Shatter (True Believers #4)(15)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Hey,” I said to her. “How was your break?”

“Okay. How about you?”

“Busy. I worked a lot.” I pulled my wallet out of my bag. “I’m going to grab some food. Can I get you anything?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

I frowned as I went up and quickly ordered a sandwich and a coffee. Kylie looked pale, like she’d had the flu or something. And she hadn’t exactly looked me the eye. She had been studying her tea intently, brow furrowed.

When I sat back down, food in hand, she was still in the exact same position. “Is everything okay?” I asked her, popping a sweet potato fry in my mouth.

Finally she took a deep breath and lifted her head. When her eyes locked with mine, I paused in reaching for another fry. Something about that look . . . it was ominous.

“Jonathon, I’m pregnant.”

I had heard the expression regarding veins turning to ice and had always thought it was a ludicrous description of a physical improbability. Now I understood exactly what they meant. It was like I immediately froze, crystallizing from the inside out, jaw clenched, muscles locked, brain synapses snapped in two.

“You’re pregnant?” I repeated stupidly.

She nodded. “Five weeks.”

Oh, Jesus Christ, she really was telling me what I thought she was telling me. Holy shit. Holy f**king shit. My heart started to race and my palms grew damp and clammy. I put my index finger on my chest. “Me?” I asked, voice gravely and unsure.

Impatience crossed her face. “Of course it’s you or I wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation with you. Before that night I hadn’t been with a guy since August, so there’s no question about it. None.”

For a second I thought I was actually going to pass out. Like all the blood rushed out of my head and my vision blurred and I thought I was going to take a facer into my tuna melt. I tried to breathe and gripped the edge of the table. “Holy shit,” I muttered.

She nodded in agreement. “That’s kind of how I felt about it.”

The black spots receded and I took a sip of coffee to clear the bile from my throat, scalding the roof of my mouth. “What are you going to do?” I asked, because I knew ultimately I had no say in what she did. It was her choice and maybe she was only telling me because she needed money. I wasn’t even sure how I felt about that so I just waited to hear her answer.

“I’m keeping it.” She set her cup down and the look she gave me was vaguely defiant. “I love kids. I’m an adult. It’s just not the right choice for me emotionally to have an abortion or to give it up. You can be involved or not involved, that’s up to you, but I thought you should know.”

I nodded. “Thank you.” Part of me was relieved. I didn’t think I would really like the idea of a total stranger adopting and raising my kid. Which was f**king ridiculous because Kylie was pretty much a total stranger to me. My kid. “Oh my God, how did this happen?” I shoved my glasses up my nose and ran my fingers through my hair, shifting uneasily on my chair.

It was a rhetorical question, but she seemed to think it required an answer.

“It has to be because you started to before we had a condom.”

Well, of course, that’s what it had to be, but why did it sound like she was blaming me? Feeling defensive, I said, “I thought you were saying you were on the pill. It was a misunderstanding.”

“But you were still willing to have sex without a condom? Haven’t you heard of STDs?”

The look she gave me was so disdainful I felt shame rise, hot and thick in my mouth. She was right. Totally right. And here I considered myself the more intelligent of the two of us and she clearly had more common sense when it came to her sexual health than I did. Plus she was a good four or five years younger than me, which just really made me feel like an ass. I had no excuse other than that I had been basically struck stupid by her sheer sexiness.

Because I had no answer to that, I got childish. “Why weren’t you on the pill anyway? Everyone is.”

“Because it gives me acne.”

Oh, that was just great. “So we’re having a baby because you didn’t want to get a pimple for Greek Week or whatever?”

I had gone too far and I knew it immediately. Her eyes snapped with anger and her nostrils flared. Even though she kept her voice down so no one would hear us, she leaned forward and hissed at me, “First of all, we’re not having a baby. I am. I’m the one who will be carrying it for nine months. I’m the one who will get morning sickness and indigestion and stretch marks, and I’m the one who will be giving birth to this baby. And getting up at three a.m. to feed it. Second of all, birth control is the responsibility of both parties involved so I don’t want to hear it. It’s pointless for us to do this. It’s done. I’m pregnant.”

For a second I just stared at her, nodding like a chastened schoolboy. She was right, and holy hell, she’d put me in my place. This was a new side of her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just . . . in shock.”

Her expression smoothed. “Trust me, I understand. I’ve had six days to think about it and I’m still in shock.”

Then her lip started to tremble and her eyes filled with tears.

Ah, shit. I shoved my chair back and came around to sit next to her. I put my arm around her and she turned into my chest, shoulders shaking as she started to cry in earnest. “It’s okay,” I told her. “Conception happens.”

She gave a watery laugh in the middle of her crying. “That sounds stupid.”

The whole thing was pretty stupid, but I didn’t want to point that out. “How are you feeling? You seem a little pale. Are you having morning sickness?” I wasn’t sure what else to say. What the f**k do you say to a woman you’ve knocked up? Sorry I have super sperm?

But it seemed to be the right tack to take because she sat up and wiped her eyes with a paper napkin. “I’m okay. I only threw up once when I first found out and then again a few days later. But that was mostly because the dog shit in the house and my brother left it for an hour before cleaning it up, so the smell just knocked me over when I walked in the front door. Other than that, mostly it’s like you’ve swallowed a clam and it’s sitting in your throat trying to crawl back up twenty-four/seven.”

Horrified, my stomach clenched in sympathy. “That does not sound okay. Jesus. I’m sorry.”