Thank God.
Relief sweeps through me as I pull away from him.
“You want to come?”
Shit.
“In a minute. I’m just gonna…” I gesture vaguely.
He nods, pulling on his boxers and heading out the door to the bathroom. I hear the water start running.
And then I’m alone.
I stare at the water stain in the corner of the ceiling that looks like a malformed hand reaching for something it can’t grasp.
I just had sex with Z.
Consciously, deliberately, and stone-cold sober.
There’s no Jack Daniels to blame this time. No blackout to hide behind.
This was my choice. I’ve truly chosen this future.
Thispath.
… But all I can think about is Caleb’s face the morning after our first time—the way he looked at me like I was precious. Like I was something worth keeping. The careful way he touched me, like he was afraid I’d break.
I should get up and join Z in the shower. It’s time to start acting like the girlfriend he deserves instead of the ghost I actually am.
But I can’t move.
Because somewhere in Dallas, Caleb is living his life without me. Taking care of his mom. He would’ve just finished senior year. He’s probably getting ready to move to Cambridge for Harvard, already moving on like he ought to.
And he has no idea that four hours south, I just slept with another man while carrying a baby that isn’t his.
The tears come then, hot and silent, sliding down my temples into my hair.
This is what moving on feels like, I guess.
It feels a little bit like dying.
FOUR
July 2018
ZEDEKIAH
I’m babysittingwhile Harper’s at work.
She hates it when I call it that.It’s your kid, too, she’s always saying.
About that…
I might’ve misled her a teensy bit.
And by misled, I mean, Imighthave gone into her email while we still shared a phone, deleted the actual email results from the DNA test, spoofed the email address and photoshopped a PDF with my name on it instead of his.
So as far assheknows, it’s my kid.