32. Calling Mr. Shart
THIRTY-TWO
CALLING MR. SHART
Eve
Have you ever been forced to do something you don’t want to do, but it’s the responsible thing to do? This is me. I’m going on record to say that adulting sucks. All I want to do is stomp my feet, cross my arms, pout, and say no. It worked when I was five. Why can’t it work now? Over the past two weeks, my anxiety skyrocketed every time I thought about picking up the phone. Life would be so much better if I didn’t have to make this phone call. Ugh. Fine. He deserves to know. But I already know what his reaction will be. How could I do this? I’m trying to trap him. It’s my fault. Blah. Blah. Fucking blah. Shit Bag doesn’t believe in consequences for his actions. Let me point to Exhibit A. Cheating on his wife with me as his girlfriend. Why is this so much harder than when I told Lach I was pregnant? Maybe because I’m dreading having to tell Fuck Nugget he’s going to be a daddy. I’d much rather have it be Lach’s. Surprise, surprise, life has to punch me in the tit and give me the worst possible human as the baby daddy. I cross my arms over my chest and pout. I need to rip this off like a leg wax strip.
Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I scroll through my contacts until I find his number and unblock him. Calling Mr. Shart flashes on the screen. It rings a few times. I throw up a silent prayer that his voicemail picks up, and I can just leave him a courtesy message. Unfortunately, everything is against me, and he picks up on the fourth ring.
“Eve, I’m so glad you called. I knew we could work this out.”
My jaw clenches. “Oh, there’s nothing to work out,” I seethe. “And I don’t think this phone call is one you’re expecting.”
“Of course I was expecting your call. It’s okay to still be in love with me. I feel the same.”
He loves me but can’t even say it. Ugh! Why the fuck do I care? I don’t. This is just one of the many reasons he’s a piece of shit. I jump to my feet. If only there was a way I could punch through the phone and wring his neck. “Oh, fuck no! Sorry to burst your overinflated ego. But I’m calling to tell you I’m pregnant.” Goodbye, hairy wax strip. “And it’s yours.” It’s silent for a few seconds, which is out of the ordinary for the used douche. I check my phone to make sure he hasn’t hung up on me, but the timer continues to tick away.
“What do you mean, pregnant?” His words are a low whisper.
“I’m pregnant, as in with child. A small fetus is growing inside my uterus. It will make its grand appearance in about six months. I’m that kind of pregnant. And unfortunately, it’s yours.”
“How do you know I’m the father when you were sleeping around as soon as you left the hotel room in Florida? Or the guy claiming to be your boyfriend?”
I pinch my eyes shut, needing to channel my inner zen. “Based on time of conception, you were the only one I was sleeping with.”
“What the fuck, Eve? How could you do this?”
I rear my head back. I shouldn’t be surprised this is his take because I called it, but I am. “Excuse me? It takes two people to have a fucking baby, asshole.”
“I have a wife,” he whispers. “I can’t be having a kid with someone else.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I pace from one side of the living room to the other. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before sticking your dick in me while having a wife.”
“What do you want? Money? Five thousand? Ten thousand? My wife can’t know about this.”
“You’re a real dick.” I shake my head. While the cash would be nice, the payoff makes me feel cheap. Maybe it’s pride, but I would rather do this without his hush money than be paid off. “You want to buy me off now?”
“I may have to pay you in payments to keep it a secret. But I can move some money around in a few accounts?—”
“It’s called child support. Unless you want to sign your rights over, then you don’t have to pay anything.” I drop my head to my hand. “Look, I really wish you weren’t the father. But you are, unfortunately. Just so you know, I’m more than happy to do this without you. I’d much prefer it that way. But I also can’t deny you the right.” Even though I wish I could. “I just wanted to tell you because it’s the right thing to do.” I throw up another silent prayer that Satan’s Butthole actually does sign over his rights. That would make things a hell of a lot easier. Bonus. I would never have to deal with him again. You didn’t give me my first prayer, you could do me a solid and give me this one.
“Are you moving back?” he asks.
“No. I’m staying in Harbor Highlands. Alright, so there—I told you. Goodbye.”
There’s nothing but silence on the other end. He says nothing. Since I’m done talking, I press end. Flopping onto the couch, I cover my eyes with my forearm. I’m relieved that’s over. I’m stressed as fuck, but relieved, nonetheless. If he wants to be in the baby’s life, we’ll make it work, but I certainly don’t want him in mine.
I still have ninety-nine problems, but telling Fuck Face isn’t one of them. Now it’s telling Jake, which might be the scariest one of them all since it’ll be like a gut punch and a right hook simultaneously. I pick up my phone again and send a message to Lach.
Eve
I told Pax about the pregnancy. Now we wait and see what he wants to do.
Lach
I’m right by your side. Every step of the way.
A flutter fills my chest. Like millions of butterflies taking flight. Why couldn’t I have met Lach like five years ago instead of two and a half months ago? Maybe my life would look a lot different from how it looks now. I could still have my studio. This baby could have been Lach’s. We could be planning our future together instead of planning how we’re going to tell my brother. Hell, I would even take four months—then this baby could be his instead of the dickhead’s.
Eve
Now that we have slain one dragon, how are we going to tell the other one?
Lach
Abandoning our lives and running away to Europe together isn’t an option?
Eve
As tempting as that sounds, probably not. I hated the cross-country move, and one across the pond sounds less appealing.
Lach
Worth a shot. We’ll talk later and come up with a plan.
Eve
Then afterward, we get to reward ourselves for creating such an amazing plan.
Lach
That’s kind of what got us here in the first place.
Eve
Then we’ve come full circle.
I just hope the circle doesn’t explode into a fiery ball of we-fucked-this-up.