“What did he say when you told him?” Hope butts in.
That I’m not alone. “He’s okay with it. He didn’t burst into tears or shout in anger. He didn’t flip over a table or rage about the unfairness of it. He just held me and told me I wasn’t alone. I think he’s a bit scared, but he’s going to be with me every step of the way.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “And as much as I want to protect him, I’m going to hold on to his hand for as long as possible. It’s so damn selfish of me, but right now the idea of facing the future alone keeps me up at night.”
“That’s good, at least,” Carin says gently.
“He’s amazing. I don’t deserve him.” God, if my best friends are struggling with this, I can’t even imagine what’s going on in Tucker’s head.
Hope frowns. “What makes you say that? It’s not like you got pregnant alone.”
“He didn’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit. Every time you have sex, there’s a risk. No form of contraception is a hundred percent effective, not even a vasectomy. You want to go for the ride, you have to pay the price.”
“That’s a steep price.”
She waves her hand. “Which you’re paying too.”
“Can we stop being so depressing?” Carin pipes up. “Let’s talk about the important stuff. When are you getting the ultrasound? I want to start buying baby things.”
I open my mouth to say I don’t know when we’re interrupted by Carin’s phone. “Shit.” She digs it out and slides out of the seat. “It’s my advisor. I’ve got to take this.”
As she disappears toward the bathroom, Hope turns her worried gaze toward me. “Damn, B. I really hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I.” I know she loves me and that’s why she’s so concerned, but like Carin, I don’t want to dwell on the negatives. My mind is made up and all this second-guessing is only going to make me feel bad.
“I only want you to be happy,” she says softly.
“I know.” This time it’s my turn to reach across the table. “I’m scared, but this is what I want. I promise.”
She grips my hand hard. “Okay. I’m here for you then. Whatever you need.”
Carin comes back and pushes Hope over. “I’m going to learn how to knit,” she announces.
“Knit?” I echo wryly.
“Yeah, baby booties. You’re five months along? That gives me about four months to learn how to knit, so be prepared to be amazed and awed by my new skill.”
I finally crack a smile. “Consider me prepared.”
In more ways than one, but hey, I’ve got my friends and I’ve got Tucker, which is more than I thought I’d ever have and more than I probably deserve.
But I’ll take it.
25
Tucker
The kitchen is so silent, I feel like I’m in church. Not that I’ve been to church often. Mom dragged me to a few Sunday sermons when I was a kid, until finally admitting that she’d way rather sleep in on the weekends. I was totally on board with that plan.
But right now, it’s not God and Pastor Dave passing judgment on me—it’s my closest friends.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell us sooner?” Garrett.
“You’re seriously keeping this kid?” Logan.
“Sabrina fucking James?” Dean.
I tighten my grip around my beer bottle and scowl at Dean. I blame him for this little powwow. Two seconds after I told him and Allie the news, he’d sent an SOS to Garrett and Logan ordering them to get their asses home. They’d been at the dorms with their girlfriends, and now I feel like a jerk for spoiling their nights.
“Guys, why don’t you let him talk instead of shouting questions at him?” Allie speaks up in a cautious tone.
I can tell she doesn’t want to be here for this, but Dean dragged her into the kitchen with us, latched his hand onto hers, and hasn’t let go since. I don’t get why he’s so pissed about this. It’s not like he’s the one about to become a father. And I know for a fact he’s not still into Sabrina, because he looks at Allie like she hung the damn moon. The two of them hit a rocky patch after Beau’s death, but the last couple of months they’ve been disgustingly in love.
“Tuck?” Allie prompts, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.
I take a terse swig of my beer. “I don’t have much else to say. Sabrina and I are having a kid. End of story.”
“How long have you been seeing her?” Logan demands.
“A while.” Their frowns tell me they don’t like my response, so I add, “Early November.”
Logan looks startled. Garrett doesn’t, which makes me narrow my eyes at him in question.
“I suspected,” he admits.
The other guys swivel their heads toward him in accusation. “What do you mean, you suspected?” Logan echoes.
“It means I suspected.” Garrett glances across the table at me. “Saw you holding her hand at Beau’s memorial.”