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He shakes his head. “How did he react? Was he angry?”
“No. Not really. I thought he would be but… I—I think I might have misunderstood his message.”
“Really?” I can hear the sarcasm in his voice. “You mean it wasn’t just about the baby, after all?”
“No. He said he’d realized the timing was right for me to find out if I was pregnant, and he called because he wanted to be there for me, in case I was upset at finding out I wasn’t.”
“So, he assumed you’d have told him if you were?”
“Yes.”
“And this is the guy you’re not sure about?” He pulls up at a set of lights and turns to look at me. “I can’t be with thewoman I love, Ella. I’ll never be with her. It hurts like fuck, and I’m not sure I’ll ever learn to learn to live with that. But I’d give everything I have for one chance… just one chink of light in all this darkness. Mac screwed up. He knows that. But please, don’t let his mistake and your unfounded fears ruin your chance of happiness.”
“Unfounded? I told you, he could hurt me again, so easily.”
“I know, and I’m telling you, it’ll never happen.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yeah, I can. He loves you, Ella. It’s written all over his face. There’s no way he’s gonna risk losing you again.”
The lights change, and he drives off, focusing on the road. I stare at him for a moment, wishing I could believe him… wishing it could be that easy…
***
Mac
“What the hell happened to you?”
I glance up as I enter Calvin’s apartment, surprised to find him at home. He’s standing in the kitchen, clutching a cup of coffee and looking like he needs it almost as much as I do.
“Don’t ask.” I’m sure I look a wreck. My tie is hanging loose around my neck, and I’ve pushed my fingers through my hair so many times on my cab ride back here, I’m sure I must look demented.
“Too late. I already did. Here… your need seems to be greater than mine.”
He hands me the cup, fixing another for himself, and then leads me into the living room. Once we’re seated at opposite ends of his dark grey couch, he turns to face me.
“So? What happened?”
“Ella.”
“Your ex?” He knows a little about what happened… as much as I felt like telling, just before I left for London.
“She’s not my ex.”
“What is she then?”
“I’m not sure yet, but she’s not my ex. She’s going to be the mother of my son, though.”
He’s raising his cup to his lips and stops, almost comedically, poised like a statue. “She’s what?”
“You heard me.”
“She’s pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s yours?”
