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“Yep,” I said simply, my eyes wide and feeling like I might tear up from the overwhelming feelings welling up inside me.
“Okay… okay. Let’s think about this. What do you want to do?”
“I have no fucking idea,” I say, my voice louder than I intended. “I know I need to tell him. From there I can figure out what happens next.”
We both continue to stare at each other in disbelief.
Lauren, smiling devilishly, finally says, “Well, I guess you may have found him a match after all.”
“Lauren! I’m not his match,” I hiss. “He doesn’t even like kids. There is no way in hell he’s going to want anything to do with this baby.”
“You don’t know that, Sasha. He may surprise you. Lots of men have no idea how they feel about kids until they have their own. Or, find out they’re going to have their own, very soon.”
I wrinkle my brow, taking this in and wondering how he will react.
“How do you feel about him,” Sasha asks.
“I think he’s incredible. We have a great time together. The sex was amazing,” I say, hope bubbling in my chest now. What if he is happy about this news? Or, at least, supportive?
“Well, you just don’t know until you talk to him. I really think he’s going to surprise you…”
I felt sick to my stomach and wondered if it was pregnancy nausea again or just nerves about the conversation that I’d eventually have to have with Spencer.
And, now here I am, trying to get my shit together enough to meet with Spencer to tell him the big news. And, once again I feel nauseous.
An hour later, I’m sitting at a table at Brewed, willing my hands to stop shaking. I’m afraid to pick up my decaf latte because I’m certain I will spill it down the front of my shirt with all the shaking.
I spot Spencer heading in and I’m taken aback by how good he looks. He has on jeans and a navy peacoat. His hair looks slightly wet – he must have taken a shower before heading here.
He walks in the door and immediately looks around. He sees me and gives me a wave and a huge smile.
My heart thumps in my chest a million miles a minute. Not only am I nervous about this conversation but I also feel bad for pushing his texts off and not telling him how I feel about the whole kids issue. Considering he thought I already knew (and remembered) that he didn’t want kids, it was really a bitch move to cut and run without talking to him about it.
He heads to the counter to place his order and then saunters over.
I stand when he gets there, really hoping for a hug, but worried that he’ll feel my shaking when he puts his arms around me.
He gives me a warm hug, holding on longer than I expected.
We sit down and look at each other awkwardly.
“How have you been?” he starts the conversation, adding some cream to his coffee.
All of a sudden, I find myself needing to say the words as soon as possible. I wasn’t planning this. I figured I’d kind of ease into it. But, really, there is no easing into something this big. Let the word vomit begin…
“Well, things have been a little complicated recently,” I begin, taking a deep breath.
“What’s up?” his brow furrows in concern.
“Okay, I’m just going to say this because I don’t know what else to do.” I look around nervously to see if anyone in earshot is paying attention to our conversation. “I’m pregnant,” I say, as quietly as I can, looking into his eyes.
He looks stunned. Like I just told him that there’s a monkey coming out of his nose.
“Oh… wow. And… you’re telling me this because… it’s mine, I’m assuming?”
“Yes. All yours,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee because I need to do something, anything right now.
“Oh my gosh. I thought you were on the pill.”
