Page 22 of Slapshot Baby

For me, it was apparently memorable enough to end up pregnant and forgettable enough that he walked away without looking back.

How pathetic would I look showing up on his doorstep now?

"What do you mean by ‘you don’t want to?’” she asks, flinging her ponytail.

"He doesn't know me, Lu. He’s probably forgotten my last name."

But of course I know I have to tell him. I just don't want to face the humiliation of seeing him again after he never bothered to call.

She stands up and starts pacing. "You need to tell him. Pregnancy is not a casual detail. It's his kid."

"I know what it is," I snap.

"Then why aren’t you…"

"Because he's a professional athlete who probably has a different woman in his bed every weekend!” My voice cracks. “I was supposed to be smarter than this."

Lucy rushes to me and hugs me. “I’ll be here to take care of you and the baby.”

I hold onto her, my forehead dropping against her shoulder. She smells like the same coconut shampoo she's used since high school. For a second I just breathe her in.

"You know I'd do the same for you, right?" I say against her shoulder. "If you ever showed up pregnant by some idiot athlete, I'd be the one driving to break kneecaps."

She squeezes me tighter. "You'd bring snacks for the stakeout."

"Obviously. I'd bring the good ones."

I pull back and look at our reflection on the TV screen. My eyes are red-rimmed, hair coming loose from its knot.

Lucy, on the other hand, has a look of determination I’ve never been able to achieve.

"You’re right, Lu. He deserves to know. Whether he sticks around is his choice not mine to make for him."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then I raise my kid the way Mom raised us. Without him."

She’s quiet for a second. "You sound like you're sure he's going to bail."

"He hasn't texted in weeks. I think that decision's already been made."

“Well, if he’s stupid enough to reject you, then he doesn’t deserve you.

It takes me two hours to work up the courage to actually text Kai. Lucy sits on my childhood bed while I compose and delete the message approximately seventeen times.

Every version sounds either unhinged or completely insane. In the end, I settle for simple.

Me:

We need to talk. It's important. Can we meet? Ava.

I hit send before I can overthink it. In less than a minute, the phone rings, Kai’s number on the screen.

"Hello, Kai," I say once I pick up.

"Ava? This is Laura Donovan. Kai's mother," a woman says.

My stomach drops somewhere around my knees.