The Things We Do for Love

“So you came anyway.”


“I figured you were on long distance, and I … really needed to see David.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. He’s just playing that damn Xbox. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

“Thank you, sir.” She could breathe again.

“Go on downstairs. I’ll send David.”

The carpet on the stairs was so thick her shoes made no sound at all. Downstairs, the room was big and perfectly decorated. Flax-colored carpeting, an oversized cream suede sectional with gold and taupe pillows, a coffee table made of pale marble. Ornately carved wooden doors concealed a huge plasma screen television.

She perched uncomfortably on the sofa, waiting. She didn’t hear footsteps on the stairs, but suddenly David was there, bounding into the room, pulling her up into his arms.

She clung to him.

She would give anything to go back in time, to have nothing more important to tell him than how much she loved him. Adults always talked about mistakes, the cost of doing the wrong thing. She wished she’d listened now.

“I love you, David.” She heard the tinny, desperate edge in her voice and she winced.

He frowned down at her, drew back.

She hated that, the pulling away.

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” he said, lying down on the sofa, pulling her on top of him.

She slid sideways, then knelt beside the sofa. “Your parents are home. We can’t—”

“Only my dad. Mom’s at some fund-raiser in town.” He tried again to pull her on top of him.

She wanted to. Wanted to kiss him and let him touch her until she forgot all about …

the baby.

She gently pushed him back, then sat on her heels. “David.” It seemed to take everything she had just to say his name.

“What’s up? You’re scaring me.”

She couldn’t stop herself; tears burned her eyes.

He touched her face, wiped her tears away. “I’ve never seen you cry before.” She heard the rising panic in his voice.

She took a deep breath. “Remember the Longview game? The first home game of the year?”

His confusion was obvious. “Yeah, 21–7.”

“I was thinking of a different score.”

“Huh?”

“After the game we all went to Rocco’s for pizza, and then to the state park.”

“Yeah. What’s your point, Lo?”

“You had your mom’s Escalade,” she said softly, remembering it all. The way he’d pushed the back seat down and brought out a pale blue blanket and a chenille pillow. Everything except the accessory that mattered most.

A condom.

They’d parked out on the edge of the beach, beneath the dark fringe of ancient cedar trees. A huge silver moon gazed down on them, giving their faces a tarnished, shiny look. Savage Garden’s “Truly, Madly, Deeply” had been playing on the radio.

He remembered it, too. She saw the memories move across his face. She knew instantly when the realization dawned. Fear narrowed his eyes. He drew back, frowning. “I remember.”

“I’m pregnant.”

He made a sound that tore at her heart, a sigh that faded into silence. “No.” He closed his eyes. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“I guess we’ve pinpointed the problem.” She felt him ease away from her, and it hurt more than she’d imagined. She’d tried to prepare herself for any reaction, but if he stopped loving her, she couldn’t bear it.

Slowly, his eyes opened. He turned, looked at her through eyes that were dull. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Oh,” he said softly, and though he looked dazed and terrified, he was trying to smile, and the attempt pushed some of her despair aside. “What now?” he finally asked in a voice that was thick and tight.

She refused to look at him. She could tell that he was on the verge of tears. She couldn’t see him break. “I don’t know.”

“Could you … have … you know?”

“An abortion.” She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as if something inside were tearing away. Tears burned again but didn’t fall. It was the same thought she’d had. So why did it hurt so much to hear him say it? “That’s probably the answer.”

“Yeah,” he said, too quickly. “I’ll pay for it. And go with you.”

She felt as if she were slowly falling underwater. “Okay.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded distant.


Lauren stared out the window at the blur of green and gold landscape and tried not to think about where she was going, what she was doing. David was beside her, his hands tight on the steering wheel. They hadn’t spoken in almost an hour. What was there to say now? They were going to

take care of it.

She shivered at the thought, but what choice did she have?

Kristin Hannah's books