Jesus, focus, Sophia.
“That’s all I have,” I tell her. “His first name.”
She frowns. “Unfortunately, with only a first name, I’m not able to give you any information. We take our guests’ privacy seriously.”
“I get it. Thanks.”
I walk outside and dial my gynecologist’s number, so I can get the pregnancy confirmed. Maybe the test is wrong and I’m not pregnant—but even as I think it, I know I am, and the gynecologist will only confirm it. And once she does, I’ll be back to square one, raising another fatherless baby. And law school? Well, I can kiss that goodbye. There’s no way I’m going to be able to take care of Kendall, a new baby, and take law classes, while working at a law firm.
And I have no one to blame but myself. I never should’ve had sex with Easton that day, especially without protection. I know firsthand what unprotected sex leads to. The first time, I was eighteen and could chalk it up to ignorance and innocence and naivety, but now, I’m twenty-five and have no excuse. What I did was reckless and stupid, and now I have to deal with the fallout. I handled it back then and I’ll handle it now.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
“…and that’s the baby’s heartbeat. According to the measurements and your estimated conception date, you’re roughly six weeks along and everything looks good.”
A tear slips out of my eye and slides down the side of my face, wetting my ear. Six weeks pregnant…I really am pregnant, and once again without a father.
“Soph, are you okay?” Naomi asks, squeezing my hand.
It’s then I notice the nurse is gone, and it’s just the two of us, and I’ve been crying for who knows how long. “I don’t think I can do this again,” I admit, hating the words as they come out of my mouth.
“You know I’m not going to judge whatever decision you make, but I’m here for you, and you’re not alone.”
“I know.” I sit up and wipe my eyes. “But you have Dante now, and your business. And it’s not just about taking care of the baby… This isn’t how I envisioned my life. I wanted a husband and a family. A home.” Tears stream down my face.
“You have a home…We have a home.”
“I can’t let you put your life on hold for me, again.” When I showed up here all those years ago, I could only work for so long because I was pregnant. And once I had Kendall, Naomi busted her ass to make money so we would survive until I was able to go back to work. We worked opposite shifts, so someone was always home with Kendall, and if we both had to go in, Dante was great about letting her sleep in his office. But things are different now, and Naomi deserves to move forward and live her life, and not be held down by my stupidity.
“You’re not asking,” she says, brushing her knuckles down my cheek. “And as far as finding a husband goes, when the time is right, you will find him. And having two beautiful babies won’t keep him away.”
After I get dressed, I make my next appointment with the receptionist, and then we head out. After we pick up Kendall from school, we stop at the pretzel stand, buying us each a hot pretzel since it’s freezing outside. When we get home, Kendall asks if she can watch some television, falling asleep only minutes after her show begins.
“I was thinking,” Naomi says. “You mentioned that guy and you took photos, right?”
“Yeah…” I glance up from my laptop. “The photographer said she would be displaying them on her website and in her gallery.”
“So, let’s have a look. Maybe his name is on them.”
“Maybe, but I don’t remember the name of her gallery. Only that her name was Rita.” I pull up Google and type Rita and art gallery New York into the search bar, then click on the first website that pops up.
“That’s her!” I point my finger at the woman on the screen next to the headline: Stranger Sessions. I scroll through picture after picture until I get to the ones I recognize.
“Holy shit!” Naomi gasps. “These are effing hot.” She snags my laptop from me and continues to scroll. She’s right. They are hot, and if you didn’t see the headline, you would think Easton and I were a real couple. Rita did an amazing job capturing us. From our awkwardness, to the laughing, to us kissing like we needed each other’s oxygen to breathe.
“Damn, girl. He’s sexy,” Naomi points out, when we stop at one of Easton holding me in his arms with his head thrown back in laughter, his Adam’s apple jutted out, and his chiseled jaw on display.
“Yeah, sexy enough I got caught up in the moment and got knocked up. I’m never having sex again.”