Chapter Nine
Brooke
I clutch the sheets to my chest. Of all the ways I imagined meeting his mother, this was definitely not one of them. I don’t know if I should laugh, cry, or vanish into thin air. Matthew isn’t doing much better, he’s frozen in place, a pillow strategically in his lap.
His mom stands in the doorway, keys still dangling from the lock. For a few painfully long seconds, the three of us just stare at one another.
She’s the first to recover. “I’ll… give you a minute,” she says, then promptly backs out of the apartment. The door swings mostly shut, but not all the way.
Matthew and I exchange a wide-eyed look before scrambling to get dressed. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of those “clothes everywhere” situations, so we’re decent within minutes. I’m zipping up my dress just as the door opens again.
She stays near the threshold this time, cheeks faintly pink. “I thought I’d surprise you,” she says dryly. “But I guess I’m the one who got surprised.”
Matthew slides closer to me and slips an arm around my waist. “Mom, this is Brooke. Brooke, this is my mom, Chloe.”
I manage a small, awkward wave.
She tilts her head slightly, studying me with a curious smile. “The same Brooke from college?”
I glance sideways at Matthew. His cheeks are already turning pink.
“I might have… mentioned you a few times,” he mumbles.
“A few times?” his mom repeats with a laugh. “Sweetheart, you were obsessed. It was ‘Brooke this, Brooke that,’ for a while I wasn’t even sure you were real, what with him refusing to introduce us.”
Heat creeps up my own neck, and I bite back a nervous smile. “Well… hi,” I say softly.
Chloe sets her purse down, balancing a foil-covered tray on one arm. “How about you two go wash your hands and other things, while I put this in the oven,” she says, lifting the tray slightly for emphasis. “It’s from La Perno’s.”
“I’ll go first,” I mumble, grateful for the excuse to escape the awkwardness. By the time I return, Matthew’s heading in next, gently squeezing my shoulder as we pass each other.
Trying to fill the silence, I say, “I didn’t know La Perno’s delivered.”
“They don’t,” she tosses over her shoulder as she slides the tray into the oven. “I’ve known Sal since before he went bald.”
“It smells amazing,” I admit, inhaling the warm, garlicky aroma.
Chloe glances back at me, giving me a once-over. “If I’d known he had company, I would’ve brought more.”
“It’s fine,” Matthew says as he steps out of the bathroom. “Brooke barely eats as it is.”
I smile at him, amused by the blatant lie. I’ve been eating full-course meals since I got pregnant.
Chloe’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t argue. “If you say so.”
I raise both eyebrows at that, and it’s hard not to interpret the look she gives me as she thinks I’m just fat, not pregnant with her first grandchild.
She picks up a stack of plates to hand to Matthew and nearly drops them when she sees his hand. “What’s that?” she asks, pointing at his fingers.
Matthew glances down, then turns it over, revealing the simple gold band. “Oh. Uh…” He looks at me briefly, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. “Brooke and I got married.”
Chloe’s mouth falls open. For a long, stunned second, she doesn’t say a word, just looks from me to Matthew, then back to me again. Finally, her gaze drops to my stomach.
I press a palm over it for emphasis.
“You’re… pregnant. And married?” she sputters.
Matthew nods, steady but a little sheepish. “We wanted you there, but we couldn’t wait, not with the insurance situation and everything else. We figured we’d have a bigger ceremony once the baby gets here.”
Chloe’s lips purse tightly, her expression clearly unimpressed. “Matthew, can I speak to you outside?” She asks, her jaw clenched so tight I can practically hear her teeth grind.
Matthew reaches over and covers my hand on my stomach. “You can say it in front of her.”
“Fine,” she says, smiling, but it’s not a warm smile. It’s cold and bitter.
She turns to me. “How do I even know that baby is my son’s?”
“Mom-” Matthew starts, his voice low and warning.
But she holds up a hand to silence him. “You’ve had him tangled in your net since college, and now suddenly there’s a marriage and a baby? How do I know you’re not trying to pass off someone else’s child as his because he-”
“Enough.”
Matthew’s voice booms through the apartment, loud enough that even I stop breathing. I’ve never seen him like this, jaw clenched, eyes blazing, chest heaving with barely contained anger.
“I said enough, Ma,” he growls. “I love you, but do not speak like that to my wife. And she is the mother of my child. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
Chloe blinks, thrown by the steel in his voice. “You’re picking her over me?” she asks, incredulous. “I did not raise you-”
“No,” he cuts in, sharp and certain. “This is exactly how you raised me, to take responsibility. To be better than my own father.”
Chloe goes completely still at that, her lips parting but no sound coming out. The air between them shifts, heavier now, thicker.
I glance between them, confusion tugging at the edges of my anger. I know his dad left before Matthew was born, but he’s never told me why. He’s never talked about it at all.
Matthew swallows hard, eyes fixed on his mother. “You taught me that being a man isn’t about running away when things get complicated. It’s about showing up. And that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m here. For Brooke. For our baby. For us.”
Chloe’s face tightens, her eyes cutting toward me, colder now. “I will not let you ruin my son’s life.”
The words sting more than I expect them to. My throat tightens, and I manage, “I love your son.”
“For now,” she snaps. “Until you move on to some other poor schmuck.”
Matthew’s jaw hardens, his voice low and steady. “I think you should go.”
“I’m your mother,” she says, disbelief threading through her voice.
“And I love you,” he replies, and the sincerity in his voice almost breaks me. “But the way you’re acting right now… I don’t want to say something I can’t take back. Something that’ll hurt you.”
Chloe stares at him, stunned, like she’s hearing words she never thought he’d say. Seeing the heartbroken look on her face almost makes me feel bad for her. Almost.
Matthew
I watch my ma leave, the door clicking softly behind her. For my entire life, it’s just been her and me. Me and her. Our own little family. And now… I’ve just told her to go.
I sink onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter, elbows on my knees, staring blankly at nothing. “We need to move,” I say finally. My voice sounds distant, even to me.
“Oh,” Brooke says quietly. “Yeah. I guess.”
I nod, still not looking at her. “It would be fine while the baby’s little, but… I want us settled before they’re here, you know?”
She agrees again and reaches out, her fingers brushing my arm in a slow, soothing motion. “Are you okay?”
I shrug, but it’s a heavy, tired gesture.
“Ma and I don’t fight. I mean, we have little tiffs here and there, but we don’t fight.
And it’s not because we never disagree-it’s because I always fold first. I never wanted her to feel bad.
” My voice cracks on the last word, and I swallow hard, staring down at my hands.
“But this… this is something I won’t back down on. ”
I take her hand and intertwine our fingers, grounding myself in the warmth of her skin. “I’m committed to you. And our baby.”
There’s a pause. Then, gently, Brooke asks, “You never told me what happened with your dad.”
I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I guess I didn’t.”
I open my mouth, close it again, then try once more.
“I don’t remember ever asking my ma about him.
People always say they noticed, like, ‘Oh, I was four when I realized I didn’t have a dad.
’ But me? I never did. Never even cared.
A lot of the kids in my school came from single households, so it’s not like it was weird. ”
I look down at the counter, my voice going softer.
“Then, when I was maybe thirteen or fourteen, ma and I had a fight. I used to play hockey in high school, and my team made it to the state championship. We won. But Ma wasn’t there.
I was pissed, of course I was. I asked why other kids had at least one parent there and I had no one. I finally asked where my father was.”
The memory tastes like rust on my tongue.
“That’s when she told me the truth. Turns out my father was an exchange student from the UK.
They dated; she got pregnant. She said he was happy.
Excited, even. But when she was about six months along, he had to fly home for his grandmother’s funeral.
She couldn’t go, pregnancy complications, I think. ”
I pause, my throat tightening. “He was supposed to come back after a week. But when the week was up… he stopped taking her calls.”
The words start to shake now, like the ground beneath them isn’t steady anymore. “She tried, for a while. Then finally tracked him down through his sister. And when she did…”
I blink hard, but the burn behind my eyes is too strong. “He told her he wasn’t ready to be a father. And to never contact him again.”
My voice breaks on that last part. For years, that single sentence has sat in the pit of me like a stone.
When I look up again, Brooke is watching me quietly, eyes soft, not pitying, just seeing me. The weight of that alone almost undoes me.
“She never dated, you know,” I say, the words coming out rough.
“I mean, once or twice when I was little. But I’d throw such tantrums that she just…
stopped. She poured everything into me. All her attention, all her focus.
And I just…” I trail off, not sure how to finish the thought.
And I just let her. And maybe I took too much.
Brooke squeezes my hand gently. “You should talk to her.”
I shake my head almost instantly.
“She just found out her son is married and expecting a baby,” Brooke continues softly. “She was probably shocked.”
I huff out a bitter breath. “How can you defend her? She accused you of trapping me with the baby.”
I rest my palm over her curved stomach, our baby, the one she dared to say wasn’t mine. Brooke doesn’t think she’s showing yet, but I can definitely see a tiny bump.
Brooke shrugs, her voice calm, steady. “I love her son. Whatever she says, I’m not going anywhere.”
Something warm tugs at my chest, and I can’t help the small smile that creeps across my face.
Then Brooke hesitates, her expression shifting just slightly before she speaks. “You do know the baby’s yours, right? I mean… we never really had that talk, but I want you to know I’m one hundred percent sure you’re the father. I don’t want you to have any doubt.”
“I don’t,” I say immediately, honestly. “It never even occurred to me.”
And it’s true. The thought has never once crossed my mind. Not when we found out, not even now. I know this baby is ours.
She smiles, a soft, teasing glint in her eyes. “We could always move to New Jersey.”
I laugh. “Really?”
“Okay, maybe not Jersey,” she concedes with a grin. “Brooklyn, then.”
I think about that for a second. “That could be good. Maybe Chelsea. We don’t have to stay in Manhattan.”
Brooke nods her head. “Not with our budget. Especially since I’m gonna be on maternity leave soon.”
I reach over and take her hand again, brushing my thumb gently across her knuckles. “I’m gonna take care of you.”
She squeezes my hand back, her gaze locking with mine. “We’re partners, remember? We take care of each other.”
I smile at her words, and on the outside, it probably looks real. But inside, my thoughts are louder than my heartbeat.
Brooke deserves someone who has their shit together.
I told her I want this baby and I do. But wanting it isn’t enough. I’m damn sure going to show her.
Brooke said she doesn’t want to stay home with the baby, and I’ll respect that. But I want her to at least have the choice, a choice my mom never had. I want her to feel secure enough to decide what she wants, not what she has to do.
Because if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that I’m going to build the kind of life for her and our child that no one ever built for me.
And I won’t stop until I do.