Shatter (True Believers #4)(18)
Author: Erin McCarthy

It was him. Of course. Because apparently it wasn’t bad enough that he had to cheat on me and humiliate me. Now he was going to stalk me until I absolved him of his guilt. In a moment of weakness before Christmas I had taken the block off his number and now I was sorry I had.

Are you going to the going-away party?

He was talking about the party at Riley and Jessica’s house for Robin and Phoenix. She had transferred to Tulane and they were moving to New Orleans in just a couple of days. Because she got a complete fresh start. Clean slate. Happiness.

While I got Nathan lingering like a headache I couldn’t shake, and a growing uterus.

I was happy for her, I was. Despite everything, I loved Robin and she had shown me over and over how remorseful she was for what had happened. Unlike Nathan. But I wasn’t quite ready to wave a handkerchief in good luck at her bon voyage party. Especially because she had found what seemed like the perfect guy for her. Phoenix looked at Robin like he couldn’t breathe without her, and he’d tattooed her face on his rib cage. Who does that?

No.

We should go together. Show them they can’t break us.

Was he for real? He had lost his f**king mind.

You broke us. Not anyone else.

And suddenly I knew I was going to throw up. I dropped my phone and my bag on the floor and ran for the bathroom.

* * *

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom.” After Kylie left the coffee shop I stared at the table for a while, thoughts racing around in my head in concentric circles, and I needed someone to talk to. Devon wasn’t going to be the best source for advice on this one given that he thought procreation was for suckers, so I figured my mother was a better bet.

Besides, I needed to get this conversation over with. If Kylie hadn’t ripped my balls off, it was possible my mother still might, and I couldn’t concentrate when I was dreading castration.

“How are you doing? What’s new, sweetie?”

More than there usually was. “Oh, you know, classes start in a few days. I, um, have a new student I’ve been tutoring.” And having sex with. God, this was really, really awkward. I wasn’t the kind of guy who shared details about his personal life with his mother. I hid my mast***ation results in middle school like I was covering up state secrets or the evidence of the existence of aliens. When I had lost my virginity my senior year in high school I played it cool, as cool as you can when you’ve suddenly been given the key to nirvana. I didn’t even talk to my mother about girlfriends unless I was past the three-month dating mark with someone. So, yeah, this was f**king awkward.

“An undergraduate?”

“Yes.” I rubbed the patch of hair on my chin I never got around to shaving. “She’s really struggling with chemistry, and, um, she’s pregnant.”

“Oh, geez, that poor thing. It can’t be easy for her to be in school and to be pregnant. Trust me, I know.”

“I know. And you handled it amazingly well, Mom.” She had. My mother had raised me by herself with my father nowhere to be found. The only proof of his existence was the child support the government garnished from his wages every month. A freshman in college when she got pregnant, Mom had managed to graduate by the time I started kindergarten and find a job in marketing. It wasn’t until I was seventeen and won the physics competition that my father suddenly appeared to claim his part in producing me.

“Is the father around at least?” she asked.

Here it was. Moment of truth. Man up, Kadisch, I told myself. Get it out. “I’m going to try to be.”

Dead silence. She made a sound, like a gasp, and I winced, dropping my head into my hand. I was ashamed of myself, and selfish for wanting Kylie so much that night that I had been a total idiot. I’d taken advantage of her. It didn’t matter that she had wanted me, too. She had been hurting and instead of being a shoulder to cry on, I had gotten her pregnant. Winning.

“Jonathon . . . you got one of your tutoring students pregnant? Oh my God, how old is she?”

“She’s a junior,” I said, because I didn’t actually know how old she was. Further proof of my asshat-ness. “It was an accident, Mom.”

“I should hope so, for Chrissake.”

I didn’t know what else to say. Part of me felt like she couldn’t condemn me, given that she had personally made the same mistake and I was the result of that mistake. But at the same time, I knew she would feel that history was repeating itself, that I had taken advantage of Kylie the same way my father had taken advantage of her.

“She’s not crazy, is she? She’s not going to keep this baby from you, right? Because we’ll sue.”

Crazy? That’s where she went first? What, like a chick would have to be crazy to have sex with me? “No, she’s not crazy, and no, she’s being really reasonable.” My mom’s reaction surprised me. “I thought you’d be on the girl’s side in this one, considering what you went through, not jumping on her.”

“I’m on your side if she’s crazy or a bitch. You’re my son. But if she’s normal, then I’m on both your sides.”

That was some kind of complicated woman logic. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

But she was already on to firing questions at me. “How far along is she? Do you know if it’s a girl or a boy? Where is her family, are they close by? Has she been to the doctor?”

None of which I knew the answer to, other than how far along she was.

“She’s six weeks.”

And then the worst one of all. “Are you in love with her?”

“No,” I said, because there was no point in letting her hope this was something different from what it really was. “I barely know her, Mom. I’m embarrassed to say that, but it’s true. I’m actually dating someone else now.” That might be a bit of a stretch to say Lydia and I were dating, but it seemed important to make sure my mother didn’t get the wrong idea about Kylie.

“What’s her name? Not the girl you’re seeing, but the mother of my grandchild.”

Did she have to say it like that? But it was true. And honestly, I had nothing bad to say about Kylie. “Kylie. She’s blond, pretty, and she’s very sweet.”

“That’s good. Are you sure you’re not in love with her? You sound like you like her.”

“Mom . . . don’t.” Of course I liked Kylie. But did I like her, like her? Who the hell knew? I didn’t really know her. Sure, I knew that I liked her smile, and her funny laugh, and the way her bottom lip tasted, and without a doubt I liked her naked body locked with mine, but beyond that I couldn’t say anything with any certainty.