10. Sutton
SUTTON
Staring at Foster, I’m taken completely off guard. His face remains indifferent as he observes me, my reaction. My lips part, and I don’t blink even once.
“You know?” The surprise is in my soft voice.
He presses his lips together and pauses. "Yeah, probably before you realized it yourself." Confusion draws lines across my forehead. He notices my reaction, and the edge of his mouth quirks up, almost as if I’m doing exactly what he predicted.
Shaking my head, I still can’t understand. “How?”
“The signs were there, Sutton. I just think you ignored them, and I’m going to take a wild guess that you finally caught up and let denial go. I figured you would tell me in your own time. But you were taking longer than I planned.”
A cry claws at my throat. “Well…” I glance away, my chin trembling, and when I face him again, his gaze is unwavering. I don’t hesitate. “I’m pregnant.”
He nods gently, his expression impossible to read. This was never in either of our plans. He grabs his desk phone and stabs at a button.
“Vicky, cancel all of my meetings for today. Also, ensure no interruptions,” he firmly requests then hangs up, the entire time he has me locked in view.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Foster stands. His path leads him straight to me; he kneels to be at my eye level. “I think I do. So… pregnant,” he repeats, letting the word hang between us.
Then it happens, I completely shatter. Tears spill out, and I hiccup and cry.
Affectionately, he combs my hair away from my face then his thumb traces a circle on my cheek. “I think we need to get out of here,” he suggests, and he sounds careful, aware I’m on fragile ice.
I nod in agreement as another sob hits me.
This office is the last place I want to be.
We don’t say much on the way to my apartment. I only stare ahead of me at the car’s partition, trapped in a daze. But now he brings me a glass of water as I sit on the couch, with my knees tucked under my thighs and holding a cushion.
“Ready for this talk?” he initiates delicately.
At least the tears are gone, though my eyes are still swollen and my chest feels fragile.
"This wasn’t planned," I say. He stays silent, making it clear I should continue. "Obviously, condoms failed or we weren’t careful, because there were a few times. I also ignored a lot of signs, so honestly, I’m only guessing how far along I am.
Honestly, I think it’s more than a few weeks. "
He shrugs. “And how are you feeling?”
“Tired. A bit of food aversion, so I haven’t had much of an appetite lately. Other than that, I guess it isn’t as bad as some have it.” It dawns on me, and in all of this, I have to half-smile in relief. “The tiramisu with extra-alcohol offer… was that a test?”
Foster fights a cheeky smirk. “Maybe.”
I pop my lips to gather my bearings. “The thing is, I’m not sure how I feel about this. There are options.”
His chin lifts, and his eyes grow wider. Maybe he’s surprised. He takes a moment, clearly to collect his thoughts. “It’s your choice, Sutton.” For the first time today, I hear vulnerability in him, almost conveying a smidgen of fear. Still, his hand gives me a comforting touch on my arm.
“What is it you want?”
He swipes his tongue across his teeth and hesitates. “It’s not about me. It’s your choice. I’m not going to influence it.”
“You have to give me some insight, Foster.”
“It’s your choice,” he reaffirms. “I don’t think I need to tell you that I will support you either way. You already believe it.”
I do.
I suck in a sharp breath. “We were meant to be casual. Birth control was supposed to work. This was never supposed to be our future.”
His fingers now glide up my arm to soothe me. “I think we might have become a step above casual long ago,” he points out.
I give him a shaky attempt at a smile. “You’re right.”
“What’s running through your mind?”
“I have a career that might just tank.” I look him dead in the eye.
“Foster, we were… every warning flag in my head that I ignored. Now we have proof of our personal relationship. If someone really wanted, then I could have the bar on me about my ethics. I could even lose my license. It’s a loss that I can’t take. ”
Instantly, he shakes his head adamantly. “I’m not going to let that happen. Not a chance. You hate it, but in the office, I’m the one in the position of power, and I’ll damn well use it.”
Maybe that’s the only reason I haven’t completely melted down yet. Still.
“You can’t always assert your power in the office when it comes to me, Foster. It could make it ten times worse, and it’ll only make things more difficult for me. I’d lose respect from my colleagues.”
He remains mute as he listens. He wants to debate it, but he won’t because I’m fragile right now.
I continue, “Then there is the issue that I haven’t even worked for the company for twelve months.
If it wasn’t for company policy then I wouldn’t even be entitled to leave.
I’m the woman who didn’t have kids on her mind.
Whatever you want, you’re a bit further in your career and adult life.
It’s easier for you to think one way. But then I think, fuck, you are the CFO and a man who lives for his career, too.
That’s both of our lives disrupted. A baby will change everything completely. ”
His eyes pinch together as he takes a visible breath. “I’m not sure life is just career.” I can’t read him, nor how to interpret that answer.
“Everyone thinks I’m the one who enjoys life, I’m responsible and blaze trails—the independent one, you know?
And I am… But now I’m spiraling. There’s a part of me that isn’t any of those things, and it’s been unlocked.
I don’t care what people think, but when I really consider myself, the idea of being the woman accidentally pregnant, not married, and afraid of being a mom… well, that’s who I am.”
“Sutton—” he tries to interrupt, but I keep going; the thoughts won’t stop.
I rub my head, frustration clear. After a long pause, I picture all the options.
"My parents got married because my mom got pregnant unexpectedly." Foster’s cheek twitches. "That complicates things for me. I know I’m strong enough to do things alone or as co-parents, or with any family set-up, as long as the child is loved. But my parents influence my thinking, and I can’t shake it.
I don’t want to raise a baby on my own."
“You wouldn’t,” he promises again. I’m not sure in what dynamic he means. I need to be clearer.
I bite my lip so hard, I’m certain it will bleed.
It’s building inside of me, frustration and fear.
“Except… to probably everyone’s surprise, including my own, I think I’m kind of traditional.
The whole wedlock thing, you know? My parents ended up with the best marriage one could want.
But marriage is even more commitment that adds on another layer to this whole situation.
” I wobble my head side to side with a tight breath.
“Shotgun weddings? I… it’s crazy… but I get it. ”
Foster’s face eases, almost entertained by my explanation. “Then it’s an option,” he simply replies without hesitation, his tone resolute. Maybe it was somewhere in his head, too.
My head juts out. “What?”
He shrugs casually. “It’s an option,” he repeats with complete conviction.
Now I’m so overwhelmed, I almost leap from the sofa in surprise at his offer. I begin to pace the room. My emotions feel like a storm—leaving destruction and rebuilding, but always another storm coming. That describes my tears and mood right now.
Clawing my hair, I stall and stare at him, sitting coolly on the couch—giving me space, but with clear thoughts in his head as he observes my meltdown.
Blowing out a breath, I state the facts. “Okay, so there is that option. Adoption, but honestly, I don’t consider that an option for me. I would struggle knowing our baby is somewhere out there. And there is…”
Instantly, he stands, rushing to me. His hands land on my shoulders, keeping me in place, ensuring our eyes are tied together. “I can’t make that decision for you.”
My breathing begins to speed up in panic, and when I sob, he pulls me tight to him, his arms wrapping around me, clear he won’t let the earth swallow me whole.
We stay wrapped together for what could be an hour, or maybe minutes. Time blurs; everything does today.
“Come on, you need to lie down,” he whispers, and I unglue us.
“You’ll stay here, right?” I plead.
He glides his knuckles along my cheek. “I’m not leaving,” he confirms softly.
Ten minutes later, after taxing myself through changing and brushing my teeth, I make it to my bed where Foster is waiting for me. His shoes are off, but he hasn’t changed as he lies on top of the duvet leaning against the headboard. I wonder if he will leave once I fall asleep.
“Are you not staying?”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to quickly head out then come right back,” he promises.
I climb into bed beside him, feeling as if I’ve trudged through the trenches. I burrow under the duvet, curling into him as he adjusts the blanket. Another lone tear escapes. I keep spinning in circles.
“I can’t keep doing this to myself. At some point, avoidance needs to end, and now that you know, then I’ve reached that moment. The morning,” I say blankly.
“In the morning what?” He strokes my hair as my ear rests against his chest.
“I’ll make a decision. I can’t mentally cope if I prolong it.”
Foster squeezes me tighter. “Okay.”
My eyelids grow heavy, safety finally settling over me.
Sleep finds me at last.
Waking a few times early in the morning before sunrise, I wrestled with the blanket as I tossed and turned.
Foster was there, but I managed not to wake him.
All considerations came to me on repeat.
Both choices will take a physical and mental toll.
And both choices will live with me for my entire life.
It began to become clearer to me.
Now, I’m awake, and Foster left an empty spot in bed, but I hear him down the hall in the kitchen. My place isn’t as big as his by a long shot, it’s easy to make noise.
I sit up and exhale three times, feeling a little steadier with each breath.
I swing my feet out of bed and start the walk toward the biggest decision of my life.
Through the living room window, I see that the early spring sun is still low off in the distance, as it’s only 7am.
Foster stands behind the small kitchen island with a mug of coffee at his lips, and his white work shirt from yesterday has the sleeves rolled and the collar loose.
His eyes shoot up when he notices me, and he slowly sets the mug down.
“You’re up early,” I say.
“Yeah, figured I would get a few emails in.”
I quirk my lips out during the long stretch of quiet as he attempts to inspect my mood and thoughts.
No point delaying it or leaving him to wonder.
“I’m keeping the baby.”
There. It’s done. My choice has been made, and I’m comfortable with it.
A smirk begins to form on his mouth as he saunters to me, clearly relieved. “I was hoping you would say that,” he finally admits.
A swoosh finds me that instantly brings relief.
“We’re doing this then?” I double-check, my tone measured.
He nods. “We are.”
I step into the invitation of his open arms and a hug.
When his arms wrap around me, I take a long breath, and it hits me.
I’m going to be a mom. A baby. Him and me.
Foster steps back and holds his finger up in the air, signaling for me not to move. He walks to his blazer hanging on the back of a stool and digs into a pocket. Removing his hand, he holds onto a black box.
“I believe this is yours.” He smirks softly as he holds up a ring box.
My neck cranes, and I gawk because he is crazy, but I’m not running. “Really?”
He returns to me with a few strides. “Yep.”
A shadow of a half-smile tugs at my lips. Strangely, I have no doubts about his offer. There’s so much we still have to learn about each other. We have passion, we care. Is it love, or will it ever be? Only time will tell.
Foster opens the box so easily, and my jaw almost drops. “You happened to have that lying around?” It’s a beautiful diamond ring.
“No. That’s where I went when you fell asleep. A friend owns a store in Lincoln Park, handmade pieces. Closing hours don’t apply to me.”
I smile faintly. “You’re insane.” And so am I. But I’m clinging to stability, and he’s offering.
“All options were on the table. I needed to be ready just in case.”
Wow, supportive in every way. It’s clear he wished for one of my choices, but he would have still been here for me either way.
“We have a lot to discuss now, but at least I won’t be as big of an emotional wreck. But wow, a baby and a ring.”
He cradles my face in his palms. “We make zero sense. Whatever we were or are is probably messy as fuck. But it’s us.”
And when his lips meet mine for a tender and confirming kiss, I plant his words, the truth, deep inside of me.
My trust is in his hand.