Page 37 of Dark Truth

This was one major surprise.

“When, er, how long until it’s born?” That was one of the things you were supposed to ask, right?

“Seven months or so. Give or take a week.” She sat on the bar stool and took a deep breath. Her eyes had been on her glass of ginger ale, but now she looked up at me, hurt in the gray depths I loved so much. “Look, I know this might be more than you can handle right now, but I can’t hide it anymore.”

She took a sip of the soda and continued.

“I wanted to wait until the time was right, until the perfect moment, but I can’t keep trying to hide how sick I am. Or the cravings. Or how my body has started to change already.”

“That explains the Ranch dressing then. I knew you wouldn’t normally eat that much. The tuna, you hate tuna.”

“I do. If you can’t accept this, and you don’t want anything else to do with me I understand. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Apparently, my birth control failed because of the migraine medicine, and well, it’s real now. I don’t want to change that, or us, but if you don’t want to be part of this, then I understand, Dylan. You have a lot on your plate.”

“What? No, Emily. Come here.” I held my arms out, and she immediately burst into tears as she fell into my embrace. “Darling, no, don’t cry.”

“It’s not your fault. It seems to be my default response lately. The sky is a wonderful shade of blue, I cry. I’m happy about a new employee, I cry. You don’t kick me out and accept what’s happened, I cry.” She sniffled her way through the words, but she got them out, her head against my shoulder.

“It’s alright, Emily. I’ll take care of you. You did it for me, and it’s my turn now.” I kissed the top of her head and pulled away slightly. “Are you going to be alright if I head in to work?”

She blinked at me, a little blankly, and I knew I’d failed her again. She’d hoped for an emotional respond on either side of the spectrum, and I’d landed square in the middle of both sides. I wasn’t angry, but I wasn’t excited either.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead. I’ve got some calls to make anyway.” She swiped her hand across her face and then went to get a paper towel.

I headed for the shower, my brain just barely on tick-over. I was still completely dumbfounded when I found myself in my office an hour later. How was I going to raise a child, if I was dead?

The question played on repeat in my head, and I finally pushed my desk chair away to stare out of the large pane of glass behind me. I stared down at the work going on below, at the ocean beyond, and saw that a storm was rolling in.

I imagined there was one rolling in upstairs too. I hadn’t responded well to Emily’s announcement, but I couldn’t fake emotions I didn’t have. Not very well at least. The moment she’d said those words everything in my brain froze, and I couldn’t help but sit there, totally stumped.

I’d have to make it up to her somehow.

I wasn’t sure what that ‘how’ was, or if I could accomplish anything that would put her at ease, but I’d try.

A baby. My baby.

Something warm started to glow in my chest, and I could feel a smile spread over my face. Emily was pregnant with my baby. It wasn’t so bad. In fact, as the day went on, that warmth spread, and everything about the day somehow became easier. It wasn’t so stressful when a pipe burst in a bathroom on the second floor and flooded the room below. When the maintenance guys found one of the brand-new mowers had been stolen, well, no big deal, I’d just buy a new one.

The entire day went like that and by the time I closed my office door for the day, I had a plan in place. I drove myself out to a boutique on the outskirts of town, bought Emily a cap-sleeved, calf-length maternity dress of black silk with an empire waist that was sexy but formal. I also bought a few baby clothes, tiny little things that I had to stare at for a while. It hit me then, how much this baby would depend on us and how we’d have to be so careful with it.

A tiny little life that would depend on us for every ounce of sustenance, care, and love that we could possibly give it. I would be a father, as my real father and my adoptive father had been. It would be my job to make sure this baby was loved and grew up as a functioning adult. Fuck.

I nearly had to sit down but stayed on my feet. This was huge.

So huge.

I stared around the shop, an expensive place with labels that most people didn’t know about, but the rich coveted entirely. I didn’t want my child to be like the people I knew, so far up their own asses that most of them couldn’t see the real world around them. Or cloistered away like Emily had been, unloved, forgotten, and expendable, until she’d stood up for herself.

I wanted our baby to have a puppy and a home without show-room living spaces, I wanted to have crayons on the floor and fingerprints on the walls. I wanted the life my real father had wanted and tried to give me. Somehow, I knew Emily would want the same thing.

She’d never said she wanted a dog, but I stopped at the local animal shelter anyway. I found a delightful little fella named Corky, a chihuahua and dachshund mix, and started the adoption process. It would take a few days, but I didn’t mind. I had his picture and a letter that gave his details. I then stopped at a florist and ordered so many flowers I could barely fit them into the car, along with a pile of balloons.

I was on the verge of laughing out loud when the security guard saw me drive in. He looked astonished, and when I asked him to have someone come down and help me, his jaw nearly dropped. I did laugh out loud then.

Together, we managed to carry everything up. I’d had the clothes gift wrapped, and the boxes were in my hands when Emily opened the door at my knock. I couldn’t open the blasted thing without dropping boxes or flowers everywhere, so I’d had to knock.

“Dylan?” She looked surprised, which is what I wanted. “What’s all this?”

She’d seen the guy behind me then.