“I didn’t know that,” she says.
“I figured as much when I told you where I was and you didn’t mention it.”
“Which was why you asked me not to tell your dad where you were.” Her lips turn down into a slight frown.
“I’m sorry. I just needed some time and I knew he would send someone to check on me.”
“True,” she agrees. “He would’ve.”
“I didn’t plan on this,” I say dumbly. “I finally moved forward… Made all these plans.”
“Stop,” Mom says, resting her palm against my cheek. “I didn’t plan for you, but you were without a doubt the best damn surprise of my life.”
“And mine,” Dad says, walking into the room. He takes one look at me and stalks over. “Why are you crying?”
His question has the waterworks starting all over again, and I burst into tears. “I’m pregnant.”
“What?” Dad gasps, sitting next to me. “Who the fuck knocked you up?”
“Marco,” Mom chides. “Calm down, please.”
“No,” he booms. “I want to know who the fuck knocked up my daughter, and why he’s not here with her right now.”
“He can’t be here,” I mutter through my cries.
“He had no problem knocking you up. He should be man enough to come here with you and support you through this.”
“He doesn’t know,” I admit.
This gets Dad’s attention. “Who is it, Micaela?” he asks again.
“You can’t tell anyone, and you can’t freak out, please,” I beg.
Dad nods.
“The baby is Ryan’s,” I murmur.
“Ryan who?” he asks slowly.
“Cruz.”
“When the hell did you hook up with him?” He stands, knocking the coffee table back a couple inches.
“Two months ago… at the beach house.”
I can see it when he puts the pieces together. He begins pacing the room, murmuring to himself, while Mom and I stay seated, waiting for him to calm down.
“I’m going to kill him,” he finally says, stopping in place. “He’s dead.”
“He’s in Afghanistan,” I choke out, fresh tears welling in my eyes.
“Fuck.” Dad’s face softens, and he cuts across the room, pulling me into his arms. He holds me for a few minutes, until I get control of my emotions.
“You have to tell him,” he says. “You can’t keep it from him.” When his eyes meet my mom’s, I know exactly what he’s thinking. When she was pregnant with me, she kept it from him. It’s not something they talk about often, but my mom and I are close and she was honest with me. When I lost Ian and Dad recommended I write him a letter, they told me the story behind my mom’s pregnancy and what my dad went through when he was addicted to drugs.
“This isn’t the same thing.” I stand, needing some space. “He’s in another country. He could die over there.”
“Honey,” Mom says sympathetically.
“How would I even get ahold of him? Email him, send a damn letter. Hey, surprise! I’m pregnant and you’re thousands of miles away, fighting for your life in the desert. Congratulations, Baby Daddy!”
“Micaela,” my dad starts.
“No, I’m going to tell him. But not now. Not while he’s over there. It’s not the right time. And I’m asking you not to tell anyone either. If he makes it back alive, I’ll tell him.”
Ryan
Present Day
“I was going to tell you,” Micaela says softly. “But I was…” She sucks in sharp breath. “What if you…?” I fill in the blanks, knowing exactly what’s going through her mind. She was scared. What if I didn’t make it back alive? It doesn’t make up for her keeping me in the dark, but on some level, I get it. She lost her husband, and she was scared of losing me. It’s why I walked away from her that day. I knew we couldn’t be together. I knew she would never be happy being with someone like me, and she deserved to be happy.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her hand landing on her protruding belly in a protective manner.
I want to tell her it’s okay, but I’m still pissed and hurt as hell. “If I hadn’t come here, I would’ve never known. I would’ve gone back to Afghanistan none the wiser.”
“She can’t take back the way she handled it,” Marco says. “But I can tell you it’s been eating her up.”
“That’s our grandson as well,” my mom says. “We had a right to know. That baby is our family.”
“I wanted to tell Ryan first,” Micaela says. Her hands tighten around her stomach, and she flinches.
“You okay?” I ask, my concern for her overpowering the anger.
“Yeah. I’ve been having contractions all day.”
“How far apart?” Mom asks. Between her own and my sisters’, she’s been around for five pregnancies.
“Maybe twenty minutes or so. I still have a couple weeks.”
A couple weeks. I’m only here for a couple weeks, and then I’m gone again for another four months. During which time she’s going to have her baby. Our baby. And just like that, my anger is back.