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Eric closed his notebook. “Could be a new group on the scene.”
“Could even be a new trend in the market. Even if it started with one producer, others might have gotten on the bandwagon by now, increasing the spread.” Charlie stood. “Ian, you’ll set up the next briefing?”
With a quick answering nod, Charlie left, Eric following.
“Well, I guess that’s it.” Ian tried not to think about how much he wanted Sofia to stay. She looked tired, and he wanted to be the one to bring a smile to her full lips and put the light back in her dark eyes.
“Not quite.” Sofia took a deep breath. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
He didn’t miss the slight tremor to her voice and quiver to her lush lower lip. Was she going to propose some idea for lifting Gavin’s suspension? No, whatever was coming, it was more serious than that. “Sofia?” He came as near as he could without crowding her.
“I’ll say it plainly. Ian, I’m late. Late late. Even though we used condoms, they’re not a hundred percent effective, so I took a test—and it was positive. I’m pregnant.” She gripped her purse tightly but kept her eyes fixed on his. “I haven’t had sex with anyone else, meaning you’re the father.”
Blindsided, Ian staggered from the blow.
She gave the slightest of pauses before she continued, all in one breath, “I’m keeping the baby. I’m almost in my mid-thirties and this might be my only shot at motherhood, and I want it.” She hadn’t blinked during her speech but did now, her eyes filling.
Shit. Holy shit. Holyfucking shit. Thank Christ he didn’t say that out loud. Ian wrung his scrambled brains for a more coherent reaction. “Sofia, you…this…” And didn’t find one. “I make a terrible father,” was what came out.
Sofia snorted. “That’s not true, but I understand if you don’t want to be involved. Please know that I won’t ask you for anything. I just wanted you to know.”
She took a step toward the door, but Ian’s hand on her arm stopped her. Still reeling, all he knew was that while he might suck at this fatherhood thing, he damn well was not going to walk away either.
Pictures flickered in his head, Gavin’s first steps, Gavin feeding himself, Gavin sleeping in a “big boy bed.” The pictures were photos, sent to him because he hadn’t been there for any of it, and that was not going to happen a second time.
“You caught me by surprise,” he admitted. “But know this. Whatever you need, I’m there. For you and the baby.”
Sofia searched his eyes, hers enormous, then nodded. “We can talk again after I’ve seen my doctor to confirm.”
And she was gone.
Alone, Ian sank into his chair. Two days ago, he’d recalled stroking his newborn baby’s hand, but he hadn’t held Gavin’s hand walking to his first day at kindergarten, or gripped it tightly teaching him to skate, for instance. Ian reached for a pencil and jotted down all the things he didn’t get to do with Gavin.
After the first few items, he understood he wasn’t just looking back and regretting. He was looking forward, too, and planning—making a list of things he wanted to do with his son and this new baby.
A wish list? No. These were more like objectives.
Ones Ian would work for.
