where to start.”
Clayton’s brows furrow, and concern is etched on his face. “Babe, what’s going on? You okay? You look a little pale. Do you want me to make you tea?”
“I’m pregnant.”
That just happened. The bomb is out of my hands and it can either explode with anger or it’ll be deactivated, and we’ll celebrate the news. It didn’t go the way I wanted, but it happened. It’s out there, and he knows. The universe has the news, and I pray he’s going to be understanding and stick by my side.
“What?” Clayton bursts out laughing. “That’s funny. You’re a jokester.”
“What? No. I’m not joking. Clayton, I took seven tests. I mean, I still have to go to the doctor to make sure, but I’m pregnant. There’s no joking about this. I wouldn’t joke about this.”
He quickly gets up from the couch and paces the living room with his hands on his head. I feel bad for doing this. Maybe I should’ve kept it to myself and broken up with him. It would’ve saved me from seeing him distraught. He’s not happy about the pregnancy and I hate myself for causing us stress.
“I’m sorry. I mean, I took my pills on time every day. I don’t know how this could’ve happened.”
“You’re probably still early or whatever. It’s not a big deal. Go to your doctor, confirm it, and then you know what to do.”
“What? I don’t know what you mean.”
Clayton laughs and sits back down. “You can’t be serious. We haven’t been together for long. We’re not even living with each other. My career is starting to grow. I can’t have this happening to me.”
“Happening to you?” I repeat and move back from him. “This is happening to us. I didn’t do this on my own. You’re a part of this too.”
“I can’t be a dad, Ashley. We’re twenty-three years old. We’re not having a baby. I’m not ready to be a dad.”
I get up from the couch. I can’t be near him. This is insane. The man I love is telling me he can’t be a dad to his own child.
“I’m scared too, but we made a baby together. I don’t know what you want me to say. You told me you’d love me forever. I let you all the way in. The walls around my heart are gone because of you. Did you even mean what you said to me that morning in your bedroom?”
“Of course, I did. I never lied to you about loving you.”
I rush over to his side and grab his hand, holding on for dear life. “Then love me. Love us.”
“Tell me you’ll take care of the problem.”
“Problem?” I’m shocked at his choice of words. Immediately, I release his hand and walk away from him. “Our baby isn’t a problem.”
“It’s a huge problem. I need time away. We need a break. This isn’t happening to me.” Clayton moves away from me and leaves me standing alone in the middle of his living room. “I’m twenty-three years old. I can’t have a baby.”
The door to his bedroom slams shut, and I realize how alone I am. Placing my hand on my stomach, I make my way to the door and let it shut behind me. My emotions are frozen, and my mind won’t allow me to process what’s happening. I can’t break down now. There’s someone else I need to be healthy and strong for.
“It’s us against the world, baby—you and me. I won’t ever leave you or let you down. I promise.”
Chapter 8
Clayton
Five years later
Defining moments.
We’re given choices, and each choice represents a different route your life can take, depending on what you choose. The routes are lessons, and each route, or lesson, teaches you something you didn’t think you would need to know. It can bring clarity or confuse you further, making you jump through more obstacles to get the answers you’re seeking. It’s an interesting turn of events.
Moments.
And when those moments stay with you and haunt your every thought and movement, you step back and wonder if the choices you made are the right ones.
It’s one of the oldest sayings, how we’re given these choices and how it’ll shape the direction of our path, and how the direction reflects our choice.
These moments provide us with a choice we need to make. A choice that defines us. Sometimes we go down the path, then steer toward another path because the decision we thought was right, that moment of definition changes, and we’re left with