me a moment to think—that’s what it will do,” she replied more candidly.

It would also give Quinn a chance to escape...

She was just looking for her slippers when she saw one of Quinn’s flip-flops lying on the floor not far from where they stood. He must’ve dropped it when he scooped up his things; he’d been moving fast.

The sight of it caused her heart to jump into her throat. Fortunately, her mother must’ve spotted it at the same moment, because she slid over and nudged it under the bed.

“Let’s go over while your mother gets dressed—er, finds her slippers,” her mother said and started to herd them down the stairs.

Autumn didn’t wait for Quinn to come out so that she could speak to him. It had been far too close a call to let down her guard that quickly. She just tightened the belt on her robe, shoved her feet into her slippers and murmured, “I’ll call you tomorrow,” before hurrying out after them.

27

The clock in the kitchen ticked loudly as Mary sat across from her daughter, their hot chocolate now cold while she waited to see what Autumn would say now that Caden and Taylor had gone back to bed. “What are you going to do?” she asked her daughter.

“I don’t know,” Autumn replied, her voice low. Although Caden was back on the couch, there was no way to tell whether he was sleeping or listening to what he could make out of their conversation. “I’m so worried. This is not what I ever wanted for her.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

Autumn tapped her finger against the handle of her mug. “Taylor and Oliver are both minors. I’ll have to contact Oliver’s parents and get their input before we decide anything.”

“I hope they won’t be too difficult to deal with.”

“So do I.”

“What do you think about what Caden suggested?”

She looked up. “An abortion?”

“Might be the best thing for both of them.”

“Abortion isn’t our only choice. There’s adoption, too.”

“Only after she goes through nine months of pregnancy—her whole senior year—and the painful delivery.”

“Yeah. I don’t like the idea of that, either. But it’s Taylor’s baby. My grandbaby. Your great-grandbaby. Would we regret not raising this child?”

Mary sighed. “Hard to say. What do you think Nick would want you to do?”

“I believe he’d push for an abortion. But I’m less pragmatic and more sentimental than he ever was, and I don’t know if I could live with that.”

Mary carried their mugs to the sink so she could rinse them out. “It’ll be easier to decide once you’ve had a chance to process everything. Why don’t you try to get some rest, and we’ll talk later, after I get