8. Foster #3
Shoving my pockets with my hands, I run my eyes over Sutton and try to get a read on her.
“I’m sure she appreciated that. Feeling any better?” Her eyebrows shoot up, caught off guard. “You haven’t seemed yourself these past few weeks,” I add.
Her smile is fake. “I think so.” She lifts her nose over my shoulder, and I turn to see Elodie waving for Sutton to join her in the kitchen area. “I’m being beckoned to the kitchen.”
I continue to track her but break my focus when a firm hand squeezes my shoulder, and I see Hayes offering me a glass of champagne. “Hey, man.”
“Hey,” I greet him. “Excited for the screeching of kids?”
He snickers. “I deal with that every day at daycare pickup. I’m a pro. Anyhow, I appreciate you coming. I feel bad that we haven’t had so much time to catch up lately.”
“It’s okay. You have your new family and work and all that jazz.” While I sip my champagne, a tart-tasting $500 bottle, my eyes remain drilled on Sutton.
“A young family is wild,” I hear him say.
Soon, that will be me.
Assuming it’s what Sutton wants.
“I’m sure I’ll understand one day,” I remark feebly.
“For sure. Alright, let’s go stake out the living room with the guys. I can perform my chaperone duties there just fine.”
For the next hour, we catch up, steering clear of anything work-related. Easton talks Hayes into turning on the hockey game, and Hayes mentions a delivery downstairs. It all blurs together because my attention keeps circling back to Sutton.
I notice every detail: the polite smiles she gives, the way she holds her drink but never sips, the struggle to swallow a single cube of cheese. Her friends are busy mixing drinks, but I see it all. Every. Little. Detail.
When Hayes stands to head downstairs, I take it as my chance to escape the party for a moment.
“I’ll join you.” I follow him.
A minute later, when the doors to the elevator close, we both sigh from the lack of children in the background. We lean against the wall and stare forward at the light above the door.
“Never thought I would say these hot cross buns better be good. It’s from some up-and-coming bakery. If I’m going to have a lifetime supply of leftover sweet bread in my freezer, then it might as well be worth it.”
“Right.” Even in my own world, I remember him mentioning how his visiting mother is insistent on certain spring brunch food.
“What’s up with you?” He looks at me peculiarly.
I’ve been numb for an hour because I want Sutton to break the glass bubble that I’ve been holding, waiting for her confirmation.
But I can’t keep it bottled up any longer.
“It’s Sutton.”
“What about her?”
“She’s pregnant.”
His eyes nearly pop out, and I pierce my gaze at him.
“She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Truthfully, I feel guilty. I didn’t intend to have us end up in this situation. But I’m well aware that I’m definitely somewhere on the deceiving scale considering how a baby and time was already on my mind. “She’s pregnant,” I repeat.
Hays rubs his temples, trying to catch up. “Wait, you and her?” he screeches.
I nod. “We’ve been… sleeping together for a while now.”
“No shit.” He’s in disbelief. “Elodie hasn’t said anything.”
“Because she doesn’t know either.”
“Ah, that kind of relationship.”
Bobbing my head side to side, I don’t want to call it a beneficial relationship. That’s lacking; we have more than that.
The elevator stops, and the doors begin to glide open, but Hayes steps forward and hits the close button again, probably to give us privacy.
“Backtrack. What the fuck do you mean she doesn’t know?”
I rub my face with my palms and growl. “I’m positive she’s pregnant, but she hasn’t figured it out.”
“Again, explain in simpler terms.”
“Maybe it’s denial on her part. Either way, she hasn’t been feeling well—she’s tired, her period is late… and we fucked like crazy when she was ovulating.” I string the last sentence together at record speed.
He lets out a short laugh in disbelief. “I’m so lost.”
“You can’t tell Savannah or Elodie,” I imply he needs to promise.
He hesitates. “Fine.”
“I did something she doesn’t know,” I admit, and he leans back against the wall to listen patiently. “When we started sleeping together, I kind of saw her phone and her calendar that marks all of that stuff.”
His jaw dropped, and his eyes turned stunned. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“I kind of connected the dots, and she isn’t saying anything, so I looked the other week.”
As for the ovulation thing, it might be even worse. I secretly looked a few times. Hell, my mind probably had dates tracked.
Because that’s what scares me. The deep part of me where my subconscious lies.
Even though we’ve been good about protection, it’s never 100%.
I always knew that if there was ever a time for something to fail, then the likelihood of pregnancy was higher in that moment.
Maybe it’s a sexual thrill or maybe I’m more sinister than I thought.
Because I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that somewhere inside of me is glad this has happened.