Chapter 25 Monday, May 15th
Ronan
I knew something was off the minute Cat stopped answering my calls Saturday afternoon.
The texts she did send were… not her. Short, overly casual, like she was trying too hard to sound normal.
At first, I chalked it up to her weekend plans with Tori, Summer, and Vada.
She’d been excited about it all week. They had it all mapped out.
And I had my own distractions in Boston, helping Steve move from his dorm into his new apartment.
I finally met his girl, too, and was looking forward to telling Cat about her.
But when she started dodging my calls, when her replies felt like placeholders instead of conversations, I got the distinct impression she wouldn’t exactly welcome a long paragraph about Steve’s sophomore-year adventures.
I got home late last night. I had half-expected Cat to have changed her mind about waiting for me at the apartment, but was relieved to find her asleep in my bed. Maybe I imagined everything?
Nope. Definitely not. That nagging pull in my chest hasn’t gone away. I figured I’d get her to talk this morning, easing in with soft questions—You alright? Did something happen?—while we got ready, at breakfast. Nothing. And with every passing minute, the knot in my gut cinches tighter.
She won’t look me in the eyes. Won’t reach for my hand. Barely tolerates my touch.
After Shane leaves to open Murphy’s, Cat disappears into his and Tori’s bedroom to “talk to Tori.” She’s in there for over half an hour.
Door closed. Not a sound, which is saying something, considering these walls are practically tissue paper.
Trust me, I’ve had plenty of proof. Clearly, their discussion is in hushed voices. They don’t want me to hear.
I wander through the apartment in search of something to do, to stop myself from pacing like a fucking lunatic.
Laundry it is. I gather all the towels, empty both Shane’s and my hampers, and head down to the basement to start a washer.
The second I slam the lid shut and drop in four quarters, I pull out my phone and text Shane.
Me:
Did something happen while I was in Boston that I need to know about?
Luckily, Shane doesn’t make me wait.
Shane:
No. Why?
Me:
Because Cat’s been stand-offish all morning and now she and Tor are in your bedroom “talking.” With the door closed.
Shane:
Oh shit.
Me:
Yeah…
Shane:
What did you do?
I frown, quickly hammering out a reply.
Me:
Dude, I have no fucking clue. We were good Saturday morning. Then she stopped answering my calls. Things have been weird ever since.
Shane:
Tor hasn’t said anything to me. Do you think maybe Cat’s planning something for your birthday? That’s in like two weeks.
I pause, considering his idea, but my gut tells me that’s not it.
Me:
No. She’s just not herself, but not in a “I’m planning something fun” way. Something’s wrong, Shay!
Shane:
Ok. I’ll see what I can get out of Tor. Don’t stress man, maybe she’s on her period. Every time I think Tor might kill me in my sleep, turns out she’s about to start her cycle.
I actually chuckle at that.
Me:
Sounds wholesome…
Shane:
Keeps things exciting. Do I get homicidal Tori? Cuddly Tori? Horny Tori? Or energetic Tori? It’s like roulette, but with knives and teddy bears.
Me:
’Kay, well, if you’re able to extract some nuggets of wisdom from Tor, please share.
Shane:
Will do. Don’t worry too much.
I send back a pathetic thumbs-up emoji.
When I walk back into the apartment, Tori’s by the door, slipping on her shoes. Even though the look she gives me is soft, sympathetic, maybe meant to reassure, it sets off alarm bells in my head. My chest tightens. This can’t be good.
“I’m heading out,” Tori says, her voice carrying a little too much meaning. Her eyes dart toward Cat who’s emerging from the living room with her arms wrapped around herself. Not. Good.
“Unless you want me to stick around?” she asks, eyes pinned to Cat.
Cat shakes her head.
“Okay,” Tori murmurs. “It’ll be okay, Kitty Cat.” She walks past me, giving my shoulder a quick, gentle pat, and disappears out the door.
I wait for it to shut behind her, then take a tentative step toward Cat, doing my best to swallow the anxiety clawing at my insides like a trapped animal desperate to escape its cage.
“Okay, baby,” I say, my voice low, tight. “What the hell is going on?”
Cat walks back into the living room. I follow, keeping some distance, then watch as she lowers herself onto the couch, her gaze to the floor.
“Did I do something?” It’s the only thing I can think of. That I fucked up somehow without even realizing it. Was it something I said the last time we talked?
“No, you didn’t do anything. I’m not mad at you, I promise,” she says, her voice meek.
“What’s wrong then?” I ask her, searching her face for clues.
She doesn’t respond, folding into herself instead. She looks so small, so sad. I move, sinking onto the couch beside her.
“We don’t do that to each other, remember?” I say softly. “You made me promise to always tell you what’s going on in my head, and you promised me the same in return.”
More silence. Her shoulders hunch, reminding me of a dog that knows it’s in trouble.
“Baby, please,” I beg, becoming increasingly worried.
Finally, her eyes lift to mine. “I have to tell you something.” She looks absolutely terrified.
What the hell happened?
“You can tell me anything,” I say, trying to sound calm even though my heart is racing. Whatever it is, it’s big. It’s bad.
She takes a deep breath. Then another. And another. Her nerves practically radiate off her, and suddenly I feel like I could jump out of my skin with anxiety.
Then her lips part.
“I’m pregnant, Ran.”
The words slam into my body, but they don’t land. My brain rejects them, shoving them into some dark corner where they can’t mean anything. All I know is that my body is reacting while my head stays blank.
I stare at her. “What?”
“I’m pregnant,” she says, even softer. Her eyes lock with mine, filling with tears.
The room goes silent. The words settle into the air like lead. Into me like lead. Sinking and spreading until I can’t breathe.
“Shit,” I whisper. Realization slams into me. “Shit,” I say again, louder this time. I stand up fast, raking both hands through my hair like that’ll help me think.
“Are you sure?” I ask, grasping for the tiniest thread of hope that this isn’t real. That it’s a mistake. That maybe she’s joking, or… I don’t know.
“Yeah,” she says so quietly I almost don’t hear it. But the look on her face—those wide, panicked eyes, the way her arms are wrapped around her body—tells me everything. This isn’t a joke. She’s not wrong.
Cat is pregnant.
“I took three tests,” she says.
“Fuck.” I groan, pacing a tight, frantic circle in front of the couch. My mind is a mess. I can’t think. I need to think.
“I thought…” I stop, guilt already creeping in before the sentence is out of my mouth. “I thought you were on the pill.”
I hate how that sounds. Like I’m blaming her.
Like birth control was only her responsibility.
I know better. I know that’s not fair, but Cat got on the pill pretty much the second we started dating two years ago.
We’ve never used a condom. And when we got back together, I didn’t even think twice about it.
Stupid. Fucking stupid.
“I am.” Her voice breaks, then collapses completely as a sob breaks from her chest. She crumples.
In a heartbeat, I’m back on the couch, pulling her into my arms.
“But I wasn’t as careful about taking it when we were broken up,” she chokes out, barely intelligible through her crying. “I missed a couple of days. I didn’t think it would mess me up this much. I’m so sorry, Ran.”
She cries harder, her body heaving in my arms. I’m fucking pissed, but more at myself. I should’ve asked. Should’ve checked. Should’ve known. I shouldn’t have assumed she’d stayed on the pill after we split up. I shouldn’t have taken it for granted, any of it.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, trying to ease her guilt, but she shakes her head against me.
“Yes, it is. I wasn’t careful enough.”
“But birth control isn’t just your responsibility,” I say. “I should’ve checked. I should’ve made sure.”
“If you had,” she whispers, “I probably would’ve told you we’re fine.”
Then she falls silent. Neither of us speak for a good minute, the reality of the situation sinking in deeper with each second that passes.
“Do you hate me?” she finally asks, her voice small.
My answer is instant. Certain. “Of course, I don’t hate you,” I say. “I love you more than life itself.”
Her tears don’t let up, and all I can do is hold her. I want to fix it, make it better somehow, but I have no idea how. God, this is going to change everything.
“How far along are you?” I ask quietly. My thoughts are racing, head spinning. The version of the future I had allowed myself to envision lately is unraveling at the seams.
“I’m honestly not sure. Maybe three or four weeks? I don’t know.” She inhales a shaky breath. “What do we do?” Her eyes find mine—wide, pleading, terrified—and I swear she’s looking for answers I don’t have. But I try.
“Well… I guess we should probably try to get you in with your doctor and make sure everything’s okay with you and… and the baby, right?”
Even saying the word feels unreal.
“I have an appointment this afternoon,” she says.
I blink. She must have called her doctor while I was in the shower or in the basement, completely oblivious to what she was carrying around with her.
“What time?” I ask.
“At three.” She hiccups.
“Okay. I’ll tell Shay I’ll be late this evening. I promised him I’d work the Monday night shift since he covered for me while I was in Boston, but I can just come in thirty minutes late if I need to.”
Cat stares at me, surprise etched into her brow.
“You want to come with me?”
“Yeah. I mean… if it’s okay with you,” I say. It stings a little that she seems so surprised. “Baby, you’re not alone in this, okay?”