Knocking Boots - Willow Winters Page 0,72

cue, I have a seat on the chair opposite her. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I do my best to appease her and whatever hints she has that I’m off.

“That’s not true. Mickey told me Grace hasn’t been in. Maggie said she thinks you two got in a fight.

What in the ever loving hell. My eyes must speak my thought for me. “Don’t look at me like that,” my mother scolds me. “They’re worried for you,” she stresses and my mom’s voice shakes.

“She doesn’t want to be with me,” I explain, getting right to the point and looking at my mother and saying those words makes the truth hurt even more.

“Bull,” my mother bites out, her eyes getting glassy. “I saw the way she looks at you and the way you look at her,” my mom’s hands clasp in her lap, almost like she’s praying. “You tell me what happened and I’ll tell you how to fix it.”

“I don’t need you getting us back together. I’ll settle down and find a nice girl one day.” My throat gets tight and I can’t finish my thoughts. Mostly about how my mother doesn’t have to worry like she is.

“Didn’t I love you enough to know what it feels like?” she asks me, a tear escaping and I lean forward, reaching for my mother’s hand. She shakes it away from me and wipes her eyes. “You love her and she loves you and this isn’t okay. I know Suzanne hurt you but you deserve love and I don’t know why you don’t fight for it.”

“She doesn’t want me,” I emphasize as kindly as I can to my emotional mother.

“Son, if you think I didn’t pick up on the fact that you were only friends before, you must think I’m a fool. That first day I met her, I knew you two lied.”

“Ma, I-”

“Hush, boy,” she cuts me off. “I let it go because I could tell she wanted you. She had her eye set on you like I did your father. If you were blind to that, I can forgive it. But I can’t forgive you thinking she doesn’t love you. Not when everyone around you knows she does.”

She doesn’t get it and it kills me. I hate feeling like this. I hate seeing my mother like this even more.

“Do you love her?”

I hesitate only a second before answering, “yes.”

“Did you tell her?”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I answer my mother. “No.”

“Just promise me this. You’ll tell her how you feel. How you really feel.” She nods slowly as if agreeing to whatever she’s thinking.

What it is, I don’t know.

“Promise me, Charlie.”

“I promise, I’ll tell her.” When I answer my mom, I don’t think much of it. But the more I think about it, the more I know I don’t have anything to lose. She’s already gone, it can only bring her back to me.

Grace

You’re pregnant, the doctor’s voice echoes in my head. Congratulations, Grace.

I grip the steering wheel as I drive home, willing myself not to cry. It’s a mix of happiness, wonder and profound sadness. Charlie gave me a baby.

Four days past the supposed day I was supposed to get my period, AKA yesterday, I peed on a stick and then cried. I told Ann, who’s immediate response was: you have to tell him. I almost told my mother, but it’s so soon. So to the doctor’s I went, who, surprisingly also only had me pee on a stick.

Take it easy and be happy. Those were the good doctor’s only words of advice.

I have to tell him. Ann’s right. But how? It’s been a week. He messaged yesterday that we had to talk. Everyone knows what those words mean and then… I took the test.

How can I look a man in the eyes and tell him I’m pregnant when the words out of his mouth are that he doesn’t want to see me anymore?

With a right turn onto my street, I come around the corner, and I’m surprised to find Charlie. Fate is cruel. I couldn’t have had one more day before I have to face this?

Just one day of looking up cribs and searching for three-bedroom houses. Making plans and checklists and searching baby names and their meanings.

Deep breath in. He’s sitting on the steps to my building. Deep breath out and he sees me as I pull into my designated parking spot.

There isn’t a pep talk in the world that will prepare me so