Chapter 17
Andi
When Gram first came to get me, she brought one of those baby snuggle packs so she could carry me strapped to her chest. She took me almost everywhere she went, from packing up my stuff to packing up her old apartment to driving us to our new life in Galway to the nighttime cleaning jobs she’d wrangled from an accounting firm and a real estate office. I don’t remember any of that, of course, but she told me the story every time I requested it, once I was old enough to ask questions.
When I started school, she studied for the real estate exam and got her North Carolina Realtor’s license. Her old employer hired her on a commission-only basis and she built a solid base of clients. It was through one of them that she found the cottage. It had been sitting empty for three years and needed an intense cleaning and modernization. The tiny stone house had only one small bedroom, one cramped bathroom, and no garage. But Gram had been scrimping and saving, and when her lowball offer was accepted, we moved up into the hills above town. And as I got older and stronger, we started fixing up the little place. Added on the bigger bedroom and expanded the bath when I started high school. Built the patio and the low wall around it and the firepit over the next few years. Added on the garage when I graduated from college.
There were times when I considered getting my own place, but how could I after everything she’d given up to raise me? And anyway, she’d raised me to be cautious and suspicious of men, so it’s not like I was raring to get me a boyfriend. And we just plain enjoyed each other’s company, so I never got around to leaving home.
And then two years ago she had a heart attack and died at the grocery, and I’ve been alone ever since, and this stone cottage that started out so small suddenly seemed way too big. Way too quiet.
Now I sit in Gram’s chair beside the fireplace and study the space. The woven basket on the hearth that used to hold my toys but is now full of kindling. The fireplace-bracketing bookcases whose bottom shelves used to be filled with my favorite picture books and chapter books. The corner where I haven’t bothered to set up a Christmas tree since Gram’s death.
I’m not sure how I’ll manage it yet, but a woman and a child have lived happily here before. We could do it again.
I’ve never thought about having children. Certainly never expected to get pregnant; I’ve always—always—used protection to try to prevent it. But now that I’m in this situation, it seems…doable. Interesting. Compelling? After all, Lil Bit’s already been with me for a couple of months, not causing much trouble. Just kind of hanging out, making me tired, but the doc says I’ll probably get my energy back before too long.
My belly doesn’t look or feel any different than usual yet. I frame it with my hands.
How could I already be feeling protective? I’ve only known about Baby for a couple of hours.
My phone buzzes. I haven’t told anyone yet, although I did call the center and tell them I’m going to work from home tomorrow and to let me know of any emergencies.
I need…to be alone, to get a handle on this.
My entire life is about to change, forever.
The phone, which I’d already forgotten, buzzes again, and I pick it up from the end table.
Kevin.
Ohhh no. Oh no, no, no.
Gram is up in heaven shaking her head down at me for getting in this situation.
Because what the hell am I going to tell Kevin?
How the hell do you tell a man you’re two months pregnant with his baby, when you don’t know him well enough to be sure that’s safe information to put in his hands?
Ice water creeps slowly through my veins as I hear Gram’s voice answering my questions over the years.
Do I have a grandpa, Gram?
Not really, baby, no.
Why not? My friends at school have grandpas.
It wasn’t safe for me to stay with your grandpa, Andi. He was mean to me and mean to your mom. We had to get away.
Why did you marry him if he was mean, Gram?
I didn’t know at first. He didn’t hurt me until after we were married. And it didn’t get really bad until I was pregnant with your mama.
I thought it was my dad that was mean. Was my dad my grandpa?
No, baby. Two separate men.
Both mean?
Yes.
Why did my mama marry a mean man too?
I don’t know, baby. I tried to talk her out of it. But she said I was worried for nothing, that he was so sweet.
But he was fooling?
He was fooling her, yes. But after they got married, he stopped trying to fool her.
Then did she know he was really mean?
I think so, baby. When she was pregnant, he pushed her down the stairs. And later when she left, he said he’d take her babies from her if she didn’t come back.
My teeth are chattering as I stare at the phone.
What in the hell do I do now?
Sweetness can be a show. An all-too-temporary act.
Even if I don’t tell him—even if I stop running at the high school or hanging around with him in our free time—he’ll see when I start to show. I can only disguise it for so long. And once the baby is born, there’ll be no hiding a child .
And no matter how nice he seems now, I can’t be sure he’ll always be that way.
I don’t know if we’re safe with him. Me or this baby.
***
Kevin
I’ve been looking forward to seeing Andi all day. It almost killed me last night when she messaged to say she was too tired to get together after her trip. But she was the one who suggested tonight, so I’ve been imagining it all day. Ironed my best shirt. Researched fancy restaurants. Even bought flowers, which—not a normal friend move. What’s wrong with me? I’m going to scare her off if I’m not careful.
She doesn’t call me back for more than an hour after I leave my message. Now, as I listen to her ask me if she can come over, I look at the bouquet I’d finally plunked in a water glass on my counter, hoping the limp blossoms would perk back up a little.
“Sure, if you want.” I pick up a fallen leaf and toss it in the trash can under my sink. “Or I’d be happy to come get you.” I haven’t seen her place yet. Haven’t been invited.
“No, I’ll…come to you. I need to talk to you about something.” Her voice… There’s something in her voice that bothers me. I can’t read it but it’s definitely not an I’ve-missed-you-and-I-can’t-wait-to-see-you tone.
“Andi, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you soon.”
Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on my door and I open it wide for her. Hold out my hand. Tug her in for a hug that maybe lasts a little too long for friendship.
She pulls away.
My joy at seeing her fades, leaving behind a trickle of fear in my gut. Have I bored her already? We’re not even going to make it to a second week as friends?
Dread makes my feet heavy. “Want something to drink?”
“Got any more of that juice? That was really good.”
I pour her some and lead the way to the living room. We settle on the couch but I make sure not to crowd her. Gotta stop pushing for too much. I can make it through this…whatever it is. Probably. I won’t beg, won’t cry…at least not until after she’s gone. “What’s up? You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” She stares down into her glass for a long minute and then looks back up at me. “You know how I’ve been tired lately? I felt kind of rotten in Asheville. Threw up a few times. So I went to the doctor this afternoon.”
She hesitates then, and I panic. Oh god, don’t let her have a serious illness. “And?” My voice cracks.
“Kevin, I’m pregnant.”
A wave of feeling knocks me back against the cushions. Relief that she’s not sick, confusion because we’d used protection, and somewhere under all the shock, a tiny burst of joy.
She raises the glass to her lips, her hands shaking, and then settles it on the end table beside her. Twists back around to face me more fully. “Yeah. So this is a surprise.”
My body forgets what to do with oxygen. I study her face, peer into her eyes, waiting for her to say more, but she doesn’t. “How—how far along are you?”
“A couple of months.”
I wait count back in my head. “That was about when… Is—So it’s—Is the baby mine?” Those words. How could a man speak them without a tremor in his voice the first time? This is huge. I’ve helped create a life. I’ve helped ? Create a life ?
My eyes go to her midsection which, as usual, is hidden under one of her loose work shirts. But I saw her in a swimsuit this weekend and hadn’t noticed anything.
This is huge. A baby . I’m going to be a daddy .
Her shoulders are squared. She’s perched on the edge of the couch cushion as if ready to flee. “Yeah. You’re the only person I’ve been with in recent months.”
I gaze at her, trying to read messages in her dark eyes, but she seems completely closed off. Inside me I feel something new and vulnerable growing, pulsing, almost like I’m pregnant, but she’s like a wall, upright and sturdy and impenetrable.
To me this seems like a miracle…but maybe not to Andi? It’s her body that has to do all the work, go through all the changes, weather the risks and pain to come…
“Look, I know this is a lot. I’m going to have my hands full with this. I don’t expect you to do anything. We can just…step back. Be… You know. Acquaintances.”
Oh, hell no. Not if this is my baby, I’m not stepping back. She’s not raising my child alone.
I can’t tell what she means. “Do you want this baby?” It’s a croak.
She holds my gaze. “Yeah. I’m going to have it. But I’m not asking anything of you.”
I try to comprehend that. “But—Andi, I’m going to be the baby’s dad . You should ask stuff of me.” How could she think otherwise? And how could she think I’d need to be asked? I’m going to be a father.
I’m going to be a daddy .
There’s no visible emotion on her face. I have no clue what’s going on in that busy, brilliant mind of hers because not a trace of it is showing.
What could possibly be as important as us both being there for our baby? Working together to give our child the best life possible.
I reach out my hand to touch her hand. She watches my every move like she’s not sure what I’m planning. Like I’m a stranger again. Like she doesn’t know I’d never touch her any way that wasn’t good. I open my mouth to tell her that, to ask why in the world she’d doubt that, but the words come out as, “Marry me.”
Her eyes go wide—well, hell, of course, she’s even more shocked than I am—and in an instant she’s up off of the couch. “What? Kevin, no!”
She laughs a nervous little laugh but it’s too late. I’ve already registered the horror in her eyes and in her voice as she said it.
No way would anybody want to marry me. Especially not an amazing woman like Andi.
Fucking Vanilla Kev.
Not good enough to be a partner.
How the hell am I going to be a good father?