Page 13 of Knocked Up By The Mountain Man

I think about the ultrasound picture that I have in my pocket.

Maybe if I can't get the words out, I'll just pull the photo out and hand it to him, and let the photo do the talking instead of me.

That seems simple and straightforward, but of course he's going to have follow-up questions. He's going to want to talk about this.

In my head, in the weeks since I first met Jack, I'd sort of rearranged his personality in my mind, turning him into a cold, uncaring, gruff mountain man who wouldn't have the sensitivity required to navigate this situation.

But that speech in the truck just now…it caught me off guard.

Jack is more sensitive than I thought. More caring than I thought. He has empathy, and it's hard to imagine a guy like this wanting to abandon his kid just because it's inconvenient and disrupts his life.

I think about my own dad, the dad who tried to stick around and then abandoned his family after two years of playing house.

What if Jack is like that?

What if, when I tell him about the baby, he acts like he wants to be around for a while? What if he tries to make it work for months, for years, even, and then one day he just…poof? Vanishes without a trace.

I don't think my heart could take it.

I already endured it with my own father, feeling like the unwanted child who was always in the way, unwanted and abandoned by one parent, and resented by the one who stayed.

I don't want our baby to grow up like that. I would rather them not ever know their dad at all than to suffer the kind of pain that I had to experience.

We reach the threshold of the cabin, and it's just like I remembered. Large, but not unwelcoming.

It feels like more than just one man should live here. Like maybe an entire family. You could film Hallmark Christmas movies here, for goodness sake.

It just seems like the kind of place where wholesome memories are made, and yet Jack lives here alone.

I consider asking him why.

I consider asking him whether the woman at the diner was serious and important to him.

I wonder if one of these rooms would make a good baby room.

And then I quickly dismiss the thought. Too soon. Too hopeful.

Being hopeful is how you get disappointed. How you get your heart broken. And I can't let that happen. I have to hold myself together. If not for my sake, for my baby's sake.

I'll tell him by the end of the night, I decide. I still have time.

Jack approaches me, and I realize he's trying to pull my coat off.

"I'm going to start a fire,” he says. “The cabin warms up pretty quick, and stays that way even through the night. You’re going to want to take this off. Trust me.”

He pulls the coat from my shoulders, leaving me in just my sweater dress, leggings, and boots.

I look down quickly, tugging at the fabric that stretches over my stomach, hoping that it's loose enough to disguise my secret.

Jack's eyes rove over me appreciatively, not lingering in any one spot, but taking in the full picture. Midway through, he seems to realize that I've caught him checking me out.

So he clears his throat awkwardly and turns away, heading toward the open-concept kitchen on the other side of the main room.

"You want another cup of coffee?" he asks.

"No," I say. "Um, I’m trying to cut back on caffeine.”

He nods.