She tilts her eyes up to mine, a twinkle inside them, “Do you mean that?”
“Yeah?” I question, “Why?”
She blushes, fidgeting her hands together, “I’m pregnant.”
I smile like a goofy seven-year-old that was just handed a huge fluff of cotton candy. “You are?”
She pats her flat tummy, “I am.”
Rushing, I pull her into a giant hug, reveling in the comfort I get from having my baby sister in my arms.
“Have you told mom?”
“No!” She rushes, “Not yet. We are going to tell everyone at dinner. I just wanted you to be the first to know.”
My pride basically explodes, “What did Ty say?”
“Oh, he’s thrilled. I’ve never seen him so excited about anything. He’s already bought like fifty onesies.”
I laugh as I picture Ty strolling through the baby store, slinging everything in the cart, “I can see that.”
She stares at the beer bottle in my hand, “Are you okay, though, really?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I am so happy for you. You are going to be a great mom.”
“Thanks, E. Now let’s go eat. It’s like my appetite is on steroids right now.”
I follow behind her, but I’m far from okay. The few months that I had with Karly weren’t ever going to be enough. Still, she needed it to be that way, to figure out all of the shit that came along with us being a couple. For now, I’m going to have to live with the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen and the fact that I’m not in control. That was going to be hard for my OCD heart, but I’d manage. I didn’t have a choice.
Seeing Emma so vibrant and happy about the pregnancy did something to me, though. I’m happy for her, I am, but of course, there was a little part of me that was jealous.
After an unusually calm dinner, everyone begins to disperse, except for mom and Emma, who are spread out on the floor looking at the sales papers for tomorrow. It was cute how Emma was looking at all the baby stuff.
Lainey didn’t show but sent a text to my mom saying that everything was okay and that she’d explain later. I’d already talked to my dad about everything that happened with the crash, and I needed even more, to talk to Hanna.
I pull out my phone, typing and erasing about five different options before settling on one.
Me: Happy Thanksgiving. I hope Ellie is doing better.
I wait for a second, wishing for a response to appear, but after about five minutes, I start helping mom clean up. I rinse the plates while she puts food into plastic containers, making sure everyone takes their fair share.
“Emma told me what happened,” mom says, not bothering to look up from the mashed potatoes.
“Yeah, well, she’s a snitch.”
Mom laughs, “Surely you don’t think we’re stupid. We saw you around her at dinner that night when you basically stole the date that she was on. Plus, Alaina gave me the 411.”
I laugh, shaking my head, “No one says 411 anymore, mom.”
She waves me off, “Quit trying to change the subject. What are you going to do?”
I close the dishwasher, “Let her go.”
Mom shakes her head, “Oh no, son. That sounds like quitting. The Eric Blackwood I know doesn’t quit.”
“I quit with Hanna,” I point out.
“Hanna, quit on you, babe. Long before you quit on her.”