Prologue #2
“Well, the good news is we’re back together again,” she hums sullenly.
“I wish it were under different circumstances though.”
“You and me both,” she bites her plush bottom lip.
I tip her chin up to look at me. Her gray-green eyes search mine. “We’re going to get our shit figured out, you and me. I promise you that. We take care of one another. Always.”
She nods. “I know. It just feels like—fuck, I don’t know—we’re floating into uncharted waters here or something.”
“Aren’t we always?” I lightly tease, pulling her in for another hug. I snort into her hair, laughing at the irony. “We don’t even live by the ocean. Maybe we should. Just pack up and start fresh somewhere we’ve always dreamed of…”
She scoffs. “Yeah right. Like that would ever happen.” After a few beats, she gently nudges me back. “Alright, you smell like sweat and cleaning chemicals.”
“I did come here right from work,” I remind her.
While I look for something comfier to change into—because I’ll be damned if I’m sleeping in these stupid jeans—she makes a phone call.
Just as I find a couple of my favorite pieces from her closet, she sets down her phone and asks me, “Hey, I just called my doctor. They can get me in tomorrow, since they just had a cancellation. Do you think you’ll be able to come to my appointment with me?
I want you to hear all my options too, in case I’m not totally with it. ”
I nod while shedding my pants in front of her. She doesn’t care, of course. We change in front of each other all the time. Have for years. “I meant what I said; I’ll be there for you no matter what.”
As I make my way towards her bathroom, her tongue quickly darts out past her lips, moistening them. Her eyes fall to the quilt once again. “Thank you. I love you, Marco.”
“Love you too, Polo.”
By the time we’re on our way back from her appointment the following day—riding in utter silence, both of us too swept up in a maelstrom of emotions to have a rational conversation—I’m quite certain my parents are going to have a meltdown over the news.
Lauren is with child and wants to keep the baby…
and what did I do? I made good on my promise that I would stay by her side no matter what.
I lied and told the doctor that I was the father, and now we’re about to attempt to sell that same story to my parents.
“Marcus,” Lo huffs, breaking the silence. “You don’t have to do this. My parents, they aren’t like yours. They’ll be stunned at first, I’m sure, but they’ll get over it. Look at my brothers, after all…”
I shake my head. “I told you already, you’re not going through this alone.”
“You know your fascist parents are going to go ape-shit on you and tell you that we need to get married or something. They’re old-school like that.”
She’s not wrong there, they really are. Super hardcore traditionalists, both of them. Always, and I mean always, with too-high standards set for me. Growing up as an only child, I’ve always felt this ridiculous sort of pressure to live up to their principles, never daring to fall out of line.
I shrug. “Maybe we should, if it gets the old man sniffing in the opposite direction of me being gay.”
He’s had his suspicions, I know, but there’s forever been this distinct “don’t ask, don’t tell” cloud hanging between us.
I feel like he’s under the impression that I’m caught up in some sort of phase, and that by ignoring anything remotely having to do with it, I’ll eventually “straighten up”—pun intended. Sorry, Pops. Definitely not a phase.
She offers me a sardonic look from the passenger seat. “Yeah, excellent idea. Right up until we get to the part where you are gay. I wanted to be a lot of things when I grew up, but a beard was never one of them.”
I scowl at her, briefly taking my eyes off the road.
“That’s not fair, Lo. You wouldn’t be my beard.
You know you’re essentially the platonic love of my life.
Since the day we moved to PA, you’ve been my bestie.
The ‘Lo’ in our Marco Polo Show. I wouldn’t have just signed myself up to raise this child with you if I didn’t care deeply about you, babe.
I love you in a way that goes much deeper than who I’m attracted to sexually, you know this.
Soulmates that transcend orientation… or whatever. ”
She studies her hands on her lap, picking at the black paint coating her fingernails, ever the goth princess that she is. “So you’re really going forward with this lie? For me and the baby?”
I laid awake all night, with her tucked into my chest, thinking about it.
I weighed out all my options, and came to the conclusion that I truly do not have any direction in my life at the moment.
I want this. I knew, in my heart of hearts, that Lauren would want to keep the baby, and I feel this overwhelming—borderline instinctual—need to stick with her through this. I love her that much…
“Yes, I am. If you trust me enough to, that is. I don’t want you going through this alone. It’s time for me to grow up and get out of the house anyway. Let’s do this together. I know what I’m getting myself into, and I have zero regrets.”
She nods, swallowing hard. “Thank you.”
She doesn’t expand upon that token of appreciation, nor does she need to, because I know her well enough to know there’s so much that was left unspoken behind those two words.
I let my open palm rest on the center console, and after a tense beat of more silence, she presses her own on top of mine, interlacing our fingers.
I pull her hand up and press a kiss to her knuckles.
In an attempt to lift her spirits, I lightly croon, “Just the three of us…”
Her lips twitch. “We can make it if we try?” she sings back in question.
I nod. “You, little bean, and I…”