Her eyes sharpen. "Okay. Complicated. But not impossible."
"You don’t get it." My throat tightens until it hurts. "He lived with us. His family blew up in some scandal, they kicked him out, and my parents took him in. He's like a son to them. Like a brother to me. Oh, my god."
"Calm down. Let's think about this."
"Gemma. He’s nine years older and Blake’s best friend. If anyone ever finds out?—"
Gemma leans back, lips quirking. "Sounds like a whole season ofDallas. But it's not life-altering. I know it seems scary right now, but everyone will come around."
I bark out a broken laugh, and suddenly we’re both giggling, the kind that edges too close to tears.
But then reality slams back. "It’ll ruin everything. Blake will hate me. My parents will lose it. Warren. He has no one but us. If my family cuts him off, he’s alone."
Gemma squeezes my hand hard. "Baby girl."
The words send another shiver through me. I shake my head. "We agreed it was a mistake. We haven’t spoken since. Even my stupid texts, he used to answer me instantly, and we would laugh about stupid shit. Now he just leaves me on read. He's making it clear where his loyalty lies. He's going to lose his shit when I tell him."
Gemma’s gaze softens. "This isn’t just about him anymore."
"I know," I whisper. "But if I tell him, he’ll feel obligated. He’ll do the right thing, and it’ll blow everything apart."
She studies me for a long beat, then says calmly, "Sohere’s what we’re going to do. We're going to take this one step at a time. Starting with a call to your mom."
I curlinto the corner of my couch, my apartment lights dimmed except for the small lamp beside me. Outside, Chicago continues its evening symphony of distant sirens, the rumble of the L train, and voices drifting up from the street. My finger hovers over Mom's contact
I stare at her profile photo, one we took together after a girls' day shopping together last fall. Her happy smile, completely unsuspecting of the bomb I'm about to drop on her, blurs through my tears.
Just press call. Just do it.
My hand trembles as I finally tap the screen. Each ring stretches like an eternity until?—
"Janie! Happy birthday! Did you get the silly message from your father and me singing to you?"
"Mom." The word catches in my throat, ragged and raw.
The cheerful bustle on the other end stops. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Is everything okay?"
"I'm pregnant."
The silence that follows is endless. I press the phone tighter to my ear, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Oh, Janie." Her voice softens. There's no judgment, just concern. "How far along?"
"Eight weeks." I swipe at the tears coursing down my cheeks. "I just found out today."
“And the father?”
The question freezes my lungs. Panic seizes my chest until I can barely breathe. Warren’s face flashes in my mind, his hands on me, his mouth whispering my name.
The truth hovers, but I choke it back.
I need to tell him first. Then we can decide together how to break the news to my family.
“Just… some random guy I met here. The first night.” The lie scrapes my throat raw. “I don’t even know his last name. We haven’t seen each other since.”
Mom doesn’t shudder or scold. She exhales slowly, like we're not discussing a life-altering fork in the road. “Janie, I know what this feels like. I was close to your age when I had Blake. As you know, his father wasn’t in the picture, and it was just the two of us for years. I know how scary this must be for you.”
I press the phone tighter to my ear, tears spilling hot and fast. “And you always said it was the hardest thing you ever did.”