chapter 64
On the night I had told Tobey about my pregnancy, I had been both tearful and emboldened, stiff and defiant when I’d uttered the words and waited for rejection, every pore of my soul ready to fight to the death for my child.
He had been silent, then he had sworn, a stream of curses punctuated by his hands tearing through his hair, his fall into one of their chairs heavy, mood black.
I had watched without words. In that moment, I hadn’t judged him.
I had gone through a similar moment, everything in my world breaking apart, everything suddenly changed.
I’d waited for him to come through it, to collect himself.
To say the next thing, something that would tell me exactly what my baby’s father was made of.
“You’ll get married.” His father spoke for him, stepping out onto the porch, his voice allowing no discussion on the subject, my own dad behind him in the open doorway.
“Dad—” Tobey’s one word died, his head turned to his father, their eye contact held for a long moment before he turned away.
“You’ll finish this semester at Harvard, and you and Ty will live with us until you graduate. You can get married at Thanksgiving. Grad school will have to wait.”
Mr. Grant turned to me, his nod firm, the affection I’d always seen in his eyes still present, his excitement at the news almost worrisome in its glee.
And with his declaration to Tobey, the decision was made.
Tobey and my eyes met, and his face was that of a trapped man.
I looked away, a fresh wave of nausea rising.
Maybe I should have protested. If I had, maybe the baby would have lived. Fate was funny that way; it had its own way of changing our lives.