remember when you’re at your parents tonight and your mom is asking why you can’t be more like Christine, you and I could be reading baby books and watching Nanny 911.”
I huff a laugh and search Dean’s face for any glimpse of anxiety or stress or worry. But it doesn’t seem to be there. There’s only one of my dearest friends trying to give me whatever I need.
I pace my empty living room, replaying that night Lynsey came here for the nineteen hundredth time. That night we slept together and I put that shitty condom on. That night I fucked her with abandon.
This is what I get for letting go of control.
When I relax, bad things happen. When I let myself feel and be emotionally involved, everything goes horribly wrong.
And now there’s a baby coming. My baby. Lynsey’s baby. A child. A child I never wanted. A child that, with my history, I swore I’d never have. But here we are. Now I will have to live with this new reality and worry about this baby getting sick or getting hurt for the rest of my life.
I push away the pain in my chest over that thought and focus on the task at hand. I can’t get wrapped up in the baby. Not yet. I can’t even get wrapped up in how completely altered my life is because of this one mistake.
Right now, I just need to take care of Lynsey. She’s in this position because of me, and she’s my immediate responsibility. Yes, she gave me the shitty condom, but I was the one who put it on. It could have had a hole or been expired. That was my responsibility so I have to make this right. I have to do everything I can to take care of her and this baby.
I hold my phone up and prepare to text Lynsey. Fucking hell, it’s been forty-eight hours, and my hands still tremble every time I pull her name up in my contacts. Goddammit, I’m a doctor. My hands should be as steady as a rock even in the most dire of circumstances.
But it’s different when it’s personal. I learned that mistake years ago—a mistake that haunts me to this day.
I steel myself to text her at last.
Me: Can you meet with me tomorrow around 2:00? We have a lot to discuss.
Lynsey: Okay…where? I’m sorta getting ready to move in with my parents right now.
Me: You can come here. Do you remember the address?
Lynsey: I remember.
Me: See you tomorrow.
I lower my phone and pinch the bridge of my nose, the weight of this situation pressing in on me like a vise.
I can do this. I can take care of her. I can’t turn back the clock, but I can at least watch out for this woman. And if I guard myself appropriately, then it will be nothing like last time. I can do this.
The next day, I pull up outside of Josh’s house, almost overwhelmed with anxiety as it rolls through me, so much that it makes me nauseated. Or maybe that’s the baby?
I have no clue honestly. My emotions are fried as of late.
Last night at my parents’ house went almost exactly how Dean described it. My mother berated me for not having a man in my life while my father grunted that I was being too picky in my job hunt, and if I would just settle for something clerical, life would be a lot easier for everyone.
One would think my parents would respect my passion to open a clinic devoted to helping children, but they just see it as a roadblock to finding a husband and gainful employment. A part of me wonders if they won’t jump for joy when they find out I’m pregnant because at least then I’m contributing to society in a way they find meaningful.
But they won’t.
They’re far too conservative to happily accept a pregnancy out of wedlock. And I’m far too confused to even tell them yet. Especially when I still have no clue what plans the father has made.
I stare at Josh’s house, dreading the way he’ll look at me in his condescending manner. I’m sure he blames me for all of this. I was the one to provide the dodgy condom, after all. And if I would’ve given it more thought, I’d have realized that it was at least two years old because I got it when I went to one of Kate’s book signings in Florida ages ago.