It doesn’t seem real. But, it is. With every beat of my heart, it sinks in just a little bit more. I’m pregnant. By Theo. Who doesn’t want more kids.
I feel Isa’s hand slipping into mine. “Quinn… you’re going to be a mommy.” Her eyes are full of tears, happy ones.
And, you know what? So are mine.
“When are you going to tell him? Are you going to confirm this with the doctor first? What about the job opportunity?”
Isa’s excited and, sometimes, when she’s excited, she starts rattling off rapid-fire questions like Jill. It’s endearing but also nerve-wracking at a time like this. “I’m seeing my gynecologist Monday. Do you think I should wait to tell him until then?”
“Maybe? I don’t know.”
The last thing I want is to raise a false alarm. He’s got enough stress right now. The pregnancy test was slow to come up positive, too. “God, I hate the thought of keeping it from him but maybe I do need a little time to absorb it some more and…”
He doesn’t want more kids. The unwelcome fear of what that might mean is strangling for a moment before I shove it down. Can his mind be changed?
“You could stay with me this weekend,” Isa suggests. “Tell Theo and the kids we’ve got plans together. Maybe it’ll give him a chance to talk to Ryder some more, too.”
Ryder who currently doesn’t want to speak to me because he saw me kissing his dad last night. If he didn’t want Theo kissing me, imagine how he’ll react to this news.
I’m on the verge of spiraling but Isa wraps me in another hug. “I’m going to be an auntie.”
Her joy brings my own back to the surface. “You’ll be the best auntie ever.”
She beams. “Best auntie and you’ll be the best mommy. I’m so happy for you even if I know the timing and situation…”
“Aren’t the best. It doesn’t change anything. This child is wanted.”
Of their own accord, my hands drop protectively over my flat stomach where my baby grows. My baby. Our baby. No matter what, this baby is something wonderful and I’ll never let my child think otherwise.
If only your father will feel the same way, little one.
35- Theo
Last night had been a cluster without a doubt. Missing Ryder’s big moment, failing to call Quinn back, getting carried away by my libido in the kitchen… again. I wasn’t on my A Game for sure.
I’d gone back downstairs to find Quinn after talking to Ryder but she hadn’t been there. Residual guilt over what my son had walked in on (andnearlywalked in on) had me going to my room instead of hers.
Kathy’s picture had been waiting there by my bed like always. And for the first time, I’d wanted to put it away. I loved my wife, the mother of my children, but she’s in my past.
IloveQuinn and my future lies with her. At least, I hope it does.
Not knowing how to thoroughly process all my feelings, I’d laid down, seeking rest for an overtired body, mind and spirit. Sleep had been a long time coming.
I should’ve gone to Quinn instead. We needed to talk. Too many days and nights apart with work and Dad in the hospital and everything. Too much pressure trying to be everything for everyone while screwing up with the people who matter most. I needed to hold her, needed to fuck her, needed totellher what’s in my heart.
Tonight. You can tonight.
Wanting to spare Quinn the hurt Ryder’s sullen anger was causing, I’d volunteered to take the kids to school. I’m glad I did because the ride istense. I want to talk to Ryder about his behavior at breakfast and what had sparked it but Jill is in the car, too. Beyond being upset by Ryder’s declaration that Sleepover Night was dumb, she’s happy, chatting away.
My son and I exchange looks over her head but say nothing. I don’t think Jill will take the news of her dad kissing Ms. Quinn as badly as Ryder had but I don’t want to introduce the topic to her this way either.
Something I’m learning when Ryder and I have actual arguments? It hurts to be at odds with someone you love so dearly, someone who ordinarily looks at you like you’re Superman or something. I know I’m not and I know it seems obvious that parents and kids have disagreements but it fucking hurts, okay?
So, with a good deal of guilt (and a bit of relief I also feel guilty over), I tell the children I’ll see them later, wish them a good day and head back to where Dan is parked.
“Hey, Mr. Wolfe! Got a minute?”
I turn to find Alex Carter jogging my way. Great, Mr. Pro-Teacher All-American probably sniffing around about Quinn again. She’s mine, pal.