You excited about the wedding? Cap just told me you’re coming too.”
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt it and almost don’t believe it myself.
“Oh God. Where are you?” All her excitement is gone.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“Send me your location—I’m coming.” The call ends and I stare at the phone for a second before I do as she asked.
It’s minutes and she’s there, rushing toward me. She had to have sprinted the few blocks from work. She wraps herself around me and I lose it.
I’m sobbing into her neck.
“Oh my God. Is it Lori’s?”
I nod, heaving my breaths.
“Well, at least it isn’t Ben’s.” She pulls back and wipes my face, calming me. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes are glossy and her lip quivers. “Are you keeping it?”
“Yeah, but I can’t tell him yet.”
“Jenny!” She’s firm. “You can’t do that. Fathers’ rights are a big deal.”
“How can I ruin his life by forcing a baby on him? Have you seen him with Sami’s son? He didn’t pick up that baby once at the wedding.” I start hyperventilating as I say it, “He never even acknowledged it. He won’t want to keep it and I can’t—” I heave. “I’m not giving him the choice of having the kid if I tell him. He’ll feel obligated to be with me. I don’t want that.”
“Okay, but not being part of the kid’s life is his choice. You don’t get to decide that. You have to tell him.”
“We used condoms and I was on birth control. I don’t understand how this could happen.” I cry again. “He’s gonna think I trapped him because he’s rich. And even if he doesn’t think it, everyone else will!”
She hugs me and holds me tightly and doesn’t say anything else.
What else is there to say.
A cold and painful reality has hit and there’s no changing it. I am taking the job in Canada and having this baby in Vancouver.
I just have to say goodbye to Lori first.
8
The breakup
Tuesday, July 25
Lori
I park the car outside Jenny’s dodgy-ass building and get out, locking it several times as I walk up to the door. She hasn’t answered my texts or calls for two days, and I’m going crazy. I gave her space yesterday when she didn’t text me back, assuming she was wrestling with the job decision, but tonight I asked Cap if Sukii heard from her. He said something was up and Sukii had barely texted him back all day. And when he did see her, she was being cagey, whispering and upset on her phone with Jenny. She refused to tell him anything. Which means something is up.
The door to the building is locked but it’s one of those old crappy doorknobs that can be picked by a credit card, a skill I mastered as a kid. A skill half of New Yorkers have mastered. Jenny being in this building makes me uncomfortable, but she’s not one of those knight-in-shining-armor-digging girls so I can’t force her to move.
When I get inside, I’m sweating instantly. It’s in the nineties outside, even though it’s eight at night, but it has to be over a hundred in this brick oven. I’m almost wheezing by the time I make it up the stairs.
Knocking on the door, I lean against its frame, ready to scoop her up and inhale her and beg her to tell me what’s wrong.
But when she answers, it’s clear neither of us are expecting what we find on the other side of the door. She gasps seeing me and she’s sobbing. She stops abruptly and wipes her eyes as if it’s possible to hide this level of distress.
“What’s wrong? Jesus, did someone die?” Panicking, I rush inside and pull her to me, but she’s rigid and weird. She doesn’t melt in. Instead, she pulls back and folds her arms over her thin tee shirt that hides nothing. I can’t believe she opens the door this way in this neighborhood.
“It-it’s nothing.” She sniffles and shakes her head. “I just thought you were Claire. Sorry.”
“Jenny,” I say with a nervous laugh. “You’re so swollen I can barely see your eyes. What’s happened? Whatever it is, I’m here to help.” I close the door and lean against it, dying to know how to fix whatever has destroyed her. I’ll kill whoever has made her cry like this.
“I-I don’t know how to say this, but I’m taking the job and moving back to Canada. I’m so sorry.” She loses it at the