“Why not?”
“It takes a bit before things develop. Until about sixteen weeks, maybe? I’ll check and let you know. They do an ultrasound at twenty weeks.” I could almost see her shaking her head at me and her kind smile.
“What will you tell them?”
She hummed. “That they have a mom and a big brother who love them.”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Nothing about Dad.Nothing.”
“No.” Sadness lingered in that one word, firing up my anger again. “Will you come home for the holidays?”
“Pick a day. I’ll talk to the guys,” I mumbled.
“Love you, honey.”
“I love you, too, Mom,” I said, then ended the call. I couldn’t stand a second more of this. I would have a couple of years to make Mom understand how much she’d fucked me up by telling me all about Dad. And I already knew I’d help her out. I’d babysit. I’d love my little brother or sister, no matter what. Maybe they wouldn’t have Dad, just like I didn’t, but they wouldn’t be alone.
I wanted a pity party from my boyfriends in the worst way, but KC was having an actual crisis, so I scraped myself off the floor and went to bed.
My meltdown could wait.
20
KC
Reality came back to me in bits and pieces. The deep sleep and exhaustion clung to me, holding me under for longer than I would’ve wanted. Somewhere in the apartment, people were talking, and Ren’s laughter followed. Other fragments of knowledge hit me.
Pa’s voice.
The smell of food.
A small warm, furry body cuddled into me.
I smiled when Mr. Wiggles burrowed closer. He made a soft, happydooksound that melted away any residues of heaviness that sat on my chest. I kissed his head, and he chattered, making me chuckle.
“Hey, Mr. Wiggles.”
He lived up to his name, wiggling closer to me.
Dook. Dook. Dook.
His face tilted up, and I kissed him on his tiny nose. With bleary eyes, I glanced around the room. The curtains were open, letting in the morning sunlight. I was the only one in here, other than Mr. Wiggles, and more laughter told me Ren and Oli werealready in the kitchen, possibly with Pa, if I’d heard right as I’d returned to the land of the conscious.
The events from yesterday and last night hit me with a barrage of memories and emotions. My chest tightened again. I exhaled, forcing myself to stay calm. I’d broken down enough last night. Shameful heat flooded my cheeks and I groaned.
Rolling out of bed hurt, and Mr. Wiggles made a chattering sound of protest.
“Sorry, boy.” I gave him a gentle pat and got to my feet. The world spun for a moment, and I closed my eyes as I rocked back and forth.
Strong arms enclosed me.
When I opened my eyes again, Ren was there. His bird’s-nest hair stuck up in all directions, but at least he’d dressed in sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt. The last thing I needed was him walking around naked if Pa was here.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Ren kissed my cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a whole damned football team at the same time.”
Ren’s face did something complicated, caught between wanting to laugh but also fighting with the sadness of what’d happened. My boyfriend was a complex dude. One day he followed his instincts, gave comfort, and offered his love without realizing what he was doing, other times he overthought emotions and hesitated. This was one of those latter times.