Clay’s eyes finally focus on me, and his frown grows deeper as I keep talking. “What the fuck are you going on about, Soph?” He leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “This isn’t something you did alone, crazy girl. This is on both of us, okay?”
I nod, relief flooding me as soon as I realize that I’m really not alone in this. Part of me had been terrified that he’d freak out and dump me, leaving me to handle this all on my own. I don’t know why I’d even thought that. Clay has never been anything less than perfect, but this news had the potential to ruin everything he’d been working so hard for.
He presses a kiss to my lips, squeezing me tight to his body. “So what do you want to do? I’m good with whatever you decide.”
“But I’m only seventeen,” I whisper.
“You are. And you’re also an incredible person who would make an incredible mother. Do you want to keep this baby?”
I’d been so terrified to tell Clay, that I hadn’t even considered that. But yes, I would keep it. I mean, this is my baby. Mine and Clay’s. “I do.”
Clay fills his lungs with air and slowly lets it out. “Okay. Looks like we have some planning to do.”
Chapter 5
My parents’ loud voices carry down the hall as Clay and I sit awkwardly at the dining room table. I listen as my mother pleads with my father to just come back to the table and try to be civil, but he’s having none of it.
“I will not sit at that table with them and act as if nothing is wrong, Peg. That girl walked out on this family ten years ago to be with that…that criminal. They shouldn’t be here.”
That’s all I need to hear. He can be angry with me, call me names, and make things difficult for me, but I won’t sit here quietly while he talks about my husband that way. Standing, I drop my napkin and walk around the table to Clay.
“Let’s go.”
Clay’s jaw is tight, and his fists are clenched. “It’s fine, Soph.”
“No, it’s not.”
He must recognize the finality in my words because he doesn’t argue. Wordlessly, Clay stands, and together we walk towards the front door. As we pass the entrance to the living room, I stop, holding Clay’s hand in my own, and look at my father.
“You don’t know him, because you never tried to know him.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t give him a chance. “Clay is a good man, Dad. He was a good kid ten years ago too, but you never wanted to see that. All you wanted to do was pass judgement.”
“He was a hoodlum,” he snaps. “He ran with bikers, for heaven’s sake. And now he looks like he is one.”
“No. He was a straight A student who worked hard and treated me like a princess. You saw what he wore and where he came from, but you were too blind to actually see who he was. You’re still blind, and you’re a hypocrite.” My father’s eyes flare with anger. “All my life you’ve talked about God, Jesus, and the Bible being a rule book for how we live our lives, but you don’t listen to your own advice. You don’t practice forgiveness. You are prejudice, judgemental, and—”
“Get out of my house,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. I can see the vein in his temple throbbing, even from where I stand ten feet away.
It’s funny. Growing up, I never realized what an angry man my father was. I’d always seen him as firm and impenetrable, but noble and wise. Now I see him for what he is. A bitter, angry man who expects people to live the way he tells them to.
*
Ten years ago
“You don’t have to do this, Clay.”
“Yes, I do,” he whispers, his eyes filled with determination. “You’re not alone in this, Sophie. I have to be here when you tell them.”
I love him for being here. I’m terrified to walk inside this house and tell my parents about my pregnancy, but that’s not the only thing that is terrifying me right now.
“If you go in there, I don’t know what my father will do to you. He’s going to be so angry, Clay. So angry.”
He nods and pulls me into his arms. “I know, but we’re in this together.”
Just then, the front door is yanked open and the outside light comes on, illuminating Clay and I as we stand in an embrace on my parents’ front step. My father stands just inside, his eyes narrowed on Clay.
“Time to say good night to your friend, Sophie.”
Before I have a chance to say anything, Clay steps forward. “Actually, Sophie and I need to talk to you and Mrs. Winslow about something.”
I watch, frozen in place as my father eyes Clay with disdain, then looks to me with a hard glare. He doesn’t speak, but he does move aside, holding the door open for us to come into the house. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. Fear of their reactions has stolen every ounce of oxygen from this house, and I’m left with a heavy weight bearing down on my chest.
My father moves down the hall, and I follow him woodenly, feeling Clay at my back. My mother looks up from her place on the sofa, her smile dying when she sees the three of us there. Her eyes meet mine, and I see my own fear mirrored back at me.