Later that night, I pace my room anxiously not knowing what to do. After I left Mrs. Carey’s office, Stephanie sat by side as I had a panic attack in the car. She suggested the best way to figure out what to do next was to make a list. Pros and Cons.

When I first packed my bags to come here I never imagined that staying permanently would be an option or that being a mom was in the cards for me. Now, everything is changed in the blink of an eye. My father is due home Monday, and the studio is up and running smoothly, and for the first time I want to stay in Prescott. I want to see where things with Ethan go. Kids, marriage, and a happily ever after finally seem like an option.

With a shaky hand, I glance down at my list one more time.

Pros: Staying/Baby

Ethan.

Cons: Staying/Baby

Does Ethan want kids?

Does he want me to stay?

Ethan said he would stop by, and I find myself running to the window every time I hear a car drive by.

“Where are you?” I say to my empty room, and I pull out my cell phone. The screen is blank, my finger shakes as I debate calling him, and then I toss my phone on the bed.

“No.” I coil my hands under my chin. “I will not push him into coming over.”

The last thing I want to do is force him here and then drop the bomb that he is about to be a dad.

I take in a cool calming breath and decide when the time is right, I will tell him.

* * *

One week later . . .

Stephanie says I’m being a coward and prolonging the inevitable, but I’m not avoiding Ethan. I’ve been so preoccupied with other things that I haven’t had the chance to tell him. Besides, it isn’t something I want to do over the phone.

My father is finally home and we’re adjusting. Andrew, my father’s aide, comes to the house for three hours every day to help him with his physical therapy and any other things my father can’t do on his own. While Andrew is at the house, my mother and I have been at the studio interviewing potential coaches who can help while I am gone. Though I still haven’t completely made up my mind, I figure it’s best to be prepared. Not to mention, if I stay in town I won’t be able to teach once my belly becomes too big. I find myself smiling every time I think about waddling, and Ethan behind me kissing my neck as he rubs our little bundle of joy.

By Friday afternoon my mother and I have agreed that Lindsey is the best fit for the studio. She has dance experience and picked up the routines quickly. When she handed me back the job application, my stomach dropped as I glanced at the date.

May 5^th.

I have ten days to reply to HR.

“Is everything okay?” she asks as I stare down at the date.

“Oh.” I snap my head up and smile. “Yes, it’s perfect.”

“Thanks again for this opportunity, Leslie. I won’t let you down.” She throws her duffle bag over her shoulder.

I smile and nod, unable to say a word. I needed to make a decision and I needed to do it quickly.

When I arrive home later that night, I decide there is no more hiding and making excuses. I’ll tell Ethan about the job offer and the baby. I huff one last time, finding the courage before I pull out my cell phone from my back pocket and shoot him a text message. 

Me: Hey, I was wondering if we can get a drink later? I want to talk to you about something. 

My decision will be based on Ethan. If he wants me to stay, I will, and together we will raise this child. If he doesn’t want this baby, then I will go back to Chicago where I have a great job with great benefits, and I will raise this child on my own.

My phone chirps twenty minutes later. 

Ethan: I'll be at the pub later, come by. 

I sigh. I wanted to chat somewhere more private, and definitely not a place where Erica was watching us. But being that Ethan hadn’t been himself lately, I didn’t want to push my luck.

Me: Sure. Be there around 7. 

By six thirty I'm dressed and walking out the door. As I slide inside my car I keep reassuring myself that maybe, just maybe, the news of a baby will pull Ethan out of his funk. Before turning the car on I close my eyes and silently pray this conversation goes well.

The Pub is filled on a Friday night. The scent of fried food wafts through the air, and for the first time, the smell of anything fried bothers me. Holding my breath, I scan the crowd. It takes me a few seconds to spot Ethan, but he is sitting at the bar with his back facing the front door. To my luck, Erica is nowhere in sight. Inhaling (and quickly regretting it), I force my feet to move forward.

“Hey,” I say, pulling the barstool back. Ethan cocks his head to the side and nods at me. There's no hello, how are you, I miss you, you look nice. Instead, I ignore the feeling in my gut and sit next to him. My gaze lands on the half-empty bottle in front of him. By the looks of it he's been at the bar way longer than I expected him to be. Nervously, I crack my knuckles. Maybe this isn’t the best place or time to tell him.

Ethan raises a glass at me, silently, and I know he’s asking if I want a drink. “Bourbon is a little strong for me,” I answer.

“Chavez.” Ethan waves over the bartender. “Get her whatever she wants,” Ethan slurs. 

Chavez stares at me politely. “I'll have a club soda with a lime please.” I glance back at Ethan. His lids are lazy and I can tell he has surpassed his limit. “How long have you been here?” I try to sound optimistic but I know my voice is failing me. 

“A few minutes or so,” Ethan answers, but we both know he is lying through his teeth.

I wait until Chavez sets my drink in front of me and walks away. Leaning into Ethan, I whisper, “Maybe we can talk somewhere else. Get some fresh air?”

Ethan glances over at me, a devilish grin growing on his face, and for a split second I see Jerry in his eyes. Ignoring my request completely, he holds the glass to his lips and drinks the entire shot. He wipes the back of his mouth with his hand and shifts on his seat to look directly at me. “You said you want to talk, what's up?”

“Doesn’t seem like the right time.” I shrug, not wanting to say anything that will piss him off even more. I’ve never seen him in this state before. Talking about having a child and me leaving can set off a chain of events we will both regret.

“Les.” He leans forward, and I can smell the liquor permeating from his pores. “You wanted to talk, let's talk. What's going on?” His voice is gentle.

I stare deep into his green eyes. I want to see if my Ethan is still in there, or if the monster who has taken over his soul for the past few weeks is the one present. Gnawing on my lower lip, I contemplate whether I should say anything. Deciding on the lesser of two evils, I slowly say, “My company is merging with another company. When I decided to stay here I took a leave of absence for six months, but because the companies are now merging, I have to make a decision to either resign or go back to work.” I pause and wait for a reaction. Ethan doesn’t speak but his stare is locked on mine.

“A part of me wants to stay here. I want to see where things with you are going, but I want to make sure you're on the same page.”

Ever so slowly, he nods as though he is registering what I’m saying. Each second drags on. He opens his mouth to speak but closes it quickly. I wait on bated breath for an answer. For a simple, yes, of course, stay, but instead, he digs into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone.

Ignoring me completely, he slides his finger across the screen and brings it to his ear. “Hello?” he says, and I'm shocked that his words are clear and no longer slurred with the liquor that courses through his body. “Yeah, give me a second. I can't really hear you.” Ethan holds up a finger at me before walking away.

I feel stunned, as if I've been punched in the gut. I asked him here to talk, asked him to give me a reason to stay, and instead he completely dismissed me. Annoyed, I turn back toward the bar and wrap my hand around the cold glass, taking a huge gulp of my drink. I hate this no alcohol thing.

Every fiber in my body is telling me this isn’t a good idea. I’m debating leaving when I feel a light tap on my shoulder. Startled, I jump up and turn to face the person whose subtle touch scared me. Michael is staring directly at me with a kind smile on his face.

Remembering the last time I saw him, my eyebrows furrow and I pull away. “What do you want?”

He doesn't say anything, just slips onto Ethan’s empty stool. “I wanted to apologize,” he says running his hands over his fine black hair. “The last time you were here, I said some things to you and that was wrong and childish of me.” I watch him carefully, my eyes studying the features on his face. The way his eyes are open wide and rounded I can see a bit of sincerity behind it.

Not wanting to argue with anyone tonight, I sigh and take another sip of my drink. “It's okay, Michael.” I shake my head. “It's in the past now.”

“Good.” A wide grin grows across his face. “So, how does it feel to be back?”

“It's different, I guess. A lot has happened in the few months that I've been here.”

“Yeah, I guess nobody saw Jerry finally kicking it. I could've sworn that man would outlast us all.”

“I can't say I'm not happy he's gone.” I shrug and Michael chuckles.

“Fuck, yeah! And I know Ethan is over the moon his pops is finally dead. Now he can finally let go of the big ball and chain.”

“I don't think he's taking it too well,” I admit. I don't know why I say this to Michael. He's probably the last person I should be talking to about Ethan, but not being able to understand what he is going through is making me crazy.

Michael must see the hesitation in my eyes; he gently places a hand on my shoulders. “Ethan is a strong man. The strongest person I know. He'll get through this—”

Ethan's fist collides with his face. I stand from my seat and open my mouth to scream, but it all happens so fast. Ethan is standing beside me, waiting for Michael’s retaliating rage when I get stuck in the crossfire and my pelvis crashes into the corner of a wooden table. I wince with pain.

The baby?

Oh, God . . . Please, not the baby.

I force myself to ignore the thought and look back at the two men. Ethan’s eyebrow is split, but Michael has blood spurting out of his mouth. Ethan’s closed fist meets with his cheekbone, and Michael’s head pops back. His defeated body is on the dirty pub floor and Ethan’s on top of him.

“Stop!” I manage to scream.

One. Two. Three punches. “You fucking piece of shit!” Ethan shouts.

“Ethan!” I shout, but there is no use.  

“I told you to stay away from her!” I am paralyzed, my eyes glued to a monster beating on a poor, helpless man. The scene is all too familiar. Bile rises in my stomach, and I cover my mouth, refusing to let it out.

My vision blurs, and my eyes play tricks on me. First, I see Jerry, then I blink and I see Ethan again. This can’t be real. Ethan is not his father, I remind myself.

Seconds pass as Ethan continues taking his wrath out on Michael before he is finally pulled away. Chavez is on the floor holding Michael up. His face is bloody and almost unrecognizable. My hands rush to my mouth to cover a scream that wants to pour from my lungs. 

I'm too scared to look at Ethan but I force myself to anyway. “Get off of me!” he demands of the two men holding him.

In that moment I look at him with every ounce of disgust I have. This isn’t the man I love. This isn’t the man I want to be the father of my baby.

“What the hell is your fucking problem?” I manage to ask as tears swell in my eyes. “Michael is your friend. Your fucking employee! You just beat him to a pulp for no reason!”

The restaurant is silent as every pair of eyes scrutinizes us.

“No reason?” Ethan steps closer, his mouth mere inches from mine. “I fucking told him not to go anywhere near you, and I walk back in the fucking bar and he has his fucking hands on you!” He growls.

I refuse to let him intimidate me. “He was apologizing.” I shake my head, not believing the man before me. The devil is embedded in his soul. “You are no different from your father.” The words slip out of my mouth.

Ethan's eyes narrow on mine, and for the first time in my life I'm afraid of him. “This is who I am, Leslie. This is who I've always been.” He throws his hands in the air. “I am the devil’s spawn. That shouldn't surprise you. “

“I can't believe I ever thought about staying in this fucking town.”

“Nobody's asking you to stay.” He reaches toward the bar and takes a swig of the bottle.  

I hold my head up high and grab my purse. Ignoring the cramping in my abdomen and everyone’s eyes on me, I force a smile to my face. “You know what you are, Ethan?” I ask but I don't wait for him to respond. “You're not your father. You’re a fucking coward. Instead of facing your issues head-on, you're fucking hiding behind the bottle.” 

I don't wait for him to answer. I simply walk to the door and never look back. 

* * *

Once I’m a mile away from the bar, I pull my car to the side of the road. Shifting into park, I rest my head against the steering wheel and cry. I’m angry and hurt, but most of all I’m disappointed. The cramping in my abdomen hasn’t passed, and I feel a warm wetness between my legs. Placing my hands inside my pants, I feel the wetness and pull out my fingers. My other hand flicks the car light on and I gasp at the crimson blood that’s stained my fingers. Unable to breathe, I wipe my fingers on a napkin and let out a screech from the depths of my soul.

My body trembles, and tears pour down my cheeks and drip down to my chest. I sit there for a few minutes before I reach inside my purse and pull out the business card Mrs. Carey gave me to call her in an emergency.

“Dr. Carey speaking.”

“Hi, Mrs. Carey, it’s Leslie,” I whimper.

“Yes, Leslie, is everything okay?”

“I . . . I was pushed into a table and I hit my abdomen.” My voice cracks and I force myself to continue. “I’m bleeding now. I think I’m losing the baby.”

“Oh, sweetie . . . It could be the egg implanting. Spotting is normal.”

I sniffle back and wipe my nose. “I don’t know,” I say, feeling like the world is being ripped out from under me.

“Monitor it,” she says and I nod. “Come to my office first thing tomorrow morning and I’ll check you out. But don’t worry, spotting is normal.”

“Thank you,” I say and hang up the phone. My heart is beating at a rapid speed and never in my life have I been so scared. Covering my mouth, I cry out in pain as I beg God to not take my baby.