“I want to have sex,” she said. Just like that, all direct and to the point.
“What?”
“I want to have sex,” she repeated. “With you. Today.”
It wasn’t the sexiest proposition I’d ever gotten, but damn if I wasn’t immediately on board. “Are you sure? I mean, can you?”
“I’m completely sure. And yes, of course I can. I’m not on my deathbed.” She paused. “Do you? Want to, I mean?” Her face was all red, embarrassed. As if she really thought I was going to say no.
I leaned forward and kissed her with everything I had. Soon we were horizontal, me hovering over Meg, looking down into her excited, trusting face. I kissed her again, gently, wanting to show her how much I loved her. “Does that answer your question?”
She giggled.
But there was a problem. “Did you bring a condom? I don’t have one on me.” Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Don’t worry, I’m on the pill.”
That surprised me. “Have you done this before?”
“No, but I’ve been on the pill since last year. Helps with cramps.”
“Oh.”
“Have you done it before?”
I cleared my throat a little. “Uh…well…yeah. Is that okay?”
“Of course. I figured as much anyway.”
I was still hovering over her, paused in suspended animation, waiting for her to press play. But there were still more things to say. “The pill only prevents pregnancy, not…you know, other stuff. Not that I have any of that stuff,” I amended quickly. “I don’t. I swear.”
She smiled. “I may not have ever done this before, but I know how it works. Ryden, I have cancer. I’m in chemotherapy. My whole life is a guessing game. All I want is to do this, with you, before it’s too late. Please. If you say you’re fine, I believe you.”
I gazed down at her beautiful, pink mouth. “I wish I had waited for you,” I whispered and brought my lips to hers.
June 28…
“Ryden,” Meg said.
I almost didn’t hear her at first. I was tracing my fingers up her leg, slowly, up, up, up, almost at the bottom of her shorts. I definitely didn’t notice the shake in her voice until she said my name again, louder.
My hand stopped where it was.
“You okay?” I asked, starting to get scared. We’d already had one enormous, way-too-serious, life-changing conversation a couple of weeks ago. I really wasn’t ready for another one yet.
“I…um…” She couldn’t get her words out, which was rare for her. And she wouldn’t look at me.
“What is it?” I sat up and grabbed both her hands, relieved at the way she held on tight.
She took a shallow, trembling breath. “I’m pregnant.”
Moments like those don’t mean anything while they’re happening. I mean, they mean everything, but at the time, your brain is completely fucked. I know because I’ve experienced a lot of those mind-blowing moments recently. You can’t remember your own name, let alone make sense of whatever you’ve learned. That comes later.
In the moment, nothing makes sense. So really, even though it’s probably the biggest moment of your life, it’s also a nonmoment. Instead of an exclamation point, there’s a gaping black hole.
As Meg studied me, waiting for me to respond, time started ticking again. The only thing going through my head was fuuuuuuuuck. But I couldn’t very well say that, could I?
So I went for the brilliant, “But you’re on the pill.”
To which she answered, “Yeah.”
“Guess it didn’t work.”
“Guess not.”
Neither of us was going to win an award for Ability to Conduct Intelligent Conversations While Under Severe Emotional Stress.We got quiet again, and I squeezed her hands tighter, not wanting to let go, as the bigger picture started to form. Of course. She couldn’t keep it. Duh. There were other factors in play here. I started to breathe a little bit easier.
“I’ll come up with the money,” I said. “I’ll go to the appointment with you and everything. We’ll get through this. Everything will be fine.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”
“What do you mean? You start back with chemo on Monday.” Shit—the chemo. That was probably why the pill didn’t work. Why hadn’t I thought of that two weeks ago?
“I know. That’s how I found out I’m pregnant. I had to go in for pre-chemo blood work yesterday.”
“So…? They’re not gonna let you go back to chemo if you’re pregnant, Meg.”
“I know.” She kept her eyes down. I hated not being able to see them. “But…I need to figure out what’s more important to me.”