But I can tell it matters to him. That maybe he’s imagining a different future—one where he doesn’t smell like fryer grease and sweat. One where he could provide for us differently.
For me and—Hisbaby, if the universe has any mercy left.
Oh shit, did I just decide I’m keeping it no matter who the father is?
It’sday eight of waiting for the paternity test results.
I’m in the middle of scrubbing a particularly stubborn pot when the phone buzzes in my apron pocket. Z had it all morning—I had the early shift—but he handed it off when he came in.
My heart stops.
Actually stops for a full second before slamming back to life at double speed.
I drop the pot back into the sink with a splash that soaks my shirt. My hands shake so badly I can barely get the phone out of my pocket.
Z is across the kitchen, working the grill, but he must have peripheral vision like a fucking hawk because his head snaps up. Our gazes connect.
He knows.
The clatter of the kitchen fades to white noise as I stare at my phone screen.
Subject: Your NIPP Results are Ready
The email sits there. Innocent. Tiny. World-ending.
My thumb hovers over it.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.
The line from that Frost poem we studied in English last year suddenly pops into my head, mocking and absurd. Ms. Robertson made us analyze it to death—something about choices and paths not taken and regret.
But right now, as I try to remember how to breathe, the image is suddenly so clear in my head: two paths splitting off from right where I’m standing.
Two completely different versions of my life.
On the left path: Z and staying here in Austin.
We’d rent a studio apartment somewhere. I can see a baby with his sharp features and even sharper attitude. It’s a life with a man who’s loved me since we were kids. He would burn down the world for me. It would be a hard life, maybe, but one where I’m wanted. One where Ibelong.
On the path to the right: Caleb and going back to Dallas.
Everything I lost would be returned to me. Plus a baby with my eyes and Caleb’s intelligent mind. It’s a life with the only man I’ve ever felt truly connected to on a soul level, who made me feel like I could be whoever I want to be, regardless of who I’ve been before. Maybe the future that was ripped away from us could be stitched back together if this tiny cluster of cells has Caleb’s DNA instead of Z’s.
Which is probably a terrible, selfish thought.
And ludicrous. The choice isn’t that black and white.
I can’t keep this pregnancy.
I’m too young to have a kid.
I always swore I’d be nothing like my mom, and dropping out of high school was bad enough. Being knocked up at 18?—
There’s just no way I can keep it.
My hovering finger starts to tremble.
“Harper,” Z’s voice is close. When did he cross the kitchen? “You don’t have to look right now. We can wait until?—”