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“It will just put them on hold,” I say with a sigh.
“Temporarily,” Pippa points out. “That’s important to remember. You’re only putting them on hold for a little while longer. This isn’t the end of the world.”
“No. No, it’s not,” I agree, my spirits lifting with their unconditional support. Knowing I’m aiming for stability and love, even if it will take a bit longer, makes the journey worthwhile. Besides, the best stories often have moments of suspense and unexpected turns. This is nothing but a challenging chapter, building up to a more epic climax. “Yeah, you guys are right. We can do this.” I exhale, sensing a newfound confidence settling within me. “I can do this. I mean, I won’t be able to dance at the club, but there are other positions there, like waitressing. I can do that. Done it before. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“Also, babies are hella cute,” Pippa adds, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. She makes a face, cupping her hands around her cheeks to create an imaginary chubby baby look, complete with a playful pout and wide, innocent eyes.
“Oh, God, they really are,” I say, growing excited. “With their little fingers and toes!”
“Don’t forget that amazing new baby smell,” Mrs. L adds. “And those little hats they have to wear to keep their heads warm.”
“My room is big enough to fit a crib,” I say, already reorganizing the space in my head. “I can get rid of my desk. I don’t use it much anyway.”
“And we can put your bed on risers and fit some drawers under there,” Pippa suggests. “That’ll give you plenty of storage space.”
“First things first, anyway,” Mrs. L cuts in. “You need to make an appointment with your gynecologist and get a proper confirmation. You know my friend Linda’s son is a gynecologist. Herbert.”
“Yes, I know, Mrs. Loughty.” I resist the urge to let out a silent chuckle. I’m not going to see Herbert. That’s for sure.
“Oh, silly old me—I forgot he was the one you stood up. Probably not such a good idea to see him, then. Anyway, whoever you decide to go with will be able to set up all your future appointments and give you suggestions. And you're going to need prenatal vitamins.”
“And calcium tablets. A woman I work with had a baby and said her teeth went to shit because she didn’t have enough calcium.”
As she and Pippa begin to talk about everything else I will need, I take a moment to gather my thoughts. They’re right—it’s going to be okay. I mean, it’s got to be. I’m not the first young single mother, and I won’t be the last. Plenty of women have been where I am and have done an amazing job raising their children. And it’s true, having kids wasn’t in my plans for the next few years, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be excited about becoming a mom. In fact, some of the nerves are already going away as I keep thinking about the life growing inside me.
I’m going to be the best freakin’ mother I can possibly be.
I’ve got a mental image of myself with a little kid, teaching them to dance, and my excitement ramps up. Sure, there’s lingering anxiety, and I know that some days in the coming months will be harder than others, but I can make it work.
No. I’m determined to make it work.
16
DILLAN
Iimmerse myself in my work. There are moments when I feel like I’m helping bring half of all newborns in New York into the world, and that’s a damn good feeling. Not because there are so many, but because it feels good and right.
Losing sight of Lizzie after our night together—for the second time since high school—and not being able to find her isn’t pleasant (as I casually mentioned to Gavin). Yet it also brings about something good: I rediscover something else that I’d lost in everyday life. The significance of my job. Three times a week, I open my waiting room to women who’re not insured or don’t have enough money for proper care during their pregnancy.
Lizzie’s exhausted look as I held her in my arms is etched deep into my memory. She had the eyes of someone with a goal, working towards it but exhausting herself to total depletion. The pregnant women who come to my practice often have the same look.
I can do something about it. I can take some of their worries away and stand by them at least until the birth. It’s what Patch Adams would do.
Admitting it out loud? No chance.
Though I’m almost certain Gavin has a hunch about it. Lately, he’s been on a mission to persuade me into a bike ride, or he tempts me into his workshop, where he’s diligently restoring some old treasures.
Most times, Colt and Gavin manage to steer my thoughts off course. Colt, with his infectious enthusiasm, and Gavin, in his rowdy way, appear to be on a mission to provide any distraction possible. Gavin, especially, treats it like a personal challenge to bombard me with suggestions, especially late at night. He employs all his determination to convince me to partake in the most absurd, downright unmanly activities.
A nocturnal tour of the New York Zoo is unconventional, yet acceptable, and I can’t fathom what the parents, teenagers, and hand-holding couples make of Colt, Gavin, and me. But when Gavin suggests a midnight showing of Sleepless in Seattle, I put my foot down. There’s nothing Tom Hanks can teach me about women that I don’t already know (or so I claim with a touch of pride).
Late at night, I check my phone, ensuring it’s charged, ready for any emergency. With a decisive swipe, I turn off the bedside lamp. I lie down, closing my eyes, feeling the crisp sheets cool against my skin, and let the day’s demands fade away.
She claims me in moments.
I begin stroking myself.
The boundaries between reality and imagination blur when I take one of her hands and guide it between her thighs. “Let me watch you pleasure yourself,” I growl against her neck, my voice rough and hard. “Touch your clit for me, yeah, just like that.”
