Chapter 44
SPENCER
SEVEN YEARS AGO
“Whoa.” I stare at the grainy, black and white image on the screen. A head and arms and legs. “That’s really a baby?”
The ultrasound tech laughs. “Yes, that’s a baby.”
“Harlow,” I breathe out, looking down at her with tears in my eyes. “That’s our baby.”
Harlow’s eyes fill with tears too and she squeezes my hand. “Wow … it’s … it’s real,” she says with awe.
Her mom sits in the corner of the room, giving us some semblance of privacy, but I catch her dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a tissue.
“I’ll print some of these out for you Mom and Dad,” the sonographer says.
It hits me like a ton of bricks hearing that word—dad. I’m going to be someone’s dad. But not just any someone. This little baby on the screen is mine. Half me and half Harlow and so fully perfect.
Harlow gives my hand a squeeze and I laugh, drying my face with my other hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she tells me.
The sonographer finishes up and gives us a sheet of ultrasound photos as we return to the original room we were in to wait for the doctor.
Harlow hops up on the exam table while her mom and I take the other chairs in the small room.
I can’t stop looking at the photos. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.
That’s my kid. My little boy or little girl.
I smile at a shot of their profile and the very small nose.
I’m going to be the best dad you could ever ask for, I silently vow.
I’m almost nineteen. I haven’t given much thought to being a dad.
Sure, I figured it would happen one day, but I hadn’t thought about the logistics of raising a child.
But I find myself excited about it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still scared as shit.
I’m worried for Harlow—for what her body and mind will have to go through with growing our child and I’m worried for what it’s going to be like when we have a screaming infant.
But I look forward to getting to hold our baby, taking them to the beach for the first time, teaching them to ride a bike and surf as they get older.
The exam room door opens, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“Hi, Harlow. I’m Dr. Grant. I don’t think we’ve met before.” The kind woman extends her hand and Harlow takes it.
“Thank you for getting her in,” Harlow’s mom says. “I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Dr. Grant smiles. “And you must be the father to be?” This time she holds her hand out to me.
“Yeah. Spencer. It’s nice to meet you.”
She does a quick examination of Harlow—checking her heart and listening to her lungs before she pulls out a stool and sits.
“Teen pregnancy is a difficult situation,” she begins. “Pregnancy is hard on the body and the mind, so I just want to remind you that you do have options. There’s adoption and—”
“I’m keeping it,” Harlow blurts out. She reaches out for my hand, and I give it to her, offering her as much silent comfort as I can. “I’ve thought about it a lot and I want to keep it.”
The doctor nods. “All right, then let’s get into the other details.”
She opens the folder she walked in with.
“You’re spot on for twelve weeks like you said in your forms. Baby is measuring at the perfect size.
I’d say you might have a Thanksgiving baby.
” She offers a kind smile. “Your weight and blood pressure is good. I’m not seeing anything we need to worry about currently.
” Harlow squeezes my hand at this news. “I just want to remind you that you are young and pregnancy at this age comes with … social complications.” I wince, because she’s not wrong and I’m the one who has put my girl in this position.
“We do have a support group for young mothers. It ranges from fifteen at the youngest to our oldest member being twenty, so if you find yourself needing support they would be helpful to reach out to, so I’ll make sure to send you home with their information. ”
“Thank you,” Harlow squeaks.
“We’ll schedule you for four weeks from now. That will put you at sixteen weeks.”
I scrub my free hand over my face. I thought this whole thing was going to feel so slow, but instead I feel like I’m going to blink, and our kid is going to be here.
The doctor leaves and the three of us head to the checkout.
Harlow is unusually quiet as we exit the building and head to the car. Her mom speed walks in front of us, headed to her SUV since she brought us.
“I knew I was pregnant before,” Harlow whispers at my side. “I mean I’ve been so sick and bloated, but I … don’t laugh at me, but it didn’t feel real until now.”
“I know what you mean.” I run my fingers through my hair.
She bites her lip as we reach the car. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asks and quickly looks away from me like she fears my reaction.
“What?” I gasp. “Of course I’m okay. This is our baby, Harlow. You don’t think I’m going to break up with you because of this do you?”
She gives a tiny nod. “I mean, it would make sense. You didn’t plan for this.”
I gape at her. “You didn’t plan for this either. We’re in this together, Low. You and me.” I pull her into my arms and hug her. She sniffles into my shirt. “I’m not leaving you,” I state it plainly so she can have no doubts. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
We get in the car, and her mom says, “I need to make a return at the mall if you guys are okay with it.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Harlow slides the seatbelt across her body and snaps it into place.
The mall isn’t far, and her mom lets us out at the food court.
Once we each have a pretzel in hand, we walk around and find ourselves outside one of those department stores that carries everything you could possibly need.
We stroll inside and like we’re guided by an invisible force we end up in the infant section.
“Fuck,” Harlow curses softly. “How does something so tiny need so much?” She looks around at the cribs, car seats, strollers, and more all on display.
I shrug and head over to the strollers. “Beats me.”
“Why are there so many?” she gripes, taking in all the strollers set out for testing. There must be at least fifteen, probably more, different brands and styles.
“Different speeds?” I guess. “Or proportions?” I cock my head to the side.
She glances at the price tag on one and gasps. “Spencer, this one is almost fifteen-hundred dollars.”
“You’re kidding.” I peer down at the price tag and find that she’s not. “Well, it comes with multiple pieces. The stroller and car seat.”
“That’s still like seven-hundred and fifty dollars per piece.”
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my head. Taking a bite of pretzel, I say, “That is a bit steep.”
“This is crazy,” she mutters.
“Let’s look at the cribs,” I suggest, wanting to get her away from the strollers before she panic spirals.
“Cribs,” she repeats. “Yeah, okay.”
We head over to that section. “Seven hundred dollars,” she mutters. “This tiny human is going to drain my non-existent bank account.”
“That one is four-fifty,” I point out. “And that one there is … never mind.”
“Never mind? What is it?”
“Um…” I hedge, not sure I want to tell her.
She grabs my arm. “You have to tell me now.”
“It’s a thousand.” I squint. “Oh, wait. That includes a dresser.”
“Spencer.” She frowns at her half-eaten pretzel. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But we’ll figure it out.”
And we will. One way or another.
“Let’s look at the clothes instead,” I suggest. “Maybe we could pick something out for the baby?”
She frowns but nods. “Okay.”
The baby clothes are the next section over. Luckily, there’s a sales rack with some good options. We end up settling on a yellow duck onesie and a green frog zipper pajama set. Gender neutral and useful.
She seems happier once we checkout and head back to the food court to meet her mom.
We spot her seated at one of the tables with a soda and reading her book.
“Oh.” She smiles when our shadows loom over her. She eyes the bag in Harlow’s hand. “What’d you find?”
“Clothes for the baby,” she says softly, and pulls them out to show her mom.
Rubbing the fabric between her fingers her mom says, “These are adorable. What a great find.”
“Mom,” Harlow whispers. “The strollers and car seats and cribs are all so expensive. What am I going to do? I don’t have a job and—”
Her mom grabs her hand. “Sweetie, please don’t stress yourself. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
“I’m going to help,” I blurt out. “I swear it. And my parents said they’d help out too.”
Harlow frowns. “I don’t want any of you guys to feel like you have to swoop in and save the day. This isn’t your problem.”
“Harlow.” Her mom takes her face in her hands. “You and this baby are not a problem. Not to us. Okay? Your father and I are happy to help. We’re going to be here for you. You are not alone.”
I know she needed to hear that. Despite their support these past weeks, it hasn’t been easy for her. She feels like she’s let them down.
“Everything’s going to be okay. I promise you.” Her mom pulls her into a hug. When she lets her go, she asks, “Is there anything else you guys need to do while we’re here?”
We both say no, and the three of us head for the exit.
I parked at Harlow’s house, but I need to head back to school for a late afternoon class, so I kiss her goodbye and leave.
I exhale a heavy breath as I drive away.
I just want to be able to handle all of this for her, so she doesn’t feel stressed about money and us being able to provide for our baby.
I send up a silent plea for something, anything, to land in my lap that will make our lives easier.