26
ELLIE
How can I have a baby when I’m at college? How will it even work?
My hands tremble as I pull the seatbelt across my body, but before I can even think about anything else, Colby takes my other hand in his.
“You’re shaking,” he says. “Just take a deep breath.”
I inhale slowly, closing my eyes. When I swallow, my stomach feels hollow and a little sick.
“How?” I say, even though it’s obvious what’s gotten us into this situation. “It was only once.”
“Once is all it takes.” The comment could have sounded grim, but it doesn’t. There’s a lightness to Colby’s voice that I don’t understand.
“Why do you sound happy about it?” I say, twisting to watch him as he reverses the car out of the parking space.
“Just do me a favor and listen,” he says, keeping his gaze fixed on the road. “I want you to close your eyes and imagine our parents are happy when they find out. Your friends are throwing a baby shower. We’re picking out a crib and lots of tiny clothes. The three of us are there to support you and help with everything.”
I try to create pictures in my head of my mom’s smiling face. She’s holding up a cute outfit with a bear on the front. Dornan is there with a baby bath, and Micky and Seb are working out how to assemble the white wooden crib. Colby has his arms wrapped around me and his hand resting on my swollen belly.
And instead of a sinking feeling of sickness in my stomach, I feel happy. Contented.Relieved.
“See,” he says. When I open my eyes, he’s smiling at me. “You feel it too. You’re just dwelling on the worry about what people will think and how they’ll react. You’re stressing about facing the future alone, but you don’t have to.”
“Colby, you don’t have to stay with me because of the baby,” I say, even though deep down, it’s the exact opposite of what I want.
His brow lowers, and his hands flex on the wheel. “Ellie. You are so fucking stubborn, you know that? Why won’t you accept how we feel about you? Why do you always want to push us away? Don’t you know we wanted a future with you before this morning? You’ve been acting like you can’t wait to get rid of us now that our parents are home.”
My heart skitters, and I place my hand over it, blinking against tears that threaten to spill. I don’t know why I find it so hard to hear his claims about his feelings or why I can’t ever accept them to be more than just words. My heart longs for the picture that Colby painted, a future where everything is happy and filled with love.
But the problem in the picture isn’t everyone else.
It’s me.
It doesn’t matter how hard I try; I never feel as though I belong at the center of the happiness he’s suggesting is within my grasp. I’m on the outside. The black sheep. The little girl who wasn’t brave enough. The one whose father left and never looked back.
“I just need to go home,” I say. “I need some time to myself. I don’t even know what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling.”
Colby clears his throat, and I know he’s frustrated. I can feel the tenseness of his body sitting so near to mine. He’s near, but still feels so far away.
“Just promise me you won’t shut us out,” he says, his voice gentler than I’ve ever heard it.
“I promise.” The words pass uncomfortably from my lips because I don’t know what it will take for me to mean them.
Back at the house, I disappear into my room and lock the door. I have classes to prepare for, but I can’t face anyone. How do I listen to people rambling on about things that seemed important and vital yesterday but are now totally irrelevant to my life?
When it’s time for the boys to leave, they knock on my door.
I take a deep breath to steel myself to open it. Facing them when I feel so lost and confused is hard. I trust Colby has shared our joyful news. How his brothers have reacted isn’t something I can predict.
When I tug the door open, they’re all there, faces a little grave, eyes worried.
“Are you feeling okay?” Colby asks, looking at the sloth pajamas I’ve thrown on.
“No,” I say. “I’m not going in today. Can you tell my mom I’m ill and resting?”
“Of course,” Micky says.
“We won’t be back too late,” Seb adds. “Just message us if you need anything. We can be back in less than twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, even as I want to rest my hand on my belly and tremble at the prospect of the life growing inside me.
“Okay. We’ll talk later,” Colby says, shifting uncomfortably. “We’ll makea plan together.”
Of course, that’s what he’d want to do. Colby can’t cope without everything being set out in an orderly way that he can manage. Life isn’t like that, though. It’s messy and filled with curve balls that smack you on the side of the head when you are least expecting them.
Hasn’t he realized that? He plays enough football.
“Sure.”
My hand is on the doorknob, ready to shut them out, but Micky puts his foot in front. The memory of Colby doing the same thing the day after our seven minutes in heaven almost knocks me off my feet. So many events connected like a chain have brought us to this place. “We will talk later, Ellie, because we’re a team now, and that’s how teams work.”
A team? Team fucking disaster.
“Sure,” I say again, and this time, they allow me to close the door.
Mom appears seconds later with an offer of chicken soup that makes me want to hurl all over her feet. I shouldn’t be ungrateful but having anyone in my space right now is invasive.
After a few hours, Dornan calls me, and it’s only when I see his name emblazoned across the phone screen, I remember we were supposed to meet. Shit. I hate letting friends down, but I can’t face hearing his jolly voice right now, even if it’s just for long enough for me to make excuses.
I go for most of the day, curled up in a ball on my bed, hiding under my favorite blue spotted fleece blanket, staring at the wall. Nausea comes and goes, but with a few sips of water, I manage to get through it without needing to use the bathroom. I don’t notice time passing until shadows creep across my room, and I hear the rumble of Colby’s car outside and their footsteps when they enter the house.
They’re going to want to talk, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know what to do.
I’m a kid. A glorified child whose mom still washes her underwear. What the fuck do I know about raising another human being? I’m not even raising myself yet. And the three men who want to be my support are glorified kids, too. What the hell kind of parents could we make?
Well, Micky would be really caring. He’d know all the baby’s distinct cries and be able to tell exactly what they need to be content. He’d be the best at getting them to sleep.
And Seb would be the fun dad. He’d make up silly rhymes and be the first to hear the baby’s laugh. He’d be able to diffuse tantrums and turn everyone’s frown upside down.
Colby would be outstanding at keeping track of milestones and knowing what activities our baby would need to thrive. He’d have their college fund set up before they’re born and have them reciting their ABCs and 123s before any other kids the same age.
Really, now I think about it, they’d be awesome fathers in all the ways that count. They’ve already shown the men they are with all their voluntary work and the way they’re so responsible within the family.
It’s me I can’t picture within any of that. It’s me who has no substance.
They’d be great fathers, and I’d be a terrible mother.
Would they have to dare me through every decision just to keep me moving? I’m a shambles. A person with no backbone. Someone who needs a sharp object placed at the small of their back to do anything.
When there’s a knock at the door, I tell them to come in, and they all lumber into my dark room, scanning for me until they see my pathetic curled shape on the bed.
“Ellie.” Micky is the first to reach my side, his face drawn with worry as he kneels in front of me. His hand presses against my forehead, and he looks up at Colby and Seb, who stand behind him.
“She’s not hot.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just tired and sick.”
“That’s totally normal,” Micky whispers. “I’ve done some research today. This stage of pregnancy can be tough, but it rarely lasts more than a couple of months.”
“Months?” I gasp. “Are you serious?”
“Dry crackers and cookies with ginger will make you feel better,” he says. Of course, Micky would know that. Of course, he’d be the first to find out the things that would help.
“We need to tell our parents,” Colby says out of nowhere.
“Not now,” Seb says quickly. “Ellie needs time. There’s no rush.”
“There’s a rush,” Colby says. “There’s no hiding what’s coming.”
“If it’s coming,” I snap.
Silence falls like a thick winter blanket over the room, spreading inside me like poison. It’s my right to choose what I want to do. Of that, I’m certain. But I don’t want to hurt these men who are trying their best to be what I need. I don’t want to be cruel.
At the same time, I’m unsure how to express what I’m feeling, and I don’t know what I want.
Well, I do. I want to go back to that night at Molly’s, to the moment before I left this house. I want to undo everything that’s happened so I can go back to being the Ellie at Dornan’s party who didn’t have a care in the world.
But at the same time, that would mean never knowing how it felt to rest in their arms, to never know the warmth and strength of their presence in my life. It would mean never discovering the person I am with them.
Alive.
Fearless.
Carefree.
Our lives are like a rope of experiences, all woven and tangled together. We can’t pull out just one to discard it without changing everything that comes after. Even though it’s hard to accept, I get it too.
We walk forward.
That’s all we can do.
And I have to find the strength to face what’s happening to me and do what needs to be done. I have to, but finding the courage and strength is another matter.
Micky’s hand rests on my shoulder. “Take your time, Ellie. Work out what it is you want to do. Work out what you need from us. Let’s keep talking, okay?” Then he does something that makes all the bottled-up feelings spill over. He kisses me with all the sweetness that he has inside him, and suddenly, I’m crying. In seconds, the three of them are around me, holding me and kissing me wherever they can find space.
It’s so risky when we could get caught at any moment, but in my time of distress, none of us has any care of the risks. This pregnancy has put a different perspective on everything that I thought was important. It’s as though my lens has been shattered, and all I can see are the parts and pieces of my past concerns and hopes.
Colby’s hand touches my belly, and I flinch, but he doesn’t pull away, and the warmth of his hand sends a flush through me.
We stay like that for minutes that feel like hours, and in the cradle of their arms, I feel more like myself again. But then mom calls us down for dinner and breaks our secret world of security and peace once more.
For three days, I stay in bed. On day two, Seb encourages me to shower. Micky brings me toast with butter and cool ginger tea to sip. Colby waits by the door like a worried parent. On day three, Micky’s the one who takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom, and when I come back, I find my bed stripped and remade.
Mom floats around during the day. She makes the soup and insists I take a few sips, but it only makes me feel more nauseous. Her hands flutter as I stare grimly at her from my pillow.
I can’t tell her why, though. I can’t share what’s going on because I don’t want to shatter her fragile happiness.
On the evening of the fourth day, after avoiding phone calls from all my friends, an unfamiliar-sounding car pulls up outside the house, and the doorbell rings.
Voices sound in the hall, but not loud enough for me to make out who it is. Footsteps start up the stairs, and mom calls through the door, “Ellie, Dornan, Gabriella, and Celine are here. Shall I let them in?”
I scramble out of bed, catching sight of my wild hair and pale face in the mirror. At least my PJs and sheets are clean, but I still feel as though my room smells of sickness.
You’re not ill , I remind myself.
“Err…, just give me a minute.”
Grabbing a clip, I twist my hair and pin it on the back of my head. I quickly use a cleansing wipe to freshen up my face and throw open my window, letting the cool night air spill into the room.
I feel fine, which makes my past three days of isolation seem very self-indulgent.
I open the door a crack and see four worried faces peering in. Dornan doesn’t give me a chance to say come in. He approaches so quickly that I’m forced to whip the door open wide enough to let him pass. Celine and Gabriella troop in behind him.
“You’re looking better,” mom says, smiling but uncertain.
“Thanks.” She leaves, but not without a backward glance to check all is right.
My room could certainly be tidier, but that isn’t what my friends have come over to talk about.
When I perch on the mattress, Dornan glances at the still-open door and strides over to close it.
“What’s going on, Ellie?” he demands.
“Nothing,” I say, hating that I have to keep secrets from him.
“Don’t lie to me,” he says, sitting next to me. The mattress bows beneath his weight, and my thigh rests against him, reminding me of how solid his presence has always been in my life. “You would have answered the phone if that was all it was. I know you, don’t forget. This isn’t you. There’s something bigger going on, and I want to know.”
“You don’t,” I whisper, keeping my eyes focused on the floor by Celine’s feet.
“Did you break up with the triplets? Is that what it is?” Gabriella asks, chewing her gum.
“No,” I say.
“Then what?” Dornan presses. His hand finds mine and tugs it into his lap, squeezing tightly. “Tell me, so I know what to do to help you. That’s what friendship is all about, Ellie. Sharing our troubles.”
“I can’t,” I say.
“Of course you can,” Celine says. “Maybe you just don’t want to.”
“What could it be that you don’t want to share with me?” Dornan sounds so hurt that I want to cry. When I glance up at Celine, her eyes are narrowed. She looks over at my nightstand, finding a packet of crackers and a half-finished cup of ginger tea. Reaching out for the mug, she takes a long inhale.
“Ginger,” she says knowingly, and my eyes widen with realization. Celine’s older sister has just had a baby. She went through awful morning sickness, which Celine knows all about.
I see the moment that the cogs in Celine’s sharp brain click into place. “You’re pregnant,” she says, confirming my fear.
Dornan’s and Gabriella’s heads snap to stare at me, and I bury my face in my hands.
“Fuck,” Dornan says. “It’s true?”
“Of course it is,” Celine says. “I’m not an idiot.”
“How?” Dornan asks, earning a scoff from Celine.
“She rode the big pipe a little too enthusiastically.”
I want to laugh like I usually do when Celine employs her filthy humor, but none of this is funny.
“Ellie?” The look on Dornan’s face seems a lot like disappointment, and for the millionth time today, I start to cry.
“Fuck.” Rather than hugging me like I expect him to, he stands. I stare up at my friend, watery-eyed and devastated, as he raises his hands to his head and grips his hair. “Fuck. This is all my fault.”
“Dornan…” I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence before he storms to the door, yanks it open and disappears.
“Oh, this isn’t good,” Gabriella says, skipping after him, closely followed by Celine. I leap up as soon as I realize what’s going to happen, but I’m too late to stop anything. Before I reach the bedroom door, Dornan is yelling. It sounds like Colby is yelling back, and then Gabriella and Celine join in, and there are too many voices to hear anything other than the colossal mess that will have my mom and Harry storming up the stairs.
“SHUT UP,” I yell as loud as I can. “ALL OF YOU…”
But it’s too late. Mom appears behind Dornan with Harry next to her. And when enough people notice, the noise reduces until an uneasy silence settles over the group. Celine’s eyes are wide, flitting between my mom and me.
“What is going on up here?”Harry’s voice is stern, and his expression matches it exactly.
Dornan, who is still holding a handful of Colby’s shirt, takes a step back.
“I think you need to leave,” Harry says, stepping forward to get closer to his son. Colby puts his hand up, though, and the look on his face tells me everything. He doesn’t want Dornan to get in trouble for being protective of me. He understands, but this isn’t the time to talk, not with our parents here.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, moving closer and resting my hand on Dornan’s arm.
“It isn’t okay,” Dornan says, shaking Colby by the shirt. “I trusted you. I told you to look after her. How the fuck is getting her pregnant looking after her?”
“Pregnant,” Harry says. “Who’s pregnant? Colby, have you gotten someone into trouble?”
I want to laugh at the turn of phrase because what fucking decade are we living in?
“We don’t need to talk about this now,” I say. “Not with an audience.”
Dornan’s eyes are blazing, and I know he’s too far gone to hear what I’m trying to say. He’s gone into full-blown protection mode. “Just explain to me how this has happened, Colby?” He turns, finding Seb and Micky walking slowly from their rooms towards the disturbance. “And you. And you…tell me how you’ve gotten Ellie into this situation.”
“DORNAN,” I shout, grabbing his arm, desperate for him to hear me.
“Ellie?” Mom says. “What situation?”
Dornan’s face is flushed and tense, veins bulging at his temples. I’ve never seen him enraged to where he’s lost all concept of what’s happening around him. “SHE’S PREGNANT,” he yells, shoving Colby again. “And one of these fuckers is responsible!”
I stare at Dornan, horror flooding through me in an ice-cold rush. My mouth drops open as I watch my mom stepping back, the news like a bullet to her heart. Colby’s eyes are wide with the same alarm, knowing that this turn of events has robbed us of the opportunity to deal with this pregnancy and our relationship with any kind of privacy. Seb and Micky are frozen, with eyes trained on their father’s face.
I don’t know how many seconds pass before I react, but it feels like many.
Dornan didn’t mean to do it. I know he loves me, but that love has just blown my universe apart.